Prince Reyes paced in a tight circle. ‘When did you find out?’ he asked.

‘I did the tests an hour ago.’

Jasmine held up three pink and white sticks.

Reyes forced himself to move. He took them, examined them. Somehow their presence finally hammered the reality home.

He was going to be a father.

Elation. A strange, undeniable possessiveness.

‘Everything has changed.’

Reaching down, he stroked her cheek. He wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to him before. Jasmine wasn’t the perfect candidate, but she was miles better than anyone he knew. There would be no false proclamations of love to confuse issues. They were compatible in bed.

And she was carrying his child …

‘I’m calling off next week’s wedding. And I’m getting married in three days instead.’

Jasmine felt the blood drain from her head.

‘I … Okay. Leave it with me. I’ll call Miss Holden and arrange for her to fly over immediately,’ she replied through numb lips.

Reyes’s brows bunched. ‘Why would you be calling her?’

‘Because you’re marrying her!’

‘You misunderstand, Jasmine. The wedding is for you. I intend to marry no one else but you.’

MAYA BLAKE’s hopes of becoming a writer were born when she picked up her first romance aged thirteen. Little did she know her dream would come true! Does she still pinch herself every now and then, to make sure it’s not a dream? Yes, she does!

Feel free to pinch her too, via Twitter, Facebook or Goodreads! Happy reading!

Married for the Prince’s Convenience

Maya Blake

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

Cover

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

SHE WAS A THIEF.

A thief...

Jasmine Nichols’s heart pounded the indictment through her bloodstream. She hadn’t stolen anything yet, but that was beside the point. She’d travelled thousands of miles for the sole purpose of taking something that didn’t belong to her.

Telling herself she had no choice didn’t matter. If anything, it escalated her helplessness.

By the end of the night, she would wear the damning label as close to her skin as her black designer evening gown clung now.

Because failure wasn’t an option.

Fear and shame duelled for supremacy inside her, but it was the deep knowledge that she couldn’t turn her back on her family that propelled her reluctant feet up the sweeping crimson carpet towards the awe-inspiring masterpiece that housed the Contemporary Museum of Arts, perched on a cliff-side overlooking Rio de Janeiro. Even the jaw-dropping beauty of her surroundings couldn’t detract her from the simple fact.

She’d come here to steal.

The smile she’d plastered on her face since alighting from the air-conditioned limo threatened to crack. To calm her nerves, she mentally recited her to do list.

First, she had to locate Crown Prince Reyes Vicente Navarre.

And there was her first problem.

All effective search engines had yielded no pictures of the reclusive prince, save for a grainy image taken at the funeral of his mother four years ago. Since then, no pictures of the royal family of the South American kingdom of Santo Sierra had been released to the public. They guarded their privacy with a rigour that bordered on fanaticism.

As if that weren’t bad enough, according to reports, the House of Navarre’s Crown Prince had left his kingdom only three times in the last three years, all his time spent caring for his gravely ill father. It was rumoured King Carlos Navarre wasn’t expected to live past the summer.

Which meant Jasmine had no means of identifying Prince Reyes Navarre.

How did she get close to a man whose identity she had no idea of, distract him long enough to get her hands on what she’d come for before her mother and, more importantly, her stepfather, Stephen Nichols, the man who’d saved her life, and whose name she’d adopted, found out what she was up to?

Stephen would be heartbroken if he knew she was being blackmailed.

A nerve-destroying shudder rose up from the soles of her feet, making her clench her teeth to stop its death rattle from escaping. She smiled some more, mingled with the insanely wealthy and well heeled, and tried to reassure herself she could do this. By this time tomorrow, she’d be back home.

And most importantly, Stephen would be safe.

If everything went smoothly.

Stop it! Negative thinking was the downfall of many a plan. How many times had Stephen told her this?

She fixed her wilting smile back in place, stepped into the main hall of the museum, but she couldn’t summon the enthusiasm to gawp at the stunning paintings and sculptures on display.

A waiter approached bearing a tray of champagne. Accepting the sparkling gold-filled crystal goblet, she smoothed a shaky hand over the pearl choker around her throat, ignored the nervous flutter in her belly, and made her way to the bowl-shaped terrace where the guests were congregating for pre-dinner drinks.

So far the plans set out by Joaquin Esteban—the man threatening her stepfather’s life—had gone meticulously. Her name had been on the guest list as promised, alongside those of world leaders and celebrities she’d only seen on TV and in glossy magazines. For a single moment, while she’d waited for Security to check the electronic chip on her invitation, she’d secretly hoped to be caught, turned away. But the man who held her stepfather’s fate in his cruel hands had seen to every last detail she needed to pull this off.

Everything except provide her with a picture of the thirty-two-year-old prince.

The first stage of the treaty signing was to take place in half an hour in the Golden Room behind her. And with the occasion coinciding with Prince Mendez of Valderra’s birthday, guests had been invited onto the terrace to witness the spectacular sunset and the prince’s arrival, before the signing and birthday celebrations began.

Crown Prince Reyes himself was expected at eight o’clock. A quick glance at her watch showed five minutes to the hour. With every interminable second that ticked by, Jasmine’s nerves tightened another notch.

What if she was found out? Certainly, she could kiss her job as a broker and mediator goodbye. But even if she succeeded, how could she ever hold her head high again? She’d worked so very hard to put her past behind her, to tend the new leaf she’d turned over. For eight years, she’d succeeded. And now, at twenty-six, she was on the slippery slope again.

Because once a juvie princess, always a juvie princess?

