I closed the bedroom door behind me and went straight to her, because I couldn’t wait one more minute to hold her in my arms.
“What are you doing?” she protested through a mouthful of toothpaste.
“I’m taking you to bed, young lady.” In one motion, I scooped her off her feet.
“Wait. I need to rinse.” I dipped her so she could grab the water glass and finish. “Okay. Take me to bed, Mr. Menshikov.”
“That’s Prince Menshikov to you.” We smiled at each other. I dropped her on the mattress, enjoying the way she threw her head back and laughed.
“How’s Milada?” She propped up on her elbows and watched as I shrugged out of my clothes.
“Fine.” I couldn’t hold back the grin as I spoke about my little treasure. “She was out before I shut off the lights.”
“I can’t wait to get to know her,” Rourke said. “She seems like a sweet girl.”
“You’ll have plenty of time for that. I’ll make sure of it,” I said, claiming my place beside her. I nuzzled my nose into her hair, drawing in a lungful of her floral shampoo, and placed a hand on her belly. She was soft and warm and felt like home. I turned onto my side and drew her closer. “When we get back to New York City, I’ll have your things moved into my room.”
“Excuse me?” With a hand on my sternum, she pushed me away, eyebrows rising. “Just like that? Did you ever think about asking?”
I pretended to ponder for a moment then smiled. “No.”
She gave a playful shove to my chest. “Maybe I don’t want to live with you.” Even though her face was serious, I could tell from the rapid rise and fall of her breasts that the idea excited her.
“Rourke, would you please move in with me?” Her gaze dipped to my mouth. By the way her pupils dilated, I knew I had her. “Let me take care of you. I want to wake up to your smiling face every morning and fall asleep with you in my arms every night.”
“Well, since you asked.” The brush of her lips over mine caused a stirring between my legs. “Yes.” I started to speak but she pressed a fingertip to my mouth. “But you have to stop being so bossy.”
I snorted. “We both know that’ll never happen.” She bit her lower lip to hide her smile, but her eyes shone with amusement. “I’m going to be an arrogant ass, and you’re going to get angry with me, and we’re probably going to fight each other on a daily basis. But I promise that making up will always be the best part.”
“I can’t wait.” Her arms encircled my neck. I shifted my weight onto her, parting her legs with my knees. Our lips met. The slide of her tongue against mine chased away the worries of the day, thoughts of business, and custody battles.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.” I slipped a hand inside the waistband of her pajamas. The velvety softness of her skin against my palm made me groan.
“You don’t like my pig pajamas?”
“I’d like them better if they were on the floor,” I said and turned out the lights.
Chapter 33
Rourke
Two weeks later, I waved to Everly as she cleared immigration at the airport. For someone who’d just traveled halfway around the world, she looked remarkably pulled together in loose-fitting taupe pants and a black sweater. I took her carry-on and handed it to my bodyguard. Everly lifted an eyebrow.
“I’ll explain later. Come here. Give me a hug.”
We both squealed. She threw her arms around my neck and stamped her feet in an excited dance. “Let me look at you.” She held me at arm’s length and ran a critical eye over my outfit. “Your hair has grown a mile, and you’ve lost a few pounds, but something else is different. Something I can’t put my finger on.” After making a circle around me, she lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve got a glow. If I had to guess, I’d say someone is putting it to you on a regular basis.”
“Everly.” I glanced around, hoping no one had overhead.
“Am I right? Who is it?” She hooked an arm through my elbow as we walked toward the baggage claim.
“You can’t know that just by looking at me.”
“Ha! It’s true then.” Her step lightened. “I want to hear all about it. Every detail.”
“I promise to tell you everything when we get to the car.”
At the sight of the long, sleek white limousine, she let out a low whistle. “Gee, you really are happy to see me, aren’t you?”
“It’s Roman’s. He insisted.”
Jose greeted us with a tip of his hat and opened the car door.
