by Michele Hauf
“Doesn’t work that way, princess. It’s cool. I’ll earn it back.”
“There’s always your Christmas bonus.”
“The Chivas Regal is more than enough. I don’t want you thinking you can replace that money by some sneaky means.”
“But it was because of me you had to use it—“ She put up her palm when Hawk leaned forward, aiming to once again kiss her into silence. “Not this time, Hawk. I have something to say.”
“Shoot.”
“It’s just that…you mean the world to me. And your happiness makes me happy. So we’re going to do it next summer. We’re going sailing on your boat in some exotic locale of my choosing.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded. “I won’t buy my way into your dreams, but I will make sure you get a good deal from a dealer with the lowest possible interest rate on your payments, and a healthy down payment. That’s my deal. I’m not going to offer it as take it or leave it. It just is.”
Hawk winced, but he decided it wasn’t worth the argument. Not right now. If she wanted to do something kind like that for him, then he should let it happen. It was a start to stepping into this wild and crazy relationship that he never wanted to end.
“Deal,” he said.
“Yeah?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Clinton Hawk. And we’re not going to hide it anymore. Got that?”
“You’re moving a bit fast for me, princess. We’re not sending out announcements, are we?”
“Maybe.” She pulled out her phone, and Hawk recognized the standard moves she made when a selfie was imminent. “Smile, lover. If you really love me, you’ll jump in with both feet. In for the ride?”
Damn him, but he was. Hawk tilted his forehead against Becca’s and smiled at the phone screen. Just before she could capture the shot, he turned and kissed her on the cheek.
Three minutes later, Twitter blew up with posts about the heiress’s bodyguard boyfriend. He’d stumbled onto something wild, and he intended to stay here as long as possible.
The End
SOMETHING WILD
Copyright © 2020 by Michele Hauf
Cover design by Michele Hauf.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments or events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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A Dance For Prince Eric by Mona Risk
A Dance for Prince Eric
Modern Princes Series, Book 5
Mona Risk
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author
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Book Description
She gave up a promising dancing career for the sake of her young brother’s health. Can she trust the charismatic prince who saved them both, but never speaks of commitment?
Natalie Borikev’s dream is finally materializing—standing ovations, calls of “encore” and “bravo,” and a fabulous contract to dance on a Las Vegas stage. But if she stays in Vegas, she may lose her young brother to a drug addiction.
Eric Devereux fell under Natalie’s spell after watching her perform. But a streak of bad luck in gambling makes it necessary to flee to his family in Boston. Escaping from Las Vegas seems as crucial for his favorite dancer, who is about to be caught in the clutches of an unscrupulous billionaire.
Once they travel to Boston together to start a new life, nothing is as Natalie expected. Her charming rescuer is actually a prince with bright prospects, and though he loves her, he never speaks of a future together. Meanwhile, she lost everything—her budding career as a dancer, and even her brother’s affection.
Can she get past her regrets and rebuild her career? And can she trust the man who lavishes her with kisses but won’t commit?
Modern Princes:
A Bride For Prince Paul: She can’t abandon her patients for his crown!
A Bodyguard For The Princess: A murder at Harvard in Princess Chloe’s student building.
Jingle With My Princess: The doc and the princess... He saves lives but Princess Charlene may save his heart.
Prince Philip’s Cinderella: A charming jogger saves her from danger. But he’s a prince... and she comes from nothing. Should she run or risk her heart?
A Dance for Prince Eric, Modern Princes Series, Book 5, is a new story not published on its own yet.
Praise and Awards
New York Times Bestselling Author
USA Today Bestselling Author
Outstanding Achiever 2013 Award at Affaire de Coeur Magazine
Best Romance Novel winner at Preditors & Editors Readers Poll
Two-Time winner of Best Contemporary Romance Novel at Readers Favorite.
EPIC’s Ebook Award Finalist.
A Bride For Prince Paul-- Modern Princes Series, Book 1:
“A magical, heartwarming read!!!
“This charming story whisks you away to the romantic settings of Paris and the Channel Islands for a modern-day fairy tale that will warm your heart.”
A Bodyguard For The Princess-- Modern Princes Series, Book 2:
“A clever setting, an engaging "keep you guessing to the end" storyline, and engaging characters. What a great way to curl up with a book that you will enjoy from beginning to end.”
Jingle With My Princess-- Modern Princes Series, Book 3:
“A wonderful story with strong and believable characters that you will love.”
Prince Philip’s Cinderella-- Modern Princes Series, Book 4:
“A page turning modern Cinderella story packed full of delightful and frustrating characters with some unexpected twists, intrigue, a too kind generous and gorgeous prince and happily ever after. Mona Risk immediately draws the reader into an emotionally charged story that also deals with modern day dilemmas and problems.”
1
Her heart thumping, Natalie Borikev bowed and waited for the music to die. The theater exploded in applause, and the spectators bounced to their feet. Her chest heaving in relief, she raised her head and beamed at the standing ovation.
