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The Exiled Prince

Page 3

by Jeana E. Mann


  “Did you enjoy your dance?” he asked. If he was displeased with me, the face beneath his mask gave no indication of his feelings. Neither did his tone. “You were a vision out there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone quite so breathtaking.”

  “Thank you.” I felt the blush creeping into my cheeks. “I’d like to take the credit, but my partner was responsible for most of it.”

  His jaw flexed, a small but obvious indication of his disapproval. “He always had a flare for the dramatic.”

  “I thought you didn’t know each other.” Something about his demeanor had changed since we’d parted earlier.

  “We knew each other as children, but we haven’t run in the same circles for a very long time.” As if he sensed my mistrust, he shook his head and smiled sheepishly. “I apologize if my behavior is unacceptable. I’m afraid the sight of you in another man’s arms has brought out my jealous side.” A lot of years had passed since any man had flattered me quite so thoroughly and with such skill. However, pretty words had never turned my head.

  The orchestra segued into the next song, an upbeat, modern tune. Over Nicky’s shoulders, I caught sight of the mystery man. He was talking to a busty beauty with raven hair. The plume of her elaborate gold mask jerked and bobbed as she spoke. His words might have been for her, but his eyes were mine. A dozen yards separated us, but the heat of his gaze seared into me.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Too late, I realized Nicky had asked me a question.

  His gaze followed mine. A frown of frustration shaded his smooth features, a frown he quickly erased. “I said my schedule is full next week, but the week after, I’ll be in Manhattan for meetings. I’d love to take you to dinner.”

  “I appreciate the invitation, but it’s just not possible.” Once I returned home, I needed to find an apartment and a job and check in on my aunt. Nervous anxiety squeezed my stomach. I didn’t want to think about real life. Not yet. Not until I had no other choice.

  Across the room, the dark stranger ended his conversation with the busty woman and strode toward us like a shark slicing through a school of fish. The crowd parted for him then closed in his wake. A wave of heat swept up my chest and into my neck before settling in my face.

  “Tell me your name. Please.” Nicky took my hand, drawing my attention back to him. “I’m begging you.”

  “Don’t beg, Nicky. It’s embarrassing,” the stranger said.

  I placed a hand on my stomach to steady my breathing as his cologne reached my nose. The spicy, masculine, and hypnotic scent conjured images of tangled limbs and fingers clutched in bedsheets.

  Nicky turned and said something low and guttural in Russian to the stranger. Although my Russian was rusty, I caught a few snippets of profanity and the phrase don’t mess with me.

  The stranger laughed before turning to me. “I apologize. We’re being rude.”

  “Are you speaking Russian?” I asked. “I’m afraid I don’t understand much.”

  “Just as well. It’s an uncivilized language,” the stranger said. His stern smile signaled the end of the topic. “I’m about to go for a walk. Would you like to accompany me?”

  Nicky touched my elbow. “Don’t fall for his pretty words. You can’t trust him.”

  “Walk away, Nicky,” the man said. From behind the edges of his plain black mask, dark eyes glittered dangerously.

  “No, I don’t think so.” The younger man squared his shoulders.

  “I’m not asking.”

  Nicky sighed, his tone turning petulant. “You’re breaking the rules.”

  “Ah, but you forget. I make the rules.” The stranger’s posture straightened, his height growing. The cut of his tuxedo suggested a powerful chest beneath his tailored lapels.

  “Did you ever happen to think that maybe she’s not interested?” Nicky’s voice teemed with irritation.

  “And maybe she is. Did you ever think of that?” the stranger asked.

  “Gentleman, please stop talking about me like I’m not in the room,” I said, finding my voice at last. Both men had the good grace to look abashed.

  “Again, I apologize,” said the stranger, his eyes locking with mine. Something about this dark man lit a fire in my veins. I wanted to know more. Who was he? Why was he here? What had he done to gain an invitation?

  “I’d love a tour,” I said. “Nicky and I were about to say goodnight anyway.”

