Page 17 of Trapped with the Undercover Prince

He waved that away. “No, I would like to ask if ...” He paused for a moment, glanced at Jean Paul, then back at her. “I need a girlfriend for a few days?”

Okay, that request hadn’t been on her radar at all. “Huh?”

The corners of his eyes tightened, a clear sign that whatever had happened wasn’t easy for him to explain.

“I told you about my role as the head of the Lerasian National Police.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered it anyway. “Yes.”

“That isn’t my only role in Lerasia.” He watched her with such utter focus it sent a shiver across her skin and through her body.

Adrenaline hit her system, making her hands tingle, her feet itch to run, and her lungs suck in more air.

Stop. Idiot. He hasn’t even told you what his other job is yet. It wasn’t like he could claim to be the royal torturer or master of the royal dungeon.

She consciously forced herself to breathe slow and even and attempted to smile.

His expression turned more severe. “I am also...Prince Zarius Valentin of Lerasia.”

“Prince...?” She knew Lerasia was a combination of an absolute and a constitutional monarchy; the royal family didn’t rule so much as reign. Every member of the royal family had roles in the government and were extremely active in governing the country.

Wait... Prince? “You’re a prince? As in crowns and thrones and hemophilia?” Her mind took her back to the bedroom behind her and what they’d done on the bed. Then she remembered the photographer from last night. “Oh my God, someone posted pictures of us on the news feeds?”

He nodded, watching her with unfettered focus. “Yes, several.”

Her breathing echoed in her ears. Hyperventilating was a bad idea, as passing out now would be very inconvenient.

She’d inadvertently stumbled into social quicksand and was sinking fast.

Anna put her fork down with the same careful control she used in handling surgical instruments. “I...wow...I had no idea.” She smiled, but knew it was a weak effort. “Um...I’m not sure what I should do next...”

He frowned.

That wasn’t a happy expression.

She winced and stood. “Shall I just be on my way then?”

He got to his feet, and she put her hands out to stop him from moving closer. “I won’t say a word to anyone, okay? As far as I know, you’re just a policeman.” She gave him a weak smile as she backed up toward her bag and picked it up.

The other men in the room got to their feet as well. Marc took several steps toward her, but Zar waved at him to stop.

“Anna, please let me finish.” He had a crooked, embarrassed smile on his face now. The kind of expression a man had on his face after he realized he’d screwed up. Or when he had to explain to someone else how they screwed up.

She looked at the men and realized the truth had been in front of her the whole time. These people weren’t just a team of law enforcement officers conducting an investigation. They were Zar’s bodyguards.

She refocused her attention on Zar, on the pinkish tint to his cheeks. Why hadn’t he told her sooner—before they had sex?

“Do you want me to sign some kind of non-disclosure agreement?”

“No,” Zar said, frustration turning his voice into a growl.

“Yes,” Jean Paul said.

Everyone looked at him.

Jean Paul glanced from her to Zar. “Sir, it’s standard procedure.”

That jerked her out of shock and thrust her into skepticism. “You have one-night stands often enough to have a standard procedure?”

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