Page 1 of His Highness's Hidden Heir

CHAPTER ONE

THEADAGETHATSAIDIf you want something done right, do it yourselfdefined Lexi Alexander’s twenty-five years of life.

Unfortunately, there were some things she simply couldn’t do. For instance, she couldn’t be famous and also be her own security detail.

Quietly cursing under her breath, she dismissed Nishan, the bodyguard her brother had hired, and left for the ballroom alone.

Poor Nishan hadn’t meant to contract food poisoning. She knew that. Hadley was the real problem. Her brother had hired a man who hadn’t been up to the task of protecting her even before he’d lost his lunch. Nishan hadn’t known how to navigate her through the airports or the streets of Paris and there’d been a very un-reassuring alarm in his eyes as they’d run the gauntlet of paparazzi from the car to the hotel. He had allowed stylists to come and go from her room all afternoon without checking their bags. Now Lexi was without an escort as she joined the queue in the corridor, inching their way toward the ballroom.

She was perfectly safe, she reassured herself. The hotel was in a type of lockdown, given the guest list for this gala included muckety-mucks from across Europe. It wasn’t as though she wore millions of dollars in jewels the way she used to when attending something like this. Her fall from grace two years ago meant she’d had to call in a favor to rent one of last year’s gowns, and her jewelry was costume. Very good costume, but costume nonetheless.

The bloom was so far off her rose, she half expected to be refused entry.

Which would break her, financially and emotionally. She had dropped funds she couldn’t afford on the flight, the hotel and the plate fee of a five-figure donation benefiting war-injured children. She was hoping her attendance would polish out some of the tarnish on her reputation, but was really here to “bump into” one of the other guests, a French woman Lexi desperately wanted to direct her in an adaptation she was trying to get off the ground.

All of this was high-stakes gambling, something Lexi objected to in principle, but she had so few choices. Being famous since childhood meant she was perceived as rich and powerful. That made her a favorite target for paparazzi and others who were even less savory. She would love to get a job as a barista and live a quiet life above a bookstore, but that option wasn’t available to her. She had cut back as much as she could, but she still needed an income that would pay the mortgage on her high-security mansion and allow her to keep her staff.

“Ms. Alexander.” A young woman in a little black dress greeted her with a smile of recognition when Lexi arrived at the front of the line. It was the delighted smile Lexi had seen most of her life. The one that seemed to exclaim,You’re that girl from that show!

The young woman’s expression faltered, the way they all did these days, as she recalled the more recent headlines: Unapproved Ingredients. Chemical Burns. Class Action Lawsuit.

The young woman touched her earpiece and flashed Lexi a more sober look. “May I ask you to step to the side with me, please?”

No.Lexi kept her star-powered smile frozen in place. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all. Only...” As they moved to the left of the entryway, the young woman looked back the way Lexi had come.

Lexi followed her gaze and watched all the people in their tuxedos and evening gowns, designer shoes and sparkling jewels, step toward the wall. Some bowed their heads.

She heard someone murmur, “Your Highness,” right before a man—an absoluteViking—appeared.

He was tall, six four at least. He led his entourage like an invading party, ignoring everyone as he marched toward the ballroom, head high with his right to cut the line.

Maybe Lexi was supposed to lower her gaze, too, but she was too dazzled.

He wore a gorgeous tuxedo with a white jacket that hugged his broad shoulders. A sash of midnight blue was tucked beneath it, running diagonally from his left shoulder to his right hip where the silk protruded. It was pinned with a silver emblem shaped like a starburst. A row of medals sat in a line above his pocket square and a crest of some kind was embroidered on the pocket.

His dark blond hair was combed back from his forehead, revealing the rugged bone structure of his brow and cheeks and jaw. His nose was hawkish, his mouth wide and accentuated by his closely trimmed bronze beard.

All of that was mesmerizing enough, but hiseyes. They were such a vivid blue, they made her shiver as his gaze slammed into hers while he approached.

He turned his head as he passed her, holding her gaze an extra second, never missing a step in his long, ground-eating stride.

Then she was staring at the pewter wolf’s head that secured his long hair at his nape.

He melted into the crowded ballroom, taking all his dynamic energy with him, leaving a wake of rippling voices.

“Whew!” Lexi heard beside her. She had completely forgotten the young woman who was now blushing and fanning her face. “They told me to let him go by without stopping him. You can go in now. Thank you for waiting.”

Lexi dragged her mind back to where she was and what she was supposed to be doing, but her thoughts were scattered like stars across the sky.

“Who, um, who is he?” she asked under her breath.

“Prince Magnus of Isleif.”

“Of course.” She pretended that meant something to her, but she was an American born in Scottsdale, Arizona. She’d been raised on film sets and didn’t know much about the royals of Europe. Isleif was an island somewhere between Denmark and Greenland, if she recalled her online geography classes correctly. Otherwise, she knew nothing about it.

With a nod of thanks, she entered the busy ballroom.

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