Secret: The Maid And The Sheikh

by Lara Hunter

  “Hey there,” one of them said, speaking in an Australian accent. “You holding up okay?”

  “Sure,” Kate said, snapping her bikini top. “But could this thing be any tighter?”

  The Australian laughed heartily, her abdomen crunching in. “Tell me about it. I spent the first hour with the Prince, and that was enough. When you’re with him, you feel like you have to act a certain way. Stand up straight. Smile your best smile. You know? He’s royalty.”

  Kate sipped her drink, unsure where this was leading. “Okay,” she said.

  “But I can’t do that all night, so I’m resting over here. Or maybe hiding.” The girl laughed. “It’s fun to flirt with the other celebrities, though. I saw Todd Cackle’s little brother earlier. He was making out with my friend Angelique.”

  Kate laughed appreciatively. A bartender passed them, carrying a tray of cocktails, and the girls both grabbed another round. They clinked their glasses, sipped, and began to move their bodies to the pulse of the music.

  “I’m Marina, by the way,” the Australian said. “Been modeling in Sydney for six years now. And you?”

  “I’m Kate,” she answered, realizing she couldn’t lie to one of her own. “I modeled in New York for a few years before I moved to Miami, where I am now.”

  “Why the change?” Marina asked, her eyebrows high.

  “Can you guess?” Kate asked.

  “No, you beautiful thing,” Marina said, gesturing at Kate’s slim frame.

  “It’s my age,” Kate said. “Nobody will hire anyone over twenty-two in New York, and Manhattan life isn’t cheap.”

  “I say screw them,” Marina said, knocking back her drink. “You’re hot, you’re at one of Prince Francesco’s legendary parties, and on top of it all, you’re getting paid to be here! Just live it up.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Kate said, sighing.

  Suddenly, Marina stiffened. She turned her lips upward into a smile and began to dance with more pep.

  “What are you doing?” Kate asked. “The song didn’t—”

  But Marina gestured toward the side of the room, where the crowd had parted.

  Kate swallowed sharply and began to dance as Prince Francesco appeared before them then, his dark eyes upon her. She smiled at him, hoping he’d simply move on to the younger girl, Marina. But he marched directly up to her and stuck out his hand, waiting for her to shake it.

  A slight hush occurred around them. Several girls eyed Kate with jealousy. After a pause, Kate lifted her hand to his and shook it, making momentary eye contact with him.

  “Hi,” she murmured.

  “Hey there,” the Prince said. “Having a good time?”

  “Of course,” she lied, glancing down. She was thankful that the small camera was carefully positioned within her swimsuit, out of view. “And you?”

  “Of course,” he answered, laughing. “This is my party. I always have a good time—or else people get fired.” He winked at her.

  “I see,” Kate said. “I’ll try to up my game, then.” She felt strangely drunk after just a couple of cocktails. They’d been strong, with far more alcohol than the Miami variety. “Your bartenders really know how to make a drink.”

  “That they do,” he said. “No one should leave here sober. That’s for certain.”

  Kate smiled at his arrogance, loving that he seemed to be the very caricature she’d read about in the magazines. She began to dance with him, making light movements with her hips.

  “You know,” he said, “you don’t look like the models I normally hire. You’re pale. Waiflike. A redhead.” He paused, gazing at her. “I normally go for busty blondes.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Kate said, brushing it aside. “Was part of the reason I accepted the job, actually. I knew I could come here and be invisible.”

  “And look, your plan didn’t work, did it?” the Prince teased. “You’re no less desirable for being different, you know. In fact, you’re far more fascinating. Like a rare jewel.” He assessed her, his dark eyes joining with hers for a moment before diving down the length of her.

  She felt objectified, like a decoration at the party. She cleared her throat, wanting to mock him as she had the bartender, but this was the man who was paying her to be there; this was the man she was planning to expose in order to collect loads of money with Ella. So she smiled up at him, playing along. Surprisingly, he bought it.

  They continue to dance together, Kate internally diving from one memory of being objectified to the next. At the age of fourteen, she’d been asked to stand in her underwear in front of four modeling agents who had wanted to guess how well she’d age into her early twenties.

  But being judged with Francesco’s cocky, forthright attitude was something else. The Prince was remarkably good looking, with dark, thick eyebrows, high cheekbones, and full lips that seemed utterly kissable, if Kate were into that sort of thing.

  She grinned up at him as they danced, feeling like a kid at prom. Marina lurked nearby, pretending to dance with her and Francesco, but Kate knew that, at least in those moments, Francesco only had eyes for her. And she loved it.

  Of course, she reminded herself, at any moment she could be kicked away and replaced by another model. Waiflike redhead or not, she was utterly disposable.

  She lifted her eyes to Francesco’s for a moment and saw a light behind them that surprised her. He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear, cutting through the music. “What do you say you and I go for a tour of the mansion?”

  “Just us?” Kate whispered back.

