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The Duke's Boardroom Affair / Convenient Marriage, Inconvenient Husband: The Duke's Boardroom Affair
Michelle Celmer
Yvonne Lindsay
The Duke’s Boardroom Affair Michelle Celmer How was Victoria Houghton supposed to work for Duke Charles Frederick Mead? The gorgeous royal had never met a woman he couldn’t seduce. Victoria despised him. Having taken over her family business, he’d made her his PA. Well, there was very little she would personally assist Charles with!Convenient Marriage, Inconvenient Husband Yvonne LindsayMarry before her thirtieth birthday or forfeit her inheritance. The sticky choice for heiress Amira Forsythe was a golden opportunity for her ex-fiancé, Brent Colby, for revenge. Eight years ago, Amira humiliated him. Now he had the chance to do the same; he’d seduce and then leave her!



The Duke’s Boardroom Affair by Michelle Celmer
“About last night,” Charles said. “I’ve had a change of heart.”
Uh oh.
“Now that I know what I’ll be missing,” he added, “maybe I won’t be co-operating with the royal family after all.”
Oh yes, kissing him had been a really bad idea.
He was coming closer with that look in his eyes, like any second he planned to ravish her. And she wanted him to. Desperately.
He’d managed to turn the tables on her.
“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?” he said.
Hopefully something really bad. “Renouncement? Hanging?” she offered.
He only smiled. He was standing so close now that he could reach out and touch her.

Convenient Marriage, Inconvenient Husband by Yvonne Lindsay
If she was to have any man’s child, by choice, it would be Brent’s. Which left only one option.
One man.
Could she carry it off? Could she withhold the truth from him long enough to get him to father a child with her?
Amira’s stomach churned at the thought of using him. But they’d had a passionate relationship before. Could she hope to stoke that fire of attraction between them again to trick him into impregnating her?

The Duke’s Boardroom Affair
by

Michelle Celmer
Convenient Marriage, Inconvenient Husband
by

Yvonne Lindsay



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)

The Duke’s Boardroom Affair
by

Michelle Celmer
Bestselling author Michelle Celmer lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband, their three children, two dogs and two cats. When she’s not writing or busy being a mum, you can find her in the garden or curled up with a romance novel. And if you twist her arm really hard you can usually persuade her into a day of power shopping.
Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her website at www.michellecelmer.com or write to her at PO Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017, USA.
Dear Reader,

Welcome to book four of my ROYAL SEDUCTIONS series! The story of Charles Mead, Duke of Morgan Isle, and his personal assistant, Victoria Houghton.

I’ve never been the corporate type – most days I don’t change out of my pyjamas until it’s time to make dinner – so Victoria intrigued me from the start. She’s so confident and determined. And tough. At least, that was what I saw, until I scratched the surface and realised that she has just as many insecurities as the rest of us. And Charles, a shameless and hopeless flirt, uses every single one to his advantage.

Their interactions are intense, their dialogue witty and sharp and their physical attraction off the charts. It was fun to sit back and see who would tackle whom first. It might surprise you.

You’ll even meet a new family member…but I don’t want to give too much away. I hope you enjoy it!

I’ll see you again soon for the next book in the ROYAL SEDUCTIONS series, when you’ll meet the royal family of Thomas Isle and their crown prince, the Royal Seducer.
Best,

Michelle
To my Aunt Janet, who, besides being totally cool and tons of fun, told me my first dirty joke when I was a kid. Why does a honeymoon only last six days?
I think you remember the rest…

One
Victoria Houghton had never been so humiliated.
Watching her father lose in a hostile takeover the hotel that had been in their family for generations had been almost more than she could bear—and now she was expected to be a personal assistant to the man who was instrumental in sealing the deal?
The Duke of Morgan Isle, Charles Frederick Mead, lounged casually behind his desk, smug and arrogant beneath the facade of a charming smile, the crisp blue of the Irish Sea a backdrop through a wall of floor-to-ceiling office windows behind him. Dressed in a suit that was no doubt custom-made, his casual stance was at odds with the undeniable air of authority he oozed from every pore.
“I was told I would be taking on a managerial position,” she told him. And along with it a generous salary and profit sharing. Or had they changed their minds about that part, too?
He leaned back and folded one leg casually atop the other. “Until the second phase of the hotel opens, there’s nothing for you to manage. And since my personal assistant recently left, you will temporarily replace her.”
He must have thought her daft if he believed she would buy that flimsy excuse. She would work in housekeeping, changing linens and scrubbing commodes, if it meant not seeing this man every day. He may have looked pleasant and easygoing, but underneath he was cold and heartless.
“So put me in the part of the hotel that’s already completed,” she said. “I’ll do anything.”
“There aren’t any openings.”
“None?”
He shook his head.
Of course there weren’t. Or so he said. To men like him, lying was as natural as breathing. And what of their financial agreement? Surely he didn’t expect to pay an assistant the exorbitant salary they had quoted in her contract? “What about my salary and profit sharing?”
He shrugged. “Nothing in the terms of your contract will change.”
Her brow perked up in surprise. What was he trying to pull?
“If you consult your attorney, he’ll confirm that we’re honoring our end of the deal,” he assured her.
According to her father, their own attorney had sold them out to get in good with the royal family, so unfortunately he wouldn’t be much help. She doubted there was a single attorney on the island who would take on the monarchy, so basically, she was screwed.
“And if I refuse?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“You violate the terms of your contract.”
He had no idea how tempted she was to do just that. She’d never wanted this job. But refusing it would devastate her father. The sale of his hotel—her legacy—to the royal family for their expansion project had been contingent on her being hired as a permanent manager, and at nearly twice the salary she had been making before. Not to mention incredible benefits. He wanted assurances that she would be well taken care of. And she was helpless to object.
Losing the hotel had put unneeded strain on his already weakening heart. Despite sitting on the prime resort land of the island, since the opening of the newly renovated Royal Inn hotel, occupancy in their much smaller facility had begun to drop. The way the lawyers for the royal family had begun buying up ocean-side property, both she and her father feared it would only be a matter of time before their number was up.
And they had been right.
In his fragile state, more bad news might be all it took to do him in. Since the day her mother and older brother were killed in an automobile accident, when Victoria was only five, he had been her entire life. He had sacrificed so much for her. She couldn’t let him down.
With renewed resolve, she squared her shoulders and asked, “When do you expect the second phase of the hotel to open?”
“The additions and renovations are scheduled for completion by the beginning of the next tourist season.”
The next tourist season? But that was nearly six months away! Six days would be too long to work for this man, as far as she was concerned. But what choice did she have?
Something that looked like amusement sparked in his deep, chocolate-brown eyes. Did he think this was funny?
“Is that a problem?” he asked.
She realized the duke was baiting her. He wanted her to violate the terms of her contract so he could get rid of her. He didn’t want her services any more than she wanted his charity.
Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her buckle. He may have broken her father, but there was no way he was going to break her.
She raised her chin a notch and looked him directly in the eye, so he would see that she wasn’t intimidated. “No problem.”
“Excellent.” A satisfied and, though she hated to admit it, sexy grin curled the corners of his mouth. Which she didn’t doubt was exactly what he wanted her to think.
He opened the top drawer of his desk, extracted a form of some sort, and slid it toward her. “You’ll need to sign this.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What is it?”
“Our standard nondisclosure agreement. Every employee of the royal family is obligated to sign one.”
Another trick? But after a quick scan of the document, she realized it was a very simple, basic agreement. And though she wouldn’t be working directly for the royal family but instead for the hotel chain they now owned, she didn’t feel it was worth arguing. Their secrets would be safe with her.
Yet, as she took the gold-plated pen he offered and signed her name, she couldn’t escape the feeling that she had just sold her soul to the devil.
She handed it back to him and he tucked it inside his desk, then he rose from his chair. Short as she was, she was used to looking up to meet people in the eye, but he towered over her. At least a foot and a half taller than her measly five foot one. And he looked so…perfect. His suit an exact fit, his nails neatly trimmed and buffed, not a strand of his closely cropped, jet-black hair out of place.
But men like him were never as perfect as they appeared. God knows she’d met her share of imperfect men. Despite his looks and money and power, he was just as flawed as the next guy. Probably more so. And being that he was an attorney, she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him—which, considering their size difference, wouldn’t be very far.
“Welcome to the company, Victoria.” He extended a hand for her to shake and, determined to be professional, she accepted it.
His hand enfolded her own, gobbling it up, big and warm and firm. And she felt a strange stirring in the pit of her belly. A kind of fluttering tickle.
His hand still gripping hers, he said, “Why don’t we discuss your duties over lunch?” But his eyes said he had more than just lunch in mind. Was he hitting on her?
You have got to be kidding me.
She came this close to rolling her eyes. The tabloids were forever painting him as a shameless, ruthless womanizer, but she had always assumed that was just gossip. No man could possibly be that shallow. Perhaps, though, they weren’t so far off the mark.
If he believed for an instant that he would be adding her to his list of female conquests, he was delusional.
As graciously as possible she pried her hand loose. “No. Thank you.”
He regarded her curiously. Maybe he wasn’t used to women telling him no. “My treat,” he said, dangling the word in front of her like bait.
Did he really think she was that hard up?
“We’re going to be working somewhat closely,” he added, and she could swear she heard a hint of emphasis on closely. “We should take the time to get to know one another.”
They wouldn’t be working that closely. “I prefer not to mix business with pleasure.”
She wondered if he would insist, citing it as part of their contract, but he only shrugged and stepped around his desk. “Well, then, I’ll show you to your office.”
Instead of taking her back through the outer office, past the grim-faced, aged secretary she’d met on the way in, he led her through a different door to a smaller, sparsely decorated, windowless office with little more than an empty bookcase, a comfortable-looking leather office chair, and an adequately sized desk. On it’s surface sat a phone, a laptop computer and a large manila envelope.
“Everything you need is on your computer,” he explained. “You’ll find a list of all your duties, along with any phone numbers you may need as well as a copy of my personal schedule. If you’re unsure of how to use the program you can ask Penelope, my secretary, for help.”
“I’m sure I can figure it out.”
He picked up the envelope and handed it to her. “Inside is a badge for this building, and another that will give you access to the business offices at the palace—”
“The palace?” She never imagined that going to the palace would be a part of the job description.
“I keep an office there and often attend meetings with King Phillip. Have you ever been there?”
She shook her head. She’d only seen photographs. Not that she hadn’t imagined what it would be like.
“Well, then, I’ll have to give you a tour.”
Okay, maybe there would be some perks to this job. The idea of being in the palace, and possibly meeting members of the royal family, filled her with nervous excitement. Then she reined in her wayward emotions by reminding herself that this was not going to be a fun job. And given the choice, she would rather be anywhere but here.
“You’ll also find a set of card keys,” he continued, “for both your office and mine. They’re marked accordingly. And in a separate envelope is your personal security code for my house.”
Why on earth would he give her access to his house?
“My driver will be at your disposal twenty-four hours a day. Unless, of course, I’m using him, in which case you will be reimbursed for your petrol use.”
A driver? She couldn’t imagine what she would need that for. This job just kept getting stranger and stranger.
He gestured to a second door, adjacent to the one connecting their offices.
“That door leads to Penelope’s office and will be the entrance that you use. She’ll take you on a tour of the building, show you the break room and facilities. If you need to speak to me specifically, call first. The line to my office is marked on the phone. If I don’t answer that means I’m busy and not to be disturbed.”
“All right.”
“My business calls go through Penelope, but any personal calls will be routed through your office or to the cell phone I’ll supply you.”
Answering phones and taking messages? Not the most challenging job in the world. But the duke was obviously a man who liked things done a certain way, and if nothing else she respected that. More than once her employees at the Houghton had suggested she was a little too rigid when it came to her business practices, but she had never felt an ounce of regret for running a tight ship.
She had been working since the age of twelve, when her father let her help out in the Houghton Hotel office after school. But only after earning her master’s degree in business at university was she promoted to manager. Her father had insisted she earn her education, should she ever need something to fall back on.
And, boy, had she fallen back.
“Take some time to look over your duties, then we can discuss any questions you have,” he said.
“Fine.”
“I have to warn you, I’ve been without an assistant for a week now, and I’m afraid things are in a bit of a mess.”
Honestly, how hard could it be, being a glorified secretary? “I’m sure I can manage.”
“Well,” the Duke said, with one of those dazzling smiles, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
He turned and was halfway through the door before she realized she had no idea how she was supposed to address him. Did she call him Sir, or Sire? Did she have to bow or curtsy?
“Excuse me,” she said.
He turned back to her. “Yes?”
“What should I call you?” He looked puzzled, so she added, “Mr. or Sir? Your Highness?”
That grin was back, and, like his handshake, she felt it all the way to the pit of her belly.
Stop that, she warned herself. He only smiled that way because he wanted her to feel it in her belly.
“Let’s go with Charles,” he said.
She wasn’t sure if that was proper. Calling him by his first name just felt too…casual. But he was calling the shots, and she wasn’t going to give him any reason to accuse her of violating the contract. “All right.”
He flashed her one last smile before he closed the door behind him, and she had the distinct feeling he knew something she didn’t. Or maybe that was just part of the game. Either way, she refused to let him intimidate her. If they thought they were going to force her out, they had no idea who they were dealing with. She hadn’t earned her reputation as a savvy businesswoman by letting people walk all over her.
She took a seat at her new desk, finding the chair to be as comfortable as it looked. But the office itself was cold and impersonal. Since she would be spending at least six months here, it wouldn’t hurt to bring a few photos and personal items into work.
She opened the laptop and booted it up. On the desktop were the documents he had mentioned. Convinced this job couldn’t get any worse, she opened the one titled Duties. Starting at the top, she read her job description, working her way down the two-page, single-spaced list, her stomach sinking lower with each line, until she could swear it slipped all the way down near the balls of her feet. Personal assistant, my foot.
She had just agreed to be Charles Frederick Mead’s indentured slave.

