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Two crowns, two islands, one legacy

A royal family, torn apart by pride and its lust for power, reunited by purity and passion

The islands of Adamas have been torn into two rival kingdoms:

TWO CROWNS

The Stefani diamond has been split as a symbol of their feud

TWO ISLANDS

Gorgeous Greek princes reign supreme

over glamorous Aristo

Smouldering sheikhs rule the desert island of Calista

ONE LEGACY

Whoever reunites the diamonds will rule all.

THE ROYAL HOUSE OF KAREDES

Many years ago there were two islands ruled as one kingdom – Adamas. But bitter family feuds and rivalry caused the kingdom to be ripped in two. The islands were ruled separately, as Aristo and Calista, and the infamous Stefani coronation diamond was split as a symbol of the feud and placed in the two new crowns.

But when the king divided the islands between his son and daughter, he left them with these words:

“You will rule each island for the good of the people and bring out the best in your kingdom. But my wish is that eventually these two jewels, like the islands, will be reunited. Aristo and Calista are more successful, more beautiful and more powerful as one nation: Adamas.”

Now, King Aegeus Karedes of Aristo is dead, the island’s coronation diamond is missing! The Aristans will stop at nothing to get it back but the ruthless sheikh king of Calista is hot on their heels.

Whether by seduction, blackmail or marriage, the jewel must be found. As the stories unfold, secrets and sins from the past are revealed and desire, love and passion war with royal duty. But who will discover in time that it is innocence of body and purity of heart that can unite the islands of Adamas once again?

RUTHLESS BOSS, ROYAL MISTRESS

NATALIE ANDERSON

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For my four lion cubs.

Thank you for letting me postpone writing

“The Adventures of…”.

I promise we’ll write some more soon, but for now we’re

too busy living them – and loving them.

CHAPTER ONE

JAMES leaned back in his chair, rubbed over his face with both hands and then ruffled them through his hair. The flight from Kuala Lumpur had landed just after five that morning and he’d come straight to the office, showering and changing on site. He’d already caught up on most of the essentials and now he desperately wanted another coffee and something more substantial than a rubbery in-flight muffin. He’d read the paper and relax for ten.

Thankfully he heard sounds of movement in the office outside his door. Good. His secretary must have arrived. A little later than usual but he didn’t mind; she was the best there was—usually.

He picked up the papers he’d been skimming earlier, grinning as he walked to the door.

‘Bridge, did you break all your fingers and thumbs or something? The typos in this report are appalling. I can hardly read it.’

He looked up from the page he’d been chuckling over and stopped on the threshold, staring at the stranger rising from behind the desk.

She was tall, she was dark, she was stunning, she was…

‘Not Bridget,’ he said stupidly.

‘No.’ Her voice was quiet but firm, with a foreign lilt and a tinge of guilt to it.

And in that one beat he lost all power of thought—couldn’t process a thing. Could only look at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The only word remaining in his brain was wow. It seemed to take an age for his heart to beat again. When it finally did, he walked closer. The colour in her cheeks seemed to rise higher with every step he took nearer.

‘I’m—’

‘Princess Elissa.’ He remembered now, kicking the grey cells back on. He’d told her brother he’d give her a job. He’d forgotten that in the hype of the conference. She must have been here in Sydney at least a month already?

He couldn’t help himself—kept staring and stared some more. He’d seen her photo countless times in papers, magazines, on telly. But this was the first time he’d ever met her in person. He’d never thought she’d be such a stunner in real life—so often these model types were actually a disappointment live and up close, without the benefit of tons of make-up, accentuating lighting and airbrushing. But in truth no photo could capture the dancing lights in her dark eyes, or the richness of colour in her long brown hair. Hair that invited the touch of fingers, and that would feel like silk brushing across skin. And nothing could prepare anyone for the perfection of her body—both slim and curvy, womanly and tantalising.

‘Bridget is on holiday. I was told to work up here while she’s away.’

James nodded, still too busy processing her presence to be able to speak much.

‘I’ll redo that report.’ The colour in her cheeks was deeper, she wouldn’t look him in the eye, and as she held out her hand for the document he saw it shook a little.

It brought him back to reality. A smidge of compassion made him feel the need to give her some sort of excuse, to ease her embarrassment. ‘Some of the buttons on the keyboard are probably different in Europe.’

She looked up at him then, for just a second before looking back down to take the report. Apology shone in her eyes and something akin to—panic? ‘Must be.’

Fascinated, he watched the dull red splotches spread over her lightly golden skin; his fingers itched to trace over the patterns—to see if it felt as hot as it looked. Then he realised he was still holding onto the paper that she was trying to take back. He let it go and in the same instant, turned away. He’d been staring a little too long. But it had been a bit of a shock—she really was something else. Hell, he must be more tired than he thought—damn jet lag.

He shook his head, wanting to flick away the haze. But all he could see was red—the colour of temptation. It was interesting how someone who must be so used to scrutiny still had an all-over body blush like that. It never showed in the photos of her. It must be airbrushed out.

He retreated into his office and told himself to get a grip. Intriguing blushes or not, he didn’t want her taking up any of his brain space. She was way too beautiful for him—the kind of woman every man would want and one who would want the attention of every man. And he wasn’t one for sharing.

Liss let out the breath that had been held so long her lungs were bursting. She flung back in the chair like a rag doll. So that was James Black? For some reason she’d imagined her hotel tycoon boss to be fifty-ish, a little squat, balding. Not maybe thirty, tall and with a head full of slightly unruly dark brown hair. He was gorgeous. He was more than gorgeous, and when she’d looked into his eyes she’d seen the most tantalising golden gleam that had her aching to reach out to touch him—to capture it and keep it.

She should have done her research. Just as she should have taken an emergency ‘brush-up-your-secretarial-skills’ course on the flight over from Aristo. This was it: her last chance—or the last chance she wanted to be given. She had to prove herself here or she’d never get to go back home. She’d have to start over again someplace else and she refused to let that happen. Sydney was it. This job was it.

And what a great first impression she’d made. Completely fouling up that report and then blushing all over like some schoolgirl. She never blushed. But she really hadn’t expected him to come out of his office with that warm smile, and the humour twinkling in his eyes. And she hadn’t expected the heat to rise in her body in such an instant response. Just looking at him had turned her lust switch on.

