The Exiled Prince

by Jeana E. Mann

  I mustered a smile and slid onto the cool, quiet luxury of the soft leather backseat. With each passing day, I grew more and more accustomed to this decadent lifestyle. As much as I enjoyed having a personal driver and a luxurious Park Avenue apartment, I’d never sacrifice my self-respect for it. What kind of woman did something like that? Remembering the pretty blonde, I wrinkled my nose. The kind of woman in Menshikov’s office.

  “Jose, have you been with Mr. Menshikov very long?” I asked once he’d merged into traffic.

  His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “About five years, give or take.”

  “Have you met any of his girlfriends?” I kept my tone casual and conversational.

  “Some. Most of them don’t last more than a few weeks.” He studied my reflection. I looked away, focusing on the yellow cab next to us. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no reason, really. I need to set up reservations for his dates, and I thought you’d know where he likes to go.” Even though the interior of the car was cool, heat rushed up my neck, all the way to my hairline. I’d never been a good liar, especially in front of people I knew.

  “Yeah?” He lifted his cap to scratch his forehead. “Most of the time, they go to the Four Seasons. I’m sure he’ll let you know his preferences.”

  “Of course.” Bitterness tinted my tone, despite my best efforts. I gave him a fleeting smile then turned my attention to my phone. So, Roman took them to a hotel for dinner and, most likely, upstairs for dessert.

  By the time I finished running errands, it was late evening. I unpacked the wine and crept to my apartment, hoping to avoid my arrogant, self-centered jerk of a boss. Tomorrow, I’d have to deal with his “girlfriends” and figure out a way to counter Nicky’s threats.

  Nicky’s driver arrived at eight o’clock on the dot. I sat in the back of the Lincoln Town Car and tried to calm my nerves. Although I’d always wanted to eat at Swerve, I didn’t appreciate the way he’d manipulated this date. As angry as I was at Nicky’s tactics, part of me was excited to get away from work. I needed to make a life for myself, and this night provided the perfect escape from Roman.

  I smoothed the fabric of my dress over my thighs and tried to breathe through the anxiety. Thanks to Christian, I had the quintessential little black dress, tight in all the right places and skimming over the wrong ones. After some coaxing, I’d returned the blond highlights to my hair and had swept it into a French twist. A black silk clutch and sky-high Louboutin’s completed the outfit. It was classy without being overtly sexy—perfect for this evening.

  My date met me in front of the restaurant. His gray gaze skated over my dress, lingering on my legs and the swells of my breasts. “You look good enough to eat,” he said with a smile. Taking my hand, he bent and placed a kiss on each of my cheeks in a chic European manner.

  “Thanks.” I smiled back at him, determined to push aside work and my irritating boss. After a sleepless night, I’d decided to be pleasant but cool until I could figure out Nicky’s motives. And, maybe, I could turn around this date to my advantage.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up. My meeting ran late.” He kept my hand in his as the maître d’ led us through the restaurant to our table. “Thank you, Claude. Will you bring us a bottle of the usual?” he asked the man once we were seated.

  “Do you come here a lot?” I asked. Quiet piano music hovered in the air. Muted shades of cream covered all the surfaces and furniture. Next to our table, the lights of the city twinkled on a background of black velvet.

  “It’s my restaurant, so yes.” He pursed his lips, pleased by my wide-eyed expression. “What? Did you think I was unemployed?”

  “No, of course not.” In truth, I’d never given it any thought at all. “Is this your only restaurant, or do you have others?”

  “I have twenty-five in the United States and another twenty overseas. I also own nightclubs and a few hotels here and there.” As he spoke, he leaned back in the chair and crossed an ankle over his knee.

  A team of waitstaff appeared, and our conversation ceased. One person took our order—or, more accurately, Nicky placed our orders without asking for my preferences. Two other people poured our wine into tall crystal goblets with delicate stems. I used the reprieve to gather my senses. Being around Nicky felt like anything could happen at any moment, and I needed to be prepared.

