I dropped the milk carton. The contents streamed over the immaculate black tiles.
“I’m guessing that got your attention?” Renée was merciless.
“I…Wh…What?” I stuttered.Fuck!What had I been thinking?
I hadn’t been thinking.
What a goddamn idiot!
“But wait…there’s more…” Renée continued. “Turns out that pretty little engagement rock of yours is worth over twenty-five big ones. And when I say big ones, I mean million, babe. Twenty-fivemillionfucking dollars!”
I choked and raised my hand where the pink gem sparkled accusingly. It was as heavy as a brick.
Renée’s voice was still unraveling in my ear. “So, what do you think happens, babe? When a killer who’s holding your brother hostage sees you flashing a rock like that around? Go on, take a guess!” I swallowed hard. I needed to sit down. Renée was clearly stressed to the max. Who could blame her? She’d probably been fielding my calls.
Emilio!
“I’m so mad right now, you stupid woman!” Renée went on without pity. “Check your goddamn messages, for fuck’s sakes. I need time to cool down. I love you, dammit!”
“I love you too,” I replied weakly, but the line had gone dead.
Oh, sweet Jesus…what have I done?
Dropping my phone on the counter, I rubbed my face with both hands. What now? My God, what now? If Prince found out about this, there’s no way he’d be as lenient as he had been about my old client last night. He knew about the escort stuff. This mob angle? Not a chance.
I groaned into my palms, then raised my head as a sharp rap at the door broke into my pity party.
Horatio?I wondered. All I wanted was the feeling of strong arms around me, but there’s no way that was Prince at the door. Horatio would be a warm shoulder. And he’d seen me in my gym gear enough times to overlook the sheet toga. I stumbled to the door, tugging the swathes of fabric free of my legs.
I yanked it open, expecting to see Horatio’s warm, familiar features. And looked straight into a pair of eyes like shards of glass. Raven waves framed the face of an angel – if an angel would ever adopt a cruel sneer of contempt. The woman in front of me was wearing a tailored white suit that had to have been made for her perfect body. Beside her, a Gucci travel-bag was leaning against the door frame. I stood gawping for a second, desperately trying to string a sentence together. She beat me to it.
“Good morning,” she said coolly, her eyes taking me in, and clearly finding me inadequate. I’m Angelique Delavigne.” She smoothly extended a slender hand. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
Book 4
Desired by The Broken Prince
Chapter 1
Sasha Ramirez
Istared in astonishment at the woman in the doorway. Angelique Delavigne. We’d never met, but of course, I knew who she was. Who didn’t? Her flawless face had stared back at me out of dozens of glossy magazines over the years. It was staring at me now, her icy beauty leaving me speechless.
“Nice look,” she said smoothly. The edge to her words was unmistakable, but I was still reeling from what she’d said a moment before.
I believe you have something that belongs to me.
I clutched the sheet closer, painfully aware of being naked under it.
“Prince isn’t here right now,” I finally said, wishing there was more weight to my voice. I sounded like a terrified little girl. It was hardly surprising. That was exactly how I felt.
An impeccable eyebrow rose, and she released my eyes and glanced down at where my hands were twisted into the sheet in a death grip. They locked onto the glittering gem on my left hand and then back up at my face. It occurred to me that this is what she felt belonged to her. This chunk of stone, and what it represented – perhaps more than the man who gave it to me. She advanced and I stepped aside hastily as she swept past me like royalty.
“Love what you’ve done to the place, darling,” she called over her shoulder as she strolled into the living area as if she owned it. My purse had been thrown onto a chair and my shoes were tossed carelessly nearby. Prince’s suit jacket was lying on the floor nearby, the expensive folds crumpled into a heap. A crimson scrap in the top pocket reminded me that I’d never retrieved my panties last night. I prayed she didn’t take a closer look.
“Of course, I’ll get this crap cleaned up as soon as I move back in,” she said breezily.
“Is there something I can help you with, Angelique?” I tried to keep my words measured. I wanted her to get the hell out.
