Page 35 of The Billionaire's Princess

His entire body turns to ice right in front of me, starting from his expression down. It’s like watching the birth of a North Atlantic glacier.

The transformation is unsettling.

“Absolutely,” he says coldly. “That’s the first thing I thought when you walked into Bemelmans. ‘Damn. She’s gorgeous. I sure want to fuck her. And, by the way, wouldn’t it be great if she’s also a princess?’”

“Damon—”

“Maybe you want to land a billionaire. The best billionaire. Should we talk about that possibility?”

I freeze, outraged by the implication even as I privately acknowledge that a man in his position is no doubt always concerned about opportunists. And God knows that if it was up to my father, he’d demand financial statements from both Percy and Damon, then happily hand me over to the one with the most zeros before the decimal point on his bottom line.

But while my father may be that person, I am not.

A glare-off ensues.

“There’s not enough money in the world to saddle myself with a man I don’t love for the rest of my life,” I snap. “Don’t be such an arse.”

“Don’t insult me with stupid questions.”

“I’ll do my best not to. But you can understand my concern.”

“And you can understand mine.”

“Are you going to shoot daggers from your eyeballs at me for the rest of the night?” I ask when he shows no signs of thawing out. “Maybe I should find my parka.”

That steely gaze never wavers.

“I don’t claim to know what’s going on between us, princess. But it’s real.”

“Well, thank God for that,” I say before I think better of it. “Since I’m about to take a rather large leap of faith in pursuing our relationship and I’d hate to wind up looking like a fool.”

Those are evidently the magic words. He hesitates, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring. Then he blows out a breath, takes my face between his hands and pulls me close for a nuzzle and a whisper in my ear.

“I can’t wait to be inside you again, Carly. I’m living for it.”

Naturally, I melt into him.

“So am I.”

The sound of approaching male voices breaks the spell between us, jarring me back to reality whether I want to go or not. Damon lets me go, and we share a regretful look as we hastily get up and return to our original seats. But the prickling electricity from our mutual attraction must linger in the air. Or maybe my burning cheeks give me away. Because my father’s expression is a bit startled when he reenters, and Percy—oh, God, Percy; what’s he doing here?—looks absolutely stricken as his smile fades and he studies the scene.

My father recovers first.

“Look who’s popped in to join us for dinner, Charlotte,” he says, recapturing his usual charm with evident difficulty. “Percy couldn’t wait to see you once I mentioned you’d be in town, so I told him to come round.”

Brilliant. My meddling father strikes again.

“Hi, Percy.” I hastily stand and smooth my dress, flustered, before meeting him halfway for a double kiss on the cheeks. “This is a surprise.”

“Clearly.” Percy is usually the sweetest, most laid-back person in the room. Which makes the rough edge in his voice and tight jaw even more upsetting as he turns to Damon, who also stands, and extends a hand. “We meet again.”

“We do indeed,” Damon says grimly as they shake.

Damon and Percy don’t take their eyes off each other. I’ve no idea what sorts of subliminal masculine messages volley between the two of them, but it makes dread trickle down my spine.

My father claps his hands in a valiant effort to act normal.

“What can we get you to drink, Percy? We started without you, but I think we can—”

“Forgive me, but I thought I detected a certain chemistry in the air just now.” Percy splits his attention between me and Damon. I hate seeing that wounded look in his eyes beneath his anger. Percy doesn’t deserve to be hurt. But knowing that and saving him from it are two different things. “Anything I need to know?”

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