The Bachelor Prince

by Jane Beckenham

  Cassie didn’t wait around.

  Determined Lucas wouldn’t railroad her with his stubborn autocratic ways, or a smile, she sped through her work, finalizing files regarding the upcoming celebrations. Thankfully, Lucas didn’t approach her again but kept busy with one phone call after another.

  Finally, everything was complete and it was time to leave, forever, but she couldn’t simply walk out without a word. She switched off the computer, and gathered her belongings, heart heavy as she turned to face the closed door to Lucas’s office. She held her breath and cocked an ear toward the door, hearing his intonations as he obviously spoke to someone on the phone. Then, suddenly, all went silent. The door to his office was wrenched open, and he strode out, coming to a halt beside her.

  He’d removed his jacket and loosened his tie, the top few buttons of his silk shirt undone. He looked disheveled in a beautiful, arrogant kind of way. She blinked and shifted her gaze as the memory of her hands against that chest and the thud of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips revisited.

  This is too hard.

  He’d once called her his Ms. Fix-It, and yet she couldn’t fix his marriage dilemma. Finding love was something he had to sort out on his own. She bit her tongue. It was no longer her business. She’d be gone soon.

  Disappointment soured in Cassie’s stomach at the reality and finality of it all. She loved her job. Loved her boss. But the line had been crossed by a kiss.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll accept your resignation, but on one condition.”

  Her breath hitched hard. She didn’t like the sound of this. She straightened to her full five-foot-ten-inch height, though Lucas still towered over her.

  “You can leave, but not just yet.”

  “You can’t stop me.”

  The pulse in his throat flickered, and his mouth quirked ever so slightly at one corner. “No, I can’t. You said you would give me a few weeks. My father is already thrilled at our engagement. And besides, I’ve booked a table at Blue Fin tonight.”

  The five-star seafood restaurant had a six-month waiting list—but then, Lucas was a prince, and she shouldn’t have expected anything else. Then it struck her. “Were you meant to be taking someone else to dinner?”

  His eyes shuttered slightly. “No.”

  “But you already have a reservation.”

  “I do. I made it earlier.”

  Her suspicions swelled. “After I resigned, or before?”

  Lucas held her gaze. “I made it before I left my apartment this morning, before you dropped your bombshell. You should know me well enough by now to know that I always get what I want. I told you, I need you to stay for a few weeks. Playing my fiancée and being seen in public is a good tactic for our charade. My father’s concerns are already eased. He likes you. You’re not like the…ah…others.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” But the realization of how far she’d been reeled in hit home. Although Lucas didn’t want to marry, or even get engaged, that he was doing this for his family opened a crack in her annoyance at him.

  Family. It’s all about family.

  Wasn’t that what she was doing for Tina? For family.

  “Dinner is at seven.”

  Cassie looked up at him, witnessing what she thought was fleeting desperation in his hooded gaze. She glanced at her watch. “But I won’t have time to go home and change.”

  “All sorted.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  A sudden tap sounded on the outer door to their suite of offices, and Lucas waved toward the door. “I think you should get that.”

  No one was meant to come up unannounced. She walked to the door, opening it to find a perfectly groomed woman holding a large box swathed in gold ribbon. “I have a delivery for Ms. Masters.”

  “Me? But…” Cassie spied the gold lettering. It was from the city’s most upmarket boutique.

  “Ordered by His Highness, Prince Lucas,” the woman advised with a smile. The smile, however, was not directed at Cassie, but over her shoulder toward Lucas.

  With a nod at the woman, she took the box and closed the door. She turned to face Lucas. “What have you done?”

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” He glanced at his watch. “Time is passing. You need to change.”

  “Change?” Why was it everything seemed to be suddenly spiraling out of her control?

  “I took the liberty of ordering you something.”

  “Expensive, no less.”

  His mouth curved sensually. “Of course. Every woman wants couture, don’t they?”

  No, they don’t. I don’t. I…oh, what was the use. “Why?”

  “Because we’re going out, and you’ll be seen as my fiancée.”

  “And,” she said, glancing down at her dirt-brown suit, “a prince cannot be seen with a boring plain Jane.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” Everyone said it, and that was okay, because it was the mask she wore. Years ago when one of her mother’ lovers had made a pass at her, Cassie had purposefully toned down her appearance, not wanting to look like her mother and draw the attention of men who only valued beauty.

  “I thought we had an agreement.”

  “I didn’t realize it meant you buying me clothes. I can’t accept this…this stuff.”

  “Open it, please.”

  Hesitation held her captive for several heartbeats, only to be overridden by the gentled tone of his voice. Lucas needed her. Pleaded with her.

  She lifted the lid off the box, and her breath caught in her chest. She parted the golden tissue paper, withdrew the garment and held it up. Thousands of tiny, glittering, scarlet beads had been sewn by hand down the front of the dress. It was a superb example of couture craftsmanship and stunningly exquisite, the fabric sensually soft.

  Cassie knew she should be angry with him, knowing he must have ordered the dress as part of his plan—and she was, mostly—but she also realized that his need for this charade overrode everything else.