Distracted, she messed up a call and mortifyingly had to ask the receptionist, Katie, to come up and explain the phone system to her once again. She’d already written down step-by-step instructions on how to operate it but still she couldn’t quite get it—she was always putting a caller through to answering machine instead of transferring them to someone else, or worse still cutting them off completely. She could manage her own mobile well enough and her PDA and they were much more complex pieces of equipment. There was just something about this system. They were five minutes into it when he walked out of his office again.

‘Welcome back, James.’ The receptionist gave him a stunning smile.

Only a small smile flickered on his face in return. ‘Thanks, Katie. I’m just going for coffee. Back in twenty.’ He looked at Liss. ‘Can you have that report for me by then?’

‘Certainly,’ Liss replied with far more conviction than she felt. But he was halfway across the room already and in another instant out the door.

Katie gave a mock swoon once they’d heard the door to the stairwell slam. ‘He’s back.’ She sighed and gave Liss a sly look. ‘Something else, isn’t he? Lucky you, getting to sit outside his office all day.’

Liss nodded vaguely, not really wanting to dissect the undeniable hunk-factor of her new boss. Of course she wasn’t the only one who saw it. But gossiping wasn’t the way to get herself taken seriously.

However, inside she dissected his response to Katie’s openly flirty greeting. The smile had been far more reserved than the one he’d had on his face when he’d thought she was his secretary Bridget. She found herself wondering what Ms Perfect Typist Bridget looked like.

‘Be careful though. He’s mercurial.’

Liss paused at Katie’s comment, curiosity mounting.

Katie’s smile was sly and Liss knew if she ever wanted to know anything about the organisation or its staff, all she had to do was ask the receptionist.

‘Can’t be caught.’

‘Oh?’ Liss wasn’t interested. Really wasn’t interested.

‘He doesn’t do commitment.’ Katie kept chatting as if knowing full well Liss was all ears.

But Liss wasn’t here to learn about the boss’s love life. She was here to work. ‘No?’

‘Three dates and it’s over.’

Focus on the phones, Liss. ‘Can you show me how to transfer again?’

Katie didn’t bother to hide her laughter as she showed Liss once more which buttons to push. ‘You’ll get it after a bit. You’re probably not used to having to work like this.’

Liss had to admit that was true. But cut off from her trust fund she had little choice. Alex had set her up. Until she learnt to settle down she was to be without her funds, and having to work—at a job Alex had selected. For a business acquaintance of his, who just happened to be based on the other side of the world. It was so convenient for them—Elissa the embarrassment shipped off again, no longer a concern to the family. Out of sight, out of mind. They seemed to be able to do that so easily and inside she was crushed. She’d wanted to stay on Aristo after her father’s death. Had wondered if there was some way in which she could be useful. Instead she’d been installed into a serviced apartment in Sydney—one of James’s complexes, she’d discovered—and by the time the rent was taken out of her wages she had minimal cash left to get by. For the first time she was forced to earn her own living—to curb her impulses and to take some responsibility.

And for the first time she intended to succeed. She was determined to do a good job and to make some sort of a life for herself here. That way she could prove to them, and to herself, that she was as capable as any of them. Maybe then their rejection wouldn’t matter. Maybe then they’d want her to come back. She sure wasn’t going to stuff up that possibility by wasting time thinking inappropriate thoughts about her new boss.

‘He’ll be back in a minute and you haven’t done that report.’ Katie nudged her.

‘Oh, hell.’

James wished he’d shut his office door. But he hardly ever did—able to call through to Bridget if he needed something. He was dreading the day she’d come to him and tell him she was pregnant and he had the suspicion it was going to be sooner rather than later—especially with this romantic cruise she was on with her husband. But he couldn’t even begin to worry about that—right now he had one hell of a replacement secretary to deal with.

He picked up the pile of newspapers that had accumulated the few days he’d been overseas. He quickly flicked through, having caught most of the important news online while travelling. But he stopped at the society page. There she was—his new secretary, looking particularly glamorous in black and white, a brilliant smile in place at the opening night of some new play. He picked up the paper for the day before and flicked through to the society page in that one—yes, there she was again, smiling straight into the camera, surrounded by several handsome men. He looked through more—the same. Another paper, another photo, another escort.

She sure had been busy. She hadn’t been here long and had been out every night. No wonder she could barely type a report. Her concentration would be shot if she’d been cutting up the dance floor till all hours every night. What a fool he was for feeling sorry for her. For thinking perhaps nerves had impacted on her performance. James loathed nothing more than being made a fool of.

He spread out the page of the last paper and stared narrow-eyed at the picture. Beautiful as she looked in it, he now knew it was nothing on the real thing.

There was absolutely no denying he was attracted to her. Extremely attracted. You couldn’t be male and straight and not be attracted to her. But James had spent plenty of time in and around beautiful women and had learned the lesson some time ago not to take any of them seriously. Social butterflies spent their time flitting—from one partner to the next, without pause. Liss was the most beautiful butterfly of them all. She had scores of suitors—shipping heirs, media magnates—the pictures ran in every rag and glossy gossipy mag there was. And undoubtedly she’d have the knack of playing the men off down pat too. For a woman as desirable as Liss there would be no fun in plain and simple attraction; she’d be the sort to play games and to fool around to keep life interesting.

James’s lips twisted. To get involved with her would be begging for trouble and he didn’t need that. Been there, done that, learned the lesson. Nowadays he liked his fun plain and simple and pretty much forgettable. Nothing long term, nothing serious, nothing complicated. Nothing to attract too much attention.

Elissa was all about attention. Clearly she couldn’t get enough of it.

His irritation level skyrocketed. He pushed away the newspaper and picked up another report she’d given him—it only took a quick flick to see the graphs were all hopelessly askew.

He craned his head so he could see part of her at the desk through the door. Even the way she sat was regal. Her head erect, as if there were some imaginary tiara on it as she frowned at the computer. The party-princess was playing at a real job; it seemed there was no real effort on her part. His frown grew to twice the size of hers. He’d been born into money too—not quite at the level as her family, for sure, but he could have chosen a more leisurely, decadent life had he wanted. But he hadn’t—quite the opposite in fact. His family’s name and money had made him even more determined to succeed on his own merits. His grandfather and his father had worked hard to build their wealth. And James was the same. He certainly wouldn’t expect to have everything handed to him on a silver platter. He thrived on the satisfaction of working hard and getting the job done well. Princess out there had probably never savoured that sort of satisfaction—employing her looks, her fame and name to get what she wanted rather than doing an honest day’s work. No doubt she was used to an endless stream of silver platters delivered to her by fawning servants. Well, there wasn’t room on James’s boat for indolent passengers—everyone was expected to pull their weight, especially spoilt princesses.