  “Can I have a word in private?” Nicky ducked his head to my ear, speaking too low for the stranger to hear. “Are you sure about this? He’s not the kind of man to be trifled with. You might find yourself in over your head.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself.”

  Nicky glared at the stranger, a silent conversation passing between them. Then his gaze turned to me. After an awkward pause, he let go of my hand and bowed. “It’s been a pleasure, Cinderella. I hope our paths cross again soon.”

  “Goodnight,” I replied. “Thank you for your company this evening.” With long strides, he crossed the ballroom and disappeared into the hallway. Part of me was sad to see him go, but the other part felt relief. Nothing could come of our relationship. It was best to end things before it became too messy. As much as I liked Nicky, I preferred the company of the dark man at my elbow. His attention made me uneasy and exhilarated, like those precious moments of anticipation before a rollercoaster plunged over the first hill.

  “Cinderella? Interesting choice of names.” He closed the distance between us until his shiny shoes rested next to my sandals.

  “Yes. I like it. And you are?” Dangerous. The answer flashed through my head. I pushed away the assumption. Nothing about this man seemed threatening, except to my ovaries, which had begun a dance of excitement.

  “My friends say I’m the devil.” Once again, he took my hand in his. The intimate glide of his fingers between mine unleashed a repressed longing to feel those fingers elsewhere on my body. “But I suppose if you’re Cinderella, then I’ll be your Prince Charming.”

  “That’s a little presumptuous, isn’t it?” I baited him in an uncharacteristically flirtatious tone, my confidence buoyed by Nicky’s attentions and too much champagne.

  “It’s not presumptuous. It’s a truth. That’s something you should know about me. I only deal with facts.”

  Somehow, in the space of our conversation, we’d drifted toward one of the curtained alcoves along the perimeter of the room. When the curtain closed behind us with a whisper of velvet, and the bright colors of the ballroom dimmed into candlelit darkness, I realized I was alone with a man I didn’t know. A very tall, ominous man, whose broad shoulders and penetrating stare dwarfed the room. Nicky’s words echoed back to me. He’s not the kind of man to be trifled with. I swallowed a frisson of fear, as intoxicating as it was disturbing. No need to freak out. The party continued outside the alcove. Help was only a few feet away.

  “I thought we were going for a walk.” My gaze flicked to the heavy drapes, judging the distance in case I should need a hasty escape.

  “Later. First, I want to know more about you.” His hooded gaze traveled over my face, lingering for two heartbeats on my lips. How many nights had I dreamed of a man like this—one who’d thrill and frighten me? He braced a hand on the wall by my head, hemming me in. Up close, he smelled of leather, expensive cologne, and fine, rare things.

  “There isn’t much to tell really,” I said, my knees weakening. Although his nearness set my senses on high alert, I didn’t feel threatened, just aroused.

  “You’re an American?”

  “Yes, a New Yorker.” I bit my lower lip to keep from giving away more than I wanted.

  “Why did you come to this party?” He leaned closer, edging me backward until the hard paneling chilled my backside.

  “Why does anyone come to these parties?” I asked, feeling lightheaded at his closeness.

  “To enjoy anonymity in a safe and nonjudgmental atmosphere. To experience decadence without
the threat of discovery.”

  “You sound like a travel magazine.” I pressed my palms against the wall at my sides and reveled in the escalation of my pulse.

  “People come from all over the world for this experience. There are places here—secret places—with access given to only a select few. I can take you there. We can explore those mysteries together.” He drew in a deep breath, angling his head and scenting me. The primitive gesture caused an immediate pulse in my sex. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “Yes,” I said, feeling weak-kneed, excited, and frightened in rapid succession. “To all those things. I want to experience all of that.”

  “Let me show you everything your heart desires.” The low, seductive music of his voice and an excess of champagne dulled my common sense. I had the distinct feeling I was being seduced by Satan, and the safety of my soul hovered in the balance. “Well, Cinderella, will you join me?”

  “Okay.” For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. When he increased the distance between us, lowering his hand from the wall, disappointment washed over me.

  “Before we begin, may I see your invitation?”

