Page 5 of Some Like It Royal

“Hello?”

“Daniel Voldakov?” Her husky voice sounded smoother, more alert.

“Hello, Princess.” He leaned back in the chair and turned around to look out the window. He couldn’t see the parking garage from his vantage, but he could imagine her yellow tank top, white shorts and long tan legs.

“Why don’t you just call me Alyx and skip the whole royal shtick, okay?” Impatience crept into her voice. Impatience and if he wasn’t mistaken, curiosity.

“All right, Alyx. If you want me to call you that.”

“I do.”

He nodded, though she couldn’t see him. “Done. See, I’m a reasonable man. I take it you’ve thought about my offer.” He’d imagined it would take her longer. Worried really.

“Yes. I wasn’t going to call. In fact, I was just going to throw out your card, but since you did bring me coffee, I figured I owed you a little courtesy.”

Damn.

“It’s a no, then?” He pursed his lips and glanced back at the file about her.

“Exactly. Thanks for the thought.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Voldakov.”

“Until next time, Miss Dagmar.” He listened to the distinct pause as his words sank in. When the phone clicked off, he picked up the P.I.’s report. She wanted to be an actress.

Switching to his desktop phone, he dialed his secretary’s number. “Lucy.”

“Mr. Voldakov, it’s not nine. You know the rules.” The older woman had been with him since he opened his first business out of his garage. A family neighbor for thirty years, she was the only one who could get away with talking to him like that.

And she never called him Mr. Voldakov unless he annoyed her.

“I’ll put a ten-dollar bill in your candy jar as soon as I hang up.” He also didn’t mind paying the penalty fee. She kept candy for all the employees’ kids when they visited and more for her own grandchildren, and he paid a fine for every out-of-office-hours call.

It worked for them.

“All right, what can I do for you?”

“What do you know about advertising for an actress?”

* * *

Three days later,he leaned back in the auditorium of the theater he’d rented for the day. His secretary’d placed an advertisement in all the papers for a casting call. They’d listed very specific qualities and appearance. He’d gone through every resume and photograph that arrived until he found Alyx Dagmar’s.

She was the only one he wanted, and she was the only one who made the cut.

He wrote the script himself. It was a bastardized version ofMy Fair Lady, but he didn’t care. The names and the places were all that mattered—well, and the princess in question.

The theater crew admitted her, gave her access to a dressing room and the pages she would cold read for the part. Right on schedule she walked out on the stage. He knew she couldn’t see him in the darkened theater.

Clasping his hands together, he sat back and watched as she took her spot. “Whenever you’re ready.” He called quietly, certain it would carry.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” She lifted her hand as though holding a glass up to make a toast. Dressed in the simple green strapless gown, with her glorious ruby hair pinned up, she seemed as glamorous as any model. “It is time for us to remove our masks, to reveal ourselves to each other in the fine tradition of the old-world masquerade. Have you danced with a duke? Did you dine with a princess? Did you discover your true love?”

She flowed three steps toward the lip of the stage, the single spotlight highlighting the magnificent column of her throat. He held his breath. She was better than he imagined. With all the gesture of flourish she mimed the removal of a mask. Her smile lit up her face and he leaned forward.

An air of expectancy hung around her, cloaking her as her smile turned coy, secretive. The notes said she was to react to surprise with a hint of delight. But the riot of emotion she let play over her face captivated him.

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