Once the door shut, a cocoon of silence enveloped us. Everly ran a hand over the fine leather upholstery, tracing the stitching with a fingertip. “Roman, huh? So you guys are on a first-name basis now?”
“Yes, you could say that.” Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t hold back an ear-to-ear grin.
“No. No way. Rourke Donahue, you spill it right now. I want details, and fast.” She tossed her purse aside and slid across the seat to my side.
“He asked me to move in with him, and I said yes.” A rush of heat burned my cheeks as I thought of my clothes in his enormous closet, the way he’d made love to me this morning in his king-size bed, and the way it felt to fall asleep in his arms at night.
She stared at me, her mouth opening and closing several times before she found her voice. “You’re living with Roman Menshikov, the billionaire prince.” A slow grin crossed her face. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so happy. It’s all I ever wanted for you.”
When we entered the penthouse, I took her upstairs to her room so she could get settled. Roman greeted us in the hall outside her door. He wore dark jeans and a cream sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He shook hands with Everly then encircled my waist with an arm and pulled me in for a kiss. I felt her gaze on us.
“Rourke has been over the moon about your visit, Everly. Please make yourself at home,” he said.
“Thanks for having me.” She turned in a circle, taking in the soaring wall of windows, the splashes of artwork, and graceful architecture. “Are you sure I’m not in the way? I can stay at a hotel. It’s not a problem.”
“Absolutely not,” Roman said. “You girls can have the run of the place, and it’ll give me a chance to get to know you better.” He gave my bottom a squeeze and my lips a light kiss. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to work. I’ll see you later.”
I watched him go, my attention mesmerized by the lazy grace of his stride. When I turned around, Everly’s laughter made my cheeks blush. “What?”
“You guys are cute.” Her laughter turned into a choked sob. She sank onto the edge of the bed and dropped her face into her hands.
“Everly, what is it? What’s wrong?” I drew her into my arms and rubbed her back until she recovered enough to speak.
“It’s my marriage. It’s over. I’m not going back.” With the back of her hand, she swiped at the wetness on her face. “My husband has a mistress. It’s been going on for years. They had a baby together last year.” Her sobs redoubled. “I had no idea. I’m such an idiot.”
“No, no you’re not. He’s a bastard.” Rage thundered in my ears. The intensity of her tears shook her shoulders. I smoothed a hand down her back, rocking her like a small child. “I’m so sorry. What a fucker.”
“Now that I know, there were so many signs. Little things, like all the sudden business trips and the secretive phone calls and the way he’d have to ‘run out’ for a minute then be gone for hours.” I handed her a tissue. She twisted it into a tight knot. “He says he doesn’t love her, that it doesn’t mean anything, but they have a baby, Rourke. A little girl.”
I didn’t know what to do or how to make it better. Seeing her pain made my chest ache. She was such a good person; she didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. “Do you still love him?”
“How could I love someone who doesn’t claim his own child?” Redness rimmed her eyes, but the tears had dried. She sniffed two more times and straightened. “Some things can’t be overlooked.”<
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Later that night, after she’d settled in, I crept down to Roman’s study and found him pouring over a stack of reports. Milada sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, reading a book. I stood in the shadows and watched them. Every now and then he looked up from his work, to check on her. I knew then that I couldn’t live without him. He loved another man’s child as his own. He’d taken her in, no questions asked, and never regretted it. I only saw one future for myself, and it was with him.
“Hey, you.” A smile brightened his face when he saw me. He’d been smiling a lot more lately, and I liked to think I had a little to do with it. “Come here.”
“I don’t want to interrupt,” I said, but I inched toward him, pulled by an inexplicable magnetism.
He patted his knee, inviting me to take a seat on his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck and brushed my lips over his. His fingers tightened on my back. When his tongue teased mine, I let out a sigh of contentment.
From a distance, I heard Milada groan. “If you guys are going to make out, I’m going to my room.”
