by Amelia Wilde
He has better luck than I do, even though he doesn’t cave in completely to the party mood and never touches a drop of alcohol. I don’t push the matter. It’s enough that he came here with me instead of hauling me back to the royal palace in Saintland. After we hit the second bar, he’s garnered a bit of a fan club and allows one girl, a petite blonde with wide gray eyes, to sit at his side for the rest of the evening.
It’s not yet midnight when I signal to him that it’s time to go. The blonde looks disappointed, but Nate charms her with a whispered word in her ear and a kiss on the cheek.
We walk side by side on the sidewalk leading back to the building I’m staying in, and it’s not until we get to the front entrance that I realize Nate never asked for directions.
“Are you staking me out, old buddy?”
He gives me a sidelong look. “Did the international flight sap you of all your intelligence?”
I roll my eyes. Of course he knows where I’m staying, even without me giving him the address. It’s all too easy for me to forget that his experience in intelligence and security far outstrips my idiot royal sensibilities. “No. But a woman might have.”
He raises his eyebrows. “We’ve only been here three nights. You’ve already found the love of your life?”
“She’s not the love of my life, Nate, for God’s sake. She’s just…” What was she? The buzz I got from my drinks has already worn off, and I’m left with a throbbing need to see her again.
Despite the fact that soon—likely in two weeks, if Nate has his way—I’ll be going back to Saintland, never to see her again, and despite her insistence on not exchanging any information beyond first names, there’s something about her that’s sunk its claws deep into my…heart. Yes, that’s it.
“She’s a tigress?”
Back in our school days, Nate and I referred to our hottest dates as tigresses—full of spirit and deadly if you messed with them. Looking back, every other women I’ve been with is a kitten compared to Jessica.
I flash Nate a smile, giving him a nod. “She’s a tigress.”
“Are you seeing her again?”
“You know as well as I do that it would be a fool’s errand.” Nate doesn’t know all the details about what happened between Jessica and me, but he knows as well as I do that whatever there might be between us, it has to stay on this side of the Atlantic.
“Don’t be coy with me, your highness. I can tell you’re thinking about it.”
“Shut your mouth.” I temper the words with a sheepish smile.
Because the bastard is right.
I resist messaging her for one more day. By Monday morning, I can’t stop myself.
I pull out my phone, open the app, and type a message to Jessica asking her to meet me again. Friday was too much fun, I write.
Who doesn’t like to tempt fate?
To my immense shock, Jessica agrees to meet me the next night, and it doesn’t take me long to realize that my first impression of her last Friday night wasn’t a fluke. When I turn from where I’ve been waiting by the bar and see her walk through the door, heading straight for me, a shock wave jolts through me, wiping all the smooth opening lines I had come up with out of my mind.
Jessica doesn’t waste a single second. As soon as she reaches me, she’s pulling me down to her and kissing me with such heat that the bartender whistles. “Hey, lovebirds, get a room!” he shouts over the blaring music. Without breaking the kiss, I show him my middle finger and the man bursts out laughing. “At least buy some drinks, man.”
That’s where we start.
Once again, we end up in my apartment, all over each other, ravenous, insatiable, the pile of condom wrappers by the bed growing higher as the night passes by.
Just before she leaves, we fuck one more time, Jessica on top, gyrating her hips so skillfully it’s all I can do not to come within the first thirty seconds. I reach up to tweak her nipples, causing her to cry out and dig her fingernails into my chest, rocking her hips even faster, harder against my cock.
As I explode my release deep inside her, my vision blurring with its intensity, I try to burn the memory of Jessica, her rhythmic movement, her luscious curves, her intoxicating beauty into my mind, just in case this is the last chance I get to be with her.
I’m so screwed.
Chapter Nine
Jessica
I’m in way over my head.
Wednesday and Thursday at work are exercises in torture. I spent Tuesday night with Alec because I just can’t resist a situation that’s sure to backfire.
You don’t even know him, my rational half says.
I know all I need to know about him, the hopeless romantic half fires back.
I can’t deny it. Something exists between us that’s so compatible, so unbelievably in-sync, that I know what we have is one-of-a-kind.
But I know, I know, that it’s lust. I can’t betray the promises I’ve made to myself based only on desire.
Or can I?
No, I tell myself firmly. Unless he’s going to prove to you that he wants more out of this, don’t get swept away. Don’t give him the upper hand. Stay in control, Jessica.
In the office, I can hardly concentrate on the projects I’m supposed to be managing because I’m caught in an endless internal argument.
He did prove it. He messaged you back.
That was because the sex was incredible.
So what? He had to see you again. Couldn’t live without you.
…Because the sex was indescribably good.
That doesn’t mean he wants anything more to do with me. That doesn’t mean I want anything more to do with him.
You do want more to do with him.
I don’t want anything more from him unless he’s going to prove himself. Remember Michael???
He did prove it.
On and on and on.
On top of that, Alec doesn’t message me again, and I want to message him so badly I can taste it.