No. She hadn’t let that voice of her detention cellmate taunt her for years. She wasn’t about to start now.

And yet, she couldn’t stop the despair that mingled with anxiety as her gaze drifted over the orange-splashed water towards the stunning silhouette of Sugarloaf Mountain in the distance.

Under normal circumstances, the sights and sounds would have filled her with excitement and awe. For a girl with her past and dire upbringing, sights such as these didn’t feature in her normal. Except these weren’t normal circumstances. And fear was threatening to block out every other emotion.

Which was dangerous. She couldn’t afford to fail. Yet success would bring nothing but shame. Would prove that the past really never stayed in the past.

But the reality was her stepfather had gone too far this time, hedged his bets, literally, with the wrong person.

Joaquin, with his soft voice and deadly smile, had calmly given her two choices.

Come to Rio or watch Stephen rot in jail.

Of course, Joaquin had counted on the fact that, aside from his very public humiliation of being thrown out of his Foreign Office position for gambling away government money, Stephen Nichols’s devotion to his wife meant he would do anything to save her the distress of watching him suffer. As would Jasmine.

Even when Jasmine was a child, long before Stephen had entered their lives, her mother’s fragility had meant she had assumed the role of the caretaker. Her mother wouldn’t survive losing Stephen.

So here Jasmine was, about to step into a quagmire she wasn’t sure any amount of self-affirmation would wash her clean of.

‘He’s here!’

She roused herself from her maudlin self-pitying. A quick glance showed it was precisely eight o’clock. Her heart double somersaulted into her throat. When her stomach threatened to follow suit, she took a hasty sip of champagne. Whatever Dutch courage she hoped to gain was sorely lacking as the butterflies in her stomach grew into vicious crows.

Following the direction of excited voices and pointing, she focused on the bottom of the cliff. A sleek speedboat approached, foaming waves billowing behind the fast-moving craft. It gathered speed as it neared the shore. Swerving at the last second, it created a huge arc of water that rushed to the shore in a giant wave before heading away from the jetty.

The pilot executed a series of daredevil manoeuvres that brought gasps of delight from the crowd and left the other two occupants—bodyguards, judging by their bulging muscles and ill-fitting suits—clinging grim-faced to the sides.

Finally, bringing the vessel alongside the quay, the tuxedoed figure stepped boldly onto the bow of the boat and jumped lithely down onto the jetty. Smiling at the enthusiastic applause, he clasped his hands in front of him and gave a deep bow.

Jasmine released the breath trapped in her lungs. So, this was Prince Reyes Navarre. Considering his near reclusive status, she was surprised he’d chosen such a narcissistic, highly OTT entrance. She wrinkled her nose.

‘You’re not impressed with His Royal Highness’s maritime prowess?’ a deep voice enquired from behind her left shoulder.

Jasmine jumped and whirled around. She’d assumed she was alone on the terrace, everyone else having rushed down into the main hall to welcome the prince.

How had this man moved so silently behind her? She hadn’t even felt his presence until he’d spoken. Jasmine’s gaze raced up, and up, until it collided with dark grey eyes.

Immediately, she wanted to look away, to block the probing gaze. She had no idea why, but the urge was so overwhelming, she took a step back.

A strong hand seized her arm. ‘Careful, pequeña. It is a long tumble from the terrace and the evening is too beautiful to mar with tragedy.’

Glancing behind her, she realised she’d stepped dangerously close to the low wall bordering the terrace.

‘Oh. Thank you.’ Her words twisted around her tongue. Her senses dovetailed on the warm hand that held her. She looked down at the elegant fingers on her skin and drew in a sharp breath. His bold touch transmitted an alien sensation through her blood.

As if he felt it too, his fingers tightened imperceptibly. A second later, he let go. ‘So, you don’t like speedboats?’ He nodded over her head at the spectacle below.

She tried to pry her gaze from his face, but she only succeeded in moving her head a fraction, before becoming equally hypnotised by the alluring spectacle of his mouth.

It was just spectacularly...sensual. Like his eyes, the lines of his lips drew equal interest from her stunned senses. Without stopping to assess her reaction, she found herself raising her hand to his face.

A hair’s breadth away, she saw his eyes widen. Her heart slammed with horror and embarrassment at what she’d almost done. She snatched her hand back and for a split second contemplated taking that fatal step backwards. Maybe dashing herself over the rocks at the bottom of the cliff would knock some sense into her.

‘What makes you say that?’ she prevaricated when it became clear he expected an answer to his question.

‘You have a very expressive face.’ His beautifully deep accented voice was solemn.

‘Oh.’ She stalled and tried to think fast. What could she say without causing offence? ‘They’re okay, I guess. I mean, they’re not my thing. Too fast. Too...wet.’ Not to mention, they reminded her of the times Stephen had taken her out on his boat very soon after she and her mother had gone to live with him. Still in her destructive phase, she’d given him a hard time about those trips. Despite his many reassurances, a part of her had remained untrusting, afraid he’d end up being like all the men her mother had fallen for in the past. Each morning, she’d woken up anxious that that would be the day Stephen tossed them out of his life. He hadn’t, of course, but she still couldn’t look at a boat without remembering that distressing period. ‘But they’re nice to look at, I suppose.’ She bit her lip to stop further inanity spilling out.

The stranger’s grave nod did nothing to distract her stare.

‘But exhilarating, some would say. No?’

Light-headedness encroached. Exhilarating. Breath-stealing. Captivating. But all those adjectives had nothing to do with speedboats and everything to do with the man in front of her.