Two
Charles sat at his desk, watching the time tick by on his Rolex. He gave Victoria five minutes before she stormed into his office in a snit about her employment duties. And he’d bet his ample net worth that she’d forget to call first.
For a woman with her education and experience, the backward step from managing a five-hundred-room hotel to the duties of a personal assistant would be tough to navigate. If it were up to him, he’d have found her a position in the hotel. But it wasn’t his call. His cousins, King Phillip and Prince Ethan, were calling the shots.
The Houghton Hotel hadn’t been acquired under the best of circumstances—at least, not for the Houghton family—and the royal family needed to know if Victoria was trustworthy before they allowed her into the fold. The logical way to do that was to keep her close.
He could see that she was still distraught over the loss of their hotel and property, but, sadly, the buyout had been inevitable. If not the Royal Inn, some other establishment would have swooped in for the kill. At least with the royal family they were given a fair deal. Other prospective buyers, with less interest in the country’s economy, might have been far less accommodating. But it was possible that Victoria and her father, Reginald Houghton, didn’t see it that way. But at the very least, she could show a little bit of gratitude. The royal family had saved them the embarrassment of both professional and personal financial devastation.
He’d barely completed the thought when his phone rang. Three short chirps, indicating the call originated from Victoria’s office. She remembered.
He glanced at his watch. She was early. Only three and a half minutes.
He answered with a patient, “Yes, Victoria.”
“I’m ready to discuss my duties,” she said, and there was a distinct undertone of tension in her voice that made him grin.
“That was quick,” he said. “Come on in.”
The door opened a second later, and she emerged, a look on her face that could only be described as determined. For a woman her size, barely more than a nymph, she had a presence that overwhelmed a room. A firestorm of attitude and spunk packed neatly into a petite and, dare he say, sexy package. He usually preferred women with long, silky hair—and typically blond—but her shorter, warm brown, sassy style seemed to fit her just right.
He wasn’t typically drawn to strong-willed women, but Victoria fascinated him. And he wouldn’t mind at all getting to know her better. Which he would, despite what she seemed to believe. It was a simple fact: women found him irresistible. It was exhausting at times, really, the way women threw themselves at him. He didn’t help matters by encouraging them. But he just couldn’t help himself. He loved everything about women: Their soft curves and the silky warmth of their skin. The way they smelled and tasted. In fact, when it came to the female form, there wasn’t a single thing he didn’t adore.
This time, he had his sights set on Victoria. And he had yet to meet a woman he couldn’t seduce.
“You have questions?” he asked her.
“A few.”
He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Let’s hear it.”
She seemed to choose her words very carefully. “I assumed my duties would be limited to more of a…secretarial nature.”
“I have a secretary. What you’ll be doing is handling every aspect of my private affairs. From fetching my dry cleaning to screening my e-mail and calls. Making dinner reservations and booking events. If I need a gift for a friend or flowers for a date, it will be your responsibility to make it happen. You’ll also accompany me to any business meetings where I might require you to take notes.”
She nodded slowly, and he could see that she was struggling to keep her cool. “I understand that you need to fill the position, but don’t you think I’m a little over-qualified?”
He flashed her a patient and sympathetic smile. “I realize this is quite a step down from what you’re used to. But as I said before, until the second phase opens…” He shrugged, lifting his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “If it’s any consolation, since my last assistant left, my life has been in shambles. There will be plenty to keep you busy.”
For a second she looked as though she might press the issue, then thought better of it. It wasn’t often anyone outside of the family contradicted him. It was just a part of the title.
She spared him a stiff, strained smile. “Well, then, I guess I should get started.”
He was sure that once she got going, she would find managing his life something of a challenge. He wished he could say the same for seducing her, but he had the sneaking suspicion it would be all too easy.

Charles hadn’t been kidding when he said his life was in shambles.
After a quick tour of the building with Penelope, who had the personality and warmth of an iceberg, Victoria started at the top of his to do list. Sorting his e-mail. She had to go through his personal account and first weed out the spam that had slipped through the filter, then compare the sender addresses on legitimate mail to a list of people whose e-mails were to be sorted into several separate categories. Which didn’t sound like much of an undertaking, until she opened the account and discovered over four hundred e-mails awaiting her attention.
There were dozens from charities requesting his donation or endorsement, and notes from family and friends, including at least three or four a day from his mother. A lot of e-mails from women. And others from random people who admired him or in some cases didn’t speak too fondly of him. Cross-referencing them all with the list of addresses he’d supplied her would be a tedious, time-consuming task. And it seemed as though for every e-mail she erased or filed, a new one would appear in his inbox.
When eyestrain and fatigue had her vision blurring, she took a break and moved down to number two on the list. His voice mail. Following his instructions, she dialed the number and punched in the PIN, and was nearly knocked out of her chair when the voice announced that he had two hundred and twenty-six new messages! She didn’t get that many personal calls in a month, much less a week. And she couldn’t help wondering how many of those calls were from women.
It didn’t take long to find out.
There was Amber from the hotel bar, Jennifer from the club, Alexis from the ski lodge, and half a dozen more. Most rang more than once, sounding a bit more desperate and needy with each message. The lead offender for repeated calls, however, was Charles’s mother. She seemed to follow up every e-mail she sent with a phone call, or maybe it was the other way around. No less than three times a day. Sometimes more. And she began every call the exact same way. It’s your mum. I know you’re busy, but I wanted to tell you…
Nothing pressing as far as Victoria could tell. Just random tidbits about family or friends, or reminders of events he had promised to attend. A very attractive woman from a good family she would like him to meet. And she seemed to have an endless variety of pet names for him. Pumpkin and Sweetie. Love and Precious. Although Victoria’s favorite by far was Lamb Chop.
His mother never requested, or seemed to expect, a return call, and her messages dripped with a syrupy sweetness that made Victoria’s skin crawl. How could Charles stand it?
Easily. By having someone else check his messages.
She spent the next couple of hours listening to the first hundred or so calls, transcribing the messages for Charles, including a return phone number should he need to answer the call. Any incoming calls she let go directly to voice until she had time to catch up. Between the e-mail and voice mail, it could take days.
“Working late?”
Startled by the unexpected intrusion, she nearly dropped the phone. She looked up to find Charles standing in the doorway between their two offices. She couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been standing there watching her.
“I’m sorry, what?” she said, setting the phone back in the cradle.
Her reaction seemed to amuse him. “I asked if you’re working late.”
She looked at her watch and realized that it was nearly eight p.m. She’d worked clear through lunch and dinner. “I guess I lost track of the hour.”
“You’re not required to work overtime.”
“I have a lot of work to catch up on.” Besides, she would much rather have been busy working than sitting home alone in the flat she had been forced to rent when her father could no longer afford to keep the family estate. Since she was born, that house had been the only place she had ever called home. But there was a new family living there now. Strangers occupying the rooms that were meant to belong to her own children some day.
Every time she set foot in her new residence, it was a grim, stark reminder of everything they had lost. And Charles, she reminded herself, was the catalyst.
He held up what she assumed was to be her new phone. The most expensive, state-of-the-art gadget on the market. “Before Penelope left she brought this in.”
She felt a sudden wave of alarm. His secretary was gone? Meaning they were alone?
She wondered who else was in the building, and if working alone with him was wise. She barely knew him.
“Is everyone gone?” she asked in a voice that she hoped sounded nonchalant.
“This is a law firm. There’s always someone working late on a case or an intern pulling an overnighter. If it’s safety you’re concerned about, the parking structure is monitored by cameras around the clock, and we employ a security detail in the lobby twenty-four seven.”
“Oh, that’s good to know.” Still, as he walked toward her desk to hand her the mobile phone, she tensed the tiniest bit. He was just so tall and assuming. So…there.
“It’s a PDA as well as a phone. And you can check e-mail and browse the Internet. If you take it to Nigel in tech support on the fourth floor tomorrow morning, he’ll set everything up for you.”
“Okay.” As she took it from him their fingers touched and she had to force herself not to jerk away. It was barely a brush; still, she felt warmth and electricity shoot across the surface of her skin. Which made no sense considering how much she disliked him.
“I’ve been going through your phone messages,” she told him. “Your mother called. Many times.”
“Well, there’s a surprise,” he said, a definite note of exasperation in his voice. “I should probably warn you that when it comes to dealing with my mother, you have to be firm or she’ll walk all over you.”
“I can do that.” Being firm had never been a problem for her. In fact, there had been instances when she’d been accused of being too firm. A necessity for any woman in a position of power. She had learned very early in her career how not to let people walk all over her.
“Good.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m on my way out, and since it would seem that neither of us has eaten yet, why don’t you let me take you out to dinner?”
First a lunch invitation, now dinner? Couldn’t he take no for an answer? “No, thank you.”
Her rejection seemed to amuse him. He shrugged and said, “Have it your way.”
What was that supposed to mean? Whose way did he expect her to have it? His?
“I’m going to the dry cleaners tomorrow to pick up your laundry,” she said. “Do you have anything dirty at home that I should take with me?”
“I do, actually. My housekeeper is off tomorrow morning but I’ll try to remember to set it by the door before I leave for work. Would you like my car to pick you up?”
“I can drive myself.” Her father had always had a driver—until recently, anyway—but she never had felt comfortable having someone chauffer her around. She was too independent. She liked to be in control of her environment and her destiny. Which had been much easier when her father owned the company. When she was in charge. Answering to the whims of someone else was going to be…a challenge.
He shrugged again. “If that’s what you prefer. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
Unfortunately, yes, he would. And nearly every morning for the following six months. “Good night.”
For several very long seconds he just looked at her, then he flashed her one of those devastating, sexy smiles before he walked out of her office, shutting the door behind him.
And despite her less-than-sparkling opinion of him, she couldn’t help feeling just a tiny bit breathless.

