Read Online Little Lady Agency and The Prince by Hester Browne - Free Book Online Page A

gentleman, and I’m furious about the way Nicky is turning his name into some kind of byword for drunken tomfoolery.’
    ‘And you think I can do something about it . . . How?’ I asked gently. ‘I’d love to help, but I’m afraid I’m not very effective against that sort of professional cad type. I mean, Orlando von Borsch ran rings round me for years, remember? And he was just a stuffed-olive heir, not a prince.’
    ‘Well, princes aren’t what they used to be.’ Granny sighed deeply and passed me the magazine. ‘And I don’t think he’s a cad,’ she said. ‘I think he’s just a very silly boy who’s been allowed to play the fool for too long. It’s not only women who get away with murder because they’re pretty, you know.’
    I looked more closely at the pictures, and, despite myself, my heart skipped. Prince Nicolas looked more like a rock star than a prince. Quite a saucy rock star too. One with several Ferraris in his garage and an ex-wife in every major marina.
    ‘That’s him?’ I asked, pointing, just to check.
    She nodded.
    ‘Wow. Well, I see what you mean.’ Nicolas was exactly the sort of man who used to make me forget myself entirely. Brown-eyed, ski-tanned and with swimmer’s shoulders and narrow hips, he was twinkling away at the camera with his arms round two equally tanned leggy lovelies, exuding the exact amount of charm to sweep a girl off her slingbacks but stop just short of smarm. His red silk shirt was open a button too far, revealing a flash of dark chest hair, but instead of looking sleazy, he merely looked as if he’d been having too good a time to notice. Ditto his artfully dishevelled thick brown hair, which probably took longer to style than mine did. His only flaw was that the leggy lovelies were just a smidge taller than him in their Louboutins, and he seemed to know it.
    If his grandfather had looked like that when he was younger, then no wonder Granny still had a soft spot for him.
    I put the magazine on the table with some relief. There really wasn’t anything I could do here: Nicky wouldn’t give a girl like me the time of day.
    ‘Granny, you know I’d do anything to make you happy,’ I said, ‘but surely a stern talking-to from you would have more effect?’ I paused, as she began to prepare her innocent face. ‘Oh, no. No. You’ve already said I will, haven’t you? Oh, Granny!’
    ‘Oh, Melissa!’ she replied winningly. ‘Just a meeting?’
    ‘To say what?’ I protested.
    ‘That no nice girl will look him in the eye if he carries on tipping people into chocolate fountains!’
    I fixed her with a square look. ‘Granny, he’s not in the market for a nice girl. Anyway,’ I went on, ‘Jonathan would go nuts. After that business in New York with Godric Ponsonby, I promised I’d scale back on the hands-on male stuff, as far as I could. Concentrate more on the lifestyle side of things.’
    ‘But that’s your favourite part of your job!’ exclaimed Granny, putting down her teacup in dismay. ‘Fixing up men!’
    ‘Jonathan and I drew up a contract. He agreed to cut down on the overtime, and I agreed not to take on clients who really need a therapist, not a secretary. We’re going to get married,’ I said, raising my voice above her tuts. ‘I never said I’d do this job for ever.’
    But even as I said it, my eye returned of its own accord to the gleaming vision of Prince Nicky and his open-necked shirt. He had the sort of come-to-bed-you-sexy-lady eyes that didn’t just follow you round the room from the magazine, they winked at you.
    ‘Melissa,’ said Granny seriously, ‘do you do everything Jonathan tells you to? And I thought I was old-fashioned.’
    I squirmed a little, trying to fight my own curiosity. Oh, what harm would it do to meet him? I was engaged to the most gorgeous man in the EU. If I did have tea with this fool, he’d no doubt show his true colours before the sandwiches were replenished. Granny would probably end up