  But Francesco didn’t hear her. He lifted his hand to hers and linked his fingers through her own before the crowd seemed to part for him. He led her toward the back of the room, where a staircase wound upward. A doorman stood at the staircase, making sure other partygoers didn’t go upstairs.

  “Your Highness,” the doorman said, stepping aside. “Having a good evening?” He assessed Kate with confusion, clearly knowing the type of woman Francesco usually brought upstairs.

  “Absolutely,” Francesco said. He gestured upward, giving Kate a devilish smile. “Just going to show this little fairy around the place.”

  “It’s quite extraordinary,” the doorman agreed before turning back to the party. “Don’t get lost up there. So many corridors. So many passages.”

  “Sounds cryptic,” Kate said, giving Francesco a grin.

  The Prince didn’t answer. He flung himself up the steps, Kate barely keeping up in her treacherous golden heels.

  There was no going back now.

  SEVEN

  Kate reached the landing, huffing, and gave the Prince a strained smile. Her eyes danced around the landing, where a remarkable window filled the ceiling, showing the stars against a black backdrop. “It’s strange to be able to see the stars after living in cities for six years.”

  “Six years?” Francesco said. “That’s far too long. I always get out of Manhattan after a few days. The rush of the city gets to me. I grow manic.”

  Kate grinned at him. He placed his hand at the small of her back. She shivered, but didn’t resist.

  “Perhaps I’ve been manic for ten years, then,” she said then.

  The Prince laughed, eyeing her appreciatively. “I think I’ll show you the library first,” he said. “You seem like a bookish sort.”

  “Is it my pale skin?” she asked him. She tried to remember the last book she’d read, but she drew a blank.

  “No. I’m not sure what it is, but you don’t seem like an empty-headed model, not like the others,” Francesco said, leading her down the hall.

  The floor beneath them was a gleaming marble, and the ceiling was supported by several white pillars. Paintings lined the walls. One, a portrait, portrayed a man almost identical to Francesco. Kate pointed to him, her eyebrows high.

  “Nobody ever sees that,” Francesco said. “It’s my father, actually, right after he was crowned King of Monaco. Handsome chap, eh?”

  “He looks
just like you,” Kate said, incredulous.

  They approached the library doors, both made of glass. Francesco opened them and allowed Kate to enter first. She gasped as she took in the sight of floor-to-ceiling bookcases and huge ceiling windows that showed the starry sky once more.

  She turned to him, awestruck. “It’s breathtaking,” she whispered.

  He smiled at her. He seemed genuine, without the bravado he’d worn downstairs at the party. “I like to come in here to think sometimes.”

  “I didn’t realize princes needed time to think,” Kate said, teasing him.

  “You’d be surprised,” he answered. He gestured toward the far wall. “My mother gave me these books before I left Monaco. She always told me that reading was the single most enriching thing I could do with my mind. Of course, I chose a few other things to do instead.” He pointed to the floor, where the boom of the party music still vibrated.

  Kate shrugged her bony shoulders. “I suppose you have an image to maintain,” she murmured, unsure what to say.

  “Fair point,” the Prince said before bounding toward the door. “Let’s keep going. I want to show you the dining room, and the bedrooms, and the lookout. It’s something else. During the daytime, you can see so much life in the rainforest. They don’t know you’re there, and the monkeys just leap around you, playing. I spend hours up there.”

  Kate grinned and followed him back into the hallway, feeling strange still dressed in her bikini. She crossed her arms over her chest but realized that the Prince hadn’t ogled her like the other men. At least, not since the party. But she was only upstairs with him because of her looks, she reminded herself. She couldn’t lose sight of that.

  They walked companionably toward the bedrooms, their strides matching. “Are you having a good time tonight?” the Prince asked her after a moment of silence.

  “Hmm,” Kate answered, relaxed by the level of alcohol pulsing through her veins. “I’m not sure if ‘good time’ is the way I’d put it.”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever heard a response like that,” the Prince said, halting his rapid walk. He leaned toward her, bemused.

  “Well, anyone would agree, this is an incredible set-up you have here,” she said, trying to be diplomatic. “But frankly, I’m not so keen on big, raucous parties. It’s just not who I am anymore, especially since I left Manhattan for Miami.”

  The Prince cocked an eyebrow. “I can’t say I’ve ever met a model who isn’t interested in the lifestyle that comes with the job,” he said. As he spoke, Kate remembered the images of the countless girls on his arms in Manhattan, all of them leeching onto him and the party scene, loving it.

  “When I was younger, maybe,” she said, shrugging again. “Now it’s more quiet nights in for me. It’s taking care of myself instead of drinking all night. I know that must sound terribly boring to a party animal like you.”

  Francesco clucked his tongue. “Then why in the world did you agree to come to Panama and party with us? I sent that invitation knowing only what appeared on your agency’s site. I saw a beautiful, waiflike redhead, and I said, she’s the one. I had no idea about your personality.”