Belatedly, Jasmine realised she hadn’t taken a single breath since she’d clapped eyes on him. Sucking in oxygen restored some much-needed brain activity. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been inclined to take a trip on one. Mainly because I get seasick standing on a beach.’

‘That’s a shame. There is a tranquillity I find on water that I haven’t found anywhere else.’

The thought of this man, powerfully built, quietly commanding and confident, craving tranquillity touched a strange place inside her.

‘My stepfather loves the water too.’ Damn. She needed to watch her tongue.

‘But something about it makes you sad?’ His voice softened as his eyes grew even more solemn.

Her startled gaze flew to his. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘You speak with fondness but your eyes darken with unhappiness.’

His intuitiveness disturbed her, made her feel vulnerable. Wrenching her gaze from his, she looked around. The terrace was deserted, but soft lights glowed from exquisite crystal-cut chandeliers and showed the guests slowly filling the large hall.

The hall...

Where she should be. Trying to make contact with Prince Reyes Navarre.

Instead she was alone with this strangely captivating man.

A man she didn’t know.

Although she’d talked herself into believing not every stranger meant her harm, she knew better than most which situations to avoid. Being alone with a man twice her size wasn’t a good idea.

But rather than fear, a thrum of excitement fizzed through her veins. Her breathing constricted, her heart thumping loud in her ears as she inhaled. Almost drawn by an invisible force, her gaze returned to his face.

His black dinner jacket and crisp white shirt gave his features a vibrancy, helped in no small measure by the golden perfection of his skin. Cast in part shadow by the broad shoulders blocking the light, his taut cheekbones and strong, uncompromising jaw made her fingers tingle with the urge to explore him.

As she stared his mouth hardened into a tight line, as if he held some emotion in. The strong need to touch those lips, experience their firm texture and soothe them softer with her thumb grew. Her eyes flashed back to his to find him regarding her, waiting for a response.

‘I have issues with water. Let’s just leave it at that.’

He looked as if he would demand more. But he merely nodded. ‘Tell me your name.’ His authoritative tone demanded nothing but her compliance.

Without questioning why, she answered, ‘Jasmine Nichols.’

His solemn expression altered, fleetingly replaced by a small smile that creased his lips. ‘You are named after the flower that blooms in the gardens of my home, Jasmine.’ His voice caressed her name in a way that made all the hairs on her body strain to life. ‘It is a fragile yet sturdy flower that has soothed us with its heady fragrance for thousands of years.’

Overwhelmed by the equally heady blend of emotion swirling through her, she gave a nervous laugh. ‘Blimey, I hope I don’t look that old!’

‘Be assured. You don’t.’

His smile disappeared, but she suspected he was still amused by her. The thought created a joyous fizz in her blood. It struck her that this man, whoever he was, hadn’t smiled or laughed in a long time. The urgent need to catch another glimpse of that enigmatic smile grew.

‘Great. Living to a thousand sounds like fun, but I bet it becomes a nuisance after that. A few more decades will do me just fine, though. I have things to do, people to impress.’

Joy sang in her chest when he rewarded her with another fleeting smile.

‘I have no doubt that you will make your mark on the world before you leave it.’ His head dipped in a shallow bow. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening, Jasmine.’ With graceful, long-limbed strides, he walked away from her.

His abrupt departure stunned her into stillness. She watched four figures detach themselves from the shadowed doorway and fall into step behind him. She didn’t need to be told they were bodyguards.

And rightly so. He was far too lethal to walk around without armed escort.

It wasn’t until he reached the bottom of the stairs that led into the main hall that she regained the power of speech.

‘Holy hotness, Batman,’ she muttered under her breath, still more than a little stunned.

Watching him cut a path through the assembled crowd, Jasmine realised she hadn’t even asked his name. Without pausing to think, she dashed through the doors after him.

She came to a screeching halt after a few steps.

What was she doing? She hadn’t come to Rio to check out its male citizens, or to fall flat on her face for the first enigmatic man who looked at her with deep, hypnotically solemn eyes.

The real reason wrenched her back to reality, making any dream she harboured glaringly impossible. Whoever the mysterious, formidable stranger was, he had nothing to do with her mission here.

A mission that should’ve been the one and only thing on her mind.

She slid her wrap closer to ward off the sudden chill invading her body.

How could she have lost sight of her objective so quickly? Her stepfather’s well-being depended on her. Running after a man who’d made her feel so alive, so special that she would have given up all she held dear to spend another minute in his presence was out of the question.

She clutched her grey silk purse and tried to think clearly, but it was no use. His smell, the feel of his hand on her skin, the intensity of his dark gaze that seemed to see past the outer trappings of civilised conversation to her inner self, remained imprinted on her.

Her breath rushed out shakily. She tried to tell herself what she’d felt didn’t matter. That wasn’t her purpose here. The only thing that mattered was finding Prince Reyes, getting her hands on the treaty and making it out of here in one piece. By way of grounding herself, she recited the list once more and forced herself to move into the hall as she did so.

The first thing she noticed was that the man she’d been speaking to was now on the other side of the room. Similarly suited men surrounded him, yet he remained curiously aloof, standing out so spectacularly, everyone else faded into insignificance.

Forcing her gaze away, she looked around. In halting Portuguese, she tried to enquire discreetly from her waiter which of the men was Prince Reyes, but her query only drew a blank stare.

Her anxiety returned when she realised most of the conversation going on around her was in Portuguese. Naïvely, she’d assumed since most of the staff at her hotel spoke English, everyone in Rio did too.

But the man who’d spoken to her on the terrace had used perfect English.