  “So…” He swirled the contents of his wineglass and watched the legs run down the glass before taking a sip. “How did you enjoy your first masquerade?”

  I took a small taste before speaking, choosing my words carefully. “It was amazing. I know it wasn’t your first, but did you enjoy it?”

  “Oh, I thought it was very entertaining.” The cock of his head reminded me of a cat watching a mouse before it pounced. “What was your favorite part?”

  Heat spread across my chest and plunged up my neck. “Well, I liked all of it really. What about you?”

  “The Devil’s Playground.”

  My heart stopped then started up again. I cleared my throat, which had gone as dry as the Sahara Desert, and took a big drink of wine. Panicked thoughts raced through my head. Of course he knew about The Devil’s Playground. He’d been to the masquerade many times and he was acquainted with Roman, although I hadn’t quite figured out the nature of their relationship. Just because he knew of the Playground didn’t mean he’d seen me there. I decided to play dumb. “Oh? What’s that?”

  “You know exactly what it is.” The tips of his fingers traced the stem of his wineglass. His eyes met mine across the table. “I saw you there. Fucking. With him.”

  This revelation came at the exact same time that I took a drink of wine. I managed to avoid choking then downed the entire glass. “More,” I croaked to the waiter at my elbow. He filled the glass halfway. I twirled a finger in the air. “All the way to the top, please.”

  “That’s an expensive vintage,” Nicky said, his smile widening. “But I approve. Drink up.”

  When I lifted my gaze, another pair of eyes met mine from their place across the room. Menshikov sat a few tables away with the pretty blonde next to him. I dabbed at my mouth with a napkin and tried to rein in my emotions. His schedule had denoted a business dinner without details. After a long exhale, I tried to unruffle my feathers. He wasn’t accountable to me. I was his personal assistant, not his girlfriend. The sooner I accepted the fact, the better my life would be.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” By the smirk on his face, Nicky knew exactly what he was doing to me and liked it.

  Roman shifted back in his chair, staring openly. I stared back. The top two buttons of his white dress shirt gaped open, exposing his throat and his bronzed skin. He’d pushed the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows. Several leather bracelets stretched around his wrist, above the gold band of his watch.

  “I’m not sure what you think you saw, but it wasn’t me.” To cover my anxiety, I gave Nicky my sweetest smile.

  “Oh, it was you, alright.” He shifted forward in the chair to rest an elbow on the table between us. His voice lowered. “Imagine my surprise to see you in that secret room, your dress shoved up around your waist, your panties on the floor, with Roman balls deep inside you.” He shook his head and let out a huge sigh. “It was really quite shocking and a huge turn-on.”

  The heat slowly drained from my face, leaving ice in its wake. “I thought you went home.”

  “No. I said I was leaving.” He steepled his fingertips between us. “You’re upset, but I’m not sure why. That’s what people do at the Playground, right? They watch or they fuck—whichever suits them best. Honestly, I never took you for a voyeur or an exhibitionist. If I’d known, I’d have taken you to that room myself.” He paused to take a sip of water, observing me over the rim of his glass.

  “I—I—I don’t know what to say.” The napkin in my lap slid to the floor. One of the waiters retrieved it, while a second brought a new one.

  “Relax. No judgment here.
I just thought you should know that I know. It makes things a lot more interesting between the three of us, don’t you think?” His bright smile suggested that he was quite pleased with himself. “Imagine my surprise to see my filthy Cinderella in Roman’s office, working as his new assistant. And he’s so self-absorbed that he hasn’t even noticed.”

  “It does complicate things,” I said, finding my voice again. The first course had arrived. We fell silent as the plates were placed in front of us. Against my will, I glanced across the room, my gaze meeting my employer’s. This time, he nodded in silent greeting.

  Nicky picked up the broken thread of our conversation as soon as we were alone again. “So how, exactly, did this happen? How did you find out about this job?”

  “A friend referred me.” Although the salad seemed delicious, I picked through the romaine and endive, my appetite obliterated. “I didn’t know I’d be working for him until after I’d accepted the offer and signed all the paperwork.”

