Wrong Number, Right Guy

by Tara Wylde

  Interesting.

  If she’s that sensitive to an accidental touch, I wonder how she would react to the feel of bare skin against bare skin? Would she snarl, and try to bite my hand off? Or would she lean into me and demand more?

  My hands itch to find out. My body aches for her.

  “It’s a small couch.”

  Fire flashes in her eyes and her lips curl. I brace myself for a verbal barrage, but at the last moment she swallows her words and reaches for her drink. She swallows the contents in one long pull.

  Tessa, by contrast, simply settles on the second couch and crosses her legs. The thoughtful expression creasing her face suggests that I’m not the only one interested in Alexis’ reaction to my proximity…

  “I’ve been ill and don’t feel up to a night out on the town, but Alexis agreed to take my place. That’s why we requested this room – so they can easily alert us when it’s her turn to go up on the block.”

  “Which is why we can’t waste time talking about things that aren’t important to Prince Lucas,” Alexis says. “The point of this meeting was to decide if I should take the Queen up on her offer, and I’m not. End of discussion.”

  She shoots to her feet and sways slightly. Looks like she’s had one too many vodka martinis…

  She steadies herself, angles a glare in my direction. “Please tell your mother thanks, that I appreciate the offer – but no thanks.”

  “Hold on one second,” I growl. Before Alexis takes even a single step, I wrap my long fingers around her narrow wrist, halting her in an instant.

  “Tessa –” I say, my instincts screaming at me that I’ll have an easier time getting through to her than to Alexis.

  “After Alexis left the castle this morning, I had some of my aides take a look at your consulting firm. Each one came back with the exact same information. That it’s a well-run business that’s always on the edge of financial disaster. Is that correct?”

  Tessa straightens immediately, going into business mode. Her post strikes me as defensive. “I don’t know what you think you know, but –”

  “But,” I finish for her, “that’s the name of the game in the art world. Old money doesn’t like paying to maintain their family trinkets. And so they are left to decay – along with companies like yours.”

  I see Alexis’ forehead crease almost imperceptibly as she throws a glance my way. But Tessa replies, stealing my attention back.

  “We do very well, I’ll –”

  “But an influx of say, an additional 30 thousand dollars a month would go a long way towards putting your business in the black?”

  Tessa nods, as if half-stunned.

  Beside me, Alexis tips her head back and stares at me with bugged out eyes. “Thirty thousand dollars,” she mumbles as if she can’t quite believe her ears.

  “That’s what the pair of you would be paid for each month you spend establishing a museum.”

  “Pair?” Alexis’s brow furrows. “But the Queen only mentioned me this afternoon.”

  “When I delved into your background, I learned that you’re best as a team. Since I want the museum to be the best, it makes sense to bring both of you on board.”

  “Yeah, that’s great,” Tessa interjects, a hard-edged tone to her voice. Apparently she’s made it past her shock. “But I’d like to return to the original topic. Thirty grand a month. Each or combined?”

  “Combined. You would have to meet with the accounting team my family uses and hammer out the paperwork, of course.”

  Alexis shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Truly, but there are people, actual experienced curators, who are better qualified.”

  She wants to agree, I can see exactly how badly she needs to say yes. But there’s something standing in the way – perhaps just basic honesty.

  I can’t think of a single time that anyone, particularly someone who stood to gain financially, has ever been so honest with me.

  It’s stunning.

  Most people assume that since I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, that it’s their right to take me for as much as possible. They barely try to hide it. I guess that’s why I can be such an ass. Just a defense mechanism, really.

  But Alexis is different. She’s better. I thought so the second I saw her, but now I know it’s true.

  Her honesty touches something deep and unfamiliar deep inside me and makes me more determined than ever to go ahead with my plans.

  I stand, the movement bringing us practically chest to chest. The scent of her strawberry shampoo tickles my nose. I lean closer and inhale deeply. She shifts away until her legs press against the couch Tessa is seated on.