Victoria checked her caller ID when she got home and saw that her father had called several times. No doubt wondering how her first day had gone. All she wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep, but if she didn’t call him back he would worry. She dialed his number, knowing she would have to tread lightly, choose her words carefully, so as not to upset him.
He answered sounding wounded and upset. “I thought you wouldn’t call.”
It struck her how old he sounded. Too frail for a man of sixty-five. He used to be so strong and gregarious. Lately he seemed to be fading away. “Why wouldn’t I call?”
“I thought you might be cross with me for making you take that job. I know it couldn’t have been easy, working for those people.”
That was the way he’d referred to the royal family lately. Those people. “I’ve told you a million times, Daddy, that I am not upset. It’s a good job. Where else would I make such a generous salary? If it does well, the profit sharing will make me a very wealthy woman.” She found it only slightly ironic that she was regurgitating the same words he had used to convince her to take the position in the first place.
“I know,” he conceded. “But no salary, no matter how great, could make up for what was stolen from us.”
And she knew that he would live with that regret for the rest of his life. All she could do was continually assure him that it wasn’t his fault. Yet, regardless of whose mistake it was, she couldn’t help feeling that she would spend the rest of her life paying for it.
“Is it a nice hotel?” he asked grudgingly.
“Well, I didn’t actually see the hotel yet.”
“Why not?”
Oh, boy, this was going to be tough to explain. “There isn’t a manager’s position open in the hotel right now,” she said, and told him about the job with the duke, stressing that her contract wouldn’t change.
“That is completely unacceptable,” he said, and she could practically feel his blood pressure rising, could just imagine the veins at his temples pulsing. He’d already had two heart attacks. One more could be fatal.
“It’s fine, Daddy. Honestly.”
“Would you like me to contact my attorney?”
For all the good that would do her. “No.”
“Are you sure? There must be something he can do.”
Was he forgetting that it was his attorney who was partially to blame for getting them into this mess?
“There’s no need, Daddy. It’s not so bad, really. In fact, I think it might be something of a challenge. A nice change of pace.”
He accepted her lie, and some of the tension seemed to slip from his voice. He changed the subject and they went on to talk about an upcoming party for a family friend, and she tried to remain upbeat and cheerful. By the time she hung up she felt exhausted from the effort.
Performing her duties would be taxing enough, but she could see that creating a ruse to keep her father placated would be a long and arduous task. But what choice did she have? She was all her father had left in the world. He had sacrificed so much for her. Made her the center of his universe.
No matter what, she couldn’t let him down.

Three
Charles lived in an exclusive, heavily gated and guarded community fifteen miles up the coast in the city of Pine Bluff. His house, a towering structure of glass and stone, sat in the arc of a cul-de-sac on the bluff overlooking the ocean. It was a lot of house for a single man, but that hardly surprised her. She was sure he had money to burn.
Victoria pulled her car up the circular drive and parked by the front door. She climbed out and took in the picturesque scenery, filled her lungs with clean, salty autumn air. If nothing else, the duke had impeccable taste in real estate. As well as interior design, she admitted to herself, after she used her code to open the door and stepped inside the foyer. Warm beiges and deep hues of green and blue welcomed her inside. The foyer opened up into a spacious living room with a rustic stone fireplace that climbed to the peak of a steep cathedral ceiling. It should have looked out of place with the modern design, but instead it gave the room warmth and character.
She had planned to grab the laundry and be on her way, but the bag he had said he would leave by the door was conspicuously not there. Either he hadn’t left yet or he’d forgotten. She was guessing the latter.
“Hello!” she called, straining to hear for any signs of life, but the house was silent. She would have to find the clothes herself, and the logical place to look would be his bedroom.
She followed the plushly carpeted staircase up to the second floor and down an open hallway that overlooked the family room below. The home she had grown up in was more traditional in design, but she liked the open floor plan of Charles’s house.
“Hello!” she called again, and got no answer. With the option of going either left or right, she chose right and peered into each of the half-dozen open doors. Spare rooms, mostly. But at the end of the hall she hit the jackpot. The master suite.
It was decorated just as warmly as the living room, but definitely more masculine. An enormous sleigh bed—unmade, she noted—carved from deep, rich cherry dominated the center of the room. And the air teemed with the undeniable scent of the woodsy cologne he had been wearing the day before.
She tried one more firm “Hello! Anyone here?” and was met with silence.
Looked like the coast was clear.
Feeling like an interloper, she stepped inside, wondering where the closet might be hiding. She found it off the bathroom, an enormous space in which row upon row of suits in the finest and most beautiful fabrics she had ever seen hung neatly in order by color. Beside them hung his work shirts, and beside them stood a rack that must have had three hundred different ties hanging from its bars. She wondered if he had worn them all. The opposite side of the closet seemed casual in nature, and in the back she discovered a mountain of dirty clothes overflowing from a hamper conveniently marked Dry Cleaning.
It was shirts mostly. White, beige, and a few pale blue. She also noted that his scent was much stronger here. And strangely familiar. Not the scent of a man she had known only a day. Perhaps she knew someone who wore the same brand.
Purely out of curiosity she picked up one of the shirts and held it to her face, inhaling deeply.
“I see you found my laundry.”
She was so startled by the unexpected voice that she squealed with surprise and spun around, but the heel of her pump caught in the carpet and she toppled over into a row of neatly hung trousers, taking several pairs with her as she landed with a thump on the floor.
Cheeks flaming with embarrassment, she looked up to find Charles standing over her, wearing nothing but a damp towel around his slim hips and an amused smile.
She quickly averted her gaze, but not before she registered a set of ridiculously defined abs, perfectly formed pecs, wide, sturdy shoulders, and biceps to die for. Damn her pesky photographic memory.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. He reached out a hand to help her up and she was so tangled she had no choice but to accept it.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped when she was back on her feet.
He shrugged. “I live here.”
She averted her eyes, pretending to smooth the creases from her skirt, so she wouldn’t have to look at all that sculpted perfection. “I’d assumed you’d left for work.”
“It’s only seven-forty-five.”
“I called out but no one answered.”
“The granite in the master bath was sealed yesterday, so I was using the spare room down the hall.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, running out of places to look, without him realizing she was deliberately not looking at him.
“Something wrong with that shirt?” he asked.
She was still clutching the shirt she had picked up from the hamper, and she realized he must have seen her sniffing it. What could possibly be more embarrassing?
“I was checking to see if it was dirty,” she said, cringing inwardly at that ridiculously flimsy excuse.
Charles grinned. “Well then, for future reference, I don’t make a habit of keeping clean clothes in the hamper.”
“I’ll remember that.” And she would make a mental note to never come into his house until she was entirely sure he wasn’t there, or at the very least fully clothed. “Well, I’ll get out of your way.”
She turned and grabbed the rest of the clothes from the hamper, stacking them in her arms. He stepped out of her way and she rushed past him and through the doorway.
“Might as well stick around,” he said.
She stopped and turned to him, saw that he was leaning casually in the closet doorway. She struggled to keep her eyes from wandering below his neck. “Why?”
“I was going to call my driver, but since you’re here, I’ll just catch a ride into work with you.”
He wanted to ride with her? “I would, but, um, I have to stop at the dry cleaners first. I don’t want to get you to work late.”
“I don’t mind.” He ran his fingers through the damp, shiny waves of his hair, his biceps flexing under sunbronzed skin. She stood there transfixed by the fluidity of his movements. His pecs looked hard and defined, and were sprinkled with fine, dark hair.
He may have been an arrogant ass, but God, he was a beautiful one.
“Give me five minutes,” he said, and she nodded numbly, hoping her mouth wasn’t hanging open, drool dripping from the corner.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” he added, then he turned back into the closet, already loosening the knot at his waist.
The last thing she saw, as he disappeared inside, was the towel drop to the floor, and the tantalizing curve of one perfectly formed butt cheek.