  His request sent my stomach plummeting to the floor. “No, you may not.” I lifted my chin, trying to pull together my faculties. “I don’t have it on me. It’s with my friend.”

  “You’re not a very good liar. And you’re not Barbara.” Each of his words raised my temperature another degree until I thought my insides would combust. How would he know Barbara unless he was Menshikov?

  “I never said I was Barbara.” If I was caught, I had nothing to lose by bluffing. Meeting his gaze, I conjured a playful smile. So many sins could be hidden with a smile. “I came here under the assurance that no one would question my identity. If anyone found out that I was here, it could be very—damaging—to my reputation and my career.” This was total bullshit, but I kept going, even though my heart jackhammered against my ribs. “Are you threatening my privacy? Because I’m pretty certain that’s a direct violation of the rules.”

  “Rules were made to be broken.” Full lips rolled together. I couldn’t help staring at the gesture and wondering how those lips tasted, how they kissed. Would he be forceful? Gentle? Would his hand fist in my hair while his knee parted my thighs?

  “I’d bet my life that you don’t have an invitation.” His eyelids lowered to slits. “I know everyone at this party. Everyone but you.”

  “Are you sure? I’m sure we’ve met before. In Rome? Or maybe Paris?” I met his gaze, refusing to blink. “I think we’re done here,” I said, calling his bluff. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “God, a woman with balls. I love it.” He threw back his head and laughed. The deep sound shimmered over me, easing the tension in my shoulders. “I’m one hundred percent certain we’ve never met. I couldn’t forget someone as lovely as you.” The weight of his gaze crawled over my face, lips, breasts and hips, scraping over my nerve endings, alighting my body with a new and intriguing kind of fire. He rested a fingertip under my chin, tilting my eyes up to his, the tip of his thumb grazing my skin. “Very well, Cinderella. You win. I’ll give you a pass this time.”

  “I’ll stay, but only if you behave.” God, he was handsome. The silk mask and thick but well-groomed beard couldn’t hide the sharp lines of his square jaw, the chiseled planes of high cheekbones, and the knife-blade edge of his nose.

  “I realize I’m out of line, but you’ve piqued my curiosity.” If only I could see his eyes. Were they blue or brown? Under the shelter of his mask, I couldn’t tell.

  “Are you Menshikov?” How else could he know that I entered the party under the guise of Barbara Ellis?

  He studied my eyes for a long second. “No, I’m not. But I know him very well.”

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  “That you’re here without an invitation?”

  Too late, I realized my mistake. “No, I mean—”

  He silenced my words with a fingertip to my lips. “Hush. Your secret is safe with me.” His gaze dipped to my mouth again. I slid my tongue across my bottom lip, suddenly famished and thirsty, dying for relief from a hunger I never knew I possessed. “For a price.”

  Chapter 4

  Roman

  Every spring, I hosted the event of the year, not for myself but for the amusement of my friends. I’d grown bored with the whole thing years ago and rarely attended. A capable set of planners managed the entertainment and catering. The guest list, however, remained my sole responsibility. I culled the names of interesting people from the media and my personal acquaintance. The mix of personalities and backgrounds provided an entertaining atmosphere. Over the past decade, the Masquerade de Marquis had become notorious for decadence and debauchery, all committed under the guise of secrecy.

  From the library window on the second floor, I watched the guests filter into the house and mentally crossed their names from the invitation list. A Saudi prince and his security team arrived in a caravan of black limousines. The senator from Wyoming came alone in a rented Jaguar. An entire boy band tumbled from the seats of a passenger van, cocktails in hand. Although I didn’t care for their music, I did enjoy their zest for life and success.

  “Can I get you anything, sir?” Ivan asked, appearing from thin air in the doorway.

  I jumped. “Jesus, Ivan. Can’t you knock first?”

  “I did, sir.” His smirk, however, suggested a smug satisfaction in catching me mid-daydream. “I thought you would like to know. The guests are arriving.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” I returned my attention to the window. My gaze snagged on a vision of loveliness wearing a white jeweled gown. Long blond hair tumbled over her shoulders. A white mask highlighted delicate features, a pert nose, and small pointed chin. “Who’s that girl? The blonde?”

