by J. Kenner
Since they were meeting only one client, she expected her father would lead her to one of the smaller rooms. Instead, he headed toward the corner conference room with stunning views of both downtown and the river.
The floor’s conference rooms were set up so that the only windows were on the exterior walls, providing complete privacy for what was happening within, and Skye assumed that the client had come with an entourage. What other reason could justify using the largest venue?
As she followed her father, Skye’s nerves started to flutter as they always did before she talked to a stranger. Honestly, maybe she’d made the wrong career decision, after all. Maybe she needed to get an IT job where she could sit behind a computer and not have to talk to a human at all.
Or maybe she should try her hand at writing a legal thriller. Only if it took off, she’d end up doing book signings and book tours where she’d be expected to speak to fans. That sounded terrifying.
Honestly, the truth was that she already had the perfect job, and one that she loved when it worked the way it was supposed to. What she needed was a different father, who didn’t shove her through doors and expect her to become Eliza Doolittle, suddenly polished and proper and speaking beautifully.
She half smiled at the thought. She knew her father loved her and wanted the best career for her. The trouble was that their ideas of best were so disparate. And though he loved her, he didn’t hesitate to push her into situations where she was required to speak.
He thought she would undergo some magical transformation that would let him shed his guilt. She knew that nothing would change, and the clients and colleagues would struggle to understand her slurred and slow speech until, finally, they became accustomed to the cadence and flow and no longer looked at her with pity in their eyes.
That, of course, was the worst. The pity. Or, even more mortifying, that glint that suggested she wasn’t intelligent. That somehow her stumbling speech reflected a stumbling mind as well. She knew it wasn’t true. Her friends knew it wasn’t true, so why the hell did she care what strangers thought? She shouldn’t. But she did.
It was slightly better now. Her pedigree as a lawyer granted her some modicum of respect and the benefit of the doubt. But when she’d been in school...
She shuddered. Those had been hard times.
Her father paused outside the conference room door. “This is an important client,” he said, his voice low, even though they both knew that sound did not travel through those walls. “I’m not telling you that to make you nervous, but to understand that your paper has drawn interest from unusual and important places.”
“Okay.”
Skye wondered who the client could possibly be. It wasn’t as if there were that many people interested in the line of royal succession in countries across the globe. Then again, the paper covered the process of amending a country’s constitution or legislative process, and those concepts could be applied more broadly. So perhaps it made sense that potential international clients wanted to learn more.
Still, though, it seemed odd that her paper was the catalyst.
Her father pushed open the door, and she fell in step behind him, making sure she had a smile on her face and an interested and engaged gleam in her eye.
She thrust out her hand automatically, her mind so full of questions that she wasn’t really looking at who might be in the room. Then her father stepped aside, and she got a full view of the man rising from the chair at the head of the table.
It was Leo.
Chapter Eight
Skye froze, and for the first time she understood the expression deer in the headlights.
“Ms. Porter,” Leo said, stepping toward her with his hand extended. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He took her hand before she had a chance to either pull it away or melt into the floor. And—damn him to hell—she felt that familiar tingle. A sensual awareness that used to make her deliriously happy.
Right now, it just pissed her off. She withdrew her hand, careful to keep her face unreadable. She could only hope that she was succeeding. “You as well, Mr.—?”
Her father stepped forward, practically bursting with glee. “Skye, I’d like you to meet His Royal Highness, Prince Stephan Leopold of Avelle-am-see.”
Skye swallowed, feeling like she was lost in some nightmare. Or an alternate universe. “What are you doing here?”
Her father stiffened, looking at her with utter shock. And no wonder.
“Skye,” Douglas Crane said, his expression stern. “The prince is here to discuss international law.”
She should keep her mouth shut—she knew that—but emotion had taken over, and apparently she’d forgotten how to exercise control. “Why?” she demanded, looking between the two men.
“I’m attending the symposium,” Leo said, his eyes locking on hers. “And I’m intrigued by your firm’s expertise.”
“The prince read your article,” her father said, a question in his eye and a hint of anger in his voice.
Not surprising. It wasn’t every day that royal clients came to a firm in Austin, Texas. But she knew damn well this wasn’t about the work the firm did. This was about her.
She opened her mouth, unsure of what she was going to say, but certain it wasn’t going to be words that would make her father happy.
Leo took a step forward, diving in before Skye could manage a word. “Perhaps I could speak to Ms. Porter alone?”
Her eyes went wide, and she started to shake her head. Her father responded first, though, and while she’d expected him to back up her refusal—why would he or Douglas want her alone with this man when she’d already been rude and off-putting?—he surprised her by dipping his head in acquiescence and saying, “Of course, Your Highness.”
“But … I—”
“I’ll be in my office,” her father said, entirely ignoring her discomfort and predicament.
“Buzz us if you need anything at all,” Douglas added, his expression stern but polite.
Her father hesitated in the doorway. “Skye, I know you will treat His Highness with the respect he deserves.”
