Taken by the Prince: Prince of Hearts Book I

by Jewel Killian

“Maybe that’s accurate. But think of all the networking you could do. Maybe you’ll stumble across someone who knows all there is to know about the ins and outs of starting and running charitable organizations. Maybe you’ll find people wanting to back your endeavor. Maybe—” She paused to give me a broad smile. “Maybe you’ll find someone special.”

  I coughed, choking on my espresso. “Serene, you know damn well that’s the last thing I need.”

  “Oh, pish-tosh. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to—”

  “Serene! You know that’s not where I am right now.”

  She gave me a frown and continued pushing the rest of her waffle around the plate.

  Leaving Hollywood meant I’d also be leaving the tabloid spotlight. Ever since my first movie, I’d been prime tabloid fodder. It was my own fault really. I went to all the parties, was seen with countless men, and was dubbed the “serial relationship killer.” Not only did Hollywood think I fell in love too hard, too fast and too often, they thought that was the reason I couldn’t keep a man.

  Hell, maybe it was. Maybe I did fall too fast. That’s one of the many reasons I was leaving and why I definitely did not want to meet anyone right now. The tabloids would find out and doom it from the start. Maybe after a few years, when the news of my resignation wasn’t still fresh on people’s minds. Maybe once I’d faded into obscurity and was “that actress from those movies a few years ago” and not Hollywood’s darling, I’d be comfortable starting something.

  But not now.

  “Oh, come now. You know the Met Gala is always a good time. You had fun the last time, remember?”

  She had a point. I did have fun watching a pop princess and another A-lister fall for each other.

  “Don’t make me go alone, Charlotte.”

  I sighed. “I’m probably not even on the guest list.”

  Serene snorted. “You’re Charlotte Blush. Of course you’re on the guest list. Now, have your assistant sort out the cost of your plate and any fees for a late RSVP, call up one of those designers that owe you a gown, and take me to the damn ball.”

  I smiled at my friend’s smug expression. She knew she’d won.

  “Fine,” I said as I stabbed at the last strawberry in the carton. “But you’re paying for my plate.”

  Chapter Four

  Ash

  “You should eat something, Your Highness,” Nathaniel said as he set the plate of crudité and sliced melon on the desk. Thoughtful, though he knew better.

  I couldn’t eat. Not when the paperwork I’d been pouring over all morning wasn’t making any damn sense. I leaned back in the hotel chair, stretching and shaking out the kinks in my neck and shoulders. “Nathaniel, what’s your background in?”

  “I was in the special forces unit in the Trisean Army for seven years, Your Highness. Before that, I earned a degree in English Literature.”

  I sighed. “While that is impressively paradoxical, I’m afraid that doesn’t help at the moment. You don’t happen to have expertise in international business law or ethical charitable practices, do you?”

  “I’m afraid not, Prince Ash.”

  “Mind if I bounce something off you?”

  “I’d be honored, Your Highness.”

  I stood, pacing the length of my suite in the Waldorf Astoria. “Each time the Crown donates to a charitable organization, I get one of these.” I handed Nathaniel one of the many file folders on the mahogany desk. “A meticulously itemized list stating where every last donated cent will be allocated.”

  Nathaniel glanced at the file. “The numbers seem inflated. If their overhead expenses are truly that high, I hardly see how the organization could stay in business past the next quarter.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Why not hand it over to the royal accountants? They’ll sort it out.”

  I nodded. I could, and the esteemed accountants who keep Trisean’s ledger balanced and always in the black would have to share their findings with the public. Part of the reason Trisean was such a wealthy nation was that the government had a one hundred percent transparency agreement with her people. The public knew where every cent of their tax dollars were allocated, when, why, and for what reason. If it were to go public that a charity the Crown donated to was misallocating funds, the backlash on said charity would be enormous.

  I wanted to be sure before I sentenced the new Brooklyn Museum to death so soon after its inception by public outcry. It could be a mistake—a misplaced decimal or a simple oversight.

  “It might come to that. But until I know exactly what I’m dealing with, I won’t risk the museum’s reputation.”

  Nathaniel nodded. “Of course, Prince Ash.”

  I didn’t have to tell him not to mention my findings to anyone. From the beginning, Nathaniel has acted as my confidant. He’d sooner die than give up my secrets. “Ring Creightly, won’t you? I’d like to deal with this straight away.”

  “As you wish, Your Highness.” He found Creightly’s personal number in moments. “Please hold for His Royal Highness, Prince Ashley of Winchester.” To acquaintances, Nathaniel was always formal in the extreme. He handed the phone to me.

  “Mr. Creightly, I do hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

  “Of course not, Your Highness. How may I be of assistance?”

  “I was hoping we could meet to go over the allocation sheet. This afternoon perhaps?”

  “Ah, I’m afraid that’s quite impossible. I’m headed to the airport as we speak, Your Highness.” The man’s voice pitched slightly higher than normal.