  “Really? That’s unbelievable. A twist of fate and here we are—you, me, him.”

  “Yes, here we are,” I replied.

  “You know, he went on and on about you for weeks,” he said, unfazed by my lack of enthusiasm. “How lovely you were, how soft your skin was, the way you laughed. It was pretty annoying.”

  “I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” I said, but my heart skipped a beat at the thought.

  “No. Not in the slightest.”

  My stomach churned over the revelations of the night. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in on me. Using a napkin, I fanned my face. Sweat sprang up between my breasts. Menshikov frowned and lifted a finger to his chattering date, signaling for her to be quiet. Nicky continued talking. His words sounded distant, like he was speaking from the other end of a tunnel.

  “Excuse me,” I said, standing abruptly and turning to one of the waiters. “Where is the ladies room?” I needed a few minutes alone to get my head in the game.

  The waiter pointed down the hall.

  Nicky stood, his expression morphing from one of playful mischief to concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” I gave him a weak smile and hustled to the restroom. With a hand on either side of the sink, I tried Everly’s breathing exercises again. When that didn’t work, I ran cold water over my wrists and dabbed a wet hand towel between my breasts. Slowly, my heartrate calmed.

  What was Nicky playing at? He clearly had motives beyond the realm of my understanding. For a foolish second, I considered escaping through the back entrance. Running away would solve nothing. Deep inside, I enjoyed the danger, the thrill, the dirtiness. Here I was, boring Rourke, playing a game of seduction and intrigue between two sexy Russians. I ran through my options, trying to think several moves ahead, treating the situation like a chess game. The best option seemed to be one of patience. If I kept my mouth closed and my eyes open, eventually Nicky would reveal his intentions.

  With my self-control restored, I pushed out of the door and met the snapping gaze of my employer as he exited the men’s room.

  “Hello,” he said, falling into step beside me.

  “Hi.” My insides began a new dance, quaking at his nearness and the familiar scent of his cologne.

  “Are you okay?” His fingers found my elbow and drew me to a halt. The touch of his skin against mine lit my senses on fire.

  “Sure.” I gave him a brave smile. “How’s your date?”

  “She’s fine.” His gaze searched mine, looking deeply into my eyes. I quickly erected a wall around my feelings to shut him out. “Are you sure you’re alright? Nicky can be…difficult sometimes.”

  “Thank you for your concern, but I’m good.” With a small jerk, I disconnected his grasp from my elbow.

  “If you’re in trouble, if you need anything, you can always ask me. You know that, right?”

  I stopped and stared at him, confused by his sudden interest in my welfare. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He didn’t say anything more, just nodded and returned to his table. I squared my shoulders and prepared to do battle with Nicky. He stood as I approached. Without meeting his gaze, I slid into my chair and replaced the napkin on my lap. “Did I miss anything?”

  “No. Nothing at all.”

  “This salmon is delicious. Give my compliments to the chef.”

  “I will.” We ate in silence for a few minutes before he set his fork alongside his plate. “I apologize for offending you. It was out of line, and I’m truly sorry.”

  “I don’t think you’re sorry at all,” I replied lightly. “You’ve obviously got some kind of vendetta against my employer, and I’m stuck in the middle. So, let’s cut to the chase. What do you want?”

  “Nothing. Just the pleasure of your company.” Although his words were convincing, a hint of dismay hovered around the corners of his mouth.

  “I won’t sleep with you.” Anger sputtered beneath my calm expression. “Or spy on Menshikov.”

  “I didn’t ask you to.” He leaned across the table, drawing my hand into his, and played with my fingers. To a casual observer, we probably appeared like lovers, but the only thing simmering between us was my indignation. “Don’t pull away. He’s watching us.”

  Against my better instincts, I froze. Yes, it was a petty thing to do, but I did it anyway. I wanted Roman to see that I wasn’t a complete loser, despite his frequent reminders, and that I could handle myself. “You really hate him, don’t you?”