So ask him.

Except she couldn’t. She’d have to cross the room to get to him, and in the time she’d been dithering his audience had tripled.

Insinuating herself into his crowd would only draw attention to herself. And for what she’d come here to do, anonymity was key. Wishing she’d pressed Joaquin Esteban for more details about the prince, she cast another look around.

A bell sounded nearby, making her jump. Guests started taking their places at the long banquet table. She found her place and had just sat down when a light-haired man joined her.

He looked at her hopefully. ‘Please tell me you speak English?’

Jasmine smiled with relief. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Thank God! You think your Portuguese is all right until someone asks you a question. Then even the little you know flies straight out of your head. I’m Josh, by the way.’

‘Jasmine,’ she responded.

‘Crazy, isn’t it?’

Startled, Jasmine glanced sideways to him. ‘Sorry?’

He nodded to the group of men taking their seats at the far end of the long banquet table. ‘Unbelievable that between the two of them, those men control nearly half of the steel and precious gems in the world.’

Unwilling to disclose her ignorance, she murmured, ‘Right.’

‘Shame their trade relations are in a shambles, though. Hopefully once the treaty is signed, there should be some semblance of order, otherwise the chaos will only get worse.’ He shook his head. ‘Prince Reyes has done an outstanding job of bringing the treaty to fruition, though. Have to commend him on that.’ He took a healthy gulp of champagne.

Sneaking in a breath to calm her screeching nerves, she casually asked, ‘Which one is Prince Reyes?’

He looked puzzled for a second, then he shrugged. ‘I understand how you might be confused. They’re descended from the same bloodline, after all.’ He nodded to the men. ‘Mendez, the shorter one who rocked up in the speedboat, is the birthday boy celebrating the big four-oh. He’s in charge of Valderra, the larger of the two kingdoms. The taller one at the head of the table, talking to the prime minster, is Reyes. Don’t get me wrong, his might be the smaller of the kingdoms, but Santo Sierra is definitely the big kahuna.’

Jasmine’s throat threatened to close up as she absorbed the information. Her fingers clenched around her cutlery as ice drenched her blood.

The lights went up just then and two officious-looking men stepped up to the twin podiums carrying black briefcases. Heart in her throat, she realised what she’d done.

She’d been speaking to Prince Reyes Navarre all along!

And she’d told him her name!

After a short speech, the first stage of the treaty signing was completed. Jasmine watched as the documents were placed back in the briefcases.

Clammy sweat soaked her palms. Carefully, she set down her knife and fork. Every instinct told her to get up. Run. Not stop until she was on the next plane back to London.

But how could she? Even if she sold her two-bedroom East London flat and somehow found the balance to pay the half a million pounds owed to Joaquin, the loan shark still possessed enough documentary evidence to bury her stepfather.

Jasmine’s heart lurched at the thought. Her family was far from perfect, but Stephen Nichols had single-handedly ensured she and her mother had been given a much-needed second chance. There was no way Jasmine was going to turn her back on him now.

Nervously, she swallowed the moisture in her mouth. ‘You mean, Prince Reyes is the tall one...’ with the impossibly broad shoulders, sad eyes and expressive, elegant hands, she nearly blurted out.

‘Looking our way right now,’ her table companion muttered, a vein of surprise trailing his voice.

Her head jerked up and slate-grey eyes locked on hers. Even from the length of the banquet table, the stranger from the terrace loomed larger than life, his stare unwavering.

Except he wasn’t an intriguing stranger any more.

He was the man she’d come to steal from.

CHAPTER TWO

SHAME SHOULD HAVE been the paramount emotion ruling Jasmine as her gaze remained trapped in Prince Reyes’s stare.

Instead, the alien emotion from earlier pulsed through her again, and, impossibly, everything and everyone seemed to fade away. Even the sound of her own breathing slowed until she barely knew whether she breathed in or out.

Alarmed and more than a little unsettled, Jasmine wrenched her gaze away. All through the meal she barely tasted, she forced herself to make light conversation with Josh. But even with her focus firmly turned away from Prince Reyes, she could feel his stare, heavy and speculative, on her.

Now, realising just how precarious a position she’d put herself in, Jasmine was barely able to hold it together. Which was why she didn’t hear Josh clear his throat.

Once. Twice.

Her gaze jerked up to find Prince Reyes Navarre standing next to her. Startled, she dropped the knife and cringed as it clattered onto her plate.

‘Miss Nichols, was your meal satisfactory?’ He glanced pointedly at her half-eaten meal.

Aware of the countless pairs of eyes on her, Jasmine wasn’t sure whether to remain seated or stand and curtsy. She opted to remain seated. ‘Y-yes, it was, thank you.’

‘I am not interrupting, I hope?’ A glance at Josh that was at once courteous and incisive.

‘No, we’re...just two countrymen who find themselves at the same table.’ Josh laughed.

‘How...fortunate,’ Prince Reyes said, his gaze speculative as it rested on the other man.

Vaguely, she saw him gesture. Suddenly, the guests rose from their places and started to mingle. Sensing some sort of etiquette being observed, Jasmine stood shakily to her feet.

Snagging the edge of her heel on her chair, she stumbled.

Prince Reyes caught her arm. She gasped at the electricity sizzling over her skin. When she straightened, he dropped his arm and just stared at her.

A block of silence fell between them. For the life of her, Jasmine couldn’t form any words to ease the sudden tension. Heat crawled over her body and her dress felt suddenly very restrictive.