Right-o. That would be exactly none.
But she didn’t say that. Instead, she nodded, then gave her father and his partner a weak and watery smile that was all she could manage. Then she stood still until the door clicked shut behind them. Only then did she explode.
“Respect? Why. Are. You. Here?” For once, her words were clear. Each word forced out like a shot from a gun. She was alight with fury. And Leo—damn him—didn’t seem affected at all.
“Exactly what your father said. I’m looking for legal advice.”
“I … don’t believe you.”
He winced, and shook his head. “I read your law review article, Skye. I want to work with you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t do international law, and I certainly don’t work for you. I think you need to leave.”
She felt lightheaded, and she walked to the chair at the head of the table hoping he couldn’t tell how rubbery her legs had become. She pulled it out, then sat down, her hands clasped in front of her. “This isn’t going … to happen.”
He moved down the table, sitting in the chair to her immediate left around the oval conference table. He angled his chair so that he was facing her. For a moment their eyes met, and she thought she saw regret in those deep blue eyes. Then they went flat, the face of someone used to hiding his emotions.
She glanced down at the table, not wanting to look at him. “You broke my heart.”
“I know. I’m sorry. That’s another reason I’m here today—to apologize to you.”
She shot him a glare. “Seriously? After all this time?” She had no idea what emotion she was feeling. Anger, hurt, rage, confusion? It was all too much of a mess. And the worst part? Some tiny, traitorous part of her was giddy about seeing him again.
But Skye wasn’t stupid. She knew perfectly well that if she spent any time with this man, she woul
d get hurt all over again. And it had taken so long for her to get over him the first time.
She faced him, then focused on her speech, purposefully ignoring those dangerously hypnotic eyes. “I’m sure you’ll find … another firm. Try Washington. We have an office there full of international law experts. In London and Brussels, too. I’m … sure anyone at those offices could help you.”
“You’re saying that you won’t work with me on this?”
“I’m saying you need to leave.” She pushed back from the table and walked to the door, ready to pull it open. “Don’t feel obligated to say goodbye. You … didn’t the last time.”
“Your father will be disappointed.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Of course not. I’m only pointing out that your father seemed excited by the idea of having a prince for a client, even one who wants to keep a low profile while he’s in Austin.”
“You want to … guilt me into taking … this assignment? Hire the firm if you want. But you … won’t be working with … me.”
She turned the knob, her heart pounding painfully. She had to get out before the tears started to flow.
“Skye, the entire reason I am sitting here right now is because of that article you wrote.”
She shook her head. She should pull open the door and bolt, but somehow, she was frozen to the spot, her body hot, her pulse pounding, her head humming.
Was this a panic attack? This might be a panic attack.
When they were together in the past, she’d always been so at ease. Those had been the best days of her life. She hadn’t worried about what he thought or the way she sounded. But she was worrying about it now.
Because she wanted him to hear very clearly how much she wanted him gone.
Bolstering her courage, she drew in a breath and turned back to meet his eyes dead on. She forced herself to speak slowly even though she wanted to blurt out the words. She wanted him to understand every damn syllable. The words came in bursts and slightly slurred. But at least they came.
“My father is ambitious for me. But once I tell him that you’re a lying man-whore who used and dumped me, I promise he will kick you out of this office and get the press involved. Whatever low-key visit to Austin that you wanted will be shot in the foot right then.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Try me. He doesn’t know about us. Nobody does. I never told anybody that I dated a prince who used me, and I ripped that stupid picture of you off the board at The Fix. I erased you, Leo. Scrubbed you from my life.”
“Did you?” His voice was oddly gentle. “Is that why you wrote that law review article? Because you’d put me behind you?”
Ice cold anger burned inside her, along with mortification that he saw her so clearly. “I will tell my father and the press everything if that’s what it takes to get you out of this office.”
He took a step toward her. She put a hand up, tilting her head and glaring at him. He froze.
“Skye—”
“Just go.”
“What will you tell your father? He’s going to wonder why I walked out of here.”
“I’ll just tell him the truth. That you realized I wasn’t even close to good enough for you, and so you decided to just walk away.”
Chapter Nine
Two Years Ago
“Leo!”
Skye’s voice hit him the moment he and Jürgen stepped through the door at The Fix on Sixth. He searched the room, quickly finding her by the dartboard with Hannah and Griffin. She grinned and waved. Best of all, she didn’t appear the least bit self-conscious about shouting his name.
He blew her a kiss and pointed to a booth. She nodded, then hugged her friends before hurrying toward him while Jürgen—an excellent bodyguard and an even better friend—made himself scarce.
As she got closer, her smile widened, her brown eyes glittering with joy as she threw herself into his arms, her legs locking around his upper thighs so that he was forced to palm her ass to hold her up. Which wasn’t a bad thing at all.
“Guess what?”
“I’m going out on a limb and saying that it’s good news.”