Charles sat in the passenger side of Victoria’s convertible two-seater, watching her through the window of the dry cleaner’s. He would have expected her to drive a more practical car. A sedan, or even a mini SUV. Not a sporty, candy-apple-red little number that she zipped around in at speeds matched only on the autobahn. And it had a manual transmission, which he found to be a rarity among females. Sizewise, however, it was a perfect fit. Petite and compact, just like her. So petite that his head might brush the top had he not bent down.
She was full of surprises today—the least of which was her reaction when he greeted her wearing nothing but a towel. To put it mildly, she’d been flustered. After her chilly reception last night in the office, he was beginning to wonder if she might be a bit tougher to seduce than he had first anticipated. Now he was sure that she was as good as his. Even if that meant playing dirty. Like deliberately dropping his towel before he cleared the closet door.
Victoria emerged from the building with an armload of clean clothes, wrapped in plastic and folded over one arm. She tucked them into the trunk, then slipped into the driver’s seat. Her skirt rode several inches up her thighs, giving him a delicious view of her stocking-clad legs.
If she noticed him looking, she didn’t let on.
“They got the stain out of your jacket sleeve,” she told him, as she turned the key and the engine roared to life. She checked the rearview mirror for oncoming traffic, then jammed her foot down on the accelerator and whipped out onto the road, shifting so smoothly he barely felt the switch of the gears.
She swung around a corner and he gripped the armrest to keep from falling over. “You in a hurry?”
She shot him a bland look. “No.”
She downshifted and whipped around another corner so fast he could swear the tires on one side actually lifted off the pavement.
“You know, the building isn’t going anywhere,” he said.
“This is the way I drive. If you don’t like it, don’t ask to ride with me.” She took another corner at high speed, and he was pretty sure she was doing it just to annoy him.
If she drove this way all the time, it was a wonder she was still alive. “Out of curiosity, how many accidents have you been in?”
“I’ve never been in an accident.” She whipped into the next lane, cutting off the car directly behind them, whose driver blared its horn in retaliation.
“Have you caused many?”
She shot him another one of those looks. “No.”
“Next you’ll try to tell me you haven’t gotten a speeding ticket.”
This time she stayed silent. That’s what he figured.
She took a sharp left into the underground parking at his building, used her card key to open the gate, zipped into her assigned spot, and cut the engine.
“Well, that was an adventure,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt.
She dropped her keys in her purse and opened her door. “I got you here alive, didn’t I?”
Only by the grace of God, he was sure.
They got out and walked to the elevator, taking it up to the tenth floor. She stood silently beside him the entire time. She could never be accused of being too chatty. Since they left his house she hadn’t said a word that wasn’t initiated by a question. Maybe she was in a snit about the towel. She had enjoyed the free show, but didn’t want to admit it.
The elevator doors opened at their floor, and as they stepped off he rested a hand on the small of her back. A natural reaction, but she didn’t seem to appreciate his attempt to be a gentleman.
She jerked away and shot lasers at him with her eyes. “What are you doing?”
He held his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Sorry. Just being polite.”
“Do you touch all of your female employees inappropriately?”
What was her problem? Here he thought she’d begun to warm to him, but he couldn’t seem to get an accurate read on her.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Well, you did.”
A pair standing in the hallway outside his office cut their conversation short to look at him and Victoria.
“Why don’t we step into my office and talk about this,” he said quietly. She nodded, then he almost made the monumental error of touching her again, drawing his hand away a second before it grazed her shoulder.
He couldn’t help it; he was a physical person. And until today, no one had ever seemed to have a problem with that.
Penelope was already sitting at her desk, tapping away at her keyboard. The only hint of a reaction as he ushered Victoria to his office door was a slight lift of her left brow. He liked that about his secretary. She was always discreet. He also knew exactly what she was thinking. He’d lost another assistant already. Not all that unusual, until he factored in that he hadn’t even slept with this one yet.
“Penelope, hold my calls, please.” He opened the door and gestured Victoria inside, then closed it behind them. “Have a seat.”
Her chin jutted out stubbornly. “I’d rather stand, thank you.”
“Fine.” He could see that she wasn’t going to make this easy. He rounded his desk and sat down. “Now, would you like to tell me what the problem is?”
“The problem is that your behavior today has been completely inappropriate.”
“All I did was touch your back.”
“Employers are not supposed to walk around naked in front of their employees.”
He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the desk. “I wasn’t naked.”
“Not the entire time.”
So, she had been looking. “Need I point out that you were in my house? When I walked into my closet I had no reason to expect you would be there. Sniffing my shirts.”
Her cheeks blushed pink, but she didn’t back down. “And I suppose the towel accidentally fell off.”
“Again, if you hadn’t been ogling me, you wouldn’t have seen anything.”
Her eyes went wide with indignation. “I was not ogling you!”
“Face it, sweetheart, you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.” He leaned back in his chair. “In fact, I felt a little violated.”
“You felt violated?” She clamped her jaw so tight he worried she might crack her teeth. She wasn’t easy to rile, but once he got her going…damn.
“But I’m willing to forgive and forget,” he said.
“I’ve read your e-mails and listened to your phone messages. I know the kind of man that you are, and I’m telling you to back off. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to, but you have done such a thorough job of ruining my family that I need this position. The way I see it, we’re stuck with each other. If you’re trying to get me to quit, it isn’t going to work. And if you continue to prance around naked in front of me and touch me inappropriately I’ll slap a sexual harassment suit on you so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
He couldn’t repress the smile that was itching to curl the corner of his mouth. “I was prancing?”
Her mouth fell open, as though she couldn’t believe he was making a joke out of this. “You really are a piece of work.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment! You have got to be the most arrogant, self-centered—” she struggled for the right word, but all she could come up with was “—jerk I have ever met!”
He shrugged. “Arrogant, yes. Self-centered, occasionally. But anyone will tell you I’m a nice guy.”
“Nice?”
“And fair.”
“Fair? You orchestrated the deal that ruined my father. That stole from us the land that has been in our family for five generations, and you call that fair? We lost our business and our home. We lost everything because of you.”
He wasn’t sure where she was getting her information, but she was way off. “We didn’t steal anything. The deal we offered your father was a gift.”
Her face twisted with outrage. “A gift?”
“He wouldn’t have gotten a better deal from anyone else.”
“Ruining good men in the name of the royal family doesn’t make it any less sleazy or wrong.”
This was all beginning to make sense now. Her lack of gratitude toward the royal family and her very generous employment contract. And there was only one explanation. “You have no idea the financial shape that the Houghton was in, do you?”
She instantly went on the defensive. “What is that supposed to mean? Yes, my father handled the financial end of the business, but he kept me informed. Business was slow, no thanks to the Royal Inn, but we were by no means sinking.”
Suddenly he felt very sorry for her. And he didn’t like what he was going to have to do next, but it was necessary. She deserved to know the truth, before she did something ill-advised and made a fool of both herself and her father.
He pressed the intercom on his desk. “Penelope, would you please bring in the file for the buyout on the Houghton Hotel.”
“What are you doing?” Victoria demanded.
Probably making a huge mistake. “Something against my better judgment.”
Victoria stood there, stiff and tight-lipped until Penelope appeared a moment later with a brown accordion file stuffed to capacity. She handed it to Charles, but not before she flashed him a swift, stern glance. Penelope knew what he was doing and the risk he was taking. And it was clear that she didn’t approve. But she didn’t say a word. She just walked out and shut the door behind her.
“The contents in this file are confidential,” he told Victoria. “I could be putting my career in jeopardy by showing it to you. But I think it’s something you need to see. In fact, I know it is.”
At first he thought she might refuse to read it. For several long moments she just stared at him. But curiosity must have gotten the best of her, because finally she reached out and took the file.
“Take that into your office and look it over,” he said.
Without a word she turned and walked through the door separating their offices.
“Come see me if you have questions,” he called after her, just before she shut the door firmly behind her. And he was sure she would have questions. Because as far as he could tell, everything her father had told her was a lie.