He stood, grabbed the report and gritted his teeth. ‘I need you to redo these graphs as well.’ He walked through, tossed the pages onto her desk and watched for her reaction. Only this time there wasn’t a blush. She visibly blanched. Shying away from more work? It irritated him more.

‘You need to do better than this, Elissa. Just because you’re a princess doesn’t mean you’re going to get any sort of special treatment.’

Liss snapped her head up at the unexpected undertone of sarcasm in his voice, stared up at him. His expression was so different from earlier this morning. That glow of good humour had gone; his eyes held no gleam of gold. They were dark, cold and hard. She knew exactly what it meant—disapproval, distance.

Time and time again she’d had similar looks, similar lectures from her overprotective, over-conservative brothers. But she hadn’t asked James for any kind of special treatment—in truth that was exactly what she didn’t want. She just wanted to get good at her job and get on with it. Hurt because she was genuinely trying, and surprised by his sudden change, she lost the professionalism she was desperately trying to cultivate. The failures of the morning and the fear of not being able to manage burst out of her in a rebellious moment.

‘Do you really think I haven’t heard that line before?’ she asked sharply. ‘Why not be honest? You’re actually going to raise the bar, aren’t you? Expect even more from me than you would from others. Have impossibly high expectations that I haven’t a hope of meeting.’ She pulled the papers towards her and, seeing the mess she’d made up close, she totally lost it. ‘The whole “just because you’re a princess doesn’t mean you can blah, blah” is so passé. Why don’t you try something original?’

Her outburst was met with silence. One that stretched on and on and on.

Liss burned all over, badly wanted to claw out her tongue. She stared at the edge of her desk, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to be sacked the very morning the boss got back.

‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered. ‘That was really inappropriate.’ She couldn’t lose this job. She had nowhere else to go.

Still more silence. It was going on for ever and her discomfort increased with every dragging second. She knew she’d sounded like some smart, sullen teenager, not a professional woman aiming to do a good job.

He moved nearer, coming to lean on the edge of her desk, right where she was looking. No way could she not pay attention.

When he finally spoke, it was quietly, with a level of controlled coolness that made her toes curl even more with embarrassment. ‘Why shouldn’t I expect quality from you? The fact is you’re not like just anyone else, are you? You’re a highly educated young woman with a degree from Paris, you’re fluent in several languages, and you’re obviously bright. So, yeah, maybe I do expect more.’

She lifted her head, surprised at his evaluation of her—pleasantly surprised.

‘The princess bit is irrelevant. What’s relevant is your attitude. My expectation isn’t the problem. The problem is your reluctance to get down and get on with it.’

Any nice feeling was instantly snuffed. She clamped her mouth shut so she wouldn’t blurt out the denial that sprang to her lips, not wanting to repeat the spoilt-child act of moments before. She had been trying. She’d been working hard all morning. It was just that her efforts didn’t seem to produce any noticeable improvement.

Their eyes met and his were all cynic.

‘You’d better lift your game, princess, because next time I might just try something “original”.’

Low-voiced but clear, it was almost a threat. His gaze speared hers. The hairs on her arms, the back of her neck, lifted to stand on end. She watched, helpless to do otherwise, as the darkness in his eyes was slowly broken by the growth of that golden gleam. She wanted to say something—to slice through the tension threading between them. But she couldn’t think, couldn’t move. He too was silent, staring right through her. Despite the goose bumps she felt the heat unfurl—the tantalising yearning to get closer to the flame burning deep in him. Was he thinking the same sort of ‘original’ as she was? Was he seeing the shadows in her eyes move the way his were? A longing for pleasure washed through her lonely bones and in that very second the gleam in his gaze flared.

The shrill ring of the phone broke the heavy silence, shattering the moment, enabling her to tear free from the invisible bonds. As she reached across the desk he rose and walked through to his office. Breathless, brainless, she totally muffed the call.

CHAPTER TWO

THE next day Liss sat at the computer and tried to work her way through the spreadsheet software’s tutorial on graphs and charts—only while it talked her through the basics, it didn’t get to what she needed and she seemed to be going in circles, always ending up at the same useless info page. She didn’t want to waste any more of the other secretaries’ time by asking them to show her and didn’t want to admit to any more people how inept she was.

Her typing hadn’t had the overnight improvement she’d hoped for either. It wasn’t that the keyboard was different at all. But her fingers seemed to think it was in Swahili.

It was like Groundhog Day—the same nightmare repeated over and over. She didn’t look at James as he tossed the papers on her desk and kept walking right out of her office. She knew he was off to a meeting. And she knew she was going to be sitting through her lunch break trying to fix whatever it was she’d done wrong now.

He clearly thought she was useless. And she couldn’t blame him.

She sat and slaved, tried not to get too despondent. Katie and a secretary from Accounts walked past and they saw her chained behind her desk, obviously flustered with paperwork all over the place. Liss felt uncomfortable heat rise in her cheeks at their smiles. She knew they were laughing at her expense—the princess attempting to hold down a real job and making a complete hash of it. Liss didn’t like failing. And she didn’t like others witnessing her failures. And here she was failing at this with everyone watching. And it was the last chance.

For some reason she just couldn’t quite grasp it—she’d think she had everything covered but there would always be something, somewhere, that slipped. It seemed the harder she tried, the worse she got.

It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. She thought about abandoning the whole thing altogether. Phoning Alex and begging for mercy—she’d live like a nun if he’d just let her go back home. But he wouldn’t let her. He didn’t want her there; none of them did. She had to prove herself first. So she needed to keep her eyes on the job. Not think about James in anything other than a professional way. He was the boss—capital B—and that was all.

It was the purest bad luck that he had to walk in just as she’d pushed back in her chair for a few minutes’ time out. She’d kicked off her sandals and was stretching her legs out in the air—circling her feet, wriggling her toes. The afternoon seemed long, long, long in front of her and she couldn’t wait to get home to her apartment, get changed and get out for a night on the town. There was a new bar in a hip part of the city and there was an invite-only opening party tonight. She wanted to dress up, wanted to dance and more than anything blow out the stale sit-at-a-desk-all-day stiffness and frustration.

