Читать книгу Christmas in His Royal Bed / Rossellini's Revenge Affair - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 10

Two

Who did she think she was to speak to him in such a manner?

Nicolas had never been turned down like that before.

He blinked once, slowly, searching his memory for a similar incident that might have taken place during his lifetime.

No, he didn’t think he’d been turned down ever.

Had she actually implied that he was incapable of finding his own female companionship? Or that he had to order Osric to pay a woman to spend time with him?

He shook his head, still not quite believing what had just taken place. Behind him, Osric shuffled closer, looming over his right shoulder.

“Your Highness, shall I go after her and bring her back so that you may finish your conversation?”

Nicolas could picture his oversize bodyguard, who closely resembled a brick wall, tackling Miss Sanchez to the ground and carting her back to him…and the fuss the lady would kick up if he so much as tried.

“No, thank you, Osric,” he replied. “I believe I’ll be returning to the suite alone this evening.”

Placing his hands on the tabletop in front of him, he stood and straightened the front of his jacket, then started out of the ballroom, with his trusty security guard close on his heels.

He should be upset, Nicolas thought, as they made their way through the hotel to his private, luxurious suite on the thirty-third floor.

Ironically, he was more intrigued than ever by the ebony-haired beauty. It was her face and figure that had first caught his attention, and seeing her up close hadn’t changed his mind about having her in his bed.

He would have expected a dressing-down such as she’d given him to turn him off, to make him realize he didn’t want to sleep with a woman who possessed such a sharp tongue. Instead, her spirit fired his blood.

If anything, he found himself wanting her more. She was lovely and fierce, and he could only imagine how passionately those qualities would translate between the sheets.

Alandra Sanchez might think she’d gotten in the last word downstairs, when she’d all but told him to take his offer and go straight to the devil. But Prince Stephan Nicolas Braedon was used to getting his way, getting what he wanted.

And he wanted her.

So he would have her. He only had to figure out how.

One week later…

“Pop? Alandra? Is anybody here?”

Alandra heard her sister calling from downstairs, and was more than happy to take a break from the event plans she’d been working on all afternoon.

Since Elena had moved out of their father’s house and into her own with her new husband, Chase, Alandra didn’t get to see her as often as she used to.

Abandoning her desk, she found her sister looking slightly frazzled as she flipped through a pile of mail stacked beside a large arrangement of fresh flowers on the round table in the center of the foyer. When she heard Alandra’s approach, Elena raised her head and rolled her eyes.

“A reporter tried to follow my car through the security gate,” she snapped, waving a hand over her shoulder in the direction of the front door. “He was camped out front, waiting.”

Alandra frowned, moving closer to give her sister a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry. I really thought they’d have lost interest by now and moved on to something else.”

“It’s not your fault,” Elena said with a sigh, returning Alandra’s hug. “And eventually they will lose interest and move on.”

“So what are you doing here?” she asked distractedly, her mind still on the reporter. It was one thing for her to be harassed and annoyed because of her own foolish actions, but it was another for her family to be dragged into this mess.

“Since Chase won’t be home for dinner because of a late meeting, I thought I’d stop by to say hello, see how you and Pop are doing, and grab a bite to eat. Not to mention picking up any stray mail,” she added, stuffing a few letters into the side pocket of her handbag.

Her sister had married and moved out last year, but the change-of-address process took time, and the odd letter or piece of mail showed up for her occasionally.

“Well, dinner will be served at seven, as usual, and as far as I know, everything is fine around here. Pop is still at the office, and I’ve just been working on the plans for that fund-raiser for the animal shelters.”

“Will Chase and I be invited?” Elena asked.

“Of course.”

“Looks like you got something important,” her sister said, nodding toward the letter left on top of the stack.

Alandra picked up the thick envelope and read the return address, which was embossed in dark blue, fancy raised script on parchment-quality stationery. “H.R.H. Prince Stephan Nicolas Braedon, Kingdom of Glendovia.”

“His Royal Highness?” Elena asked. “Really? You got a letter from a prince?”

“It appears so.” She opened the envelope and skimmed the official-looking letterhead and neatly typed text of the top page. Then, heart stuttering, she read it again. “Oh, my God,” she breathed.

“What?”

“This Prince Stephan wants me to come to his kingdom and oversee all of their fund-raising organizations.”

Both sisters scanned the letter. It touched on Alandra’s past fund-raising accomplishments, which the prince claimed were very impressive, and stressed how much Glendovia could use her assistance. He even went so far as to enclose copies of a contract for her employment that he hoped she would peruse and strongly consider signing.

Lifting the cover sheet, Alandra read the one-page agreement. It briefly outlined her duties and obligations, if she chose to accept the royal family’s offer, as well as their obligations to her.

“Do you think this is legitimate?” Elena demanded.

The Braedon name did ring some bells. “I guess it would be easy enough to check out,” she replied.

The two of them went into Alandra’s office, where she started going through her guest lists, and her sister did a quick search on the Internet.

“Huh,” Elena said when they discovered at almost the same moment that Stephan Nicolas Braedon was, indeed, a bona fide prince, and the island of Glendovia really did exist. According to Alandra’s records, another member of the Braedon royal family—a Princess Mia—had attended one of her recent fund-raisers.

“What are you going to do?” Elena asked.

“Well, I’ll reply, of course, and thank him for the generous offer, but I can’t possibly accept. I’m already knee-deep in organizing my next event, and Christmas is a month off. I don’t want to be away from my family over the holidays.”

“I don’t blame you, but you have to admit it’s a flattering offer.”

Extremely flattering, Alandra thought, glancing once again at the raised script of the letterhead. She almost wanted to reach out and run her fingertips over the prince’s name. Her letter of refusal definitely wouldn’t be an easy one to write.

“But maybe…”

Alandra glanced at her sister. “What?”

“I was just thinking that maybe this position in Glendovia is exactly what you need.”

Alandra frowned. “What?”

“Well, things are anything but simple around here for you right now. You’ve got a reporter camped outside the house, that jerk Winters still calling you, and…well…” Her gaze skittered away and her voice softened slightly. “I heard that last week’s fund-raiser didn’t go as well as your events usually do.”

Alandra took a breath, trying not to let the pain of having her shortcomings pointed out by her own flesh and blood overwhelm her.

Running a supportive hand down her arm, Elena continued. “I was just thinking that if you got away for a while, where no one could find you, this would all blow over. And when you came back, you could get on with your life as though none of it had ever happened.”

“But I would be away from you guys,” Alandra murmured. “Over Christmas.”

“You could come back before then. But even if you didn’t, it’s only one holiday. There’s always next year.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, her sister added, “I don’t necessarily want you to go, I’m just saying that maybe you should think it over and do what’s best for you. I think Pop would agree.”

“I’ll consider it,” Alandra said, realizing her sister was making a good point. Perhaps the best way to leave all this scandal behind was to fly off to a foreign country.