The young man in the dark left corner of the first row threw a white rose and blew a kiss—as he’d done for the past four nights. She curtsied and picked it up, bringing it to her lips. The tiny sticker on a petal revealed a signature, Eric. She’d kept his white roses in a vase on her dresser and hidden the signed labels in her wallet.
Light flooded the theater. Her first-row admirer screamed, “Bravo,” and waved. Eric was a handsome fellow, tall and appealing in a white shirt and tie, his blazer casually draping over his back, and dark hair reaching his wide shoulders.
No doubt about it, the audience had loved her performance. Tonight, she’d mastered twenty-five renversés as a grand finale to end the show, instead of the ten she’d executed in the past few days. She’d given her best for her last night at the Colosseum.
The theater director, Spencer Hall, climbed onto the stage to congratulate her. Behind him, the producer followed with a huge bouquet of red roses. A bigshot, that Hugh Callahan. He’d offered her the unique opportunity to perform at the Colosseum at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas for a week.
Other admirers surrounded her, showering her with more flowers and more compliments. They loved her show, her songs, and her dances. The words “more” and “encore” erupted from the rows and grew in volume.
>
“You made it, girl,” Spencer Hall whispered in her ear. “They all want a repeat.” He grabbed a mic and raised his hands to demand the audience’s attention. “Natalie Borikev will perform an encore.” She curtsied and waved, basking in her fans’ approval.
Her admirers vacated the stage, all except Spencer Hall and Hugh Callahan. “Ladies and gents, Ms. Borikev is dedicating her next song and dance, “Need You, Love You,” to Mr. Hugh Callahan, the well-known producer. Please resume your seats while the orchestra plays and gives Natalie a few minutes to change.” He shooed the people away from the stage and spun toward Mr. Callahan, who displayed a delighted grin. “Thank you, Natasha, sweetheart.” She hated him using her Russian nickname.
She forced a smile and nodded.
“I appreciate your delicate attention,” Mr. Callahan said.
Her delicate attention? That sensual song and dance she’d carefully eliminated from her agenda. Who were they kidding?
Mr. Callahan bent over her hand in a grand manner and kissed her fingers. And lingered on her wrist with warm, wet lips that gave her the creeps. “Thank you, sweet Natasha,” he repeated with the grin of the wolf about to eat Red Riding Hood, before climbing down the stage steps to return to his place.
Furious, she turned to Spencer and pushed the mic away. “What are you doing? I’m not—”
Spencer squeezed her arm. “You better play your cards right if you want to build a successful career. He’s an influential man, giving you support and protection. You owe him.”
Two weeks ago, when Mr. Callahan had invited her for dinner in the elegant but private alcove of a famous restaurant to discuss her career and the possibility of a contract, she’d had trouble keeping his hands from pawing her and hardly managed to escape a tricky situation. He’d laughed, called her his sweet angel, and promised he’d help her grow up.
Natalie huffed and tried to control her erratic breathing. She hated scheming, powerful men who expected her to behave like an obedient slave.
From the front row, worried eyes captured her gaze. Eric, her faithful admirer, watched her under a questioning scowl. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do for her.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed on the stage, and Spencer ushered her backstage and called a dresser. “Betty, take Ms. Natalie to her dressing room and help her put on the red dress I left there. You have exactly five minutes.”
Knowing she couldn’t converse any longer without causing a scene, Natalie followed the middle-aged woman to her room, holding several bouquets in her arms and Eric’s white rose in her hand. She slid the white flower into the vase already filled with more of the same and set the various bouquets on the dresser.
“I’ll arrange them in vases later.” With dexterity due to years of experience, Betty peeled off the dancing tutu Natalie had donned for her last dance and replaced it with a long red dress, low cut in the front and back with spaghetti straps, a suggestive see-through muslin shift that Natalie had discarded when choosing her costumes. Now Spencer insisted she wear it to warrant a contract signature from Hugh Callahan for a full year of performances.
Betty combed Natalie’s long hair, clasped it to one side with a rhinestone hairpin, and knelt to tie the red glittering ballet slippers on her feet.
“You’re ready and so pretty,” the good-hearted woman said. “And in only three minutes.”
“Thank you, Betty.” She pulled at the straps of her outfit. “Isn’t it too revealing?”
Betty shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. It’s a show. All the dancers wear this kind of costume. People look at the dance and the movements, not the person.” She smiled kindly and patted Natalie’s arm. “Mr. Hall has helped so many performers become successful.”
Natalie nodded and hurried toward the stage.
Spencer stopped her and gave her a once-over. “Perfect outfit. The spectators will love it, and Callahan will have our contracts ready in a minute. Trust me, girl. I’m doing my best to bring you a year’s contract and a spiraling career. You have to learn to please the hand that feeds you, meaning the powerful man who can make you a star.”