Four
Victoria felt sick.
Sick in her mind and in her heart. Sick all the way down to the center of her soul. And the more she read, the worse she felt.
She was barely a quarter of the way through the file and it was already undeniably clear that not only had the royal family not stolen anything from her and her father, they had rescued them from inevitable and total ruin.
Had they not stepped in, the bank would have foreclosed on mortgages she hadn’t even been aware that her father had levied against the hotel. And he was so far behind in their property taxes, the property had been just days from being seized.
The worst part was that the trouble began when Victoria was a baby, after her grandfather passed away and her father inherited control of the hotel. All that time he’d been riding a precarious, financial roller coaster, living far above their means. Until it had finally caught up to him. And he had managed to keep it a secret by blatantly lying to her.
She had trusted him. Sacrificed so much because she thought she owed him.
Because of the royal family’s generous offer, she and her father had a roof over their heads. And she had the opportunity for a career that would launch her further than she might have ever dreamed possible. Yet she still felt as though the rug had been yanked violently from under her. Everything she knew about her father and their business, about her life, was a lie.
And she had seen enough.
She gathered the papers and tucked them neatly back into the file. Though she dreaded facing Charles, admitting her father’s deception, what choice did she have? Besides, he probably had a pretty good idea already that something in her family dynamic was amiss. If nothing else, she owed him an apology for her unfounded accusations. And a heartfelt thank-you for…well…everything. His family’s generosity and especially their discretion.
And there was only one thing left to do. Only one thing she could do.
She picked up the phone and dialed Charles’s extension. He answered on the first ring. “Is now a good time to speak with you?”
“Of course,” he said. “Come right in.”
She hung up the phone, but for several long seconds just sat there, working up the courage to face him. And she thought yesterday had been humiliating. Getting her butt out of the chair and walking to his office, tail between her legs, was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
Charles sat at his desk. He had every right to look smug, but he wore a sympathetic smile instead. And honestly she couldn’t decide which was worse. She didn’t deserve his sympathy.
She handed him the file. “Thank you for showing me this. For being honest with me.”
“I thought you deserved the truth.”
She took a deep breath. “First, I want to thank you and the royal family for your generosity. Please let them know how much we appreciate their intervention.”
“’We’?” he asked, knowing full well that her father didn’t appreciate anything the royal family had done for them.
Although for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why. Pride, she supposed. Or stubbornness. Whatever the reason, she was in no position to make excuses for him. Nor would she want to. He had gotten them into this mess, and any consequences he suffered were his own doing.
“And while I appreciate the opportunity to work for the Royal Inn,” she said, removing her ID badge and setting it on his desk, “I’m afraid I won’t be accepting the position.”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
She had taken this job only to appease her father, and now everything was different. She didn’t owe him anything. For the first tine in her life she was going to make a decision based entirely on what she wanted.
“I’m not a charity case,” she told Charles. “I owe you too much already. And unlike my father, I don’t care to be indebted to anyone.”
“You’ve seen the file, Victoria. We were under no obligation to your father. Do you honestly believe we would have hired you if we didn’t feel you were qualified for the position?”
She didn’t know what to believe anymore. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”
“What will you do?”
She shrugged. She was in hotel management, and the Royal Inn was the biggest game on the island. She would never find a position with comparable pay anywhere else. Not on Morgan Isle, anyway. That could mean a move off the island. Maybe it was time for a change, time to stop leaning on her father and be truly independent for the first time in her life. Or maybe it was he who had been leaning on her.
“I’ll find another job,” she said.
“What will you do until then?”
She honestly didn’t know. Since the buyout, what savings she’d had were quickly vanishing. If she went much longer without a paycheck, she would be living on the streets.
“I have an idea,” Charles said. “A mutually beneficial arrangement.”
She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that, but the least she could do was hear him out. She folded her arms and said, “I’m listening.”
“You’ve seen the shambles my life is in. Stay, just long enough to get things back in order and to hire and train a new assistant, and when you go, you’ll leave with a letter of recommendation so impressive that anyone would be a fool not to hire you.”
It was tempting, but she already owed him too much. This was something she needed to do on her own.
She shook her head. “You’ve done too much already.”
He leaned forward in his seat. “You would be the one doing me the favor. I honestly don’t have the time to train someone else.”
“I’ve been here two days. Technically someone should be training me.”
“You’re a fast learner.” When she didn’t answer he leaned forward and said, “Victoria, I’m desperate.”
He did look a little desperate, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that he was doing it just to be nice. Which shouldn’t have been a bad thing. And she should have been jumping at his offer, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that she didn’t deserve his sympathy.
“Do this one thing for me,” he coaxed, “and we’ll call it even. You won’t owe me and I won’t owe you.”
She would have loved nothing more than to put this entire awful experience behind her and start fresh.
“I would have to insist you pay me only an assistant’s wage,” she said.
He looked surprised. “That’s not much.”
“Maybe, but it’s fair.”
“Fine,” he agreed. “If that’s what you want.”
“How long would I have to stay?” she asked.
“How about two months.”
Yeah, right. “How about one week?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Six weeks.”
“Two weeks,” she countered.
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Deal,” he said with a grin.
She took a deep breath and blew it out. Three weeks working with the duke. It was longer than she was comfortable with, but at the very least it would give her time to look for another job. She had interviewed hundreds of people in her years at the Houghton, yet she had never so much as put together a résumé for herself. Much less had to look for employment. She barely knew where to begin.
“I’ll have Penelope post an ad for the assistant’s position. I’ll leave it to you to interview the applicants. Then, of course, they’ll have to meet my approval.”
“Of course.”
“Why don’t we catch an early lunch today and discuss exactly what it is I’m looking for?” His smile said business was the last thing on his mind.
Were they back to that again?
If she was going to survive the next three weeks working for him, she was going to have to set some boundaries. Establish parameters.
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” she said.
If her direct approach surprised him, he didn’t let it show. He just raised one brow slightly higher than the other. “I don’t know how you did things at the Houghton, but here, lunch isn’t code for sex.”
On the contrary, that’s exactly what it was. Practically everything he said was a double entendre. “I’m not a member of your harem.”
One corner of his mouth tipped up. “I have a harem?”
Was he forgetting that she’d listened to his phone messages? “I just thought I should make it clear up front. Because you seem to believe you’re God’s gift to the female race.”
He shot her a very contrived stunned look. “You mean I’m not?”
“I’m sorry to say, I don’t find you the least bit attractive.” It was kind of a lie. Physically she found him incredibly attractive. His personality, on the other hand, needed serious work.
He shrugged. “If you say so.”
He was baiting her, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. “Have a list of employment requirements to me by end of day and I’ll see that the ad is placed.” She already had a pretty good idea of the sort of employee he was looking for. More emphasis on looks than intelligence or capability. But she was going to find him an assistant who could actually do the job. And she would hopefully be doing it sooner than three weeks. The faster she got out of here, the better.
“You’ll have it by five,” he said.
“Thank you. I should get back to work.” She still had a backload of e-mail and phone messages to sort through.
She was almost to her office when he called her name, and something in his voice said he was up to no good. She sighed quietly to herself, and with her hand on the doorknob, turned back to him. Ready for a fight. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked, expecting some sort of snappy, sarcastic comeback or a sexually charged innuendo.
Instead, he just said, “For sticking around.”
She was so surprised, all she could do was nod as she opened the door and slipped into her office. The really weird thing was, she was pretty sure he genuinely meant it. And it touched her somewhere deep down.
If she wasn’t careful, she just might forget how much she didn’t like him.
It was almost four-thirty when Charles popped his head into her office and handed Victoria the list of employment requirements. And early, no less.
“Are you busy?” he asked.
What now? Wasn’t it a bit early for a dinner invitation? “Why?”
“You up for a field trip?”
She set the list in her urgent to-do pile. “I guess that all depends on where you want to go.” If it was a field trip to his bedroom, then no, she would pass.
“I have a meeting at the palace in half an hour. I thought you might want to tag along. It would be a chance for you to learn the ropes.”
A tickle of excitement worked its way up from her belly. Anyone who lived on Morgan Isle dreamed of going to the palace and meeting the royal family.
But honestly, what was the point? “Why bother? I’ll only be working for you for three weeks.”
“Yes, but how will you train your replacement if you don’t learn the job first?”
He had a point. Although his logic was a little backward. But the truth was, she really wanted to go. After all, when would she ever get an opportunity like this one again?
“When you put it that way,” she said, pushing away from her desk, “I suppose I should.”
“A car is waiting for us downstairs.”
She grabbed her purse from the bottom desk drawer and her sweater from the hook on the back of the door, then followed him through the outer office past Penelope—who didn’t even raise her head to acknowledge them—to the elevator. He was uncharacteristically quiet as they rode down and he led her through the lobby to the shiny, black, official-looking Bentley parked out front. Not that she knew him all that well, but he always seemed to have something to say. Too much, usually.
They settled in the leather-clad backseat, and the driver pulled out into traffic. She wasn’t typically the chatty type, but she felt this irrational, uncontrollable urge to fill the silence. Maybe because as long as they were talking, she didn’t have to think about the overpowering sense of his presence beside her. He was so large, filled his side of the seat so thoroughly, she felt almost crowded against the door. It would take only the slightest movement to cause their knees to bump. And the idea of any sort of contact in the privacy of the car, even accidental, made her pulse jump.
When she couldn’t stand the silence another second, she heard herself ask, “Not looking forward to this meeting?”
The sound of her voice startled him, as though he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “Why do you ask?”
“You seem…preoccupied.”
“Do I?”
“You haven’t made a single suggestive or inappropriate comment since we left your office.”
He laughed and said, “No, I’m not looking forward to it. Delivering bad news is never pleasant.”
He didn’t elaborate, and though she was dying of curiosity, she didn’t ask. It was none of her business. And honestly, the less she knew about the royal family’s business, the better.
The drive to the palace was a short one. As the gates came into view, Victoria’s heart did a quick shimmy in her chest. She was really going to visit the royal palace. Where kings and queens had lived for generations, and heads of state regularly visited. Though she had lived on Morgan Isle her entire life, not ten miles from the palace, she never imagined she would ever step foot within its walls. Or come face-to-face with the royal family.
Charles leaned forward and told the driver. “Take us to the front doors.” He turned to Victoria. “Normally you would use the business entrance in the back, but I thought for your first visit you should get the royal treatment.”
The car rolled to a stop, and royally clothed footmen posted on either side of the enormous double doors descended the stairs. One opened the car door and offered a hand encased in pristine white cotton to help her out. It was oddly surreal. She’d never put much stock in fairy tales, but standing at the foot of the palace steps, she felt a little like Cinderella. Only she wasn’t there for a ball. And even if she were, there were no single princes in residence to fall in love with her. Just an arrogant, womanizing duke.
Which sounded more like a nightmare than any fairy tale she’d ever read.
She and Charles climbed the stairs, and as they approached the top the gilded doors swung open, welcoming them inside.
Walking into the palace, through the cavernous foyer, was like stepping into a different world. An alternate reality where everything was rich and elegant and larger than life. She had never seen so much marble, gold, and velvet, yet it was tastefully proportioned so as not to appear gaudy. She turned in a circle, her heels clicking against marble buffed to a gleaming shine, taking in the antique furnishings, the vaulted and ornately painted ceilings.
Though she had seen it many times in photos and on television documentaries, and on television documentaries, those were substitute for the real thing.
“What do you think?” Charles asked.
“It’s amazing,” she breathed. “Does everyone who visits get this kind of welcome?”
“Not exactly. But I feel as though everyone should experience the entire royal treatment at least one time. Don’t you think?”
She nodded, although she couldn’t help wondering if he had done this out of the kindness of his heart or if instead he had ulterior motives. She knew from experience that men like him often did. How many other women had he brought here, hoping to impress them with his royalty? Not that she considered herself one of his women. But he very well might. In fact, she was pretty sure he did. Men like him objectified women, saw them as nothing more than playthings.
And she was buying into it. Playing right into his hand. Shame on her for letting down her guard.
She put a chokehold on her excitement and flashed him a passive smile. “Well, thank you. It was a nice surprise.”
“Would you like to meet the family?” he asked.
Her heart leapt up into her throat. “The f-family?”
“We have a meeting scheduled, so they should all be together in the king’s suite.”
The entire family? All at once? And he said it so casually, as if meeting royalty was a daily occurrence for her.
But what was she going to tell him? No?
“If it’s not a problem,” she said, although she didn’t have the first clue what she would say to them.
“They’re expecting us.”
Expecting them?
She went from being marginally nervous to shaking in her pumps.
He stepped forward, toward the stairs, but she didn’t budge. She couldn’t. She felt frozen in place, as though her shoes had melted into the marble.
He stopped and looked back at her. “You coming?”
She nodded, but she couldn’t seem to get her feet to move. She just stood there like an idiot.
Charles brow furrowed a little. “You okay?”
“Of course.” If she ignored the fact that her legs wouldn’t work and that a nest of nerves the size of a boulder weighed heavy in her gut.
A grin curled one corner of his mouth. “A little nervous, maybe?”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “A little.”
“You have nothing to worry about. They don’t bite.” He paused then added, “Much.”
She shot him a look.
He grinned and said, “I’m kidding. They’re looking forward to meeting you.” He jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Come on.”
She didn’t pitch a fit this time when Charles touched a hand to the small of her back to give her a gentle shove in the right direction. But he kept his hands to himself as he led her up the marble staircase to the second floor, gesturing to points of interest along the way. Family portraits dating back centuries, priceless heirlooms and gifts from foreign visitors and dignitaries.
It all sounded a bit rehearsed to her, but the truth was, as the family lawyer, he’d probably taken lots of people on a similar tour. Not just women he was hoping to impress. And it did take her mind off of her nerves.
“The family residence is this way,” he said, leading her toward a set of doors guarded by two very large, frightening-looking security officers. He gestured to the wing across the hall. “The guest suites are down that way.”
Feeling like an interloper, she followed him toward the residence. The guards stepped forward as they approached, and Victoria half-expected them to tackle her before she could make it through the doors. But instead they opened the doors and stepped aside so she and Charles could pass. Inside was a long, wide, quiet hallway and at least a dozen sets of double doors.
Behind one of those doors, she thought, waited the entire royal family. And what she hadn’t even considered until just now was that each and every one of them knew the dire financial situation she and her father had been in. For all she knew, they might believe she was responsible. She could only hope that Charles had told them the truth.
“Ready?” he asked.
Ready? How did one prepare herself for a moment like this? But she took a deep breath and blew it out, then looked up at Charles and said, “Let’s do it.”