Frozen, she watched as he strolled across the room, looking first at her ankles, slowly working his way up her legs, her body and finally into her face, which by now was on fire. She knew the blush must be a goodie—the warmth in her cheeks felt unbearable. Hell, she hadn’t blushed like this in years, always had a good grip on her emotions—yet this felt like the fiftieth time in two days. But the flame was purely from embarrassment and irritation at being caught slacking, not the way his attention had so carefully wandered up every inch of her legs, right?

Her discomfort increased when he didn’t stop at an appropriate distance from her desk, he came right up to the edge of it. Right up to her. Every cell was aware of his closeness and his scrutiny.

He didn’t bother to hide his cynicism. ‘Have you ever come across the concept of hard work?’ He put his hands on her desk, leaned over it so he was talking smack into her face. A slow, satirical smile pulled one half of his sensuous mouth up. He spoke again. ‘Are you like this in bed? Happy to sit back and let someone else do all the work?’

Shocked, she sat up. Stared into the gleaming depths of his brown eyes and read the challenge there.

He reached for her hand and studied her fingernails. ‘You wouldn’t be afraid to get a little dirty, would you, princess?’

She felt the sizzle from her hand to her heart, snatched her fingers from his. Swallowing, she tried to think of some sort of comeback. But all she could hear was the word bed. Bed? The atmosphere was charged and the red ‘fire’ button beckoned. Either of them could push it. The temptation was almost irresistible. She wondered exactly what it would take to make that flicker in his eyes explode into full-on flames. What she could say or do to galvanise him into action. She stared back and for a long moment paused on the brink of movement. Saw the almost imperceptible narrowing of his gaze as he too held back. This wasn’t wise.

Despite the desire rocketing though her, she had to maintain her priorities. She was not going to jeopardise her future by being one of his three-date wonders. Not going to destroy any of the credibility she was struggling so hard to earn by flirting with her boss.

Instead she mustered every ounce of dignity she could, forcing the flush from her cheeks. ‘I’ll bring the papers through in a minute. I just need to print and check them.’

He stood back. The spark of something dangerous in his eyes faded and something like respect replaced it. Then he was back to reserved.

‘Great.’ He disappeared into the office.

Liss sat motionless for a moment. She’d successfully fended off the moment of threat—so why did she feel some silly sense of disappointment?

She counted to one hundred and then took in the timetable she’d arranged for a series of meetings he had the following week. His wary half-smile disappeared the second he saw it and any hope his expression was simply a serious look of concentration faded as it turned into one serious frown. Liss’s heart started knocking uncomfortably against her ribs. She hadn’t just screwed up again, had she?

‘You know, princess—’ the slight jibe was there ‘—I’ll agree I’m a man of many talents, but being able to be in two places at once is beyond even me.’

It was her turn to frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Monday, three p.m.—I’m here for a conference call and in the auditorium for a presentation. How do you propose I do it?’

Liss stared hard at the paper, read upside down with a skill until now she’d never known she had. Oh, hell.

His voice cooled. ‘Look, prin—’

She didn’t want him to say it, didn’t want him to give up on her too. Not when she was finally getting her act together and her plans in place. So she interrupted. ‘I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it right away.’ She snatched the paper back. Thank heavens she hadn’t emailed it on to the other attendees yet.

He looked at her, the hard gaze seeking to penetrate her reserve while revealing nothing of his own thoughts. There was silence for a few moments. Then he nodded and she made her escape—quick.

James knew he should never have made the ‘in bed’ comment. Totally inappropriate. And it was because he’d been dumb enough to make it that he felt he owed her another chance. But he couldn’t quite regret it. The look on her face had been priceless—for one second totally floored, and in the next? Aware—as aware of him as he’d been of her the whole damn day.

And finding her lying back in that chair, her body shown off to glorious perfection, what else would leap into his mind at that sight? Liss languorously lying in bed, those incredibly long legs bare and bronzed on white cotton sheets, her body a little damp, her face as flushed as it had been then, but this time with the glow of completion in her eyes…

The image instantly had him tormented by longing. What would that effortlessly graceful, oh, so sophisticated princess be like? How would she look, how would she sound, in the moment when her body mastered her mind and she succumbed to sensation? He ached to know and had needed the satisfaction of seeing her desire revealed for just that one second. But she hadn’t followed through—hadn’t bantered back. She was wary with him. Which was interesting. Why? From the papers she seemed to be full of flirtation when she was out at all her parties. Had he suddenly grown horns and a tail?

He shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t be interested. Shouldn’t be wasting this much time thinking about a woman who would be as fickle as an autumnal day.

It was pretty obvious she wasn’t that happy. He snorted. Hell, all that was probably bothering her was the fact she had to work for a change.

Now he was behind by about half an hour on his work and he needed to wrap it up. There was a function at a new bar that he was due to look in on.

Liss made a quick exit, right on closing time as usual, but he was glad she was gone. Now he could get on with his work and stop his mind—and body—from dwelling on her. It was stupid of him, when he knew what she’d be like—inconsistent, unreliable, untruthful. Exactly the kind of woman he swore he’d never bother with—never again. One fun-loving, unfaithful girlfriend was enough. Even now, his scars were red and sore and constantly aggravated by the day-to-day reality of his parents’ dysfunctional relationship. The mess that they were simply cemented his belief that long-term monogamy wasn’t possible. Short-term, sure—very short. But Liss was here as his employee, worse than that she was flavour of the month for the media circus and as far as James was concerned he’d been in one magazine too many as it was. It was totally in his best interests to ignore her.

But of course she was there, at the opening party for the bar and in full glamour-girl mode. He spotted her immediately—she was hard to miss in a stunning black dress that clung low to her torso, showing off every beautiful curve, and then flaring out. As she walked there were slits in the skirt granting tantalising glimpses of those gorgeous legs. She wore her hair out and it hung long down her back and once again he had the urge to wind his fingers into it and feel its soft length brush against his body.

He saw the moment that she saw him. She’d lifted her head in laughter at something some admirer was saying and she caught his gaze full on. Her laughter stilled but she kept up her smile. There was definitely an increase of sharpness in her eyes. He walked towards her, smiling and nodding at acquaintances on the way but, for the most part, keeping his eyes on hers. She kept chatting to the small circle of people she stood in the centre of, but, for the most part, met his gaze. As he neared she broke away, moving forward to meet him, free of the entourage. He grinned inwardly, knowing the action revealed her sense of relationship with him—sure, it was as employer, but they had a connection more than this mere socialising. He refused to analyse why this pleased him, just enjoyed the sense of satisfaction.

