by Marian Tee
“Good afternoon, Fawn.”
Fawn froze.
Hand-sewn loafers. Stylish jeans. Dressy shirt.
Her gaze moved up.
Yup, it was him.
But even so, shock still had her spewing the water out, and she could only gaze in horrified fascination as every of drop of it landed on the prince’s crisply ironed shirt.
Holy crap.
Springing to life, she shoved her water canister back in her bag and hurried to the prince, mumbling, “S-sorry.” As she desperately tried patting his chest dry, she also tried not to think about how, well, hard he felt.
Because Grant’s hard, too, she reminded herself.
“It’s fine.” As the prince spoke, his large, strong hands reached out to capture hers.
Oh.
His touch burned her, and Fawn heard herself garble something out in answer.
Prince. Hands. Hers.
Clinging to the few brain cells she had left, Fawn managed to pull her hands away.
The prince allowed himself a smile at the half-confused, half-terrified look on her face.
Good.
He knew it smacked of pure hypocrisy that he had held back from seducing this girl because she happened to be a virgin. But after her admission about Grant Bennett, he was damned if he was going to play nice, and he didn’t care if he had to use the most underhanded tactics.
“I should have expected this,” he told her as he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the remaining drops that clung to the silky fabric of his shirt.
His words stung, and she couldn’t help saying defensively, “You know I didn’t mean it. It’s j-just that I didn’t expect you to be here. I mean, everyone said you’d be away for another week---”
“I apologize,” the prince said in a dry voice, “if I failed to inform you in advance about the change in my schedule.”
“It’s okay.” Then she realized what she had said. “I mean, it’s not okay.”
“Oh? Why is that? Do you miss me when I’m gone?”
Fawn gaped at him.
Pretending not to notice, he turned to walk back into the mansion. “Follow me to the study, please.”
Struggling to pick her jaw from the floor, Fawn forced her limbs to move. What was that five seconds ago? Had the prince actually cracked a joke – and it had to be that kind of joke?
As they headed down the hallway, the prince asked abruptly, “How do you find your work so far?”
She answered right away, “Perfect.”
“And your fiancé? No complaints about your irregular work schedule?” Most girls would have suspected him of having interest in them if they were asked that question, but because this was Fawn---
“None at all, prince. T-thank you for the concern.”
Dense, the prince thought. This girl was just unbelievably dense. And even more unbelievable was that he actually had some kind of---
His lip curled in self-disgust.
Interest.
He found her interesting. That was the most he could stomach.
He said finally, “How nice of him.”
“He’s very understanding,” Fawn shared shyly.
“How nice for you, parthena mou.” And now, he was ready to puke the moment she started expounding on her fiancé’s saintly qualities.
He was cursing her again, she thought glumly, which was weird for more than one reason. Listening to the other maids’ gossip had revealed to Fawn that the prince was half-Sicilian, half-Greek, but was raised in England. And yet he spoke Filipino.
Maybe secrets were another billionaire thing, she thought.
They reached the prince’s study then, and the prince murmured, “Sit down, please.” He watched her do as commanded and realized he found himself taking pleasure in knowing that she was doing what he asked.
Maybe next time, he could ask her to do something else. And he would be generous. She could also ask him to do something, too.
But for now, those would have to remain in his imagination.
This girl still thought herself in love with Grant Bennett, and since she had old-fashioned views of love, the prince knew if he pushed too hard too fast, she would bolt and run away without even giving the two of them a chance.
If he had to take baby fucking steps, the prince thought grimly, then so be it.
Fawn tried not to fidget too much as she watched the prince move behind his desk and take his seat. His every move was lethally sexy, and the dangerous aura surrounding the prince only made him seem even more irresistible.
Add to that how just plain gorgeous he was and---
She quickly lowered her head and trained her gaze on the black carpet, not wanting to risk having the prince catch sight of her reddened cheeks.
It was his fault, his fault entirely, she thought resentfully. Ever since that night, it was like she had been infected with a morbid fascination over the prince. She couldn’t stop thinking about how green his eyes were, how beautifully sculpted his cheeks were, or how amazing his abs were---
She whitened as she realized where her thoughts were leading.
Oh my God, what was happening to her?
It was almost like she had a c-c-c---
No. It couldn’t be. This…this was just like when she had started watching The Flash and it was crush at first episode. She had crushed on the lead actor so hard she had even started writing The Flash fan fiction.
But it hadn’t meant that she loved Grant any less.
This thing with the prince was the same, Fawn told herself almost feverishly. He was such a famous playboy he was virtually a celebrity himself, making them belong to two different worlds.
Which means it’s okay to admire the prince, she reasoned. Because he was like a celebrity, too, and similar to The Flash, she had to believe that this fascination of hers would eventually---
“Once you’re done with your conversation with yourself, perhaps we could start?”
Realizing she had been staring at him the whole time, Fawn mumbled, “I wasn’t talking to myself.”
“Of course you weren’t.”