I hold back, though. I need to decide how I’m going to play this before I say another word to him.
When the workday is over, I still haven’t made up my mind, even though Alec has a lot going for him. He’s hotter than sin and fucks better than any man I’ve known.
Still, I can’t dispel the nagging doubt: Can he be tender? Can he make love? Would he love me for more than this electric, fiery connection?
I don’t know.
My head aches with indecision. It’s true. I’m the kind of person who will change anything and everything if it suits me, but I never make those decisions at random. They are carefully considered, no matter how it looks from the outside.
I just can’t decide.
Go after him?
Leave him behind?
You’ll never really be able to leave him behind, my inner voice repeats for the umpteenth time.
When my phone vibrates with Christian’s text, I’m sprawled on the couch in my apartment, watching a shitty Netflix movie, the scenes flickering in front of my eyes, but none of it sinking in.
Purple Swan. 8:30. I have a date for you!
Ugh, I can’t. Richard was such a disaster, and Alec is so fucking heavenly, that there’s no way I can sit through an evening of drinks and empty banter with some random idiot who can’t compare.
Can’t. Busy.
I drop my phone back onto the couch next to me and try to focus on the television. I’ve been so consumed with replaying the memories over and over again in my mind of two nights with Alec, my own Emmy award-winning production, that what’s playing on the TV right now holds no interest for me. Two nights! It’s been more like a TV show marathon than a two-hour-weeknight movie. There’s been lots of action, but I have no idea what the plot is.
The phone buzzes again, almost immediately.
Come on, Jess—it’s going to be fun!
Rick wasn’t exactly a hit.
I know, but this guy is nothing like Rick.
I’m tired, Chris.
> One drink.
Whyyyyy
Aren’t we close friends? Don’t you want to see us?
You know I love you but my couch is my date for the night
Christian isn’t very good at taking no for an answer, so it doesn’t surprise me when my phone rings signaling an incoming call within moments after I send the last text, his name flashing brightly on the screen.
“Chris. I am not coming out to the Purple Swan. It’s been a long—”
“Jess, you have to let me make it up to you for setting you up with Richard. He was a friend of a friend who wanted me to show him a good time while he was in town. I swear, this guy is nothing like him.”
“I’m not staying long.”
Christian’s voice perks up. “You don’t have to stay long. Just come out for an hour, have a good time. Take today off your mind. I know that office job of yours sucks.”
He has no idea how much it sucks. When I’m not fantasizing about Alec, I’m fantasizing about picking up and moving somewhere else—anywhere else—so I don’t have to spend another hour at the Colton-Hayes headquarters. I just don’t have a passion for organizing last-minute projects. Everyone else’s failure to plan becomes my emergency. I’m so over it.
I bite my lip, considering Christian’s offer.
At the very least, a night out with my friends—even if I am half considering leaving them behind in exchange for a fresh start—could help me focus on something other than Alec for a couple of hours. Maybe it’ll give me enough perspective that I can make a logical fucking decision about all of this.
That’s what I need. Perspective.
I’m also starving. I only picked at my lunch because I was so conflicted about the Alec situation, I could barely eat. If nothing else, the food at the Purple Swan will be worth it. It always is.
“Fine.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Chris says, laughing at my grudging acceptance.
“This guy had better be hot,” I say, sighing. I’m going to need to ask Carolyn to borrow a dress and then spend time on my hair and makeup. It would be far easier to just stay planted on the couch, but who am I kidding? I’d end up pacing the room in an attempt to rid myself of this obnoxious nervous energy.
I hear Carolyn’s key in the lock—she must have been working a little late today—and when she appears at the door to the living room, I give her a smile and a wave that she returns before flopping down on the couch next to me.
“He’s going to blow your mind,” Chris says. “But I’m not going to tell you anything else. Just show up at 8:30 with your beautiful self. I promise, Jess, you won’t regret it.”
Chapter Ten
Alec
By Thursday morning, thinking about Jessica—the way she laughs, the way she moves, the way her naked body feels when it’s pressed against mine, rocking together joined at the hip into the early hours of the morning—has very nearly driven me mad.
The second “date” did nothing to get her out of my system, nothing at all. Part of me knew all along that seeing her again would do nothing but stoke the flames, but like the idiot I am, I went anyway.
What does it say about her that she agreed to a second date without hesitation?
When I checked in with Nate yesterday—an act that seems more and more like a waste of both my time and his as this trip progresses since he tails me everywhere I go or has someone else do it—he gave me shit for not taking Jessica out on an actual date.
“If this woman is really that amazing,” he said, giving me a slap on the shoulder, “you should have taken her somewhere upscale, not to the goddamn bar.”
“What do you want from me?” I shot back at him, keeping my tone light. “This is going nowhere, and you know it, yet you egg me on, you asshole.”
He just shrugged, giving me a sly smile.
Bastard.
Fuck me. I have to do something.