‘You didn’t tell me you were coming here tonight.’ He could have given her a lift.

‘You only need to know about my contracted hours, right?’ she answered coolly. ‘I’m surprised to see you here—I thought you’d have more work to do.’

He grinned. So she was still a little fired from his comments this afternoon. But he ignored the words, instead fixed all his attention on her feet and the outrageous shoes on them. Surely heels that thin and high wouldn’t be able to bear the weight of a cat let alone a full-grown woman—even one as slim as Liss. They were the flimsiest things he’d ever seen—and he’d seen a few pairs of high-heeled shoes in his time.

‘Aren’t you tall enough?’ he drawled.

A smile, one he hadn’t seen on her before, curved her mouth and highlighted her eyes—beautiful, brown and deep enough to drown in. They glittered, mysterious, mesmerising and he sank fast.

She stepped forward, so the gap between them became personal, not businesslike. Every muscle in James had leapt to attention the minute he’d seen her in the room. Now they hit screaming point. So close—he ached for closer.

She stood another half millimetre taller as she stretched onto the very tips of her toes. Her head tilted back. And the touch of naughty in her face increased, as did the promise of sensual delight.

Stunned into immobility, James realised she was about to kiss him. Her lips were parted and full and devastatingly close. He caught the glimpse of white teeth and the tip of a pink tongue. But her mouth didn’t quite reach his. His blood pounded. The power of reason vanished and instinct took over. But just as he bent to meet her she whisked her head down and away.

‘Guess not.’ Her drawl more than matched his.

Guess not what? Oh. He got it. Not tall enough.

Damn.

She granted him a coolly indifferent smile—but her eyes were flashing with success, satisfaction and humour. He was sure she’d laugh aloud. But something stopped her—the slight shadow behind the light. The dark gleam of desire was almost invisible but he caught it before she looked away. She’d wanted to follow through on that kiss as much as he’d wanted her to. And that stopped them both from laughing.

He didn’t know what he needed first—a deep breath of air or a deep gulp of his drink.

He watched her thread through the crowd of people. But she didn’t disappear. A woman like that could never disappear. Anger traced through him. He refused to be the latest toy for her to play with. So much for thinking she’d been wary—in that moment she’d been an absolute minx. Ignoring the attraction between them wasn’t going to work. Instead he was going to have to harness it and use it to his advantage. But he’d have to be careful. He’d only touched her hand once and that had sent a bolt right to the source of his desire. Already he knew he was going to have to kiss her. Soon.

He was a man well used to being in charge. Surely he could stay in charge of this situation?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. It took almost half an hour for Liss’s heart rate to return to normal. Her overt flirt with James had resulted in the biggest cardiovascular workout of her life. If she weren’t so young and in such good health, she’d wonder if some sort of attack was imminent. She definitely shouldn’t get any closer. She definitely wanted to.

It was the first time she’d seen him in formal dress. The classic tuxedo did a lot for any man. For a man like James, it simply lifted him into the realm of super stud. The tall, dark and handsome cliché didn’t do him justice whatsoever. It wasn’t that he was the epitome of male beauty. She’d seen more ‘beautiful’ men. But he was more attractive than any male model she’d known and she’d met several in Paris.

James had strong, even features, above-average height, a breadth of shoulders that made Liss pathetically weak at the knees. All pluses. But the key was in his stance, the way he carried himself. Some people had an aura about them—they turned heads the minute they appeared. They had people watching, listening to their every word—charisma.

James Black had a lot of charisma.

So, one look at him in that suit and all the breath had rushed from her body. As a result her brain, starved of think-fuel, had let her do something stupid. Her lips were never going to forgive her. Every nerve-ending in them screamed for what had been so close. His mouth was full and forever curved with that charming yet slightly mocking half-smile. So tantalising. Getting in close like that she’d got a taste of his scent. Fresh, clean. There was nothing nicer than the plain smell of soap and man. Her mind decided then and there to play the movie of James and soap and steaming, streaming water and nothing else.

‘Don’t you agree, Liss?’

‘I’m sorry?’ Jerked out of her reverie by a question she almost hadn’t heard, she realised she’d better save the erotic daydreaming for another time and place. Better still she should stop it altogether.

Idiot. Overcome by an impulse that had been too tempting to pass up. In the workplace she’d managed to hold back, maintain her dignity even. She’d just thrown all that away.

All she had to do was do her job well, have a nice time in the evening—nothing too outrageous. Nothing the family could get too upset about. Succeed at the basics.

So she concentrated on the party at hand, moving among her fellow guests, meeting people. She’d learnt a bit from those years in Paris—found that parties weren’t just about having a good time yourself. It was much more fun if everyone was having a good time. She found her natural curiosity about people helped. But she was most curious about James. She kept her distance but glanced at him often, watching as, oozing with finesse, he schmoozed everyone he was near. But it was a genuine wow factor. He was attentive, he listened. He seemed to care about the conversations and the people he was having them with. Oh, yes, he had it all.

* * *

From his own busy networking, he watched her work the party—drink in hand. Tiny sips—the sparkle in her eyes from pure pleasure, not from any alcohol or artificial stimulant. She had everyone’s name right, introduced people with titbits of info that would interest the others. She took the time to talk to everyone—including those clearly a little in awe of talking to a real live princess. Oh, yeah, she had the whole thing down pat—but with a grace so genuine it was dazzling.

You’d think she was the hostess of the place, who’d been here for ever, known them all for ages instead of only having met most of them this very evening.

His body was burning with the need to expend the pent-up energy. She’d coiled him up and then given him that one last little twist to ensure he was on the brink of exploding. He was going to have to get her for that. But he’d keep his distance for now. The paparazzi had turned up and the last thing he wanted was to be the latest escort printed in the papers. So he observed and simmered. He saw now why she liked parties—she was good at them. And that point got him to thinking. Most people liked doing what they were good at and maybe Liss would be better off trying to do a job that she’d actually be good at. Her trying to be a secretary was like a giraffe trying to roller skate—pretty much asking the impossible. But he had to give her credit—she was making an effort.

Eventually, on his way out, he couldn’t resist. He was the moth, she the flame. He grimaced at the cliché. He refused to get burned, but maybe he’d get a little warm.

‘Need a refill? You’ve hardly touched your drink.’

Liss turned towards him, away from the rest of the party. ‘I finish up all the bottles later in the night,’ she quipped, determined to keep things light, free from danger.