“They posted grades.” She spoke slowly, her breathing steady despite her obvious excitement. “Now guess which girl got all A’s—including the high-A in antitrust law.”
“Um, Ellie?” Skye’s law school bestie was a charming woman, but she was also barely skating by.
“She managed a C-minus, and she’s thrilled.”
He bounced her in his arms. “Then I’m guessing you’re the girl who got all A’s.”
She nodded happily. “And I managed that despite … spending far too much time with this cute guy I’ve … been hanging around with.”
“Perhaps that guy is your good luck charm.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, soft and sweet. “Maybe he is.”
“I’m thrilled for you. But not at all surprised. I know how hard you’ve been studying.” He’d been there beside her for each study session, poring over his own physics notes and annotating the results of various simulations he and Professor Malkin were running. They’d both worked hard—with some quite delicious study breaks to make the time pass faster.
Still in his embrace, she nodded over her shoulder toward Griffin and Hannah. “Just to make sure my ego … didn’t get out of control, they were kicking my ass at darts.”
He gave her butt a squeeze. “I can think of things to do with your ass, but kicking isn’t one of them.”
She leaned forward, kissed him, then playfully bit his lower lip, tugging on it just enough that he felt the heat curl all the way down to his cock, until he had no choice but to put her down or risk entirely inappropriate behavior right there in the bar.
He loosened his grip, and she slid down his body, the motion doing such incredible things to him, it took all his effort not to moan. She made him feel things he’d never felt before. Arousal, sure. But something deeper. More intense. More meaningful.
He craved her more than he’d ever craved any woman, and he’d waited longer for her than he had for any woman. He knew he’d fallen hard and fast, but it felt real. It felt right. And although that was undeniably odd, he couldn’t deny that he liked it.
And honestly, why should he deny it? Quantum entanglement was real enough, he knew that without a doubt. The phenomenon of paired particles reacting and responding to one another even when they were separated by great distance. It applied to people, too. Because damned if he wasn’t certain that Skye had been there all along, his paired particle.
“I like that,” she’d said when he’d told her as much during a study break. “I think it’s the perfect metaphor … for us.”
He knew she didn’t understand the physics of it, but she understood the core. He’d kissed her then, long and hard and deep. She’d moaned, her mouth against his, then she’d boldly pulled off her shirt, and he’d almost died on the spot. She was perfect. Her breasts spilling out over the top of her bra, her pale skin begging to be kissed.
He’d unfastened the front clasp, then tasted her nipple, sucking on it as she made the kind of whimpering sounds that drove him absolutely crazy.
He wanted more, and he’d kissed his way down her body, his tongue teasing her navel, his teeth tugging at the button on her jeans, then moving lower and lower until…
Except they hadn’t gotten to until.
She’d stopped him, telling him she wanted to, but that she was still a virgin and thought it better to wait until after finals. Especially since her antitrust class was kicking her ass.
“I’m sorry.”
“No,” he’d told her, kissing her gently. “I like having something to look forward to.”
That had led to three full weeks of wild desire topped off by a permanent ache in his cock that became his new normal.
It had also led to some soul-searching and guilt. Because how the hell could he be her first when he knew nothing could come of it? As the heir to t
he throne, he would be expected to marry, yes. But his choices for a bride were limited. And American lawyers were not within those parameters.
The bottom line was that whatever was between them couldn’t last. The most they could have was a Texas fling, and while he’d had many a fling with many a woman, Skye deserved more.
He didn’t want just sex with Skye. He wanted romance. He wanted passion. He wanted a connection.
Most of all, he wanted her. And there was no way that he could have her.
An hour later, his melancholy had passed, replaced by the laughter and teasing that came with drinking beer while playing darts with her, Hannah, and Griffin.
They were about to take a break and order another round when Skye tugged him sideways. He stopped, looking quizzically back at her. After a moment, she cleared her throat and gently tugged her hand away. He mourned the loss of contact, but at the same time, he was grateful for it. More and more often, he was finding it hard to let her go.
She cleared her throat. “There’s something I want you to do. It will be a total blast.”
“Oh no. What are you dragging me into?”
She gave his hand a tug. “Just come with me,” she urged. He didn’t protest. Right then, he was certain he would follow her forever.
But when she led him to the far wall, he felt his trepidation rising. He knew exactly what she was about to ask, and he started to shake his head. “Oh no. No, no, no.”
“Please.” She grinned at him and batted her eyes, exaggerating every movement until he had to laugh.
“I don’t want to be on the board,” he protested.
“But you would put everybody else to shame. Seriously, you’re like some Hollywood star.”
“Thank you for trying to butter me up, but no.”
Leopold had learned that, not long ago, The Fix on Sixth held a Man of the Month calendar contest in order to raise money to save the bar. Leopold didn’t know the whole story, but obviously the bar had been saved. And since then, the bar had started a ritual of taking posed pics of willing customers and tacking them up on a poster-sized calendar. One for every day.