  “It’s a good offer,” I say in a low undertone, practically begging her to agree.

  Alexis bites her lip, the movement betraying her desire to accept my offer. “Really, the idea is just … ludicrous.”

  “Ignore her,” Tessa barks. “We’ll take the job.”

  “Tessa!” Alexis tries to whirl around and glare at her business partner – but instead ends up simply overbalancing and falling awkwardly on the couch.

  Inwardly I smile, but outwardly I carefully maintain my poker face. I’m inches from victory. I’ve out maneuvered Alexis. With Tessa on my side, she doesn’t have a chance.

  “Excellent," I smile, barely able to contain my glee. I tap my forehead with surprise, as if there’s something I can’t believe I’ve forgotten. “Wait – there’s just one condition I need Alexis to agree to.”

  “Oh really?” Tessa says in a guarded tone, arching her brow as she slides a sideways glance at her business partner. “And what precisely is that?”

  I crouch beside the couch and pick up Alexis’s left hand. My fingers interlace with hers while my thumb traces intricate patterns onto her soft palm. Her hand trembles and her plump lips part.

  Good. Satisfaction warms my blood. You’re not as immune to my touch as you pretend to be, you just haven’t realized it yet.

  “Marrying me.”

  246

  Alexis

  I’m not sure when, I’m not sure how, but I’ve managed to tumble down Alice’s rabbit hole. Suddenly the whole world is upside down and inside out.

  Madness is the only possible reason why the freaking Prince of Moravia wants to marry me. For all I know, that’s the case. They might call him the Mad Prince…

  After all, there are three things Princes rarely do: marry commoners, marry girls who aren’t native citizens, and last but most definitely not least – marry chicks who spend their whole day surrounded by antiques.

  And if Lucas was the one prince in the world who wanted to buck the standards and wed a non-native, common as mud antiques consultant, he’d definitely choose Tessa – a knockout even when she’s sick as a dog – over me.

  “Why?” My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else.

  Lucas stares at me as if the answer is obvious. Perhaps it is to him. “Because I need to wed. You’re single and you’re here.”

  I’ve never been the kind of girl who dedicated much time to thoughts of proposals, and weddings, but I’d always thought that if some guy did propose to me, it would be more romantic than, hey, you’re available so let’s get hitched.

  Lucas continues to hold my hand. I wish he’d let go. Each swipe of his thumb sends delightful shivers racing up my arm, making it harder and harder to think straight.

  “So,” his voice is lower than before, seductive. “Will you marry me?”

  I struggle to find the words. My head demands I say no. In this day and age, no one gets married on the spur of the moment. Especially not to someone they can barely stand. But some deep dark secret part of me, a part I’ve spent my entire life ignoring me, wants this more than anything.

  “What’s every lazy person’s favorite kind of exercise?” The words tumble out of my mouth.

  Lucas’s eyes widen just as Tessa throws her head back and lets out a groan.

  “Excuse me?” Lucas says.

  I fini
sh the joke. “Diddley-squats.”

  No one over the age of ten ever knows the punchline.

  “Ignore her,” Tessa tells Lucas. “Whenever she feels anxious or wants to connect with someone, she tells bad jokes. It’s a childhood habit she’s never outgrown. But let’s talk business. Are you really serious about marriage being a part of this museum gig?”

  “No, he’s not,” I tell Tessa. At the precise time Lucas says he is.

  A sharp rap on the door frame draws our attention. One of Lucas’s bodyguards pokes his head into the little room. I’d forgotten about them. They probably wanted to contribute to the conversation.

  “Your Highness?”

  Lucas stands in one long fluid motion. “Yes, Brock?”

  Appreciation zings through me, warming my blood even more than the alcohol.

  Damn, why does he have to move so well? I’ve always been a sucker for graceful men. Maybe because they are everything I’m not…

  “The hotel manager said it’s time for Ms. Tate to take the stage.”

  Oh, thank God.

