And then he’d kissed her, held her, made her laugh until her sides hurt. He played with her and he talked to her.
Heplayedwith her.
Her stomach rippled.
“Victor?” She glanced up at the mirror, wildly aware of the women working on her face and her hair. He looked over at her, cell phone in his hand.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“How do most fairy tales end?”
“It depends. Do you prefer the traditional tales or the Americanized version?”
She grinned. “I’m definitely an All-American kind of girl.”
“Then happily. We have a plan?”
“Yes.” She nodded slowly. “Yes, we do.”
Chapter21
Daniel
Daniel hated L.A. traffic. She stole his damn car. She’d stolen his car and left him. The resort offered him a driver, but he paid a fee to borrow their car and used the driving time to focus on his pitch to the grand duke. But frankly, he didn’t give a damn about the consortium, the prince or his wardrobe. If his tux hadn’t been laid out and ready for him when he arrived at home, yelling for Alyx, he would have just left it there. All the way home from Big Bear, her note haunted him.
What happened to the fun lover with her playful touches and erotic kisses? He’d left her sprawled and satisfied on the bed to shower, then walked out to find her gone and a note about a party with the grand duke and a stilted promise to meet him there. Why the hell hadn’t she come in to tell him? They could have driven back together.
Unless the princess gig means a hell of a lot more to her than I do. And why shouldn’t it? It’s her family. It’s all she could possibly have wanted—a real family, real ties…
He scowled as the car in front of him lurched forward a few inches, only to slam on its brakes again.
He hit the button on the Bluetooth and told the phone to call Victor Russell. He’d already talked to Martin—his best friend was too busy chortling over the success of his insane plan to be of much use. He grimaced at the harsh thought—it was hardly Martin’s fault that he’d let himself get caught up in the fantasy.
But what was more real?
The woman he found in her car or the princess who glided on his arm?
And does it really matter? You wanted her to be a princess. It just never occurred to you what would happen when that duckling turned into the swan, did it?
“Mr. Voldakov.” Russell’s stiff tone greeted him.
“You haven’t by any chance seen my fiancée this afternoon, have you?” The fiancée who wasn’t answering her cell phone, hadn’t been at the house and had left him with a cryptic note and a case of self-examination the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since the days he got bullied in high school.
“Why, yes, I just put her in a car on the way to the Beverly Hilton for the reception.” The man’s tone was cool. Too cool.
Eyes narrowing, Daniel glared at the traffic still insisting on inching its way forward. “And would you happen to know if she has her phone with her?”
“She did, but I’m afraid she forgot it in the rush to get ready. We had to pick out a new dress, shoes and accessories befitting her rank before her presentation to the grand duke.”
Logical, reasoned responses to the invitation and all perfect in keeping with their original deal—but something was off.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I am so pleased that you asked. The princess arrived for her personal shopping appointment very upset. It seems she’s concerned that she broke her contract with you—heartsick, in fact.”
His chest tightened. “How does she feel she broke it?”
“I would not be one to betray confidences, Mr. Voldakov. It is both a personal and moral affront.”