Five
Victoria was tough, Charles would give her that.
Typically when people were introduced to members of the royal family, it was one or two at a time. Victoria was meeting King Phillip and Queen Hannah; Prince Ethan and his wife, Lizzy; and Princess Sophie and her fiancé, Alex, all at the same time.
Everyone was gathered in the sitting room of Hannah and Phillip’s suite, and they all rose from their seats when he and Victoria entered.
If she was nervous, it didn’t show. Her curtsy was flawless, and when she spoke her voice was clear and steady. It never failed to intrigue him how a woman so seemingly small and unassuming could dominate a room with sheer confidence. He could see that everyone was impressed. And though it was totally irrational, he felt proud of her. Hiring her had in no way been his idea. He had merely been following orders.
After the introductions and several minutes of polite small talk, an aide was called in to give Victoria a tour of the business offices and familiarize her with palace procedure.
“I like her,” Sophie said, the instant they were gone. It had been at her insistence that they had hired Victoria in the first place.
Charles nodded. “She’s very capable.”
“And attractive,” Ethan noted, which got him a playful elbow jab in the side from his very pregnant wife, Lizzy.
“Stunning,” Hannah added.
“Quite,” Charles agreed. “And she would have been an asset to the Royal Inn.”
“Would have been?” Phillip asked.
Sophie narrowed her eyes at Charles. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” He held both hands up defensively. “I swear.”
He explained Victoria’s outburst and admitted to showing her the file on the Houghton sale. “She seems to think we see her as some sort of charity case. She has no idea her expertise. Nor does she have the slightest clue how valuable she is. Had it not been for her, I think the Houghton would have collapsed years ago.”
“Then it will be up to you to see that she learns her value,” Phillip said.
Easier said than done when she was suspicious of his every move. “She’s stubborn as hell. But I’m sure I can convince her.”
“Stubborn as hell,” Alex said, glancing over at Princess Sophie. “She’ll fit right in, won’t she?”
Now she narrowed her eyes at him. “Is it so wrong that I don’t want my wedding to be a spectacle? That I prefer small and intimate?”
“You have other news for us?” Phillip asked Charles, forestalling another potential wedding argument.
Yes, it was time they got to it. Charles took a seat on the couch beside Sophie, rubbing his palms together.
“I gather the news isn’t good,” Ethan said.
“The DNA test confirmed it. She’s the real deal,” Charles told them. “Melissa Thornsby is your illegitimate sister and heir to the throne.”
“We have a sister,” Sophie said, as though trying out the sound of it. Phillip and Hannah remained quietly concerned.
“And here I believed I had the distinction of being the only illegitimate heir to the throne,” Ethan quipped, even though he was the one who had taken the time to investigate their father’s notorious reputation with women, and the possibility of more illegitimate children. But who could have imagined that King Frederick would have been so bold as to not only have an affair with the former prime minister’s wife but to father a child with her? And he never told a soul. Had Ethan not stumbled across a file of newspaper clippings King Frederick had left hidden after his death, they might never have learned the truth.
“She’s older than Phillip?” Lizzy asked.
“Twenty-three days,” Charles said.
Everyone exchanged worried glances, but Hannah broached the subject no one else seemed willing to speak aloud. “Could she take the crown?”
This was the part Charles hadn’t been looking forward to. “Technically? Yes, she could. Half Royal or not, she’s the oldest.”
Hannah frowned. “But she wasn’t even raised here.”
“She was born here, though. She’s still considered a citizen.”
In an uncustomary show of emotion, Phillip cursed under his breath. Losing the crown for him wouldn’t be an issue of status or power. Phillip truly loved his country and had devoted his entire life in the preparation to become its leader. To lose that would devastate him. “We’ll fight it,” he said.
“I don’t think it will come to that,” Charles said. “She doesn’t seem the type to take on the role as the leader of a country. Despite a first-rate education, other than heading up a host of charities, she’s never had a career.”
“As a proper princess wouldn’t,” Phillip said, sounding cautiously optimistic. “Meaning she could very well fit right in.”
“Would she be the type to go after our money?” Sophie asked.
Charles shook his head. “I seriously doubt it.”
“Why?”
“Because she has almost as much money as you do. She inherited a considerable trust from her parents on her twenty-first birthday, and her aunt and uncle left her a fortune. She’s at the top of the food chain in New Orleans high society.”
“How did she take the news?” Hannah asked.
“According to the attorney, it was definitely a shock, but she’s eager to meet everyone. So much so that she’s dropping everything so that she can move here. Temporarily at first. Then she’ll decide if she wants to stay.”
“Her place is here with her family,” Sophie said.
“We can’t force her to stay,” Lizzy pointed out.
“True,” Hannah said, looking pointedly at Phillip. “But if we make her feel welcome she’ll be more inclined to.”
It was no secret that when Ethan joined the family, Phillip had been less than welcoming to his half brother. But in Phillip’s defense, Ethan had gone out of his way to be difficult. Since then, they had put their differences aside and now behaved like brothers. Not that they didn’t occasionally butt heads.
“When will she come?” Phillip asked.
“Saturday.”
“We’ll need to see that a suite is prepared,” Sophie said. “I suggest housing her in the guest suite at first, with restricted privileges to the residence.”
“I agree,” Phillip said. “Lizzy, can you please handle the details?”
Lizzy nodded eagerly. Going from full-time employment to royal status had been rough for her. And despite a somewhat trying pregnancy, she was always looking for tasks to keep her busy until the baby arrived. “I’ll take care of it immediately.”
Phillip turned to Sophie, who handled media relations. “We’ll have to issue a press release immediately. I don’t want to see a story in the tabloids before we make a formal announcement.”
Sophie nodded. “I’ll see that it’s done today.”
“Speaking of the tabloids,” Alex said, “you know they’re going to be all over this. And all over her.” Having recently been a target of the media himself when his ex-wife fed them false information about his relationship with the princess, he knew how vicious they could be.
“She’ll be instructed on exactly what she should and shouldn’t say,” Charles assured him. “Although given her position in society, I don’t think handling the press will be an issue.”
“I’d like to keep this low-key,” Phillip said, then he rose from his seat, signaling the end of the meeting. “Keep us posted.”
Hannah tugged on his sleeve. “Are you forgetting something, Your Highness?”
He looked down at his wife and smiled. “You’re sure you want to do this now?”
She nodded.
He touched her cheek affectionately, then announced, with distinct happiness and pride, “Hannah is pregnant.”
Everyone seemed as stunned as they were excited.
Sophie laughed and said, “My gosh! You two certainly didn’t waste any time. Frederick is barely three months old!”
Hannah blushed. “It wasn’t planned, and I only just found out this morning. We’d like to keep it quiet until closer to the end of my first trimester. But I was too excited not to tell the family.”
“I think it’s wonderful,” Lizzy said, a hand on her own rounded belly. She shot Sophie a meaningful glance. “At this rate we’ll have the palace filled with children in no time.”
Sophie emphatically shook her head. “Not from me you won’t. Alex and I have already discussed it and decided to wait until he’s not traveling back and forth to the States so much.”
“You say that now,” Lizzy teased. “Things have a way of not working out as you plan.”
She would know. Her pregnancy had been an unplanned surprise. She’d gone from palace employee to royal family member with one hasty but genuinely happy I do.
“What about Charles?” Sophie said, flashing him a wry grin. “He’s not even married yet. Why not pick on him?”
“When it comes to marriage,” Phillip said, sounding only slightly exasperated, “yet is not a word in Charles’s vocabulary.”
Phillip was absolutely right. And this was not a conversation Charles cared to have any part of. The last thing he needed was the entire family meddling in his love life.
“Wow,” he said, glancing down at his watch. “Would you look at the time. I should be going.”
“What’s the matter, Charles?” Sophie asked. “Have you got a hot date?”
In fact he did. Even though the “date” in question didn’t know it yet.
Phillip just grinned. “If you hear anything else from Melissa or her attorney, you’ll let us know?”
“Of course.” He said the obligatory goodbyes, then made a hasty retreat out into the hall. Before he could escape the residence, Ethan called after him.
“Charles, hold up a minute.” He wore a concerned expression, which was enough to cause Charles concern himself. Ethan was one of the most easygoing people he knew.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
Ethan paused for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. “I guess there’s really no tactful way to say this, so I’m just going to say it. The family is asking, as a personal favor, that you not have an affair with Victoria.”
For an instant, Charles was too stunned to speak. Then all he could manage was “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
Yes, he had. But he must have been mistaken. He’d devoted his life to his family, true, but that didn’t give them the right to dictate who he could or couldn’t sleep with. “What are you suggesting, Ethan?”
Ethan lowered his voice. “I don’t have to suggest anything. It’s common knowledge that the employees you sleep with don’t last. Normally that isn’t a problem because they’re your personal employees, and how you run your firm is your own business. But Victoria is an employee of the royal family, as are you, and as such, policy states there can be no personal relationship. If we can convince her to stay, her expertise will be a great asset to the Royal Inn. That isn’t likely to happen if you and she become…intimately involved.”
“That’s a little hypocritical coming from you,” Charles said. “Seeing as how you knocked up a palace employee.”
It was a cheap shot, but the arrow hit its mark.
Ethan’s expression darkened. “Make no mistake Charles, this is something the entire family is asking. Not just me.”
And what if Charles said no? What if he slept with her and she refused to stay? Would he be ousted as the family attorney? “This sounds a bit like a threat to me.”
“It’s nothing more than a request.”
Though only a cousin, Charles had always been an integral part of the royal family. For the first time in his life he felt like an outsider.
And he didn’t like it.
“Do whatever it takes to make her stay,” Ethan said, and there was a finality to his words that set Charles even deeper on edge.
“I need to go fetch my assistant,” Charles told him, then he turned and left before he said something he might later regret.
He found Victoria in the main business office with one of the secretaries. For the life of him he couldn’t remember her name. She was explaining the phone and security system to Victoria. As he approached they both looked up at him.
“Finished already?” Victoria asked.
Charles nodded. “Ready to go?”
“Sure.” She thanked the secretary, whose name still escaped him, grabbed her purse, and followed Charles out. She practically had to jog to keep up with his brisk, longer stride. He led her out the back way this time, where she would come and go should the position ever call for her coming back to the palace.
“Meeting not go well?” she asked from behind him, as they passed the kitchen.
“What makes you think that?”
“You’re awfully quiet. And you seem to be in a terrible rush to leave,” she said, sounding a touch winded.
He made an effort to slow his pace. It wasn’t the meeting itself that was troubling him. That had gone rather well, all things considered. “It was fine,” he said.
The car was waiting for them when they stepped out of the back entrance. They got in, and he almost directed the driver to take them back to the office, but then he remembered that he was treating Victoria to dinner.
Instead he told him, “The Royal Inn.”
“Why are we going to the Royal Inn?” she asked.
“I’m taking you to Les Régal De Rois for dinner,” he said. He expected an argument or an immediate refusal. Instead she just looked amused, which rubbed his already frayed nerves.
“Is that an invitation?” she asked.
“No. Just a fact.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“What about my car?”
“It’ll be fine in the parking garage overnight. I’ll arrange for my car to pick you up in the morning.”
She mulled that over, looking skeptical. He steeled himself for the inevitable argument. In fact, he was looking forward to it. He needed a target to vent a little steam. Even though he was supposed to be convincing her to stay, not using her for target practice.
Instead she said, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll go to dinner with you, but only if I get to choose the restaurant.”
He shrugged. “All right.”
“And you have to let me pay.”
Absolutely not. He never let women pay. It had been hammered into him from birth that it was a man’s duty—his responsibility—to pick up the check. As far as his mother was concerned, chivalry was alive and kicking.
“Considering your current employment status, it might be wise to let me cover it,” he said.
She folded her arms across her chest. “Let me worry about that.”
Would it hurt to let her think she was paying? But when it came time to get the bill, he would take it. It’s not as if she would wrestle it out of his hand. At least, he didn’t think she would. She may have been independent, but he knew from experience that deep down, all women loved to be pampered. They liked when men held doors and paid the check. Expected it, even.
“Fine,” he agreed.
She leaned forward and instructed the driver to take them to an unfamiliar address in the bay area. For all he knew she could be taking him to a fast-food establishment.
The driver looked to Charles for confirmation, and he nodded.
What the heck. He was always up for an adventure.