  “Or even that I had one, probably,” Kate teased, nudging him with her elbow.

  “Of course not. We billionaire princes don’t consider feelings, or personalities, or anything else.” He wagged his eyebrows, in on the joke.

  “Psh. Well, to tell you the truth, Francesco, I accepted this job because I need the money.” Kate’s voice was serious, and she turned her bright blue eyes toward his. “As long as we’re being honest here, at least.”

  She swallowed as Prince Francesco digested this information. Of course, with the camera still tucked away in her bikini, she held back the information of her other side project. As far as Francesco knew, she’d only be accepting the paycheck from him. He didn’t know she’d be ruining him, or trying to. But now, standing in the shadow of his immense, muscled body, she was oddly nervous. Did she really have what it took to betray someone?

  Several moments later, Francesco laughed. He tossed his head back, showing his white teeth, and his laughter went on a bit too long, making Kate strangely dizzy.

  “What?” she asked.

  “It’s just, I’ve never had a model tell me that she’s only around me for the job, but I just realized that’s probably why they’re all here. They aren’t booking French modeling gigs any longer. They have to be here to pay their rents.” He continued to laugh, clearly amused by the lives of others.

  “And I see you think that’s funny? The unfortunate little lives of your models?” Kate asked, feeling indignation spike within her.

  Instantly, Francesco knew that he’d overstepped. “No, no. Absolutely not. I just like your honesty is all. And despite your assertion that you dislike parties, I’ll have you cavorting in the hot tub in no time. Mark my words.” He winked at her before sliding his hand to the small of her back. “Come along. We have so much more to explore, and we’re wasting time arguing. Gosh, arguing with a model. Never thought I’d see the day.”

  Kate followed him to the left, down a long, dark hallway. As they went, lights flicked on around them, revealing another collection of paintings. Kate paused at one in the middle and gazed at it for several moments, curious. She lifted her hand, pointing at the two little boys in the painting. The boys were playing in the sand, building a castle. One of them had dark, curled hair that matched his dark, penetrating eyes.

  “He looks like he has a secret,” she said.

  “The secret is that it’s me,” Francesco said. “You have an eye for detail, Kate.”

  “Is this in Monaco?”

  “Of course. I grew up there,” Francesco said, as if she, like the rest of the world, hadn’t read the tabloids. “And that’s my brother, Ren. A cute little kid there, but a wretched character in real life. He lives in a castle in Denmark and no longer speaks with my parents. He got married last year, and I wasn’t even invited. But look at us here. We’re adorable. We’re going to conquer the world. At least, we thought we were.”

  Kate peered into his eyes, feeling a sudden wave of attraction to him. Every other moment, his swagger and bravado infuriated her, but now his suave confidence was tipping her in another direction. Her stomach clench with desire.

  “My bedroom is just down here,” the Prince said. “I want you to see it. I had it decorated by a French designer. A remarkable woman, so much like you, it seems. She had a keen eye for detail, and she always spoke her mind.”

  “I’m assuming she didn’t get bogged down in the modeling business,” Kate said, laughing again.

  “No. I don’t think she did,” he agreed.

  He stopped outside his bedroom, his finger poised over the light switch. With just a flick, he would reveal the interior: the king-sized bed, the paintings, the gorgeous balcony overlooking the rainforest. Kate could almost picture it in the dark. But he paused, gazing at her. With how they stood, their lips were mere inches apart.

  Kate felt her heart dancing with new life. She hadn’t met a man who’d made her feel like doing backflips in many, many years. The tension between them was strong, and it seemed to take on a life of its own.

  “You know, I expected tonight to be like almost every other party,” the Prince whispered.

  “And what is that like?”

  “The typical stuff, really. We get pretty rowdy. Shots usually happen. Tequila. Vodka. Champagne. Whatever I have lying around.”

  “You have champagne just lying around, then, do you?” Kate asked, teasing him.

  “Of course. What kind of prince would I be if I didn’t?” he asked.

  As he inhaled and exhaled, his hot breath fanned Kate’s lips. She shivered with anticipation. She was sure, if she waited just a moment longer, he would kiss her.

  He lifted his hand and tucked several strands of her red hair behind her ear. “Your face is honest,” he whispered. “It brings up memories of my first girlfriends, when love was somethi
ng that wasn’t going to destroy you, you know?”

  “I’ve never really had a boyfriend,” Kate admitted, her voice timid. “In this industry, you aren’t meant to tether yourself to anyone. Your life could change in an instant.”

  “Models have never told me that, either,” Francesco said. “You’re just bursting with information.” He smiled tentatively.

  Suddenly, they heard people down the corridor. Kate turned her head swiftly, her red hair curling at the nape of her neck, and spotted two men—celebrities she couldn’t quite place—and three scantily-clad models. They were calling the Prince’s name in loud, drunken voices, searching for him.