Josh cleared his throat a third time, glanced from one to the other, then put his glass down. ‘I need to find a business acquaintance. Please excuse me, Your Highness.’ He bowed quickly, then scurried away before Jasmine could draw breath.

And once again, Jasmine was trapped by a pair of compelling grey eyes.

‘Are you here with him?’ Prince Reyes asked.

Did she detect a hint of disapproval in his tone? She raised her chin. ‘No, I’m here on my own.’

If anything, his disapproval increased.

She scrambled to continue. ‘I was told Rio was safe. So far nothing’s happened to make me think otherwise.’

A gleam smouldered in his eyes. ‘Danger comes in all forms, Miss Nichols. Sometimes in least expected packages. I’d urge you to practise caution.’

Hearing him use her surname instead of her first name as he had on the terrace, made her realise how much she missed hearing it.

‘Thank you for the advice...umm...Your Highness.’ She didn’t add that she wouldn’t need it. She didn’t plan on being here long enough to get into any more danger than she was putting herself in tonight. In fact, as soon as she’d completed the hateful task, she was heading to the airport to catch the next flight out. ‘But it’s really not necessary.’

He continued to regard her in that disquieting manner. A tiny shiver shimmied along her skin; the enormity of her task hit her, sharp and forceful.

Again the instinct to run slammed through her and it took everything Jasmine possessed to stand her ground and continue to meet his eyes.

This man possessed her only means to save her stepfather. Instead of dismissing his concern, she should be using it. The shame welling inside her didn’t matter. The fear of stepping over the line couldn’t be allowed to overtake the most important thing—saving Stephen. Saving her family.

She watched, scrambling to keep her distressing thoughts from showing, as Prince Reyes held out his hand. ‘Very well. Far be it from me to cause offence by suggesting one of my bodyguards accompany you to your hotel. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Nichols.’ He turned away and she noticed said bodyguards take their protective stance behind him. One was carrying the briefcase containing the treaty.

He was leaving! Taking with him the only chance of saving her stepfather.

Gripping her purse, she cleared her throat and quickly back-pedalled. ‘Actually, you’re right. A strange city isn’t a place for a woman to be wandering at night. I’d be grateful for your assistance.’

She heard the indrawn breath of the nearest guests, but ignored it.

Letting Prince Reyes leave was unthinkable. She’d travelled thousands of miles to make sure her stepfather didn’t go to jail. Ten minutes was all she needed. Less, if she was really quick. She had to get her hands on that treaty. Even if it meant following a predator straight into his den.

He turned. Jasmine’s breath stalled as his eyes darkened. He stared at her for what felt like an eternity before his lids descended. She sensed his withdrawal before he spoke.

‘I’ll arrange for my chauffeur to deliver you to your hotel.’ He was already nodding to a dark-clad figure nearby.

Acute anxiety swelled inside her.

She couldn’t fail. She just couldn’t. Stephen might just survive prison but her mother wouldn’t make it.

‘Or I could come with you. Save your chauffeur making two trips,’ she offered, cringing at the breathless tone of her voice.

He held up a hand to stop the bodyguard who stepped forward, his gaze imprisoning hers. Silence pulsed between them. A silence filled with charged signals that made the blood pulse heavily between her thighs. Every sense sprang into super-awareness. She could hear every sound, smell every scent on the evening breeze, feel every whisper of air over her heating skin. Her nipples hardened and her cheeks heated at the blatant evidence of her awareness of him.

The thought that she was insanely attracted to a man whom she planned to deceive, albeit temporarily, caused hysterical laughter to bubble up.

She strained not to react. To keep the wrap draped over her arms and not use it to hide the proof of her arousal. She’d never used her feminine wiles to capture a man’s attention. Doing so now made her insides clench with disgust. All the same, a small part of her gave a cry of triumph when his eyes dropped to her chest for an infinitesimal moment.

‘You want to come with me? Now?’ His voice had altered, his eyes narrowing with icy suspicion that warned her to tread carefully.

Jasmine couldn’t afford to back away. She had too much to lose.

‘Yes. Take me with you. My hotel isn’t that far from here. I’ll even buy you a drink as a thank you.’ The single brain cell that remained shook with astonishment at her boldness. Afraid that her plea had emerged more of a command, and might perhaps cause offence, she hastily added, ‘If you don’t mind.’

His gaze darkened with a predatory gleam that made Jasmine swallow in trepidation. ‘Perhaps it is you who should mind, Miss Nichols. Some would advise you against what you’re asking.’

With deliberate slowness, she passed the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. Stark hunger blazed in his eyes, stealing her breath as the grey depths turned almost black. A warm rush of air whispered over her skin, but even that small change caused her to gasp as if he’d physically laid his hands on her.

‘Maybe, but something tells me I can trust you,’ she replied, her nerves jangling with terror at the uncharted waters she found herself in. Flirting and sexual games had never been her forte. Not since her one attempt at university had ended in humiliating disaster.

Another step brought Prince Reyes within touching distance. His narrowed eyes, still holding that trace of sadness she’d glimpsed earlier, were now laced with a healthy dose of bitterness.

Jasmine didn’t have time to dwell on his expression because his scent engulfed her, fuelling her already frenzied senses. She inhaled, filling her entire being with his essence. As if he sensed it too, his nostrils flared.

‘You’re playing a dangerous game, Jasmine,’ he murmured.

‘It...it’s just a lift back to my h-hotel,’ she croaked.

‘Perhaps. Or it is something else. Something neither of us is ready for.’ His voice was pitched low, for her ears alone. His gaze slid over her face, its path as forceful and yet as gentle as a silky caress.