  I stand up so fast the world swims for a moment before coming back into focus. I slide past Lucas and hurry to the door as fast as the stupidly high heels allow. I never thought the moment would come when being summoned to the stage for a bachelorette auction would feel like my salvation.

  And yet here it is.

  I whisper a quick word of thanks to Brock the bodyguard and slide past him into the lobby. Tessa is hot on my heels.

  She wraps a hand around my bare elbow and leans close. “You’re going to say yes, right?”

  I give her my best side eye. I can’t believe she’s really asking that question. “Are you on crack? I already told him no, and I’ll keep telling him no.”

  “I think he’s serious, and he doesn’t strike me as the type to give up once he decides he wants something. And right now he wants two things from you. A museum and a wedding.”

  “Well, I'm not qualified to provide the museum, and I’m sure as hell not qualified to be freaking married! Besides, I have no interest in helping someone win a stupid bet.”

  “What?”

  I stop at the end of the bar and order another vodka martini. It’s a Hollywood drink, but that’s exactly how I feel right now – plunked into some black-and-white movie. While the bartender fills my order I quickly explain the bet to Tessa.

  Instead of being horrified she looks intrigued. Almost as though she’s entertaining the idea. “Interesting. So really he only wants to marry you for a few months…”

  The bartender places the elegant glass on a napkin and slides it across the sleek bar to me. I smile my appreciation.

  “I refuse to marry some guy because he wants to win a stupid bet.”

  “I can think of worse reasons to get married. Plus, it’d be fun.”

  “Fun?”

  “Sure. It’s not like this some dumb jock who lost a football bet. Lucas is a prince, after all – and a billionaire. Worst case scenario you get to play princess while building something that will last hundreds of years, and we earn enough money to keep our business going.”

  I hate it when Tessa uses logic to make a point.

  She’s on a roll. “And there’s always a chance of a best-case scenario, in which you and the super wealthy, super hot prince fall madly in love and live happily ever after.”

  “Not going to happen. Never going to happen.”

  “Anything’s possible.”

  I roll my eyes. “I told you how we met, right? Not only does the guy have the world’s biggest ego, but he also has no sense of humor. Can you really imagine me being in a room with Lucas for more than five minutes before I try to kill him.”

  “After watching how you reacted to a little hand holding, I’m sure you’ll jump his bones in about half that time. You might not want to admit it, but you’ve got the hots for the playboy prince.” Tessa reaches for my martini and takes a swig. “And I don’t blame you…”

  I snatch the martini back, down it – and immediately wonder if it was a good idea. The world is starting to look a bit fuzzy around the edges. “You’re wrong.”

  Tessa floats a brow. “Do your toes curl up when he touches you?”

  Something like that. But I’ll be damned if I admit it out loud. “I also think he’s a prick.”

  “Most of the rich, aristocratic clients we’ve dealt with have come off that way, but once we got to know them better, they turned out to be decent enough, didn't they?”

  “He has zero sense of humor. How can I even think about marrying a guy who doesn’t laugh?”

  Tessa’s eyebrow spikes upward. "You don’t know him well enough to know what his sense of humor is like. For all we know he's funny as hell.”

  On the stage, the auctioneer, a well-groomed, middle aged woman launches into a brief description of me. Tessa wraps a hand around my elbow and steers me towards the stage.

  “I think you should go for it.” Tessa hooks an arm around my waist and guides me towards the stage. “Playing princess, even for a little while has got to be a blast. The guy looks like he’d be great in the sack, and you can put up with a boring guy for a few months, especially when you’re surrounded by gorgeous antiques.”

  I reach the stage, pushed along by the hand in the small of my back and Tessa nudges me up and onto the platform before I get a second to respond.

  247

  Lucas

  I find Roderick and Tim seated at a round table on one side of the lobby. Roderick taps a bidding number against the table top and watches the action going on near the makeshift stage area.

  I take an empty seat and signal Joe to order a drink for me. Something says I’m going to need it.