  He joined me at the window and gazed down at the pair traveling up the steps on the arms of two footmen. “I’m not sure. Would you like me to ask?”

  I watched her disappear, graceful and uncertain, through the enormous double doors. “No. Someone that beautiful doesn’t need an invitation. Just keep an eye on her, would you? Make sure she’s not a reporter.”

  “She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Ivan studied me, trying to discern my motives. Nosy bastard.

  “Aren’t they all?” I shrugged and schooled my features into disinterest.

  “Would you like me to bring her up here?” A sardonic smile twisted his lips. “Female companionship might do your—er—um—temperament some good.”

  “What are you trying to say, Ivan? That I’ve been an uptight asshole?”

  “Not at all. Just trying to anticipate your needs, sir.” He stared down his nose at me in his imperious manner, completely unapologetic.

  “No. You can go.” I unrolled my shirtsleeves, carefully keeping my face turned from him. “I’ll be in my office.”

  “As you wish, sir.” He bowed and left the room on silent feet. Even after a lifetime together, he still called me “sir” and treated me like the royalty I’d once been, despite my requests to the contrary.

  Inside the dark, shadowy confines of my office, I switched on the security monitors and watched the mysterious blonde negotiate the ballroom. It took a lot of balls to crash this party. Many had tried, most of them reporters or paparazzi, in search of a scoop. I studied her posture and mannerisms and decided she was harmless enough, until Nikolay arrived at her side.

  Like a true hunter, he’d sniffed out the prettiest female and attached himself in record time. We’d been in competition our entire lives, or rather, he’d been in competition with me, for the best business deals, the fastest cars, the prettiest girls. It was the last one that caused the most strife. We had similar tastes in women. We both liked voluptuous blondes. And, as fate would have it, my ex-fiancée had been both.

  I pressed the call button on the phone. “Greta, bring my tuxedo to my office, the charcoal one.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away,” she replied.
/>   Ten minutes later, I entered the ballroom through a secret panel in one of the alcoves and melted into the throng of guests. I maneuvered through the bodies until I was near enough to smell the mystery girl’s perfume—a heady combination of lavender and spices and soap. God, she was even more intoxicating up close. Full breasts, narrow waist, round hips and an ass carved from the hands of Botticelli.

  I had no intention of meeting her, but I could tell by the tilt of Nicky’s head, his possessive hand on the small of her back, that he was interested in more than her company. And I just couldn’t have that. Tales of intrigue and revenge peppered my family history, and I was no exception. He’d done me wrong, and this was my chance to even the score. Yes, I understood the pettiness of my grudge, but I was rich and bored, and I loved nothing more than a good challenge. Something he knew better than anyone.

  Chapter 5

  Rourke

  When I lifted my gaze, I found the stranger staring at me, eyelids hooded, lips pursed. The breadth of his chest rose and fell with a deep breath. The appearance of this raven-haired mystery man rekindled the desires I’d fought to curb. Sensuality oozed from his pores. I stared into his turbulent eyes and longed to run my fingers along the line of his beard, to place kisses on his mouth. Did the taste of wine linger on his tongue?

  I pressed both palms against the wall. My inner voice screamed, Leave now. Run while you can. Nothing good can come from this. But I was tired of lonely nights and long days of work. I deserved a night of fun and sin. After all, it was only one night. Tomorrow, I’d return to the monotony of reality, quiet nights at home with a book, occasional museum visits, and solitude. Tonight, I wanted to live.

  “I’ll pay the price,” I whispered.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  His hand traced the neckline of my dress, drifted over the swell of my breast, along my ribs, and came to rest at my hip. I wasn’t a fool or an innocent; there was no mistaking that the price would be personal and intimate. Please, God, let it be personal and intimate. A small smile played on his mouth. He extended a hand, palm up. My natural response was to take it. His smile broadened. “Shall we go for a walk then?”

 

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