‘Ah. So you start the evening as the perfect hostess and end the evening as the wild child.’

‘Some habits are hard to break.’

‘So I should stick beside you later on, then. I’m interested in seeing how wild that side of you is.’

Stick beside her? Temptation called again. ‘Never this side of midnight. It’ll probably be too late for you.’

‘How late do you go?’

‘As late as I like.’

His smile was sharp. ‘And will you be shining with the freshness of a daisy at work tomorrow morning?’

She froze. She should have seen that one coming. ‘My social life doesn’t impact on my work life.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Indeed.’ She caught that gleam in his eye and added for good measure, ‘I keep the two entirely separate.’

His grin was wicked and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. ‘Is that so?’ He repeated the question, dripping in disbelief, slower and even more sarcastic than the first time.

She could hardly blame him. After all, she’d been the one who’d attempted the whole near-miss-kiss thing. But she couldn’t wholly regret that either. Winning that momentary burn in his eyes had been one hell of a thrill. It was nice to pretend that for just one little itty-bitty second she’d had the power over him and he was the one dancing to her tune—well, almost. He’d wanted it.

So now, having scored that point, she could let the matter go—entirely.

She turned, aimed for professional. ‘See you tomorrow.’

He called after her with a triumphant drawl. ‘You’ll be on your own, princess. Tomorrow’s Saturday.’

CHAPTER THREE

LISS would have slept in if it weren’t for the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about James. One moment he was hot—looking at her as if he wanted her—the next coolly sarcastic and disapproving. The zing was undeniable but the circumstances were all wrong and she got the vibe he thought she was all wrong. Her only logical course of action was to retreat. Be cool and professional during the day and keep her distance should their social schedules intersect.

But, oh, my, he looked so good in a tux—and in a business suit. Thank heavens she didn’t have to see him doing casual; she had the feeling he’d fill a pair of jeans jaw-droppingly well.

She spent a long time in the shower, the noise of the streaming water blocking the oppressive silence within the apartment. She slipped on skinny jeans and a casual tee shirt. Not bothering with much in the way of make-up. After a scrappy lunch she decided to leave for her appointment early—especially as she was determined to master the public transport system this week and not have it beat her. The numerous taxis home at night were beginning to add up and she couldn’t afford to take them during the day as well. And after last week’s nightmare of getting it all wrong, at least now she knew exactly which train and which bus were the ones to get. All she had to do was make it to the station on time.

She picked up her crate of goodies and headed out the door. By the time she was out of the lift and crossing the lobby she was ruefully thinking the crate was bulky and surprisingly heavy. She should have put it all in her wheelie case. Just then one of her slip-on shoes decided to slip off and skitter halfway across the floor.

‘Damn,’ she muttered.

‘Where are you going?’

She jerked her head around. James was walking across the floor—James?

‘To the station,’ she blurted, totally nonplussed.

‘Carrying that?’

She ignored the question, too busy picking up her jaw. She’d been right about the jeans—fit and firm and with that not-too-tight-not-too-loose tee shirt he was stealing all her breath. ‘What are you doing here?’ she half whispered, half hysterical.

‘I live in the penthouse.’

‘Oh.’ She tried to process that while juggling the crate and attempting to slip her foot back into the misbehaving shoe. She failed at all three.

‘Can I help you?’

‘No, thanks.’ Cool and professional. That was the way. Not ogling. Not imagining what his apartment must be like. Not feeling completely thrown.

But he’d already taken the crate from her and was frowning. ‘Which part of town are you headed to?’

‘Oh. Um. Just the other side of Chatswood.’

‘Why are you going there?’

She shrugged, getting her grip back. ‘I have some things to do there.’

His frown deepened. ‘I’ll give you a lift. I’m going out anyway.’

‘Oh, no, thanks, James…’ She broke off, finding herself talking to empty air. He was already at the lift. She righted her shoe and fell into line, going with him to the car park in the basement and to the sleek two-seater convertible he’d just unlocked.

To her relief, he didn’t speak as they drove. She gave him the address and that was it—giving her time to recover, and to surreptitiously check him out some more. After five minutes she knew she was best off staring out the window. Her heart rate would never get back to normal otherwise. When they pulled up at the house, she saw him looking it over—critical all the way.

‘Are you going to be long?’

Liss nearly giggled. He was acting like some control-freak bodyguard.

‘A couple of hours, I think.’ She’d just sit and hang with the girls, talk a little, more importantly listen.

‘I’ll be done about then too so I’ll come back and pick you up.’

It wasn’t an offer, it was a statement of intent and she already knew there was no point arguing. Might as well just enjoy the ride. ‘Thanks. That would be great.’

Two hours later James sat at the wheel of the car outside and waited. Twenty minutes after that he got out. She’d be fine of course, he wasn’t really worried. He’d got into the office and Googled the name of the place as soon as his computer had powered up. Atlanta House—a safe shelter for young mothers to stay while they waited for their babies to be born. A place where they could try to keep up their schooling and learn basic parenting skills too. A place to go when no one else would take them in.

He figured it was a charity stop for her. Of course she’d be keen to be seen doing ‘her bit’—especially with her brother Alex putting the hard word on her. It was the done thing for a wealthy socialite—to be known as a great charity supporter. James walked up the path, eyeing the building with cynical disfavour. Liss’s interest here could only be about appearances—only to further her own cause. His mother was exactly the same—on the committee for this, fund-raising for that…but the primary purpose had been to maintain the façade.

Liss was probably faking her way through every minute of her time inside there. Doing it out of a sense of duty, not any real desire.

He did wonder about the plastic crate, though.

After he knocked, the door was answered smartly by a very pregnant teen whose eyes grew even rounder than her tummy as she stared at him, and then at his car parked illegally right outside. He asked for Liss.

‘She’s in the common room. I’ll get her for you.’

He took a step through the doorway, lingering in the hall as the young woman headed towards the sound of giggles. He looked at the notice board covered with pictures of young mums cradling newborn babies—cards and postcards and letters of thanks and progress reports. He half expected to see a picture of Liss sitting in a circle of beaming girls—their most famous visitor. He figured one would be up there soon. She’d sign some saccharine message on it and it would be framed and hung proudly. Then it would fade in the light and gather dust and she’d probably never darken their door again. Irritated, he walked away from the brightly coloured board and further along the hall.

The high-pitched tones of the teenager carried clear back to him.