Riiiight. It was so obvious he was saying that just to humor her, and Fawn bit back an uneasy sigh. When a full minute passed and the prince hadn’t said anything else, she cleared her throat and asked, “Is t-there something I can do?”
“You’ve forgotten then. ”
“Forgotten what?”
The prince said gently, “You’ve completed one month of service, Fawn. Today I’m going to evaluate your performance and decide whether you can be a permanent addition to my staff.”
Mary Joseph and Jesus, she had forgotten.
But he didn’t have to know that.
“I could never forget, prince, like seriously.”
“Mm.” The prince had come to the realization that she had a tendency to use ‘seriously’ when she was lying, and he stored it away for future use. Swiveling his seat to the side, the prince raised Igor’s report to eye level, saying thoughtfully, “A couple of incidents have been noted in your performance report.”
She didn’t like the way the prince stressed the incident part.
“To start with, the first incident is the time you put salt in my coffee---” He saw Fawn bite her lip hard. “You wish to contest this, parthena mou?”
“But I thought you already forgave me for that,” she blurted out.
“I see.” How terribly, adorably naïve of her, he thought lazily. Maybe one day, he could teach her just how he liked a woman to beg his forgiveness.
But for now---
His gaze moved back to the report. “Continuing with the report, there’s also the time you broke a 17th century vase---”
“But you said you agreed it was an accident,” she couldn’t help protesting. “And I also offered to put it back together again---”
“With washi tape,” he reminded her. And even to this date, he had no idea what that was, but knowing her, it probably wouldn’t be worth researching in this
case.
“Would duct tape have been better? I’m flat broke right now, but I could probably stomach asking my fiancé to buy it---”
The prince’s jaw hardened at the mention of the other man in Fawn’s life.
Fawn’s voice trailed off when she saw the look on the prince’s face. Right, she thought. Clearly, duct tape was going to make it worse. She had made the semi-right call with washi tape then.
“Lastly, there’s the note-taking incident.”
Fawn tried not to cringe at the reminder. She remembered that day very clearly. The prince’s secretary had been on sick leave, and he had asked her to fill in because he needed someone to type certain documents for him.
“Can I at least defend myself, prince?” she almost pleaded. At his nod, she said eagerly, “You see, I do the same thing for Grant, a lot of times, for his work with the Student Council.”
“Is that so?” The prince cracked his knuckles, wondering when he could have the pleasure of sinking his fist into Grant Bennett’s boyishly handsome face.
She nodded eagerly. “I even downloaded an app that lets me practice note taking while the app reads out articles and excerpts from books. I really didn’t want to do anything that could make anyone think I’m not a suitable girlfriend for Grant.”
“How perfectly nice.” And right now, he felt perfectly murderous. “Given all that, I’m curious to find out why you’ve failed then.”
“It’s your accent---”
He said frostily, “I do not have an accent.”
“But you do, prince,” she protested.
“I beg your pardon?” His tone was ominously soft, the prince unused to having someone challenging his word.
But instead of effectively frightening her into submission, it only had her gasping, “There it is! See how you said ‘pardon’?” At his blank look, Fawn said again, “Pardon.” But this time she tried to sound British while attempting to move her lips the way the prince had moved his. “Do you see now?”
The prince wondered how was it that he could still want to taste her even while he also wanted to see her dead. He took a deep breath. “Fawn?”
The prince’s calm voice made her sigh silently in relief. “Yes, prince?” Thank God he saw her point.
“If you say I have an accent---”
“You do.”
“I’ll fire you.”
“You don’t have an accent, like seriously.”
“I thought so.”
She watched him put her performance report aside before turning to face her, his gaze thoughtful. When he still didn’t say anything, she said, “Please, prince.” Faced with the sudden prospect of having to lose her highest-paying job, pride and inhibition lost meaning for Fawn, and she added sincerely, “I genuinely want to continue working here, prince. Any position you want me in, I’d be happy to do it.”
The prince started coughing.
She asked in concern, “Prince?”
Any position, she said, and she’d be happy to do it, too. It had him coughing again, but even so, the words had a noticeable impact on his body, and he sucked his breath in hard. Staring at her, hearing her innocently tempting words replay in his mind, he could easily imagine the position he wanted to have her in right now.
On his lap---
Naked---
Offering herself---
Sensing the prince’s suddenly intense gaze on her, Fawn looked up---
And that was it.
Oh no.
It had been a trap, but it was too late.
His emerald green gaze had captured hers, and now there was no escaping its effect.
Blood rushed to her head, making her feel faint and dizzy. Dimly, she heard the prince ask, “Do you mean that, parthena mou? Will you be happy in whatever position I want you in?” His voice was raspy with something she couldn’t quite name, but even so, it had her body melting into liquid fire.
The prince’s burning gaze demanded an answer, and she whispered, “Yes.”
His eyes glittered, and she gulped. Holy sweet Jesus, but the longer she gazed into his eyes, the more she wanted. Oh, how she wanted---
But what did she want?
