Prince Rowan has a reputation as a bit of a playboy.
He’s fucked his way around Europe a time or two.
So I don’t take this all that seriously. I doubt most people here do. He’s had more photographs with women thanPlayboydid in the sixties. But they’re still looking, wondering, questioning, and that’s the last thing I can afford. Then again, if anyonehas intel, it’s him. Maybe Prince Rowan is the piece I’ve been missing all night.
Perhaps a dance or two won’t hurt anything.
2
ROWAN
This entire night has been a bore. Person after person shaking my hand and bowing and trying to impress me while asking when I’ll be the next to settle down. Then there are the women. The same old women in the same old gowns with the same old look. Women of money, power, and influence. Their daughters, too.
Vultures who came here tonight to gossip, make connections, and try to snag a prince as their prize.
Yawn.
I’ve turned it into a bit of a game. With every new introduction, seductive look, or flirty remark, I take a sip of my drink. I’ve upped the ante to add drinking to every snarky remark made about Bellamy. By the end of this night, I’ll either be too drunk to have fucks left to give or start speaking my mind instead of taking the diplomatic route as I’ve been trained to.
It’s the Bellamy shit-talking that’s throwing me over the edge more than the advantageous women. I thank the heavens daily for my new sister-in-law. She not only broke the curse but also brought my asshole of a brother back to life.She’s sunshine and beauty, and these women have ugly, greed-darkened souls.
They’re all the same. Every single one of them.
Until her. Ella. Raven hair, dark eyes, come-fuck-me red lips, and a sharp-as-a-knife tongue. She was right there watching me, catching me yawn in the middle of a royal wedding party. After casually calling me out for being exactly what I was, bored, she simply sauntered off as if she hadn’t just made it impossible to take a breath.
I watched her go, irritated she didn’t so much as look back once. The one woman in the entire place I actually wanted to talk to, and she wasn’t interested. It took me another hour to find her, but I did. Now I have her in my arms with no intention of letting her go tonight.
The orchestra throws me a bone and picks some version of a popular song and plays it to a soft tempo. I bring her into my arms, one hand on her lower back and the other holding her hand. Her hands have a texture. Like fine sandpaper. It surprises me. These aren’t the hands of a lady. These hands are no strangers to work. And her eyes. There’s something about them. About the particular shade of black-brown.
Still, even as the questions mount, I can’t stop staring at her. It was actually her skin I noticed first. It’s creamy white and such a contrast to her hair, eyes, and dark makeup. It’s so damn pretty and almost glows silver like her gown. She also smells good. Like fresh air and winter nights and heat. Not like perfume but like skin.
Inwardly, I chuckle. I’m fucking drunk. When the hell have I ever noticed a woman’sskinbefore? A woman who is also visibly unhappy to be dancing with me and making sure she keeps a solid bubble of space between us.
It makes me smile like a devil.
“Do you think the space you’re forcing will keep you safe from me?”
I get a quirked eyebrow. “Do I need safety from you, Your Highness?”
My hand on her lower back slips a notch, and I draw her in where I want her. This time, she doesn’t fight me. Her hand on my shoulder slides to the crook of my neck at my collar as I spin us around the dance floor, ignoring the annoying tickling sensation of eyes on us.
“Call me Rowan.”
“Are you safe for me, Rowan?”
The way she says my name in that sexy voice of hers makes my cock twitch.
“I’m the safest person in the room.”
A small tinkling of a laugh hits her lips, so light and sweet. Such a contradiction to everything dark she appears to be. “There’s nothing safe about you, Your Highness.”
I twirl us in circles, both of us good enough dancers that we don’t have to mind the steps, and I can focus on her. “Does that thought excite you?”
She stares up at me as if she’s giving this genuine thought. “Perhaps. But before you start getting ahead of yourself with me, I’m not safe either.”
“Noted.” Challenge accepted. “I like the way you said my name.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