When I roll out of bed, I can’t ignore all the energy zipping through my body, so I pull out my phone. It’s a new one, with a new number, that I bought at the airport in Saintland just for this trip so, on the off-chance the royal security corps decides to keep tabs on me through my regular phone, they’ll just find that it’s parked in my bedroom at the palace. I tap the screen to type in search terms to help me find a gym.
In Saintland, there’s a gym in the palace that my brother, who is a bit of an exercise fanatic after his own year in the service, insists on keeping meticulously up-to-date with the best equipment available on the market. Never let it be said that he spends the royal fortune only on necessities, no matter what he tries to tell you. Here in New York, I’m looking for something of the same caliber. No guarantees I’ll find it.
I choose the place with the most stars, a place that caters to “exclusive clientele,” and just happens to be located the next block down from my apartment.
That’s where I run into a guy named Christian, who’s giving the free weights a run for their money. He’s a typical American, loud and blonde and built, but after a few minutes of conversation, he lowers his voice.
“I’m a member of a club called the Purple Swan—it’s a good time and the food is top-notch. If you’re in town tonight, you should come out with my friends and me. I have a feeling you’d fit in with our crowd.”
For a heart-stopping moment, I think he must have heard of me somehow. Almost nobody has heard of Saintland, so I had been fairly certain I could remain anonymous in a city as large as New York City, a place with more than eight million people, according to the Internet. That’s twice the entire population of Saintland.
Then I remember that I paid $750 for a weeklong membership at the gym. It’s not royalty he’s talking about. It’s money.
“Fine by me,” I say, smiling. This will be a perfect opportunity to get my mind off Jessica and—if Christian’s friends are anything like him—easily make some connections in the United States. It’s a win-win. “What time? What’s the address?”
Christian grabs his phone off a shelf recessed into the wall of the gym where members can charge their phones while they work out—there’s clearly no fear of thievery in this place—and swipes a few times at the screen. “What’s your number? Also, I didn’t catch your full name…”
“Just put me in there as Alec,” I say, pretending to be selecting a set of weights.
“Number?”
I rattle off my new phone number. I worked on memorizing it while I was in the air.
“I’m texting you the directions now. Mention my name at the door, although if I’m right about you, you could probably afford the membership.”
I laugh, not confirming or denying it, but I’m a royal prince of Saintland. Of course I could afford the membership.
At 7:00, Christian sends me a text.
Purple Swan. 8:30. Black tie. I’ll be there with some female company
Well. That will certainly be interesting. Is Christian hiding a woman that could be Jessica’s match? I’m dying to find out.
I take a cab to the Swan, arriving there just after 8:30. The doorman ushers me in as soon as I drop Christian’s name and guides me through the lobby. He hands me off to a uniformed member of the wait staff, and I follow him through a wide hallway and into a massive space. For the first time since arriving in New York, I’m in a space that almost competes with the Great Hall in Saintland.
There are multiple tiers filling the cavernous space, each filled with tables covered in fine linen tablecloths, spaced far enough apart to ensure privacy. In the back of the room, there is a raised platform where a live band plays, the volume still relatively low at this early hour. Several couples are already dancing on the polished hardwood dance floor located in front of the band area.
As the waiter guides me across the room, I catch sight of Christian sitting at one of the round tables. He’s seated with six other people and there is one open chair for me. He laughs at someone’s joke, but upon glimpsing me following the waiter across the floor, he s
tands up and waves in my direction.
A woman with shining auburn hair spilling down her back sits facing away from me, next to the available seat at the table. I’m ten feet away from the table when she turns to look in my direction.
When her gaze meets mine, the faint smile on her face shifts into a look of shock, her mouth forming a round O, her eyes wide.
It’s Jessica.
Chapter Eleven
Jessica
The moment I see him coming toward the table at the Swan, something inside me shifts.
It’s been a long time since I made the break from my parents’ conservative Christian views, two years since what happened with Michael taught me to rely on myself, to lead a life of my own choosing and not to depend on anyone else. So, I’m well past the point of relying on or believing in divine intervention.
But when our eyes meet as he approaches the table, a thousand-watt smile playing across his lips, it’s like the entire world stops moving for a single heartbeat. When it starts spinning again, it’s going in the opposite direction.
My heart hammers inside my chest.
What are the chances?
What are the chances?
I never asked Christian how he met my date-of-the-week, and even if I did, how could it possibly explain the infinitesimally small odds that Alec and I are working against? New York City is jam-packed with handsome men. Christian has more connections than anyone I’ve ever met—he has an easy charm about him that makes you feel like you’re his new best friend—but how did these two ever come across each other?
I make a mental inventory of everything I know about Alec, and aside from an intimate knowledge of the ridges and dips of his body, the answer is—because of my own rules, Jesus Christ—almost nothing. He has a nice apartment, it’s clean with new furniture and has recently been renovated by the looks of it, but it isn’t the kind of thing that would connect him to Christian, one of the richest men in the city aside from Jax Hunter.