‘I’ll be out of your hair in less than half an hour. Seriously, you have nothing to fear from me.’ Liar. She tried to curb the accusing voice, thankful when it faded away under the onslaught of the heavy emotion beating in her chest.

His jaw tightened. ‘I have everything to fear from you.’ Again the bitterness, sharper this time. ‘The curse of a beautiful woman has been my ancestors’ downfall.’

She forced a laugh. Beautiful? Her? Well, if he could flatter, so could she. ‘So prove it’s not true. Deliver me to my hotel and walk away. Then you’ll be free of this...curse.’

He tilted his head to one side, as if weighing her request. His hand rose again, this time to reach down to encircle her wrist.

With a subtle but firm tug, he pulled her to him.

‘If walking away resolved centuries-old issues, my kingdom wouldn’t be in shambles.’

‘I didn’t mean—’

He pulled her closer. Jasmine was too mesmerised by this enigmatic man to acknowledge the curious stares of the guests beyond the protective circle of Prince Reyes’s bodyguards. And he didn’t seem too disturbed by their growing audience.

His stare turned into a frown. ‘You intrigue me, Jasmine Nichols.’

‘Is that a bad thing?’

He stepped back and he seemed to come to a decision. ‘I’m not certain, but I wish to find out. Come.’

* * *

Reyes Navarre drew a deep breath.

What in Dios’s name was he doing? Not since Anaïs had he behaved so rashly. His carefree period of picking up liaisons for a night had come to a jagged halt five years ago when he’d experienced for himself just how duplicitous women could be. His own mother had hammered that lesson home forcefully in the weeks before her death.

Overnight, Reyes had witnessed the family he’d foolishly thought he could bring together disintegrate beyond recognition. He’d watched the will to live slowly extinguish from his father’s eyes until only a husk remained.

Reyes’s chest tightened painfully with equal parts of remorse and bitterness. Remorse that grew each day because he knew he’d failed to grant his father, King Carlos, his one wish—an heir to the throne while he was still alive. Bitterness because his father had condemned Reyes for choosing to learn from past mistakes. What his father didn’t know was the woman Reyes had thought would be his queen had turned out to be just as conniving and as faithless as his own mother.

The double blow had made abstinence a far better prospect. One he’d embraced and pushed to the back of his mind when his father’s health had worsened.

But tonight...

He glanced at the woman whose delicate scent filled every corner of the limo.

She hadn’t spoken since they’d driven away from the banquet, but Reyes had caught the fleeting glances she sent his way every now and then. Just as he’d glimpsed the little darts of her tongue at the corner of mouth when her gaze fell on him.

She did it again, just then. A different sort of tightening seized his body.

Grinding his teeth, Reyes forced himself to examine why Jasmine Nichols intrigued him. Perhaps it was being away from Santo Sierra for the first time in over a year. Perhaps it was the knowledge that, after months of tough negotiations, Mendez had finally agreed to sign the trade treaty.

Or it could be that he just needed to let himself feel something other than bitterness and recrimination...to experience a moment of oblivion before the relentless pressure of his birthright settled back on his shoulders.

Whatever the reason, he didn’t stop himself from pressing the intercom that connected him to the driver.

‘Take us to the boat,’ he instructed.

Jasmine immediately turned to him. ‘You’re not taking me to my hotel?’ Her voice held a touch of trepidation but no hint of panic.

She knew the score.

As he should.

Except he didn’t.

He was acting out of character. Had been from the moment he saw her.

His smile felt strained. ‘You owe me a drink, I believe. I’m choosing to take it before I have you delivered to your hotel, not after.’

‘Just in case I renege? You’re not very trusting, are you?’

The twinge in his chest stung deeper, but he refused to acknowledge it. ‘No, I’m not.’

Her eyes widened and she looked away. ‘Are we really going to your boat?’ she asked with a curious note in her voice.

‘Yes.’

Reyes remembered she didn’t like boats. Was that why he’d brought her to his yacht instead of the royal suite that awaited him at the Four Seasons? Was he hoping she would quail at the sight of the big floating palace and ask to be returned to her hotel?

Or had he brought her here for his own selfish reasons? Because, for some reason, focusing on her made his tumultuous feelings subside just a little?

All through the interminable dinner, he’d watched her, his gaze unable to stray from her for more than a few seconds because every time it had, he’d felt the darkness encroaching.

He watched her now from the corner of his eye, waiting for a reaction. But her hands remained folded in her lap, her gaze on the large vessel they’d pulled up to.

Unfortunately his thoughts and emotions suffered no such languor or calm. They churned in rhythm to the heavy pounding of his heart at what was to come.

Thoughts of sating himself on a woman had been pushed far back into the recesses of his mind, especially in the last year as he’d battled to salvage the trade treaty with Valderra. But his efforts had paid off.

He’d brought Mendez and Valderra to the treaty table, the result of which would mean a much-needed economic boost for his people.

Tomorrow they would complete the signing of the Santo-Valderra treaty. The concessions had been heavy. Mendez had made outrageous demands, like the excessively extravagant banquet held here tonight to honour his birthday. A ceremony Reyes had initially balked at attending, but had eventually given in to, because he suspected Mendez would use any excuse to postpone the final signing of the treaty.

The concessions Santo Sierra had given would be recouped with time. And, most importantly, the trade blockage had been removed.

He still faced an uphill battle in convincing his council members to accept the changes to come. And there was also his father...

Reyes pushed thoughts of his father and grief aside and reminded himself that his father was alive.

And for one night, this night, Reyes intended to turn his mind to more...pleasant matters.

