Maxence unbuttoned his suit jacket as they sat. To Dree, he said, “Attending at this meeting are Prince Louis Grimaldi, younger brother of Prince Rainier the Third and my great-uncle, and Lady Marie-Therese Grimaldi, the only child of Prince Jules Grimaldi and thus my cousin.”
Dree scribbled industriously.
Maxence said to her, “Take notes.”
Dree’s blue eyes swiveled sideways to glance at the woman and older man who had their backs partially turned toward her, and she looked back at Maxence. She lifted her crossed leg and set her high heel on the floor, her knees apart, and then crossed them the other way, giving him a neat glimpse of the bare, pink skin between her legs.
Splendid. This was going to be the most interesting meeting he’d attended since he’d returned.
Maxence turned back to Marie-Therese and Uncle Louis, who were waiting for him to finish with the inconsequential admin.
Marie-Therese glanced at the leatherbound volumes lining the high bookcase shelves and the rococo crown moulding lining the ceiling’s seams far above. “Looks like you’ve moved in.”
Maxence shrugged. “Someone had to take on the day-to-day decisions and sign documents from the ministries during the interim, lest the government grind to a halt. Since I’m next in the theoretical order of precedence and I have an apartment in the palace, I’ve kept the government running.”
Marie-Therese grinned at him. “I’m just surprised you’ve taken on the role, Deacon Father.”
The papercut sarcasm in her comment wasn’t lost on him. “I organized my charity a decade ago and employ hundreds of people. We liaise heavily with the Catholic Church, an enormous organization with just under a million members of the consecrated life, plus over a billion faithful. I can handle Monaco’s forty thousand-odd citizens and additional residents easily.”
“It almost appears that you’re auditioning for the job,” she said.
Maxence sighed. He hadn’t thought he’d have to convince Marie-Therese. “I was the spare heir my whole life. I wasn’t tutored in the running of the government as much as Pierre was, but my parents and then aunt and uncle made sure I had a basic grasp on what to do if the need arose. On that note, I am stating again for the record,” he nodded at Dree, who was scribbling on the tablet, “I don’t want the throne. If it is offered, I will refuse.”
Marie-Therese laughed. “I didn’t think you did. I remember when my mother took all of us cousins out to that fast food restaurant in France. We chased you around with the paper crown for hours. I thought you were going to break out in hives. Pierre eventually got his hands on it, no matter how we played keep-away, and then he wore it for a month until it fell apart.”
Marie-Therese’s mother had been an angel, taking the brood of cousins to parks, children’s events, and feeding them fattening food when they were home from boarding school. “And you kept wearing the paper crown and running away, just to hear Pierre scream.”
Maxence observed his cousin closely.
Marie-Therese laughed again, almost gaily. “Pierre was dreadfully easy to provoke.”
“But you wore it. Do you want to wear this one?” he asked her.
“Me? Oh, God, no. I’m fine with being a noble lady, and I have never aspired to anything higher. I spend my whole life partying and being pretty so I can have my picture taken, and doing whatever I want, whenever I want. Royals have a fully booked schedule every day, from six in the morning until midnight. You could not pay me enough to be the Princess of Monaco.”
Maxence considered what she’d said. “You don’t just ‘have your picture taken.’ You have three million Instagram followers.”
“I like my life the way it is, Maxence. I’m horrifically rich, and I play with being a ‘social media influencer’ along with my cousins because one doesn’t need skills or ambition to do it, and it amuses me. I parade around in pretty dresses and am named to the magazine lists like the Ten Sexiest Royals under Thirty. I have an income that lands me squarely in the upper one percent that I don’t have to work for. I am famous and yet can claim to be a private citizen to piss off the paparazzi. Every now and then, I allow myself to be photographed at Monaco’s more prestigious social events. If I want to do anything, I can do it. Why would I want to lock myself up in a castle to greet dignitaries and fritter away my life deciding who gets the contract to import soybeans?”
Because someone has to do it.
She said, “When I do something that I don’t want people to see, I don’t take a picture of it. If you’re a prince or princess, the paparazzi never leave you alone. They’re always there. I don’t want to be a real royal, and I would never marry one. I wouldn’t even date a royal if you threw one at me.”
“An excellent argument, Marie-Therese. However,” he turned, “Uncle Louis, you’re like me, a spare heir. You were trained to do this job even though there was little chance that you would ever inherit the title.”
His uncle nodded and shrugged, his elegantly cut suit jacket rippling as he did. “The education I received both informally and in business management has served me well in the import company I dabble with.”
Ah, royal humility. No one admitted to working at a job. It was so gauche.
Maxence had already looked at Louis Grimaldi’s holdings. The import-export business netted a reasonable profit on the hundreds of millions of euros they produced in sales each year. Louis had ceased to withdraw a royal income some decades before because he drew a substantial salary from his company.
He was a model minor royal rather than a wastrel, like many of Maxence’s other relatives.
Maxence asked his uncle, “Uncle Louis, how is your health?”
His smile didn’t waver. “I certainly can’t complain.”