Roman pulled back long enough for us both to say, “Goodnight.”
We kissed for a long time. The strength in his arms, the heat of his body, and his quiet groans made my panties dampen. I held his face between my hands, enjoying the scratch of his stubble against my palms.
In the background, the fire crackled and popped, casting shadows over the wood paneling. The dancing flames reminded me of the night we’d met at the masquerade. I’d had no idea that a reckless encounter with a mysterious prince would lead to the love of my life.
My thoughts turned to Everly, and I sighed. Her Prince Charming had turned into a toad.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, shifting my weight on his thighs and running a finger along the line of my jaw.
“Yes and no.”
His brow furrowed. “Can I help? Name your pleasure, and I’ll make it happen.”
“It’s Everly. She left her husband.” Saying the words made my eyes water. When she hurt, I hurt, too. “He’s a cheating bastard.”
“Lots of men are.” His embrace tightened around me. I relaxed into his chest. The rumble of his voice reverberated through his chest and into my back. “You won’t have to worry about that with me—not now, and not when we get married.”
“Is that so?” My belly gave an excited flip at the mention of marriage. “You sound awfully confident. How do you know I’ll say yes?” I toyed with the fabric of his sleeve, watching him through the veil of my eyelashes.
“Oh, you will.” The hue of his eyes darkened with a mysterious sparkle. “I’m going to get down on one knee, and I’m going to offer you the biggest, most extravagant diamond I can find.”
“So, you’re pulling out all the stops for this.” Our smiles grew brighter.
“Absolutely. Maybe I’ll do it someplace like Bora Bora or Fiji or beneath the Eiffel Tower.” His gaze dipped to my mouth and held for the space of two heartbeats. “Or maybe I’ll do it right here.” Something cool and hard brushed my hand. I glanced down to see the flash of gold and the wink of a princess-cut diamond. One of his eyebrows lifted. “What do you say, Cinderella? Want to be my princess?”
Since I met him, I’d been riding an emotional rollercoaster. My life had gone from boring to action-packed, and I loved every minute of the intrigue, the fighting, and the kisses afterward. I blinked back the tears but they clung to my lashes. “Yes. I’d be honored.”
He slid the ring onto my finger. The diamond spanned the entire lower third of my finger. “If you don’t like this one, you can pick out something different. Anyone you want.”
“It’s enormous,” I said, overwhelmed by the sight of him, staring up at me with his long-lashed blue eyes reflecting the fire light.
“Like my love for you.” Suddenly, he pulled me close, squeezing until my breath ran short. “I need you, Rourke. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I promise to make you happy or die trying.”
“I’m already happy.” The damn tears started up again. I dabbed at my cheeks.
“Don’t cry, princess. We’ve got a lot of years ahead of us.” He folded my hand into his and kissed the ring.
“I know.” I smiled back at him and drank in every line and angle of his face, seeing him through the haze of tears. “And I can’t wait to see what happens next.”
Thank you for reading The Exiled Prince, Book 1 of the Royal Secrets Series. I hope you enjoy this preview of The Dirty Princess, Book 2.
Author’s note: this is unedited content and may not exactly resemble the finished book.
THE DIRTY PRINCESS
ROURKE
On the day following my marriage to the exiled prince, Roman Menshikov, I awoke in a bed adorned with silk sheets and fluffy down pillows but no prince. The golden February sunrise glowed behind the heavy velvet drapes of our Park Place penthouse. To celebrate our nuptials, we’d slept an extra hour, something Roman never did. I wrapped the top sheet around my naked body, wincing at the soreness between my legs, and tiptoed into the adjoining bathroom. My new husband stood in front of the sink, straight razor in hand, shirtless. Stripes of white shaving cream covered his square jaw and contrasted with the bronze of his skin. I paused to take in the sight of him, imposing, impossibly male, and all mine.
“Good morning, Mrs. Menshikov.” The smooth vibration of his voice made my heart skip a beat. His eyes met mine in the mirror.
