Which meant he had to spend the evening at her side, smiling and pretending to enjoy himself. But not touching. Not even skimming his knuckle down her bare arm or testing the softness of those teasing strawberry-blond tendrils.
Fotis glowered as he accompanied her downstairs and into the waiting limousine. Bad enough to waste his time looking after a spoiled princess but to have his body quicken whenever she was around… It was the ultimate betrayal.
Fortunately keeping his mind on potential threats would give him no time to think about his sudden unaccountably bad taste in women.
Rosamund reminded herself she was used to discomfort. Royal duty was often tedious if not downright trying. But tonight she wished she could run away.
Impossible! Shewantedto attend. This was important to her. She’d known it would be tough, but today’s events at the couturier had thrown her more than she wanted to admit.
The idea of wearing that dress… It brought memories of the secret pain her mother had hidden behind optimism and a determination to look forward, not back. She wouldn’t betray her mother’s memory by wearing it.
She shuddered and bit her lip, turning to look at the passing view of Paris in the street lights, not wanting the man beside her to see—
‘Are you cold? Do you want the air-conditioning changed?’
Silently she cursed his perspicacity. Fotis Mavridis saw too much. Whereas most men looked at her and saw what they wanted to see, she had the uncomfortable notion he was different.
Keeping her real self private had been the key to her survival. The thought of anyone breaching that barrier unnerved her. Usually she was confident about hiding her feelings and vulnerabilities. But today, anticipating tonight’s event, she felt too raw, as if someone had scrubbed her skin with a steel brush until it bled.
Stop being a drama queen. You can do this! Think of all those years when your mother hid her feelings so successfully that the public had no inkling of her hurt.
But thinking of her mother only made everything worse. She’d been her rock. Rosamund missed her love, her guidance, her company. Sometimes she felt so terribly alone.
She dreaded tonight as much as she longed for it.
Rosamund sensed the big man beside her on the back seat shift his weight. ‘Princess?’
‘No, thank you. The temperature is fine.’
Schooling her features, she turned to look at him, but avoided his eyes. He’d make a stir tonight. Not handsome yet brutally attractive with severe features that had their own stark beauty. A superb body that looked just as good in a tuxedo as it did in a leather jacket and jeans.
What would he look like, naked?
She felt her eyes widen at the wayward thought and almost welcomed the distraction.
The press would have a field day when she arrived with him. It would fuel a whole new round of rumours and speculation. By tomorrow there’d be stories that she’d torn him away from his long-term love. Or that they were part of a scandalous love triangle. The options were endless.
After the press shredded her reputation, there’d been a stage when she’d frequented parties that veered towards the scandalous. No amount of effort had convinced her father or anyone else that she’d been an innocent, wronged by a vengeful lover. So in a fit of indignation she’d decided to live up to her party girl reputation.
That phase had been short. It wasn’t the life she wanted. But though that was years ago, the press still typecast her as a shallow fun-seeker. No doubt tomorrow’s stories about her and Mavridis would be salacious or full of innuendo.
At least Mavridis wouldn’t look out of place at the formal event, or as her supposed lover.
Imagine the reaction if she’d turned up with the podgy, balding bureaucrat she’d first imagined him.
‘Something amuses you?’
His low voice was a deep purr, brushing her skin and making her nipples bud. Instinctively she folded her arms across her body.
‘I was just imagining how popular you’ll be tonight. You could well have talent scouts approaching you. The place will be full of casting agents, among others.’
He didn’t look impressed. She doubted much impressed this man. Certainly not her. ‘I already have a job.’
‘Just what does your business do,KyrieMavridis?’
‘Fotis. We’ll need to use first names in public.’
Silently, she formed the word in her head, wondering how it would taste on her tongue. Inexplicably she wished she could keep calling him by his surname. It felt safer.