‘Liss, there is a seriously hot guy here asking for you.’

He heard a muttered, ‘Oh, hell, is that the time?’

More laughter, sounds of disruption, comment.

‘Wow, you can move faster than lightning.’

‘Is he your boyfriend?’

‘No.’ Liss’s answer came quick and loud.

‘Is he your bodyguard?’ another girl asked.

James stilled as he felt a ridiculous spurt of pleasure in that idea—all the vulnerability in the place must be making his protective male instinct rise.

‘Actually he’s my boss.’

‘Do you have to work, Liss?’

‘Everyone has to work, Sandy.’ Her tone was light.

‘But you’re a princess.’

‘I still have to eat.’

She appeared then, in the doorway, seeming to float in on the laughter. The girl who’d answered the door followed close. Then a collection of faces filled the frame.

James stayed statue-still and stared—hardly aware of the others, only her. He was barely conscious of his smile stretching wide. Her colour was high again and the blush grew when she saw how far he was along the hallway. For a moment their eyes met. Her colour deepened yet more. Her gaze slipped as she walked towards him, concentrating on balancing the crate. He drank in her appearance like a parched man who’d been stuck in a desert for months. She looked slim next to the pregnant girl and in her skinny jeans and casual tee she didn’t look that much older, and there was something different about her hair. Fresh and shining, she was even more attractive now than her glam-girl look of the night before. And for a crazy second he wondered what she’d look like with the blossoming curves of impending motherhood.

‘Sorry, James, I lost track of the time. Have I kept you waiting?’

James shook his head as he took the crate off her, clearing the wayward images, as careful to avoid any contact with her hands as she was to avoid contact with his eyes. In the face of so much fertility he couldn’t help the way his brain was working. The thought of S-E-X was screaming to him in capital letters. And all he could see was Liss in the centre of the action—with him.

He gave himself a mental pinch. Grow up. Act mature. Stop thinking X-rated thoughts every time you so much as glance at her. But it was impossible not to when she looked so relaxed. He wanted to magic her away with him and start to play.

‘I’ll be back again, soon, OK?’ Liss called to them from the door after the chorus of thank-yous and goodbyes from the girls.

He noticed she didn’t specify when—and the bitterness that had been blown away at the sight of her began to fester back. She’d return some time at her convenience, no doubt—probably when she didn’t have something better to do. It wasn’t about them, it was all about her. He worked his scratchiness up some more—it was a good way of fighting off the lust, and he felt more in control of it when he kept his cynicism to the fore.

They loaded into the car and as they pulled out he couldn’t help the sarcastic cut to his question. ‘Was it good fun?’

She kept looking out the window but he could have sworn her shoulders jerked—had she just flinched? ‘I enjoyed it. Hopefully they did too.’

The insecurity in her voice made him feel mean. He softened. ‘I’m sure they did. All I could hear was giggles when I got there.’ Princess Elissa had charmed again.

The stiffness in her shoulders eased a little. ‘Yeah.’

A quick glance showed a soft smile curving her lips—as if she was remembering something funny. She looked unbearably sweet and he resolved not to talk any more—not to interrupt her happy thoughts, and not to be drawn under her spell and charmed himself.

By public transport it could easily take over half an hour to get home, but in his car, with the way he drove, it was a little under fifteen. But it was still too long for James—and yet, not long enough.

He drove the car into the basement park beneath the apartment block, need eating at him—not just for the obvious, but simply for more time with her. Quiet time, quality time. He wanted to know what was going on in her head—what made her smile like that.

‘Thanks so much for the ride. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ She slid from the car.

‘No problem.’ He moved quicker, beating her to the boot, lifting her container out and keeping a firm hold on it. He swiped his key card to summon the lift, pressed buttons. She leaned back against the wall of the lift and her eyes closed. Her mouth had drooped. Her full lips looked pouty, way too kissable—and sad.

‘You look tired. Come up and have a coffee.’ The words were out before he thought further.

Her eyes flashed open and she looked at the lift controls. He hadn’t pressed the button to her floor so by the time she was about to say no—and he was sure she was going to refuse—the lift had flown up past it and the doors opened onto his lobby.

‘Oh. OK.’

He entered the pin, diffusing the alarm, opened the door and walked ahead of her, heading to the kitchen.

Liss trailed behind him, more certain with every step that this was a bad move but one she couldn’t stop. She wasn’t quite sure what mood James was in—sarcastic or maybe a more gentle one. In some ways it would be better if he was all sarcasm. It would stop her from wanting to get closer—and she badly wanted to. The way he wore jeans should be illegal, and the way he’d smiled so genuinely at those girls had been criminal. He was a thief of hearts. Alarms rang loud in her ears—she should be back in her own apartment where she would be safe. But he’d been kind enough to give her a lift; she couldn’t be rude. A quick coffee couldn’t hurt, could it? She’d keep her distance—admire from afar.

She stopped in the living area, with him in the kitchen, fussing over a gleaming coffee machine.

‘Great view.’ It looked out over the harbour, the water sparkled and the skies were blue. The quintessential, stunning Sydney view. She turned and took in his apartment—the quintessential, also stunning, bachelor pad—complete with neutral colourings erring to the darker shades, a large modern but comfy lounge suite, the requisite high-tech entertainment system and high-tech gadgets. There was also one wall of shelves—clearly the repository for anything and everything: books, CDs, DVDs and papers, magazines, a coffee cup and a three-quarters-empty bottle of red. The mishmash of colour and content was the only hint of maximalist in the whole minimalist look. She stepped closer to check out his choice of reading and viewing material, fiddling with the string of beads one of the girls had threaded onto her hair.

‘Don’t take it out. It looks nice.’ He handed her a coffee and she lifted it to her lips quickly, not wanting to smile at the compliment. The scalding-hot liquid was nothing on the perils of James Black in conciliatory mood. She retreated to the window and the safety of the view outside.

‘You go there often?’ He moved to the window too—the other end of it.

‘I’ve been there a few times.’

‘So what—it’s how you do your bit?’

‘Yeah, my charitable effort du jour.’ Her sarcasm matched his—but was totally made up of defensiveness. So he thought she was a cliché. Sure, she couldn’t do much. But she could try.

‘So why this? Why not cancer kids or the starving people in Africa or something?’ Could he be any more cynical?

‘They’re great causes, but they already get a huge amount of support. They don’t need me in the mix—I wouldn’t make much difference to them.’

‘I don’t know—you’d bring them lots of publicity.’