  “Shame. Then I suppose it will have to wait until you’re back. When is that, might I ask?”

  “It’s hard to say, Your Highness.”

  The man wore on my patience. “What’s your best guess, Creightly?”

  “Well, ah, I’m not—um, that is to say...”

  I sighed. “Expect a call from me as soon as you’ve returned,” I said and ended the call.

  “Cagey?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Extremely. Send someone to follow him. Find out where he’s going and when he’ll be back.”

  “Of course.”

  As Nathaniel stepped away to make those arrangements, my private, secured cell rang. “Duchess! It’s been a lifetime since we’ve talked. How are you?”

  “Oh, quit with the formal shit, Ash. Are you going to the Met Gala tonight, or do I have to drink alone? Again.”

  “Actually, Serene, I’ve just stumbled onto some—”

  “Nope. I don’t care. Whatever you’re about to say, just stop saying it. You’re coming. You’re a guest, and you’re coming.”

  I laughed. The English Duchess and I went to university together. She was rather a bad influence on me. Seems since she’d come out of hiding, she still was.

  “Serene, I should be taking care of these allocation sheets I just—”

  “Pish-tosh. What’s to take care of? Come to the Gala. Be one of the people there I can actually stand.”

  Serene had a huge hand in my more destructive past. She taught me how to shotgun a beer, clear a meter tall bong, as well as how to test whether the cocaine at the party was worth putting in my nose. If it hadn’t been for Serene, I would have been a very different person. She cracked me out of my shell enough to realize who I wanted to be. She showed me the darker side of life which made choosing my responsibilities as a prince that much easier.

  “Honestly, Serene, I wasn’t planning on going. I’d already asked my guard to get me out of it. I didn’t have a good excuse before, but now, well, I really should see to these allocations.”

  “Nope. You’re coming. If I have to drag your royal ass there myself, I will. Got it, Your Highness?”

  I smiled. “Fine. You win. I’ll see you there, Duchess.”

  Chapter Five

  Charlotte

  Serene and I entered the front doors of the Metropolitan Museum of Art arm in arm. Instead of calling in a favor to a designer, Serene let me borrow a
simple, black Alexander McQueen dress from her enormous collection of dresses. Serene was much curvier than me in about every way conceivable, but somehow, the dress still worked.

  The gala was just as I expected. The same people, same music, same everything. The latest multi-platinum, pop star the major record labels just cranked out stood in the corner, hanging on every word a famous, or should I say infamous, Hollywood producer said. He was every bit the clichéd Hollywood trope, sixty-ish, soggy in the middle, with too much spray tan and too-white veneers.

  The scene made me a nauseous. I’d been in the same situation more than my fair share. I could imagine the conversation.

  “I’ll make you a star, baby,” he’d say with a skeevy glint in his eye.

  “But I’m already a star,” she’d coo in her perfectly honed baby voice.

  “I’ll make you a movie star. Haven’t you always wanted to be on the silver screen? You’d be up there with the greats, baby—the Marilyns and the Farrahs.”

  “Gross!” she said loud enough for me to hear. “I’d rather be a Streisand or a Streep, you creep,” she said and marched away.

  I caught her eye and gave her a head nod as she passed. “Good for you,” I said.

  She nodded back, but kept marching right out of the gala.

  Serene tugged at my arm. “Don’t worry about her. She has a good head on her shoulders. Let’s go hit the bar. Oh, and the food! Char, you don’t have to worry about the camera adding twenty pounds anymore!”

  I smiled. I’d already realized the same. “Or the wardrobe department complaining if I don’t stay the exact same measurements.”

  “Come on. Let’s get some fancy drinks and something fried. And keep your eye out for any humanitarian/charitable types.”

  An hour passed. Full of delicious, carb-heavy hors-d’oeuvres that I normally wouldn’t dare put past my lips, I threw back another glass of champagne and set my sights on the dance floor.

  “Oh! Charlotte, you have to come meet my friend!” Serene said as I made my way to the center of the room.

  “Wha...? Oh, hey Jeffery,” I slurred to Serene’s fiance who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “When’d you get here?” I asked between hiccups.

  “Just now. I had a stack of papers to grade.”

  I hiccuped again. “Isn’t that what teacher’s assistants are for? Don’t you have a whole gaggle of ‘em?”

  He smiled. “I do, but all the good ones have all moved on with their lives. I don’t much trust this new batch yet.”

  “Come on, Char. Let’s go meet my friend.” Serene tugged at my arm.

  “Hang on a sec. I’m talking to your fiancé.”

  Jeffery smiled again. “It’s fine, Char. We can catch up later.”

  Serene tugged my arm again, and I tripped over the hem of my dress. “Goodness, Charlotte. How much champagne have you have?”

  “I only had two glasses. I think I’m drunk on carbohydrates. I haven’t had one since I was nineteen.”