Six
It wasn’t a fast food restaurant.
It was a cozy, moderately priced bistro tucked between two upscale women’s clothing stores in the shopping district. The maître d’ greeted Victoria warmly and Charles with the proper fuss afforded royalty, then seated them at a table in a secluded corner. It was quiet and intimate and soaked in the flickering glow of warm candlelight. Their waiter appeared instantly to take their drink orders—a white wine for Victoria and a double scotch for him—then he listed the specials for the evening.
“I recommend the prime rib,” Victoria said, once he was gone.
Charles drew the line at letting his date order for him, and he used the term date very loosely. Besides, his encounter with Ethan had pretty much killed his appetite.
“I take it you come here often,” he said.
“I love this place,” Victoria said with a smile. An honest to goodness, genuine smile. And the force of it was so devastating it nearly knocked him backward out of his chair. She might not have smiled often, but it was certainly worth the wait.
The waiter reappeared only seconds later with their drinks. Charles took a deep slug of scotch, relishing the smooth burn as it slid down his throat and spread heat through his stomach. Three or four more of these and he would be right as rain, but he’d never been one to find solace in a bottle.
Victoria took a sip of her wine, watching him curiously. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever it is that’s bothering you.” She propped her elbow on the table, dropped her chin in her hand, and gazed across the candlelight at him, her eyes warm, her features soft in the low light.
She really was stunning. And not at all the sort of woman he was typically attracted to. But maybe that was the appeal. Maybe he was tired of the same old thing. Maybe he needed to spice things up a bit.
The family had put the kibosh on that, though, hadn’t they? And since when did he ever let anyone tell him whom he could or couldn’t pursue?
“What makes you think something is bothering me?”
“That’s why I agreed to dinner,” she said. “You looked as though you needed a sympathetic ear.”
She certainly looked sympathetic, which for some reason surprised him. He never imagined her having a soft side. But he wasn’t one to air his troubles. Although, would it hurt to play the pity card this one time? And maybe, in the process, do his job and convince Victoria to stay with the hotel?
He pulled in a deep, contemplative breath, then blew it out. “Family issues,” he said, keeping it cryptic. Baiting her. But if he expected her to try to drag it out of him, boy, had he been wrong.
She just sat there sipping her wine, waiting for him to continue.
He dropped another crumb. “Suffice it to say that the family wasn’t happy to hear that you’re not staying with the Royal Inn.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’ve been instructed to do whatever it takes to convince you to stay.”
If she was flattered, it didn’t show on her face. “But that isn’t what’s bothering you,” she said.
Who was baiting whom here?
Though he’d had no intention of telling her what was really said, he supposed that if anyone could understand a backstabbing, meddling family, it was her.
“I’ve been asked by the family not to pursue you socially.”
A grin tipped up the corners of her mouth. “In other words, don’t sleep with me.”
Her candor surprised him a little, but then, what did she have to lose? This was only a temporary position for her. “That was the gist of it, yes.”
“And that upsets you?”
“Wouldn’t it upset you?”
“I suppose. But then, I don’t have a notorious reputation for sleeping with my employees.”
He couldn’t help but wonder where she’d heard that. “According to whom?”
“The girls in the palace office talk.”
He couldn’t exactly deny it, but still he felt…offended. Whom he dated was no one’s concern. Especially the girls in the office. “What else did the girls have to say about me?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
Did he? Did it even matter? When had he ever cared what people thought of him?
But curiosity got the best of him. “I’m a big boy. I think I can handle it.”
“They told me that your assistants never last more than a few weeks.”
Again, he couldn’t deny it. But that was just the nature of business. Assistants’ positions notoriously had a high turnover rate. Most were overworked and underpaid.
Were the girls in the office taking that into account?
Not to say that he was an unfair employer. But he didn’t owe anyone an explanation.
“And I’m not your usual type.”
“I have a type?”
“Tall, leggy, impressed by your power and position.”
Could he help that people were impressed by his title?
“Oh, and they told me that you objectify women,” she added. “But I already knew that.”
Wait, what? He objectified women? “No, I don’t.”
She looked a little surprised by his denial. “Yes, you do.”
“I have nothing but respect for women. I love women.”
“Maybe that’s part of the problem.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” And why did he even care what she thought of him?
“This is upsetting you,” she said. “Maybe we should just drop it.”
“No. I want to know how it is that I objectify women.”
She studied him for a minute, then asked, “How many different women have you dated in the last month?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Humor me.”
“Eight or ten, maybe.” Maybe more. In fact, if he counted the casual encounters in bars or clubs that led back to his bedroom, that number was probably closer to fifteen. But that didn’t mean anything. Wanting to play the field, not wanting to settle down yet, did not equate into disrespect for the opposite sex.
“What were their names?” she asked.
That one stopped him. “What do you mean?”
“Their names. The women you dated. They had names, right?”
“Of course.”
“So, what were they?”
He frowned. That was a lot of names. Faces he could remember, or body types. Hair color, even eye color. Names he wasn’t so good with.
“I’ll make it easy for you. Of the last twenty girls you dated, give me three names,” she said.
Three names? What about the blonde from the bar last week. The bank teller with the large and plunging…portfolio. It was something simple. A J name. Jenny, Julie, Jeri. Or maybe it was Sara.
He was usually pretty good under pressure, but now he was drawing a blank.
“You can’t do it, can you?” Victoria said, looking pleased with herself. “Here’s an easy one. How about your last assistant? What was her name?”
Now this one he knew. Tall, brunette. Low, sultry voice…
It was right there, on the tip of his tongue.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “Even I know this.”
He took a guess, which he knew was probably a bad idea. “Diane.”
“Her name was Rebecca.”
“Well, she looked like a Diane to me.” Mostly he’d just called her honey, or sweetheart, so he wouldn’t have to remember her name. Because after a while they all just sort of bled together. But that didn’t mean anything.
She shook her head. “That’s really sad.”
“So I’m not great with names. So what?”
“Name the last five male clients you met with.”
They popped into his head in quick succession. One after the other, clear as if he’d read them on a list. And though he said nothing, she could read it in his expression.
The smile that followed was a smug one. “Easier, isn’t it?”
He folded his arms across his chest, not liking the direction this was taking. “What’s your point?”
“You remember the men because you respect them. You see them as equals. Women on the other hand exist only for your own personal amusement. They’re playthings.”
Though his first reaction was to deny the accusation, it was an interesting…hypothesis. And one he had no desire to contemplate at that particular moment, or with her.
He downed the last of his drink and signaled the waiter for the check. “We should go.”
“We haven’t eaten yet.”
“I have to get an early start in the morning.”
Her smug smile grew, as though she was feeding off his discomfort. To make matters worse, before he could take the bill from the waiter, she snatched it up. “My treat, remember?”
There didn’t seem much point in arguing. And since it was only drinks, he would let her have her way this once.
She paid in cash, leaving a generous tip considering they hadn’t even eaten, then they rose from their chairs and walked in silence to the door. The car was already waiting for them out front.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.
“You don’t want a ride?”
She shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“It’s quite chilly.”
“I’m just a few blocks from here. I could use the fresh air.”
“I’ll walk you,” he said, because God forbid she would also accuse him of not being a gentleman.
“No, I’m fine,” she said, with a smile. “But I appreciate the offer.”
There was something very different about her tonight. He’d never seen her so relaxed. So pleasant and…happy.
At his expense, no doubt.
“See you tomorrow at the office.” She turned to walk away, but made it only a step or two before she stopped and turned back. “By the way, have you decided what to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your family? Not pursuing me. Will you listen to them?”
Good question. And despite all the hemming and hawing and claims that no one could tell him who he could or couldn’t see, he had an obligation to the family. Ultimately, there was really only one clear-cut answer.
He shrugged. “I don’t really have much choice.”
“Well, in that case…”
Another one of those grins curled her mouth. Playful, bordering on devious, and he had the distinct impression that she was up to no good.
She stepped closer, closing the gap between them, then reached up with one hand and gripped his tie. She gave it a firm tug, and he had no choice but to lean over—it was that or asphyxiation. And when he did, she rose up on her toes and kissed him. A tender, teasing brush of her lips against his own.
Before he could react, before he could cup the back of her head and draw her in for more, it was over. She had already let go of his tie and backed away. His lips burned with the need to kiss her again. His hands ached to touch her.
He wanted her.
“What was that for?” he asked.
She shrugged, as though she accosted men on the street on a regular basis. “Just thought you should know what you’re missing.”
Victoria knew that kissing Charles was a really bad idea, but he had looked so adorably bewildered by their conversation in the restaurant, so hopelessly confused, she hadn’t been able to resist. She thought it would be fun to mess with his head, knock him a little further off base. But what she hadn’t counted on, what she hadn’t anticipated, was the way it would make her feel.
She’d kissed her share of men before, but she felt as though, for the first time in her life, she had really kissed a man. It was as if a switch in her brain had been flipped and everything in her being was saying, He’s the one.
Which was as ridiculous as it was disturbing.
Yet her legs were so wobbly and her head so dizzy that once she’d rounded the corner and was out of sight, she collapsed on a bench to collect herself.
What was wrong with her? It was just a kiss. And barely even that. So why the weak knees? The frantically beating heart and breathless feeling? Why the tingling burn in her breasts and between her thighs?
Maybe that was just the effect he had on females, something chemical, or physiological. Maybe that was why he dated so many women. They genuinely couldn’t resist him.
That was probably it, she assured herself. Pheromones or hormones or something. And the effect was bound to wear off. Eventually she would even grow immune to it altogether.
She just hoped to God that he hadn’t noticed. That before she let go he hadn’t felt her hands shaking, that he hadn’t seen her pulse throbbing at the base of her throat or the heat burning her cheeks. That he hadn’t heard the waver in her voice before she turned and walked away. If he knew what he did to her, he could potentially make her life—the next few weeks, anyway—a living hell.
When she felt steady enough, she walked the two blocks to her flat. She unlocked the outer door and headed up the stairs to the third floor. The building was clean and well tended, but the flat itself was only a fraction the size of her suite at the family estate.
She stepped inside and tossed her keys and purse on the table by the door. It would be roomier once she emptied all of the boxes still sitting packed in every room. But her heart just wasn’t in it. It didn’t feel like home.
The light on her answering machine was flashing furiously. She checked the caller ID and saw that every one that day was from her father. He was probably eager to talk to her about the royal family, tell her more lies to cover his own mistakes.
Well, she wasn’t ready to talk to him. The sting of his betrayal was too fresh. She would end up saying something she would later regret.
She erased the messages without listening to them and turned off the ringer on her phone. At times like this she wished she had a best girlfriend to confide in. Even a casual friend. Only now, with her career in the toilet, was she beginning to realize what she’d missed out on when she made the decision to devote herself entirely to her career. For the first time in her life she truly felt alone. And when she thought of her father’s betrayal, the feeling intensified, sitting like a stone in her belly.
All those years of dedication and hard work, and what had it gotten her? Thanks to her father, she had lost nearly everything.
But was it fair to blame it all on him? Didn’t she shoulder at least a little bit of the blame? Had she allowed it to happen by not questioning his handling of the finances? By not checking the books for herself?
By trusting him?
But what reason had he given her not to?
She shook her head and rubbed at the ache starting in her temples. Self-pity would get her nowhere. She needed to get over it, pick up the pieces, and get on with her life. And the first thing on her agenda: finding Charles a new assistant and finding herself a new job. Despite their desire to keep her in their employment, she would never feel comfortable working for the royal family. She couldn’t shake the idea that their job offer had nothing to do with skill, that they had hired her out of pity.
She would never feel as though she truly fit in.
First thing in the morning she would place an ad for the assistant’s position and phone her contacts at the various employment agencies in the bay area. In no time she would have Phillip a new assistant. A capable assistant.
And until then, she would stay as far from Charles as humanly possible.