  “‘Hate’ is a very strong word. No, it’s more like rivalry. He always wins. Everything. Every time. And for once, I’d like him to learn how it feels to lose something he wants.” He tapped a finger on the back of my hand.

  “Your logic has a flaw. He doesn’t know who I am. And besides, he can have any woman he desires with a snap of his fingers. A random girl can’t be the woman of his dreams.”

  “You seriously underestimate yourself, Rourke.”

  “I’m a realist. I know who I am and my limitations. Why would he want me when he has someone like her?” Although I hated myself for doing it, I glanced over at Roman. His date had moved to his side of the booth and was nuzzling his neck. With her lips on his earlobe and her hand on his arm, it was all too easy to picture them in bed together. The thought twisted my stomach. I dropped my fork and frowned.

  “So, do we have a deal?” Nicky bit his lower lip, waiting for my answer. “You want him to pay for treating you so callously, for fucking and forgetting you, for flaunting that girl in front of you? Go out with me. We’ll have some laughs, and in the meantime, Roman will have a fit. It’s a win-win situation.”

  I didn’t get a chance to answer, because the subject of our conversation strode over to our table. My gaze went directly to his hand and the blonde clinging to it. She gazed up into his face. He stared at my hand, clasped with Nicky’s. If the situation had been less confusing, I would have laughed out loud at the crosscurrent of emotions. The four of us wore a multitude of hats—employer, employees, lovers, and rivals. The lines between our roles had blurred until I didn’t know where I fit in anymore.

  “We’re leaving,” Menshikov said. “You can ride home with us, Ms. Donahue.”

  “What?” Nicky and I said at the same time.

  The nerve of this man. It was bad enough that I had to be at his beck and call every minute of every day, watch him with another woman, and know that I could never be with him in real life. Now, he demanded control of my personal life, ending my date without my permission. Even though I longed to be alone in my apartment, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “Maybe she’s not ready to go home,” Nicky said.

  Roman adjusted the lapels of his jacket. Arrogance and power oozed from every pore of his body, sharpening my attraction to him until it sliced through my chest. His stare burned through me. “I need you to pack for me. I’m flying to Miami tomorrow. Two days. Business and pleasure.”

  The faces of the people around us receded into the backgr
ound. The buzz of conversation and piano music faded to silence. It was just him, me, and the lies between us. What lurked behind the navy depths of those hooded eyes?

  “Okay,” I said. I agreed because I wanted to prove that I didn’t care about the girl on his arm—to him and to myself.

  Chapter 21

  Rourke

  Nicky walked outside with us. When the limo pulled to the curb, he tugged me aside, brushed the hair from my face, and kissed me. I let him do it, knowing my boss was watching, caught in the crossfire between the two men. He tasted like wine and oregano, his lips soft and plush. I dug my fingers into his shoulders to keep my balance. One of his hands found my bottom and squeezed until Menshikov cleared his throat.

  “See you later,” he murmured against my mouth.

  Roman glared at us. Car horns and traffic sounds filled the night. He stepped aside to let me enter the car. I slid into the far seat across from his date. Her pink-tipped fingernails tapped incessantly on her phone. Roman climbed into the car and sat next to the girl. The door shut behind him, trapping us in a chamber of misconceptions and silence.

  “Hi, I’m Rourke.” I extended a hand to the girl as the car pulled into the street. “The personal assistant.”

  “Brandy,” she said without looking up. The ring of her phone interrupted our introductions. She pressed it to her ear with a semi-apologetic smile. While she spoke to her friend, she twirled a strand of hair around her index finger and snapped her chewing gum.

  “You never said anything about a trip to Miami,” I said to the smoldering man across from me. The way he sat in the seat, all easy grace and unapologetic maleness, grated on my nerves. If only he was less attractive, less intriguing, less everything. I clenched my fingers, the nails cutting half-moons into my palms.

  “I don’t report to you, Ms. Donahue. You work for me. Or have you forgotten?” The nonchalance of his tone stuck under my skin, but the challenge in his eyes rallied my obstinacy.