Page 5 of His Highness's Hidden Heir

Given the absolute dearth of spontaneity and the growing pressure to find a “suitable” partner and produce an heir, Magnus mostly eschewed sex—which probably contributed to his terrible disposition.

He’d grown numb to all of it.

Tonight, however, he’d felt something besides the frustration of living in a cage. Sure, it had been lust, but it was overwhelming lust. The sight of that woman had shaken him awake, spurring him with fierce need. When they danced, her voice and scent and grace had piqued his appetite. Not just for sex, although in his mind her legs had already been around his waist. No, he’d wantedher. It wasn’t rational or even civilized, but he didn’t care. From the moment their eyes had met, he’d made up his mind that she would come to his room.

Then she’d rejected him.

You should talk to your people.

He hated talking to his people. He hated what they said.

Not a good look, sir. Absolutely not.

Magnus had walked out of the gala, loathing these hellish appearances anyway.

He’d bumped into King Felipe of Nazarine on his way to the elevators. They had a friendly acquaintance, both facing a similar challenge of representing a small island nation on the greater world stage. They’d stepped into this breakout room long enough to agree to support each other’s position at an upcoming climate conference, then Felipe had escorted his wife, Claudine, to the ballroom.

“I saw a photographer in the mezzanine,” Ulmer said, barely looking up from his tablet. “We can avoid him by using the service elevator.” He signaled one of the bodyguards to check the catering hall.

At that moment, the door thrust inward.

Magnus caught a glimpse of bronze and blonde, heard a cry of alarm, then his guard shoved the intruder against the wall with far too much force.

“Let her go!” Magnus was across the room before any of the security protocols that had been drilled into him could register. He clasped his bodyguard’s shoulder in the bite of his hand and yanked him away from her, damned near throwing him across the room.

“Sir!” That was Ulmer, trying to prevent a scuffle as his bodyguard turned on Magnus in reflex before realizing his employer was the one attacking him.

“She could be armed, sir,” the bodyguard said, tugging his jacket straight and keeping a watchful eye on Lexi.

She turned so her back was to the wall, but her shoulders were hunched and her arms were folded upward defensively. She had one hand pressed to her cheek.

“In that dress? Use your eyes!” Magnus took hold of her wrist, trying to draw her hand down so he could examine her cheek.

She shook him off and slid sideways, still darting frightened looks around the room.

“Let me see,” Magnus ordered.

He placed himself between her and the rest of the men, trying to remember to be gentle as he crooked his finger under her chin, but he was beside himself with unnatural fury, especially when he saw how red her cheekbone was.

“If this bruises, I’ll give you one to match it,” he told his bodyguard in Isleifisch. It was a modern version of Old Norse that was more a dialect between Danish and Norwegian, given Isleif’s close ties to both countries.

Lexi brushed his hand off her face, still trembling.

“You’re safe,” Magnus assured her, belatedly switching to English.

She made a choked noise that held such lack of belief, the hair on the back of his neck rose. Then something caught her attention beyond him.

“There’s nothing in there but my phone and room card,” she protested crossly. “And that clutch is on loan. Kindly don’t destroy it.”

Magnus swore and held out his hand to Ulmer, who had turned out the lining of her rhinestone-bedecked handbag.

Ulmer was about to tear the silk open, but replaced the contents and disdainfully handed it to Magnus.

“It’s our job to protect you, sir,” Ulmer said in English, no hint of apology in his tone. “She’s already damaged your reputation. Now she’s followed you in here? Why?” He directed that last imperious query to Lexi.

“I wanted privacy to use my phone.” She snatched the clutch from Magnus. “You can all go to hell. I have my own threats to deal with.” She slid along the wall again, distancing herself as she placed a call.

“All clear, sir.” The bodyguard who’d been sent into the service hall came in the far door.

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