“Can I ask you some more intrusive questions?”
Louis lowered one cottony-white eyebrow a fraction of an angle. “Your concern about my health is noted.”
Marie-Therese was looking back and forth between the two of them. “Uncle Louis, are you okay?”
His eyebrow descended slightly farther. “Of course, I’m fine. If this is about my lumbar surgery a few years ago, it was entirely successful.”
If Max’s plan advanced and the cousins decided on Louis, Max could ask more questions about his health at that time.
Maxence settled back in his chair and straightened his blue silk tie. “What do you think will happen at the Council meeting?”
Marie-Therese spoke up. “I think there’s going to be a great brawl if you’re not the candidate.”
“There doesn’t have to be a brawl. I was speaking with Alexandre about his voting bloc of cousins.”
Louis said, “Some of the older generation are quite put out by Alexandre’s high-handedness. Blocking even the most preliminary of business was not seen as good form.”
Marie-Therese said, “It doesn’t matter what people think of Alexandre. He said he’s not going to stand for election even if someone put his name forward. He can alienate or politically seduce anybody he wants to. Much like you, Max.”
Maxence inclined his head to examine his uncle Louis more closely. “And how would you feel about your family’s votes at this Council? Would you be willing to vote for something unconventional?”
Louis nodded. “I suspected that was the reason you asked for this meeting. I’m not a young man, Maxence. My politics have become more conservative as I’ve gotten older. I am a great believer in the constitution as it currently stands, and I would not like to dissolve the monarchy in favor of a more democratic style of government.”
Maxence blinked. “Is that what they’re saying? That I want to abolish the monarchy?”
Louis said, “There are rumors, and you just asked if I would vote for something ‘unconventional.’”
“I didn’t mean that unconventional.”
Although abolishing the monarchy certainly had a ring to it. There’d been a time in Max’s life when he wanted nothing more than to set the world on fire and
watch it burn, and his own hereditary monarchy would have been an excellent starting point.
Maxence said, “It seems to me that Monaco has been a monarchy for the better part of a millennium, with a few interruptions. The monarchy is part of Monaco’s charm. Since ninety-five percent of our revenue comes from tourist and other non-casino sources, it is important to preserve Monaco’s ‘charm.’”
Louis’s lips twitched up, and he nodded. “I’ll discuss your position with some of the other, more conservative members of the council.”
“I was wondering if the time had come, however, to choose a sovereign not based on the order of precedence from the previous sovereign, but perhaps the person best suited for the position from among the nobles.”
Marie-Therese raised her eyebrows and dropped her chin. “Oh.”
Nice acting, there, considering she’d given him the idea. No wonder she was a social media influencer.
Louis frowned. “That’s quite a change.”
“Yes.”
“There would have to be a discussion among the Council.”
“There might not,” Maxence said, “not if there was agreement beforehand about the concept and a candidate.”
Louis raised his eyebrows. “A coup d’état.”
“I prefer to think of it as a fait accompli, if we’re going to stick to French terms.”
“Who do you suggest stand for the nomination?”
“There are several possible candidates,” Maxence said, breaking eye contact and shuffling a few papers on his desk. One was, actually, a soybean import contract.
“I’d be interested to know who,” Louis said.
“And so would I,” Marie-Therese said, her voice squeaking at the end.
Even gathering votes in front of Jules Grimaldi’s daughter was risky enough. Maxence wasn’t going to tempt fate by asking Louis if he’d like to be the Prince of Monaco.
As Nico had noted, Great-Uncle Louis might end up floating face-down in the harbor if Jules perceived him as a threat.
Max said, “I’m sure we’re not near the time to consider the final selection yet. The Council election process might take months.”
Even though he was hoping to elect and crown a prince sooner than that.
Offhandedly, Maxence flipped his fingers in the air toward Dree, “Take notes.” He glanced over at her at just the right time to see her legs part, and her pink softness between them exposed for him to see.
Her cheeks and even her chest blushed when she did it.
But she’d done it.
Perfect.
Chapter Nine
The Desk
Dree
Dree sat with her tablet on her lap, staring down at the screen where she’d taken notes in very shaky handwriting.
Her red dress was riding up on her thighs again, and Maxence had made her hand him her panties.
And then he’d tucked them in his suit jacket pocket and his two guests must be staring at it, wondering why he had red panties fluffing out of the pocket of his black suit. The bright red didn’t match his blue tie.
That was so wrong.
And yet, every time he’d told her to Take notes, her body had been on the trembling edge of an orgasm while she’d parted and then crossed her legs.
At the back of the office where the door was, Maxence was saying goodbye to—Dree checked her notes—his great-uncle Louis Grimaldi and his cousin Marie-Therese.
Her mind was a buzzing mass of want.
When Dree glanced over her shoulder to peek at them, Marie-Therese was hugging Maxence again, her hand pressed against the back of his suit jacket wandering lower, ending up near the small of his back.
Maxence stepped backward and, with a firm motion, set Marie-Therese away from him.
Dree straightened to face the desk.