Jasmine sat in silence beside him, a beacon in the gloom that threatened to swallow him whole. But Reyes sensed that she was almost as reluctant as he to test the depths of awareness that zinged between them, just as he was quietly amazed by the depth of his attraction for her.

The memory of her skin when he’d held her on the balcony returned. His hand tightened next to his thigh.

He’d taken one look at Jasmine and the foundations of his self-imposed celibacy had started to shake. All through the banquet he’d been unable to take his eyes off her, a notion that had at once fascinated and irritated him. By the time the banquet was over, he’d known his resistance was severely compromised.

Yet, he’d been determined to walk away. Bitter experience and the heavy burden of duty had taught him to weigh his decisions carefully.

One-night stands weren’t his modus operandi.

So what in the name of Dios was he doing?

He hadn’t touched her since that last electrifying contact, and yet a storm unlike anything he’d ever known raged inside him. From the corner of his eye, he watched her fiddle with one earring. The sweet, yet provocative movement fanned the inferno of his lust.

‘Are we going to get out?’ Her question emerged with that same breathy, husky quality that sent shivers racing through him. Her eyes, blue like the ocean surrounding his kingdom, slid to his and the throb in his groin accelerated.

‘Momentarily,’ he replied, hoping for some last-minute perspective.

But the only perspective his brain was willing to consider was the one where this enthralling woman ended up in his bed, her voluptuous body quenching his ferocious need.

She’d shown herself a worthy opponent, and yes, he considered the insane tug and pull of attraction between them a battleground. A battle from which he would emerge the victor and walk away with everything he held dear intact.

During their intriguing exchange not once had her gaze slid from his. In fact, more than once he’d seen a spark of defiance in the blue vividness of her eyes. That spark had ignited something inside him he’d long forgotten.

It had reminded him of a carefree time when life had been less fraught.

He glanced up at the lights of his yacht. He’d deliberately not moored at the same quay as Prince Mendez because he’d wanted to avoid the avid media attention Mendez courted.

Reyes preferred privacy...solitude...silence. His mother had created enough chaos in his life when she was alive.

So what are you doing bringing a total stranger on board?

He faced Jasmine.

Her gaze immediately riveted to his and heat surged through his bloodstream. She gave a nervous smile and pulled her wrap tighter around her. He frowned at the protective gesture. The interior of the car wasn’t cold, in fact the night air blowing gently through the half-open windows was sultry. So there could be only one other reason for the telling gesture.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind.’ His statement emerged harsher than he’d intended, partly, he realised, because he didn’t want her to leave.

Her eyes widened and she wavered for a second before a curiously resolute look settled over her face. ‘No. A deal is a deal. Although I’m not sure how to go about buying you a drink when we’re boarding your boat.’

Relief made him exhale unsteadily. He signalled to his bodyguard, who opened the door. Reyes handed him the briefcase holding the treaty and held out his hand to Jasmine. ‘We’ll continue our debate on board.’

She glanced from his hand to his yacht. He held his breath. Slowly, she reached out. His grip tightened on her fingers as he stepped out of the car and helped her out. He’d taken two steps when he felt her tug at his grip.

‘Wait. I can’t do this.’

Disappointment curled through him. Reyes bit back a sharp retort as he dropped her hand. In the time since his last liaison, the world hadn’t changed, then, he mused caustically. Women continued to tease, to engage in sexual games in the hope that playing hard to get would make them seem more attractive to the opposite sex. The bitterness he’d tried to douse welled up again.

‘Save the excuses, Miss Nichols. I’m disappointed that women seem to believe creating intrigue involves mind games, but I am not willing to indulge you.’ He nodded to his driver, who stepped forward. ‘You’ll be delivered to your hotel. Enjoy the rest of your stay in Rio.’ He couldn’t stem the regret that settled gut-deep inside him. Not to mention the uncomfortable arousal that tightened his groin and made thinking straight difficult.

He turned away, wanting to be far away from her, from the temptation of her voluptuous body and seductive scent that insisted on lingering in the air around him.

‘Actually, that’s not what I want.’ She sounded hurt and a little confused. ‘I didn’t mean that I’d changed my mind about the drink.’

He whirled round. ‘Then what did you mean, Jasmine?’

An uneasy look crossed her face. ‘I told you, I don’t really like boats. But I thought I’d make an exception...just this once...’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, I’m not coming aboard wearing these shoes.’ She gestured to her feet.

Puzzled, he frowned. ‘What?’

‘My step—umm, I read somewhere that heels and boats aren’t a good combination.’ Her shrug drew his attention to the silky curve of her shoulder. ‘Of course, I don’t know what sort of flooring you have on your yacht, but I don’t want to ruin it.’

Laughter replaced Reyes’s disappointment. It rumbled through his chest, a sensation he hadn’t felt for a while.

‘My floors? You don’t want to ruin the floors on my boat?’ His incredulity grew with his words and he barely stopped himself from shaking his head.

‘No, I don’t. Plus, my feet are seriously killing me. So if you don’t mind?’ She held out her hand for him to take. ‘It’ll only take a minute.’

Caught in the surreal moment, Reyes took her hand. He felt the rough ridge of scarred tissue and looked at the thin line crossing her palm. About to ask what had caused it, he was stalled by the sight of one graceful leg, lifted, one ankle strap unbuckled before the process was repeated with the other shoe.

His gaze dropped to her feet. They were small but perfectly formed with pink tips. The sight only aroused him further, tweaked his already dangerously heightened senses.

