Page 3 of Her Prince in Disguise
"Okay," he said with a nod. "That’s a legitimate reason to miss the meeting. But that doesn’t answer my real question." His voice dropped, laced with quiet intensity. "Why didn’t Harold answer the questions today? Why did he dragyouinto this meeting and rely on you to carry it?"
Andi was stumped. She had no idea why Harold hadn’t been prepared. As the chief financial officer, you'd think he’d have a basic grasp of the company's financial health. For a split second, she considered lying—but Andi was a terrible liar. The last time she’d tried had been in elementary school, and it had ended in disaster.
She pressed her lips together, then shrugged. "I’m not sure," she said honestly. "I’ll speak with him and let you know."
Without waiting for a reply, the man turned and tossed over his shoulder, "Come with me," striding out of the room like he owned the building.
Andi followed, silently hurling every curse she could think of at his broad, retreating back. Stepping out into the executive hallway, she paused. It was eerily quiet now. Where had everyone gone? Not that she cared. Frankly, she wasn't in any hurry to find Mr. Arrogant. He might be dreamy, with those wide shoulders and dark, brooding eyes—but she preferred her dream men with basic human decency.
"Andi-Andrea!" he called from the office at the end of the hall.
She spun, glaring at the open double doors. Oh, she would havelovedto tell him exactly where he could stick that bossy tone. But she liked her job—and she was damn good at it. This wasn’t just a paycheck to her; it was a chance to make a realimpact. Way better than her last job, where she’d just crunched numbers and handed them off like a human calculator.
Still, he could use a course or two in basic manners.
Not that she had the guts—or the stupidity—to try teaching him. Gritting her teeth, she marched down the hallway, her notes tucked firmly under her arm. She thought about forcing a polite smile but suspected it would come out closer to a snarl.
Courteous interest and cool professionalism. That’s the play.
When she stepped into the office, Andi forgot herself completely. She stopped short, mouth falling open as she stared out the wall of windows. The Philadelphia skyline glittered like a field of diamonds. From up here, the snarled traffic on I-95 looked almost beautiful—no angry horns, no stench of exhaust, just twinkling streams of light heading north and south.
"You did extremely well in that meeting," his voice cut in, snapping her out of it.
She turned, startled—and wary. Another compliment? Fromhim?
"Thank you," she said stiffly, giving a slight nod. She hated the tremor in her knees. Hated the flutter in her chest. She had never felt like this around a man before—and she definitely didn’t appreciate it now.
He chuckled, reading her like a book, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "You don’t like me very much, do you?"
He poured wine into a tall glass and something darker into a short, heavy tumbler. Scotch? Bourbon? Whiskey? She didn’t know, and didn’t care. Her wine expertise ended atredorwhite, usually chosen based on a funny label or a pretty bottle.
"I don’t know you, sir," she replied coolly, carefully accepting the wine. She made a point of avoiding his fingers. When she glanced up into his eyes, there was a silent exchange—a flicker of acknowledgment that he knew exactly what she was doing.
What an unpleasant, dangerously attractive man.
"How do you possess such extensive knowledge about financial variances?" he asked, motioning toward a sleek seating area in the corner of his absurdly large office.
The sheer size of it irked her. Her office barely fit a desk and a filing cabinet. Forget extra chairs. Visitors didn't come to her—she went to them, usually after being summoned like an errand girl.
Andi tilted her head, surprised he even cared. "That’s my job, sir," she answered, sitting stiffly and placing her notes on her lap. She cupped the wineglass with both hands but didn’t take a sip. No way was she letting her guard down.
"And what exactly is your job?" he pressed.
"I’m a financial analyst on Martin Bloomberg’s team. We analyze the monthly and quarterly data, summarize it, and provide explanations for any variances to Martin. It was my understanding that Martin would then summarizethatand pass it to Harold."
"All evidence to the contrary," he muttered under his breath.
"What’s that?" Andi asked, her curiosity pricking despite every instinct screaming at her to get out of there.
He was dangerous—not in the way she’d feared—but in the way he made her forget she was supposed to be careful.
Chapter 2
Laith Al-Sintra, Royal Prince of Lativa, found this slip of a woman utterly fascinating. She had crystal-blue eyes, soft brown hair, and high cheekbones that caught the light just so. But it was the small, dark freckle right on the edge of her lower lip that kept pulling his gaze. That spot—innocuous yet maddening—drew his attention again and again to her mouth.
Her lips were a work of art. Soft and naturally pink, fuller at the center, shaped into a subtle, perpetual pout without the aid of lipstick. It should have been illegal to look that tempting. Laith wasn’t a fool, but even he wouldn’t dare admit—not even to his twin brother, Rafi—that the spark of fury in Andi McCormick’s blue eyes was...arousing.
Infuriatingly arousing.