She slanted him a doubtful glance. “Shall I go?”
“Yes, take your place at the left corner. And smile, damn it. Think of something cheerful.”
Natalie sauntered onto the curtain-protected stage to the far left end and assumed the required pose, arms arched, fingers entwined, and head tilted.
“One, two, three. Go,” Spencer barked. The music started and the curtain lifted slowly.
Projectors focused various colored lights on her. In the balcony lounge, Hugh stood and bowed. If she looked at him or thought of him, she might start crying or at least botch the song. She needed a better incentive. She glanced at the first row.
Bummer, Eric’s place was empty. Her loyal admirer had left. Her stomach twisted with regret. With a sigh, she surveyed the darkness in front of her and caught a glimpse of a white shirt against a column. Throwing her arms above her, she pirouetted and peered to the left. He stepped forward, waved, and backed up to his place against the column.
She’d sing for Eric. She closed her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest, and swayed.
Her voice started low and slowly rose to a crescendo as she crooned the love song “I need you, I love you.” Her arms lifted in supplication as her waist and hips undulated. The music continued after the words died on her lips.
With a pas de bourrée composed of small and quick steps, she traveled en pointe to the center of the stage, and then jumped in a pas de chats, a cat step, and continued the dancing part of her show with elaborate moves, jetés and more renversés that seemed to enthrall the audience. She finished by gliding to the floor in a perfect split of her legs and rested her head on her knee. The music slowed and stopped.
A deep silence danced over the theater as she remained in her final pose. Suddenly, applause burst from every corner. She stood and curtsied right and left. Exhausted by her physical and emotional effort, she ran backstage, refusing to meet and talk to anyone.
“You were amazing,” Spencer hollered, a big grin on his face.
She didn’t thank him, didn’t smile. Especially when she saw her stepfather blocking her way to her room. “Don’t forget the money you owe me, girl,” Jonah Albert bellowed, shaking his finger under her nose.
“You’ll get your dues when they pay me,” she spit back, and dashed into her dressing room, shaking with anger.
Would she ever get rid of him? How?
Oh, God, she was doomed. Unknown and poor, living with her stepfather, or successful in the clutches of Hugh Callahan. Crossing her arms over the dresser, she dropped her head and tried to suppress the tears tickling her eyes.
A knock on the door interrupted her moment of self-pity. “Ms. Natalie, it’s Betty. I have things for you.”
“Yes.” She unlocked the door. Betty carried a vase of three white roses in one hand, and a big yellow envelope in her other hand. She set the vase on the dresser. “From a fan. There’s a sticky on a flower. Your room sure smells good with all these flowers. Just like a rose garden. Not enough room on the table and the dresser.” Betty shook her head and looked at the floor cluttered with so many vases. “You’re a real celebrity now, hon. Oh, I shouldn’t forget. This envelope is from Mr. Hugh Callahan. He said you should read it, sign it, and bring it tonight.”
“Ah, okay. Thank you, Betty. I need time to rest,” Natalie added in a mournful voice.
“Call me if you need me.”
“Don’t worry. I can get dressed alone.”
Betty left. Natalie stared at the vase with three roses. Sure enough, there was a tiny sticker with Eric scribbled on it. He’d probably waited to the end of her last dance to bring her these.
So sweet. But useless. The man was too shy.
The sound of shuffling paper attracted her attention. She spun to the door, saw the little piece of paper protruding from under the door, and picked it up.
Eric at the do
or. May I come in?
He wasn’t that shy after all.
She glanced at the mirror. No leaking mascara, but the blue eyeshadow and her lipstick had faded. Who cared? She opened the door. He was waiting alone in the dark.
“Eric?”
He smiled. “I want to congratulate you. You were superb.”
She smiled back. “Come in.”
He entered and closed the door behind him. “I brought you a mocha coffee. I assumed you must need some coffee after all that effort.”
“Thank you.” He was so sweet. She sipped her coffee, her mood rising a few notches. “There’s no place to sit down.”
“I’m not staying long. Just wanted to say thank you again. I felt like...like you were singing for me.” He lifted his eyebrows, eager to hear her confirm his suggestion.
Warmth invaded her cheeks. He probably noticed her blush.
“Glad you enjoyed my song.”
“Song and dance. You were magnificent. And I want to ask you...” His smile faded. “Why did you look so sad after your performance? Why did that guy almost drag you out?”
“What?” Shocked, she arched her eyebrow.
“I’ve been watching your show for the last five days.”
“You love music that much?”
“No, I don’t understand music at all.” He chuckled. “But I enjoy watching you dancing. You seem to love what you’re doing, and you make others like it, too. But...” He hesitated and squinted. “I couldn’t help noticing that you often look sad, like a trapped rabbit.”
“Ah.” She averted her gaze. “Let’s say that my situation is not that fun.” She took a long breath. “Hopefully, things will improve soon.”