“I’m glad to hear that, and I will hold you to your promise.” The prince slid to his feet, and somehow she managed to stand as well. He came to her, so close that she could breathe the scent of his aftershave.
Oh, oh, oh.
This was so…bad.
Her body was in agony, the prince’s proximity making her crave---
What?
The prince bent his head, and before she could guess what he was about to do, he whispered into her ear, “The job is yours, parthena mou.”
Aaaaah.
How can mere words make her world suddenly spin faster?
The prince watched her step back from him, her light brown eyes clouded with confusion and alarm. Her gaze pleaded with him. What’s happening to me?
Ah, parthena mou, that’s a question I won’t answer.
The brain tended to focus on what it could not understand, and with Fawn Cornwall, he wanted her so damn messed up over him that she would not think about anything else – not even Grant Bennett – nothing except him.
* * *
With just a few days before the Christmas holidays started, Fawn did all she could do to earn extra cash, and that included working overtime for the Prince of Darkness. Since she had morning classes to attend, she normally stayed only until dinner was served in the prince’s parties. Nowadays, however, Fawn had signed up to work until midnight, knowing that she would be paid double the amount per hour with overtime.
But today, any chance of earning overtime was nil.
“I don’t understand why I can’t help out with tonight’s party,” Fawn muttered ungraciously. “It’s like being grounded when the prince isn’t even my dad.” At six o’clock, her shift had officially ended, and she had been about to start with the next one when Igor told her that the prince had not approved her request for an extra shift.
“It is not for a servant to understand the hows and whys,” Igor reminded her gently.
“But only to be concerned with the whats, whens, and wheres,” she finished. “I know that, Igor, and I get it, but I really need tonight’s overtime.” She had found the perfect gift for Grant, and based on her calculations, any day where she skipped overtime would make her unable to afford the gift before they left for their hometown.
In response, Igor gave her another gentle reminder. “What the master wants---”
“The servant should obtain to the best of his or her capabilities,” she finished heavily. Igor had his own set of rules that he wanted her to master, and that was #1 for the prince’s right-hand man. She asked very seriously, “But won’t that make him a spoiled brat?”
Igor only looked at her.
“I know you’ve known him since his diaper days, but Igor, you have to realize that’s going to make the prince---”
“Going to make me what?” The prince suddenly appeared by the kitchen’s doorway, dressed to kill in a black tux, and causing minor chaos as a result.
The kitchen staff, unused to seeing the prince in their workplace, tried to look busy for a few minutes, realized they couldn’t move a finger with the prince’s green gaze trained on them, and simply gave up.
Bowing, they slowly slinked out through the back door.
Emery, the prince’s in-house chef, shook his head. He had to toughen up those kids just a bit more.
Meanwhile, Fawn was doing her best to come up with an excuse---
And failing.
“I…I…”
The prince raised a brow. “Yes?”
“The party’s going to make you---” Fawn paused in a panic. It was so hard to lie under pressure!
The prince waved a negligent hand, murmuring silkily, “Go on.”
Giving up on logic and rationality, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “The party’s going to make you the subject of rumors
again.” She mentally sighed in relief. That had turned out more plausible than she expected.
Turning to the prince, she said firmly, “I’m just concerned, prince. Seriously.”
The prince drawled, “How touching.” What an adorablly inept liar she was, seriously.
Warming up to the subject, Fawn continued, “And because I’d like to protect you from these rumors, I thought it would be a good idea if I work overtime---”
“A nice idea---”
She brightened.
“Unfortunately, I have to refuse.”
Frustration had her bursting out, “But that’s so unfair. You’re letting Paula stay, and she’s younger than I am. Then there---”
The prince said very pleasantly, “Fawn.”
Holy sweet crap. Her courage disappeared in a flash. Whenever he used that coldly charming Prince of Darkness tone with her, the one that promised ecstasy even while he slit her throat with the sharpest blade---
It. Was. Not. Good.
She whispered, “Yes, prince?”
“Do I pay you to give me your opinion about who should and shouldn’t work for me?”
Fawn gulped. “No, prince.”
“Then?”
She smiled weakly and flashed him a peace sign, saying, “Rock on, prince. It’s time to par---” Seeing the prince’s face hadn’t even cracked with the slightest smile, she finished lamely, “---tay.”
The prince said coolly, “Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes, prince.”
“Which means you will now---”
“Leave, prince.”
“I’m glad you understood.” The prince left then, and Igor, after excusing himself, followed after his charge.
As Fawn collapsed in her seat, Emery patted her head sympathetically. “You were very brave.”
“Very brave,” Noah agreed. “But also very stupid.”
“I didn’t mean to antagonize the prince,” she mumbled defensively. “I just sometimes speak before I think.”
“There, there, we all have our moments.” Of bravery and stupidity, Noah finished in his mind.
“I don’t think the prince likes me.” It was a hard admission to make, but more and more she was beginning to believe it. These days, the prince seemed to live to catch her off guard, showing up out of the blue to do something outrageous like suddenly whispering in her ear---