  It was all about family.

  “I thought it suited you, a lively foil for your copper hair,” he said.

  Cassie held up her hand. “Don’t, Lucas. Don’t use your over-practiced charm on me.” She dropped the extravagant dress into the silk-lined box, the rattle of the tissue paper against the dress almost a sigh. “Will the paparazzi be present?”

  “More than likely,” he replied with honesty.

  Nerves roiling, she wavered. Should she go? What if…

  Stupid question. She knew she would go. She also knew she would live to regret it.

  Using the washroom to change, Cassie slipped the dress on. Lucas had bought it for her, and it fit perfectly. Cassie jerked away from her image and quickly folded her suit into the box the dress had come in. Her plain black heels would have to do. After brushing her hair and replacing her lip gloss, she stood back and stole one last look.

  Lucas knocked at the door. “Time to go.” He stood in the doorway to his office suite. “Perfect. But I think there are a couple of things missing.” He held out a carrier bag, again from one of the city’s designer stores.

  “Not more.”

  “Why not? It makes up the image.”

  All about image. Just like her mother. Cassie wanted to be sick.

  “You need them.”

  “What’s the point? I’ll wear them once, and you won’t be able to send them back.”

  She eyed the rhinestone-encrusted shoes he withdrew from the bag along with an exquisite beaded clutch.

  “Consider it a perk of the job, and you get to keep them.”

  Cassie’s brow creased, and for a moment, she just stared at him. Her damp palms slid down the sides of the sequined perfection. It would be so easy to take what he offered. She could sell it later and probably make enoug
h money to last a while. But…no, she couldn’t do that and still hold her head up. She would take only memories from this charade.

  “Now,” said Lucas, “sit down.”

  “What if I say no?”

  Lucas ran his fingers through his hair. “Humor me.”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  His brows rose, and, realizing she was being railroaded by the best of them, she walked past him and into the office, taking a seat in one of the velvet-covered Louis XIVchairs. Lucas knelt in front of her, and her heart skipped a couple of beats. “What are you doing?”

  He reached for her left foot, removed her plain black pump, and slipped on one of the Jimmy Choo evening shoes and then the other.

  Cassie couldn’t breathe. Didn’t want to.

  Standing back up, he held a hand out to her.

  “This is all very beautiful,” she said as she refused his hand and stood, garnering a soupçon of inner strength. “I’ve agreed to appear at your side, but don’t get too cozy.”

  “Cozy?” Surprise joined with a blatant wariness across Lucas’s face and boosted Cassie’s confidence.

  “There are going to be some rules in this game, Your Highness, and rule number one is don’t touch.”

  “Hard not to, since we’re meant to be engaged.”

  “Tough. You’ll manage.”

  “Let’s negotiate.”

  Uh-oh. Cassie eyed him. He wasn’t joking.

  “We need to put on a show in public, so how about we make believe for the onlookers,” Lucas said.

  Cassie’s body heated. In public…and he meant kissing, touching, holding—and wanting more. Was she up to it? “And in private?”

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “You get what you want. I’ll be the height of proprietary.”

  “No touching, or holding hands…nothing.”

  “You got it,” he agreed, though it did nothing to temper her sudden redoubling of nerves.

  “You said rule number one. What are the others?”

  For a second, her brain fizzed. “Hang tight, Your Highness, I’m sure I can think of some more.” Sidestepping him, she strode toward the elevator, though teetered would have been a more apt description as she struggled to hold herself upright with some degree of dignity in the wafer-thin heels.

  Down in the basement car park, Cassie seated herself in Lucas’s vehicle. Like everything else about the man she worked for, his vehicle was top of the range. The second the car park grill eased up, Lucas gunned the vehicle, and they exited the building to the accompaniment of flashing light bulbs from the hovering newshounds. Instinctively she hid behind her hands, guarding against the intrusion. With Lucas’s bodyguards driving in front and behind, thankfully the paparazzi didn’t follow, and ten minutes later, he directed the vehicle into the entrance of the exclusive lakeside club.

  Cassie shifted sideways to face him. “Why here?”

  “Don’t you like seafood?”

  “I do. It’s just that this is rather public. I thought you would choose somewhere different. Quieter.”

  His brows rose. “More intimate?”

  Exactly.

  “We need to make this look real, and the press is part of my life.”

  Real. Real. Real. The word danced across her brain. Then what? Real heartache? That would be real, because eventually, Lucas the playboy would find a real bride and Cassie Masters would be obsolete. Though she knew she shouldn’t have hoped for anything else, the silly part of her still had dreams. But those too were obsolete, because she had to remember she had responsibilities now. She offered Lucas a tight smile. “You’re right, of course.”

  “Glad you understand.”

  “Oh, I understand, all right. This weird scheme is giving you some breathing space, but then what? Time is running out,” she said, reiterating exactly what his father said earlier.

  “I don’t need to be reminded. With you at my side, my father will relax his stance. I don’t want him to wait, because…”

  “You can’t make up your mind.”

  “I will marry when I’m good and ready, and our little game will play just as long as it’s needed.”