Seven
So much for keeping her distance from Charles.
As promised, he sent his car to fetch Victoria before work the next morning. When she heard the knock at her flat door, she just assumed it was the driver coming up to get her. But when she opened the door, Charles stood there.
He leaned casually against the doorjamb, looking attractive and fit in a charcoal pinstripe suit, a grin on his face. And not a trace of the ill ease he’d worn like a shroud the night before.
“Good morning,” he said, then added, “Victoria.”
Okay. “Good morning…Charles.”
“I thought you would be impressed. I remembered your name.”
He’d apparently taken what she said to heart. She was genuinely and pleasantly surprised. It didn’t last long, though.
“I’d say that I deserve a reward,” he said, with an exaggerated wiggle of his brows.
The man was a shameless flirt, and though she hated to admit it, his teasing and innuendo wasn’t nearly as offensive as it used to be.
And to be fair, he had remembered her name right from the start. Which meant nothing when she considered that she and her father were the topic of many a conversation prior to her employment with him. Of course he would remember her.
You’re rationalizing, Vic.
The best response was no response at all.
“I just need to grab my jacket,” she said. “Wait right here.”
She dashed off to her bedroom, grabbed her suit jacket, and slipped it on. She was gone less than a minute, but when she returned to the door, it was closed and he wasn’t there.
Had he gone back to the car?
“Nice view,” she heard him say, and turned to find him standing in her cluttered living room gazing out the window.
He was in her flat.
The fact that it was in total disarray notwithstanding, he was just so there. Such a distinct and overpowering presence in a room that until that very moment had always felt open and spacious. Now they might as well have been locked in a closet together for the lack of breathing room.
Just relax. This is not as bad as it seems. You’re completely overreacting.
She folded her arms across her chest, doing her best to sound more annoyed than nervous. “You don’t take direction well, do you?”
He turned to her and smiled, and she felt it like a sucker punch to her belly. The worst part was that she was pretty sure he knew exactly what that smile was doing to her. And he had intended exactly that.
You just had to kiss him, didn’t you?
He gestured out the window. “You have an ocean view.”
Barely. Only a few snippets of blue through the buildings across the road. Nothing like the view from his home. Although it was looking decidedly more pleasing with him standing there.
Ugh. She really had to stop these random, destructive thoughts.
“I don’t recall inviting you inside,” she said.
“Yeah, you might want to work on those manners.”
She shook her head. “God, you’re arrogant.”
He just grinned and gestured to the city street below. “How do you like living in the heart of the city?”
It was different. Her father’s estate, their estate, had been in a rural setting, but she’d spent the majority of her time working in the city. A home in the bay area seemed the logical choice. “It’s…convenient. Besides, I needed a change of pace. A place that didn’t remind me of everything I’ve lost.”
She cringed inwardly. Why had she told him that? It was too personal. Too private. She didn’t want him getting the idea that she liked him. She didn’t want to like him.
He nodded thoughtfully. “And how is that working out for you?”
Lousy, but he probably already figured that out.
“I’m ready to go.” She walked to the door, grabbing her keys and purse from the table.
He didn’t follow her. He just stood there, grinning, as though he knew something she didn’t. “What’s the rush?” he asked.
She looked at her watch. “It’s eight-twenty.”
He shrugged. “So?”
“Isn’t the car waiting?”
“It’s not going anywhere without us.”
She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Or maybe the real problem was she liked it too much. Yesterday she would have considered his probing gaze and bone-melting grin offensive, but this morning it made her feel all warm and mushy inside.
Kissing him had definitely been bad idea.
“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said, taking a few casual steps toward her.
Her heart climbed up in her throat, but she refused to let him see how nervous he was making her. “About?”
“Last night.”
She was tempted to ask, Which part? but she had the sinking feeling she already knew. So instead she asked, in what she hoped was a bored and disinterested tone, “And?”
He continued in her direction, drawing closer with every step. “I think I’ve had a change of heart.”
Uh-oh.
She hoped he meant that he’d had a change of heart about the way he objectified the opposite sex, but somehow she didn’t think so.
“Now that I know what I’ll be missing, maybe I won’t be cooperating with the family after all.”
Oh, yeah, kissing him had been a really bad idea.
He was coming closer, that look in his eyes, like any second he planned to ravish her. And the part that really stunk was that she wanted him to. Desperately. She had assumed that playing the role of the aggressor last night, socking it to him when he was all confused and vulnerable—and a little bit adorable—would somehow put her in a position of control.
Boy, had she been wrong.
He’d managed to turn the tables on her. At that moment, she’d never felt more out of control in her life. And the really frightening thing was, she kind of liked it.
“I mean, what’s the worst that will happen?” he said.
Hopefully something really bad. “Hanging?”
He was standing so close now that he could reach out and touch her. And though every instinct she possessed was screaming for her to back away, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of so much as a flinch.
“And then I got to thinking.” He leaned in, his face so close to hers she could smell the toothpaste on his breath. “Who says they even have to know?”
Bloody hell, was she in trouble. If he decided to kiss her right now, she would have no choice but to kiss him back. And then he would know the truth. That she wasn’t nearly as rigid as she’d led him to believe.
His eyes locked on hers. Deep brown irises with flecks of black that seemed to bleed out from his pupils. Full of something wicked and dangerous. And exciting. And God knew she could have used a little excitement in her life.
No, no, no! Excitement was bad. She liked things even-paced and predictable. This was just chemical.
It took everything in her, but she managed to say, with a tone as bland as her expression, “Are you finished?” “Finished?”
“Can we go to work now?”
The grin not slipping, he finally backed away and said, “You’re tough, Victoria Houghton.”
Didn’t she wish that were true. Didn’t she wish that her heart wasn’t pounding so hard it felt as though it might beat right through her rib cage. That her limbs didn’t feel heavy with arousal. That her skin would stop burning to feel his touch.
Don’t let him know.
“Yes, I am,” she lied.
A playful, taunting grin lifted the corners of his lips, and he reached past her to open the door. “But I’m tougher.”

By three o’clock that afternoon Victoria managed to catch up on the backlog of calls and e-mails. No thanks to Charles, who, in a fraction of that time, proved himself to be a complete pain in the neck.
He popped into her office a minute after three, for what must have been the fifth time that day. “I heard the phone ring. Any answer to the employment ad?”
He knew damned well that she had just placed the ad with the employment agency that morning and they weren’t likely to hear anything until at least tomorrow.
He parked himself behind her chair, hands propped on the back, his fingers brushing the shoulders of her jacket. The hair on her arms shivered to attention and she got that tingly feeling in the pit of her belly. But telling him to back off would only give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting to her.
“It was your mother,” she told him, leaving off the again that could have followed. The woman was ruthless. The kind of mother who drove her children away with affection. It probably didn’t help matters that Charles was an only child and the sole focus of her adoration.
No wonder he didn’t want to settle down. He was already smothered with all the female attention he could handle.
“What are you working on?” he asked, leaning casually down to peer at her computer monitor, his face so close she could feel his breath shift the hair by her ear.
“A template for an updated, more efficient call and e-mail log.”
He leaned in closer to see, his cheek nearly touching hers, and, did he smell delicious. She wanted to bury her face in the crook of his neck and take a long, deep breath. Nuzzle his skin. Maybe take a nibble.
“How does it work?” he asked.
“Work?”
“The spreadsheet.”
Oh, right. “When I input the number or e-mail address, it automatically lists all the other pertinent information, so you don’t have to waste any time looking it up yourself. It’s color-coded by urgency.”
“That’s brilliant,” he said.
She couldn’t tell if he meant it or was just being sarcastic. “Oh, yes, I’m sure they’ll award me the Pulitzer. Or maybe even the Nobel Peace Prize.”
The rumble of his laugh vibrated all the way through her. “You said my mother called again. What did she want this time?”
She swiveled in her chair and stuck a pile of phone messages in his face, so he had no choice but to back off or get a mouthful of fuchsia paper. “To remind you about your father’s birthday party. She wanted to confirm that you’re spending the entire weekend with them.”
He took the messages and sat on the edge of her desk instead, riffling through them. “What did you tell her?”
“That you would be there. All weekend. And you’re really looking forward to it.”
He shot her a curious look. “Seriously?”
She flashed him a bright and, yes, slightly wicked smile. “Seriously.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You didn’t really.”
“Oh, I did.”
She could have sworn that some of the color drained from his face. “That’s odd, because I seem to recall telling you to tell her that I wouldn’t be able to stay the whole weekend.”
“Did you?” she asked innocently. “I guess I forgot.”
He knew damned well that she hadn’t forgotten anything.
“That’s evil,” he said.
She just smiled. That was what he got for messing with her—although, in all fairness, she had been the one to kiss him. But she had the feeling that there would be nothing fair about this unspoken competition they had gotten themselves into.
“Just for that, I should drag you along with me,” he told her.
A duke bringing his personal assistant home for a weekend visit with the folks. Like that would ever happen. She had the sneaking suspicion that being royals, they clung to slightly higher standards. Or maybe they would make her stay in the staff quarters and take her meals in the kitchen.
Was that what she had been reduced to? Servant’s status?
She and her father may not have been megarich, but they had lived a very comfortable lifestyle. The outer edges of upper crust. And to what end? Had he only been honest, lived within their means, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
But now was not the time or the place to rehash her father’s betrayal.
“I could ring her and tell her you don’t want to stay,” she told Charles. “That you have better things to do than spend time with your parents. Although, you know, they’re not getting any younger.”
“Wow,” he said, shaking his head. “You and my mother would get along great.”
She doubted that. His mother didn’t strike her as the type to socialize with the hired help.
“Was there anything else you needed?” she asked, wanting him off her desk. He was too close, smelled too good. “I’d like to get back to work.”
“Pressing business?” he asked.
“Keeping up on all the calls and e-mails from your female admirers is a full-time job.”
“Maybe, but right now,” he said, locking his chocolate eyes on hers and leaning closer, so she was crowded against the back of her chair. “I only have one special woman in my life.”
Uh-oh.
Please, please, Victoria silently pleaded, let it be anyone but me.
He held up the message slips. “And I’d better go call her and tell her just how much I’m looking forward to the party.”
She let out a quiet, relieved breath.
He rose from the corner of her desk, but his scent lingered as he walked to the door. “Buzz me if you hear about the ad.”
“The second I hear anything,” she promised. Hoping this would be the last time she saw him until it was time to leave for the evening.
Even that would be too soon. Maybe she could just sneak out unnoticed.
It was a dangerous game they had begun playing, but she wasn’t about to surrender. She wouldn’t let him win. He needed to be knocked down a peg or two. Put in his place. And she was just the woman to do it.

Eight
Charles’s mother rang back not fifteen minutes later. The woman was ruthless.
Victoria struggled to sound anything but exasperated by her repeated calls. “I’m afraid he’s in a meeting,” she said, just as he had instructed her. In a meeting, on another line. He never took personal calls at work. “But I would be happy to take a message.”
“I don’t mean to bother,” she said, which is how she began all of her phone conversations, whether it was the first or tenth call of the day. “I’m just calling about the party, to extend a formal invitation.”
Again? Hadn’t Victoria already sent an RSVP for him? How many times did she have to invite her own son? “I’ll let Charles know,” she said automatically.
“Oh, no, not for Charles,” she said. “For you.”
For her? But…
Oh, no, he didn’t. He wouldn’t.

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