  “Meeting go okay?” Tim asks.

  I stare at the far end of the bar where Alexis and Tessa are engaged in a heated discussion. Based on their body language, Tessa is arguing my case. Now, if she can just get Alexis to budge…

  The same ginger man I noticed earlier takes settles at a nearby table and stares down at the cell phone in his hand. I’m not sure why, but he sets my Spidey senses tingling.

  “It’s a work-in-progress.”

  Tim’s brow furrows. “Meaning?”

  “I’ve decided to go ahead with the project and have her business head it up. It’ll be … interesting to see what she and her partner come up with.”

  “Our next bachelorette is a last-minute replacement,” the auctioneer’s words catch my ears. I lean forward, eager to hear what she has to say. This may prove to be my best shot at learning about the woman I just proposed to, because other than a bad temper and a mile-wide stubborn streak, she wasn’t revealing a damn thing.

  “Ms. Thane comes to us from Boston, Massachusetts. She enjoys moonlight river strolls, dinners that start with dessert, nice smiles, exploring museums, and …” the auctioneer pauses a moment, “Will Ferrell movies and comic book stores.”

  After experiencing her tendency to tell horrible jokes whenever she’s uncomfortable firsthand, the Will Ferrell movies doesn’t surprise me. But comic book stores? Alexis strikes me as the kind of girl who goes for the classics.

  I’d expect her to be familiar with Austin, Dickens, and Chaucer, not Lee, Bendis, and Moore. I start to wonder who her favorite comic book characters are. I’m starting to want to know everything about this intoxicating woman.

  Tessa pushes Alexis up on the stage.

  An image flashes through my mind, it’s so bright, so intense, that for half a second, I believe it’s real.

  In my mind’s eye, I see Alexis, not standing on the stage, but in the middle of my bedroom. Her dress and hair glowing softly in the candle light. In my fantasy, she watches me, her eyes dark pools. Moving slowly, she unfastens her dress, letting it slide down her body and puddle around her feet.

  My imaginary self steps towards her – “Prince Lucas.”

  My name being spoken in a voice that most definitely doesn’t belong to my dream version of Alexis, jolts
me from my fantasy.

  The ginger guy I’d noticed earlier, bears down on our table. I don’t know who he is, but I don’t have to. His expression, his carriage, and his dress tell me everything I need to know. He’s a reporter.

  Great, the absolute last thing I want to deal with right now is a reporter.

  248

  Lucas

  “Prince Lucas, I’d like a few words, if I may?”

  I sense Brock shifting behind me, crossing his arms over his massive chest while Tim and Roderick slide smoothly away from the table and prepare to make a break for it. If they’re not here, then they can’t inadvertently do or say anything that could throw my family into the middle of a press scandal. We’ve all had press training up to our ears.

  Normally, Brock's appearance is enough to deter most reporters, but this guy either doesn’t notice my lumbering guard or he’s too green to be wary.

  “Is it true you intend to marry an American?”

  Shit! He’d been close enough to have overheard Tessa and Alexis and they’d obviously been talking about my spur of the moment proposal.

  I’m an idiot. I should have sent one of my guys with them to avoid just such a situation.

  Brock rounds a chair and advances on the guy who backs away but fails to realize the wisdom of shutting his fool mouth.

  “And is it also true that the reason for your sudden interest in matrimony doesn’t stem from love or duty, but rather a dare?”

  Fuck! What the hell were those two talking about?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see my second bodyguard, Joe, who was standing near the bar where he could keep an eye on Alexis, rounding the end of the bar, hurrying to help resolve the issue with the reporter. In his haste, he bumps into a guy who is sharing a drink with a very attractive young lady. The unexpected jostle causes liquid to slosh out of the glass and onto the sleeve of the guy’s cashmere suit.

  The freshly soaked guy, pushes away from his table and leaps to his feet. He’s just drunk enough that he’s willing to take on a bulky security guard.