‘It isn’t about publicity.’ Quite the reverse. She didn’t want it to be about her. Didn’t want anyone to know. Didn’t want it to become some story all about the ‘princess doing good’. She just wanted to be someone—like anyone—trying to help someone else, even just a little. She glanced at him and saw the scepticism all over his face. The prickle of defensiveness rose.

‘In Paris I used to spend an evening a week working on a youth line. Lots of the callers were young women in this kind of trouble.’ They’d always touched her. Since then she’d heard about her old friend Cassie’s hardship, and it resonated even more deeply. Cassie must have felt so alone in prison with a young baby. And what Liss hadn’t been able to do for her friend all those years ago, she wanted to be able to do in some small way for others now. She stared out at the harbour and tried to explain it more, wanted him to recognise that she wasn’t so self-obsessed.

‘I’m no counselor. I can’t offer them any advice. They’ve got far more major issues going on in their lives than I’ve ever had to deal with. But I’m someone to take an interest in them for half an hour. Someone to listen.’

‘Is that what they need?’

She turned her head to look at him. He stood at the other end of the floor-to-ceiling window, facing her rather than the view. Looking so cynical she wanted to shake him.

‘Of course it’s not all they need. But no one wants to know about them. They’ve been pushed to the side and forgotten about. By the men who used them, by the rest of society, by their own families.’

Written off by almost everyone, a statistic, a drain on the country’s resources, the futures forecast for them were bleak, but why shouldn’t they have some lightness too? ‘Sometimes it’s nice to have someone to listen to you. To make a bit of a fuss. Make you feel special.’

While the phone line had been good in Paris because it had given her complete anonymity, here, in a city where she knew no one, she’d wanted face-to-face contact as well. So she’d enquired about Atlanta House, made contact to find out if they’d be interested in her visiting. She’d gone several times in the week before she’d started work to get to know them. To show them she was serious about being a friend to the organisation and to the girls. She had no intention of flitting in and then out again. Now she’d settled into a once-a-week pattern—although she’d drop in at other times when she could.

Today she’d sat and chatted with the girls, made a few bead bracelets with some, plaited them onto hair with a couple of others—been a complete girl. And, yes, there was something in it for her—she’d felt welcome, just as she was.

She turned away from the coldness of James’s questions. ‘It’s not a nice feeling knowing you are not wanted.’

She gazed out the window, but no longer saw the glorious sky—too busy thinking. That was the one way in which she could truly relate to them. She hadn’t been wanted by her family for years now and she’d never really understood why. So she’d acted up a bit as a kid—who didn’t? And she felt hurt that they hadn’t even given her a chance this time. There was no recognition that maybe she’d grown up a little—they still just didn’t want to know.

Suddenly she became aware that the silence had been ticking for some time. She looked across the space, pasted a polite smile on her face. It disappeared the instant she encountered his gaze. His eyes were dark, intently focused on her, intensely burning. She’d never seen him look more serious, so assessing and, at the same time, so unreadable. The silence ticked on and as she watched the planes of his face became even more angular, his jaw hardening as if he were deliberately holding back—from speech? From movement?

All she knew was that she was suddenly, incredibly, uncomfortable. Her body temperature rose and she feared another of those awful blushes was imminent. She drained her cold coffee. ‘I should get going.’

He looked down, stretched alongside the sheet of glass for her cup, and cleared his throat, visibly relaxing. ‘Yeah.’

She aimed straight for the lift. ‘Thanks for the ride. And the coffee. It’ll help me get through the theatre tonight.’

As she passed him he asked, ‘You’re going out? You still look tired.’

She felt it. And the strain of spending time with him wasn’t helping. ‘It’s supposed to be a great play.’

He beat her to the lift, pressed the buttons. ‘Don’t you ever just want to sit at home and hang?’

‘Not really.’ What would she do, talk to the walls? ‘And I said I’d go tonight. I don’t want to let them down.’ She didn’t want to be rude or for the invitations to stop coming. She didn’t like sitting in the apartment alone and lonely. Better to be out and too busy to brood.

‘Of course.’

She glanced at him, his face had closed over again. That touch of sarcasm was back and as the doors closed, separating them, she heard it even more in the slow drawl. ‘Have a good night.’

He called her into his office the minute she appeared—ahead of time—on Monday morning.

‘Princess, let’s be honest.’

Oh, no, he was looking serious. She realised the whole work life/social life being separate stuff was accurate in James’s case. He’d smile charmingly at drinks and then sack her without a qualm the next working day.

‘The secretary thing.’

Oh, no. He was going to sack her.

‘It’s not working out.’

‘I’d thought…’ She stumbled over her words, felt the flood of fire in her face. ‘I’d hoped I was improving.’ Dignity, where art thou? She didn’t want to be sent back to where she wasn’t wanted. Wasn’t she ever going to be wanted anywhere? And she really had been trying. Really.

‘There’s something else I think you could do for me.’

She paused, for a second her thoughts going totally inappropriate and her internal heat sizzling.

‘I have a new hotel opening on Aristo in a few weeks.’

Aristo?

‘We’re having a party there to herald the opening at the end of next week.’ The corners of his mouth lifted. ‘Do you do parties, princess?’

‘You know I do.’ He wanted her to go to a party? What, once she was home and fully in disgrace? She wouldn’t be home for long—Alex would probably pack her off again to another far-flung destination before she even had the chance to get over the jet lag.

‘I want you to take over the planning. I want exclusive. I want glittering.’

She dragged her attention back from the pool of self-pity. He wanted her to organise it? The mother of all parties?

‘I want a gala ball unlike any other. I need VIPs in attendance and international media to cover it. I want the place dripping in glamour and a spread in every magazine and newspaper on the planet.’

Her heart started thundering and for once it wasn’t because of the way he was looking at her—not entirely anyway. ‘OK. You’ll have it.’ She beamed at him, her mind already whirring with wicked ideas. There was nothing she loved more than a big party—and this one was hers to create.

‘Go.’ He jerked his head towards the door, his matching smile seemingly reluctant—a little indulgent. ‘The file is in the system—you’ll find the budget details there and the preparations that have already been made. Look them over and make any adjustments you see fit. This is your party, princess. You make it work.’

‘Yes, boss!’ She answered smartly, but practically skipped out of the room.

‘Princess.’

She stopped and turned. His smile was gone and there was a serious message in his eyes.

‘Don’t make me regret it.’

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