  “Wrong answer. It’s one month. No more. I don’t even know what you plan to accomplish in four weeks, but whatever. You’re the prince.” One month, and then it was ciao, baby. “What will the public think when you dump me? Especially as you’ve let them believe we’re engaged? It won’t make you look very reliable.”

  Lucas’s mouth thinned. “That, Ms. Masters,” he said rather solemnly, “is my concern. Now Father believes me settled, he and Larissa are already discussing dates. So you see, it’s all working out just fine.” He held his hand out to her. “Shall we dine?”

  She gazed at his outstretched hand, hesitating.

  “We’re in public, Cassie.”

  She could tell herself, and him, she didn’t want to touch him, but she knew that deep down inside, she so wanted to hold him, and kiss him.

  Rules are made to be broken.

  Not these ones. Not if she were going to safeguard her heart.

  He hadn’t answered her question about what happened after their fake engagement ended. But then, that was his problem. So why did she feel an increasing sense unease?

  The moment they walked into the restaurant, a hushed silence fell across the room. Lucas hooked an arm through Cassie’s and felt her stiffen and draw back. “Smile, sweetheart.”

  Her gaze jackknifed to his, mouth parting slightly. The sleek gloss of her lips enticed him. He leaned toward her, kissing her softly, and her breath sighed into him. They took their seats by the window overlooking the lake, and without another word, Cassie picked up her menu.

  Without speaking to him, Cassie perused the menu, giving Lucas time to simply stare at her. “I’m sorry.” He uttered the words before he’d even thought them.

  She lifted a quizzical brow and peered at him over her menu. “You’re apologizing?”

  He nodded, aware of a modicum of internal censure.

  “That would be a first.”

  “Perhaps, but I am trying to say I’m sorry.”

  With stiff annoyance, she closed her menu. “Are you suddenly guilt-ridden for forcing me into this position?”

  “Forced? I thought I asked.”

  “Moot point, I think. You don’t ever ask, you demand.”

  He shrugged off her intuitiveness. “So how about we just talk. Tell me about yourself.”

  A tiny smile played across her mouth, a mouth he found increasingly hypnotizing. “Am I too close to the bone?” she said of his deliberate sidestep. “How is it that I’ve been around for two years and still you don’t know me? But then why would you? I’m simply your assistant.”

  “If we’re to make this believable, we need to know about each other.”

  “I already know everything about you,”

  “Difficult not to with what they write, but as I’ve said, don’t always believe what you read. So what about you?”

  Cassie severed her gaze from his and fidgeted with the silver cutlery in front of her, placing each precisely in position. Lucas felt she was doing the same to him. Putting him firmly in his place. Still, as he watched her, he wanted to reach out and hold her hands, and…

  “I’m your PA, and I’ve worked hard to get where I am in life. I’m proud of my achievements.” She tilted her chin higher, her gaze defiant. “That’s it.”

  “So you should be. My other assistants didn’t last long.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  Lucas lifted one brow but didn’t respond to her bait. “Tell me about your childhood.”

  “My childhood? I’m not sure I really had one of those.” At the hint of her past, her defiance morphed into something else, something sadder, and suddenly there was a strange twist in
Lucas’s chest.

  “Childhoods, I think, are not really appreciated by children. We long to be adults, and then we realize those years were precious and too quickly gone.”

  His gaze narrowed. He wanted to know more, to dig into her soul. “You don’t like me asking questions, do you?”

  “Not particularly. You talk about your sisters’ interrogation skills. It seems you’ve learned from them.”

  “They’re the best there is.”

  “And had plenty of practice.”

  “Unfortunately,” he said with a chuckle, relieved when he saw her expression soften and the tension ebb. “I don’t know anything about you, Cassie. I want to.” Actually, he was surprised at this truth. He really did want to know about her. But mostly he wanted to kiss her again.

  Again, Lucas found himself focusing on her mouth, something Cassie realized in an instant, face flushing. She quickly reached for her water glass and took several sips, almost choking as she tried to swallow. With intense concentration, she placed the glass back on the crisp white damask tablecloth.

  “Tell me.” Lucas’s request was quiet.

  Shifting back in her chair, she linked her fingers in front of her. “I was a gypsy in some ways.”

  His interest flared. “Did you have a caravan and horses and roam at will?”

  Her laughter fluttered between them. “I had no idea you were a romantic, Your Highness.”

  Every nerve in Lucas’s body seemed to be competing for attention, and he smiled right back. “Romance doesn’t enter my vocabulary, remember?”

  “I thought that was love.”

  “Love. Lust. Same thing.” Do I really believe that?

  “Oh, Lucas, you really are a cynic.”

  He shrugged, unusually uncomfortable with the sudden direction of their conversation. “So it wasn’t quite the romantic nomadic life, then?”

  “Not quite.” Her smile faded. “We moved a lot. Mostly because the money didn’t last, so we moved on to the next place, and then the next and the next.”

  “Sounds intriguing.”

  Her tongue clicked in derision. “Call it disruptive. Too many years traipsing around the exotic cities of the world dusted off any glamour pretty darn quickly.”