“Good morning.” I hovered in the doorway. Shyness overtook my usual confidence. We’d been living together for a few months before our marriage, first as employer and employee then as a couple. With my thumb, I twirled the band on the third finger of my left hand. Mrs. Menshikov. The title made my heart palpitate.
“Did you sleep well?” His gaze went back to his reflection. He scraped the razor along the flat plane of his cheek.
“I didn’t sleep at all. You kept me up all night, remember?” The sheet slipped to reveal the top of my breasts. I hitched it higher. His mouth twitched in the smuggest of grins.
“If I didn’t have a meeting this morning, I’d have you flat on your back with your legs in the air for the rest of the day,” he said. As he spoke, his gaze drifted over my body. The blue of his eyes darkened to navy. There was no mistaking the direction of his thoughts. I loved his desire for me almost as much as I loved his brooding, arrogant sweetness.
“You can have me any way you want me for the rest of our lives.” My confidence began to return under his heated stare. I let the sheet whisper to the floor and stood naked in front of him.
“Don’t tempt me.” In a heartbeat, he wrapped one arm around my waist and took a handful of my rear end with the other. My breasts flattened against his hard pectorals. The wiry hairs on his chest tickled my bare skin. He glanced at his watch. “I have ten minutes. Maybe I should bend you over this counter and—” My knees went weak at the thought. The household intercom buzzed, interrupting his sentence. With a growl, he pressed the speaker button, keeping one hand on my bottom. “What?”
“Mr. Menshikov, your car is ready.”
“I’ll be down in five.” Roman released my posterior and put distance between us, snapping into business mode. I still hadn’t grown used to his abrupt mood swings, but he no longer frightened me the way he had in the beginning. He dropped a kiss on my lips, his gaze softening for the briefest of moments. “Don’t forget we’re meeting with the party planner at three.”
“I won’t forget.” Excitement fizzed in my belly. I retrieved the sheet and draped it around my shoulders like a toga. Roman had decided to let me take over the final arrangements for the Masquerade de Marquis. We’d met at the event last year, and it was one of high society’s most coveted gatherings. “When have I ever forgotten one of your appointments?”
“There’s always a first time.” His wicked grin tore my thoughts from the masquerade and back to him. I followed him into his dressing room.
“Have I told you lately that you’
re an overbearing control freak?” While I spoke, I removed his pristine white shirt from the hanger and helped him slide it on.
“Not today, but I’m sure you’ll get around to it.” The cocky smirk on his handsome face did crazy things to my insides. He buttoned up the front and fastened his cufflinks as I retrieved his tie. His dark head bent to watch as I knotted the length of ice blue silk. “I know we’re busy this week, but I’ve asked Julie to set up interviews right away.”
“For what?” I held up his navy suit jacket. Once he’d slid his arms into the sleeves, I smoothed the fabric over his broad shoulders, admiring the V of his torso. No man wore a suit like Roman Menshikov.
“For your replacement,” he said.
My fingers halted. We’d gone to city hall on a whim, at his urging. His impromptu request had swept me off my feet, and I’d happily agreed. Neither of us had discussed the particulars of our future beyond generalities. Hearing his request brought the heat of anger to simmer in my veins. “You’re firing me?”
“Of course not.” Turning his back, he strode into the bedroom. I trotted on his heels, tripping over the long bedsheet. “My wife can’t be my personal assistant.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said so. You’re the wife of a billionaire. You don’t need to work.” As he spoke, he slipped his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket then gave his reflection a final check in the mirror beside the door.
“Now you’re just pissing me off,” I snapped. “No one is better qualified to take care of you than your wife. Nothing has changed, Roman.” Panic shook my hands. Work meant everything to me.
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. Everything has changed. You’re Mrs. Menshikov now.” When I crossed my arms over my chest, he paused to study me. “Are we having our first fight?”
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