Hmm. It looked like Marie-Therese was from the branch of the royal family that didn’t have a problem with inbreeding.
Max told Quentin Sault to follow them out and wait outside. It was a good thing Max remembered to send Sault away before they did something dirty because she forgot that security guy stood back there for hours at a time.
The door clicked shut.
And then Dree heard another click.
Had he locked it?
Maxence strolled back to the desk. His eyes held the darkness of desires she did not dare mention. “Come here, pet.”
Dree laid the computer tablet on the desk and walked around to where he was standing.
From his extravagant height, Maxence gazed down at her, smiling, with his head tilted rakishly to the side. It was only when she was standing right next to him that Dree remembered he was so astonishingly tall, six-feet-four with broad shoulders that seemed to fill the whole room.
His voice dropped an octave to a sexy rumble, “On the desk, face-down.”
Dree hated how naïve she was, but she couldn’t help that she’d grown up on a sheep farm instead of a hippie commune. “I’m not sure what you want.”
His gaze softened a little, and he stroked along her jawline from her ear to her chin with his thumb. “Sometimes I forget that the siren who announced to the Buddha bar that she was going to screw every guy in the place can be quite the ingénue.”
“Uh, yeah.”
Max sat down in the manager’s chair and leaned back, his long legs wide. “Sit.”
Dree knew how to do that, and she knew what happened the last time she’d sat on his lap.
She placed her butt right on his thigh, ready for anything.
Maxence’s arm behind her curved around her hip, steadying her. “Have you heard of the concept of the safe word?”
She shook her head.
He drew a line with one finger over her bare shoulder and down to her elbow, tickling. “The idea is that if I go too far, or things get too rough, you say a particular word, and I will stop. Everything stops.”
All her attention was riveted on his one finger on the bare skin of her arm. “Are you going to go too far?”
“At some point, what I want will be too far for you. At that point, you say the safe word, and I will stop. I have to stop.”
Sounded like magic. “Okay, what’s the word?”
“You choose the word. It should be something you’ll remember even in the heat of the moment, and yet something unique enough that you won’t accidentally say it. You could also choose two words if you wanted, one as a failsafe in case you want everything to stop, and another one which means to slow down or not to go any farther, to allow you to adjust.”
Dree wasn’t scared. She wasn’t.
She was.
She asked, “What are you going to do to me that I need to adjust to?”
His palm and fingers strayed backward from her hip to the round of her ass sitting on his leg. “I’m sure there will be something.”
Oh, butt stuff. She’d almost forgotten Maxence was eventually going to want butt stuff. “Ah.”
With his one hand palming her ass, Maxence trailed his fingers up her bare arm again and drew his finger along the neckline of her dress, down to her cleavage. “Two words.”
“So, if you’re teasing me and not letting me come, and I say this word, then you have to stop teasing and let me?”
His grin sharpened. “No, it means I take my hands off you, and I stop.”
Oh, wait one darn sec. “Do I get a word that means you have to stop teasing me?”
“No.”
“Damn. How come I didn’t get these ‘safe words’ in Paris?”
His fingers strayed across the fabric of her dress and stroked her nipple. She wasn’t wearing a proper bra because the dress had built-in support, and the scratch of his fingers across the satin of her dress vibrated through the fabric. “In Paris, I had no intention of going so far that you would need safe words.”
“Fair enough. How about code blue for the slow down word,” which at the hospital meant that someone was having cardiac arrest, “and code black for needing to stop.”<
br />
Code black meant that there was a bomb in the hospital.
“Code blue and code black. Excellent.” Very gently, he began pinching her nipple through the dress.
She was lying against his shoulder, and again he was so tall and big that she felt little on his lap. One of his arms cradled her back. His other hand explored her breasts, and Dree’s calves dangled between his thighs.
Sitting on his lap was not a safe and secure feeling.
His height and muscular body caged her.
Her breath was shaky when she exhaled. Every stroke and crimp of his fingers sent shockwaves through her. He wasn’t pinching her hard, not too hard, but just on the edge of too much.
And then she realized that with those safe words, she’d taken the brakes off of Maxence.
He reached for her other breast, thumbing her nipple at first, and then pinching again. His lips found her shoulder and traced down the skin of her back.
Dree curled herself to kiss him, but he said, “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
She sat up straight on his leg as his hands roamed her body, pinching the sensitive spots of her nipples and the skin of her ass. “Will it always be like this? Me not moving, and you doing whatever you want to me?”
“Sometimes I’ll let you move, and sometimes I’ll tie you up so you can’t move. But all the time, I’ll be doing whatever I want to you.”
Heat rushed between her legs.
That was the moment when the good little girl who lived in Dree’s head, the one who judged everything she did against what a nun would think, realized that all the dark desires she’d ever had, all the dirty sexual things she’d read about but thought no good girl would ever do, were going to happen to her.
She didn’t have to admit she wanted them to.
She didn’t have to ask out loud for someone to do forbidden things to her.
She just had to not say no.
Dree closed her eyes.
Prince: Royal Romantic Suspense (Billionaires in Disguise: Maxence Book 5) Page 10