‘Good idea,’ he murmured inanely, his voice curiously hoarse.

She nodded and fell into step beside him. ‘I think it’s only fair to warn you, though, the last time I rode a dinghy, I ended up falling overboard. I hope you’ll rescue me if that happens again?’

A smile tugged at his lips. ‘As you can see, my boat is slightly bigger than your dinghy. It’ll take a lot of effort to accidentally go overboard. But be assured, I’ll come to your aid should the worst happen.’

‘Well, if you put it that way, then I have nothing to worry about,’ she said with a smile.

Reyes smiled, feeling less burdened than he had in a long time. He took her shoes as they approached the gangplank and followed her up the stairs onto the deck and through into the large, open salon. He watched her take in her surroundings, her mouth parting to inhale sharply at the opulence that embraced her.

Reyes had seen different reactions to his yacht, some openly covetous and some hidden behind careful indifference. Jasmine’s eyes widened in something close to childlike, uninhibited awe as she took in the polished wood panels, gold ornamentation and monogrammed accessories in royal Santo Sierran blue he’d commissioned for the vessel.

‘Wow!’ She turned full circle and found him watching her. A faint blush touched her cheeks and she walked over to the large sofa and perched on the edge. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to gush.’

‘A genuine reaction is better than artificial indifference.’ He walked over to her and placed her shoes next to her.

‘Seriously? Who would be indifferent to this?’ She waved her hand around the deck.

‘People with ulterior motives they prefer to hide?’ The last female on this boat had been Anaïs. She’d been in full playing-hard-to-get mode, which had swiftly crumbled when Reyes had threatened to walk away. Of course, she’d had other aces up her sleeve. ‘In my experience, people are rarely what they seem at first blush.’

‘Oh, right.’ Jasmine’s eyes darted to his and slid away, and she seemed lost for words. Her tongue darted out to lick the corner of her lip.

Reyes’s heart beat just that little bit faster. His fingers tightened as anticipation fizzed faster through his veins.

Her skin, creamy with the barest hint of tan, glowed under the soft lights of his deck. His fingers itched to touch, to caress. But he held back.

There would be time for that later. He had no doubt he was about to indulge in something he’d never indulged in before—a one-night stand; this could be nothing more than that—but he didn’t want to rush it.

Morning would come soon enough. The treaty would be signed. He would ensure Santo Sierra’s continued economic prosperity. And he would return to his father’s bedside to continue his vigil.

But for now... ‘I think it’s time for that drink, yes?’

* * *

Jasmine swallowed her relief as the heated look in Prince Reyes’s eyes abated. For a moment there, he’d looked as if he wanted to devour her where she stood.

And as much as that had sent a bolt of excitement through her, part of her had quailed at the look.

Hastily, she nodded. ‘Yes, thank you.’

She watched him walk towards an extensive, gleaming wood-panelled bar. A steward approached, but he waved him away. Opening a chiller, he grabbed a bottle of wine and expertly uncorked it. Rounding the bar, he handed her a glass and indicated a row of low, luxurious sofas.

Taking the seat next to her, he lowered his long body into it, driving the breath straight out of her lungs.

‘What shall we drink to?’ he asked in a low, deep voice, his stare focused solely on her.

Jasmine’s mouth dried. ‘Um, how about congratulations on the progress you’ve made with the treaty so far?’ Talking about the treaty helped keep her grounded, reminded her why she was here.

His smile held more than a hint of pride. ‘Gracias.’

‘Did you achieve what you set out for?’

Against his usual guarded judgement he found himself sharing with her. ‘It was a long, hard battle, but we’re almost there. By this time tomorrow, a solid trade agreement will exist between our two kingdoms, something my people have needed for a long time.’

Jasmine’s heart thudded loudly in her ears. Her hands started to shake and she hastily put her glass down. Sensing him following the movement, she flexed her fingers and smoothed them over her dress.

‘You should be back there, then, at the museum, celebrating. Why did you leave early?’

‘I don’t like crowds,’ he declared. His eyes widened, as if he’d let something slip he hadn’t meant to. A moment later, his expression shuttered.

Something inside her softened. ‘I don’t like crowds, either.’

His head snapped up, his gaze searching hers. At her small smile, his tense jaw relaxed.

‘I mean, who does, aside from rock stars and, well, crowd lovers?’ she joked. She wasn’t making much sense, but at the moment Jasmine would’ve kept babbling just to keep that smile on his face.

A small, enigmatic smile twitched his lips before he took a sip of his wine. ‘So what brings you to Rio alone?’ he asked. ‘Carnival was last month.’

She forced herself not to tense. For a wild moment Jasmine wondered if he could see through her to the truth of her presence in his life.

Clearing her throat, she shrugged and struck for the half-truth she’d practised in her head. ‘I haven’t had a holiday in years. An unexpected gap opened up in my schedule, and I took it.’

His eyes slowly narrowed, his fingers stilling around his wine glass. ‘And you just happened to gain the most sought-after invitation to the Prince of Valderra’s birthday party?’ Mild disbelief rang through his voice.

‘No. Of course not. My trip isn’t all play. The brokerage firm I work for have been following the Santo-Valderra negotiations for some time. When one of my...clients offered me the invitation, I thought it would be good experience to learn more about it.’

‘And have you?’

Jasmine shook her head. ‘Only what’s been released to the press, which is plenty interesting. I mean, from a brokerage point of view, it’s mind-blowing what you’ve achieved—’

Jaw tightening, he set his glass down with a sharp click. ‘And you want to know more? To gain first-hand information? Is that why you’re here?’

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