  She laughed. “Well get it together. I think you’re really going to like this guy.”

  Despite the carb sludge in my brain, I caught that last word. It just took me a minute to respond. “Whoa. Hang on a minute. I’m not interested in meeting your guy friend if you have some notion of being a match-maker, Serene.”

  “Oh, stop being paranoid, Charlotte. I just think you two would really hit it off, that’s all.”

  “Serene, I told you I’m not trying to get involved with anyone. Not now. Not until after I’m clear of the tabloid trail.”

  “Fine. Don’t get involved with him. I’m just saying you should talk to him. He might know something about—”

  “Hi, sorry to interrupt, Duchess. Is this the woman you mentioned?”

  I set my jaw, staring at my friend. “Not interested,” I said quickly as I turned to face the man.

  Holy shit.

  This wasn’t just a man. Tall and broad with dark blue eyes and wavy hair just long enough to wrap my hands in. He brought dark thoughts to my mind and a flush to my cheeks.

  “Oh, my apologies. The Duchess told me you were interested in starting a charity. I know quite a bit about the matter.”

  I hiccuped. Then pulled myself together. “Oh. Of course. I’m sorry. I thought she was trying to set us up.”

  He laughed. A rich, velvety sound that caressed my ears as it left his lips.

  “Charlotte, I’d like you to meet Prince Ash of Trisea. Your Highness, this is Charlotte Blush, formally of Hollywood.”

  Before I could say anything, before I had time to register what my royal friend said, the man in front of me dipped into a low bow as he took my hand. He pressed his lips against the back of my hand, letting his fingers linger as he drew away. “I assure you, the pleasure is mine.”

  I nodded. It was all could manage. Every thought in my mind had been erased with that small kiss. I could only imagine what one on the lips would do to me. Or worse yet, a kiss somewhere a bit naughtier.

  I took a breath and tried not to focus on how devastatingly handsome this man was. Or how his smooth, low voice made every word sound like pillow talk, or how perfectly he filled out that waistcoat and tails.

  “Formerly of Hollywood, is that right? I’m embarrassed to admit, my schedule doesn’t afford me much leisure time. I doubt I’ve seen any of your work.”

  I said nothing. I didn’t know what to say.

  “Would you like to get some fresh air? I could use some,” he asked before the tension of silence grew too great.

  I nodded, and he crooked his elbow. I took hold, unable to keep myself from feeling the hard muscle beneath his jacket, and followed him out the French doors to a small patio with topiaries and butterfly bushes. The night air helped, clearing out the haze of desire and thoughts of what this man looked like with his clothes off. I shook my head and found myself again. “I’m sorry. Serene has spoiled me when it comes to royalty. How should I address you?”

  “You can call me Ash, Charlotte.”

  His voice danced across my skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. I dreamed of leaning into that feeling, letting it wash over me, drown me. Savoring the rich texture of his silky words would have been sinfully delicious. And epically disastrous.

  Tabloids, tabloids, tabloids.

  I chanted the words until I found myself again.

  “Certainly there’s a proper title I should use.”

  “If you like, you can call me Prince Ash or Your Highness, but I find it rather cumbersome and unwieldy when getting to know someone.”

  “Ah. Well, I suppose I’ll stick with Ash then.”

  He smiled, a slow and sexy gesture which made my stomach drop. “Good choice,” he said softly.

  “So, um, what kind of charity work do you do?”

  “All of them. That is, the Trisean Crown donates to most charities. I’ve a particular interest in funding the arts, however.”

  “Trisea? I can’t say I’ve heard of that monarchy.”

  Chapter Six

  Ash

  I knew the moment I saw that self-satisfied grin on Serene’s face that this was a setup. I could have killed her. I would have except the woman she set me up with was not only unaware but seemingly uninterested in being set up.

  As strange as it sounds, that was oddly comforting. Knowing this woman wasn’t interested in me meant she had no ulterior motives. It meant she wasn’t interested in my crown or title or anything.

  She wasn’t interested in me at all.

  At least, that’s what she’d said. I’d felt her lean into my touch, watched her pupils dilate when I kissed her hand. Charlotte was attracted to me and fighting it with everything she had.

  Which I found intriguing.

  “I appreciate your honesty,” I said, pulling my phone out. “Most people are too concerned with not looking foolish and pretend to know exactly where Trisea is.” I pulled up a map of Europe and zoomed in on the Pyrenees mountains. “See right there? That swath of land with betw
een France and Spain, tucked into the mountains?”

  “Oh yeah. How did I never know there was a country there?”

  I smiled as she gazed up at me, the question burning bright in her topaz colored eyes. “Trisea makes it her business to keep other’s business. As such, we keep a very low profile, intentionally staying out of international conflict, and keeping our assets close to our chest.”

  A wrinkle formed between her lovely brows. “What on earth does that mean?”