The Reluctant Prince

by Candice Gilmer

  “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you now.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. Whether she really saw him or not, he couldn’t tell, her face was terrified, lost in the dream.

  Scooting out of her arms, he stepped off the bed.

  “No.”

  “It’s okay. Let’s get you in bed.”

  Sydney looked around, and recognition filled her face. Recognition and bright red blushing cheeks. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” She was still half asleep, but at least a bit aware of where she was.

  He pulled the covers back. “Don’t worry about it. Climb in.”

  Sydney did as she was told, and pulled her jeans off and tossed them on the floor.

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  She didn’t say anything, but her eyes pleaded with him. He felt a tug of contradiction in his chest. He wanted to stay, he knew he did—blue hair or not, she looked so vulnerable and sweet lying there.

  He rubbed his brow. There were a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t stay. He could practically hear Alicia, telling him what a bad idea it was.

  But he looked in Sydney’s face. “Please, could you?”

  That’s it. He was sold. It may not be sex, but it would do.

  He sat on the bed and pulled his pants off and his shirt, folding them and laying them on the dresser. He climbed into bed, and she latched on to him.

  He stroked her blue hair, surprised at how soft it was. As he lay with her, he placed a few kisses on her forehead, and tried to force the hard-on in his boxer briefs back down.

  Not that it was working, especially when she threw a leg over his, rubbing against him.

  Letting out a groan, he wiggled his hips so her bare thigh wasn’t resting next to his cock, and he continued stroking her hair. It didn’t take long, and she nodded off to sleep.

  He closed his eyes, loving how her body fit up next to his. Some women didn’t fit—their hips were too wide, their legs were too long, or their hair too big. Something.

  Sydney fit next to him.

  He let out a contented sigh. Nope, this wasn’t what he’d been wanting when he left for Vegas earlier today, but he’d take it.

  Chapter Five

  Bring. Bring. Bring.

  “God, what?” I snapped, rolling over on the bed and grabbing the phone.

  “This is an automatic wake up call for your room,” a mechanical voice said in the receiver.

  I found the clock next to the bed, and saw it was 7:45 a.m. I started to sit up when I heard a mumble next to me, and the bed started to move.

  Holy shit! I twisted around and found dark hair on the pillow next to me.

  Oh my God. Nestled in the covers was Hadrian. His tousled hair and the shadow of black stubble on his cheeks made him look like a million dollar dream.

  His bare chest, revealed partially by the mangled sheets, was that perfect color of sand, and in the early morning sun peaking into the room through the heavy drapes, he looked almost like Ra was bestowing a blessing on him.

  Oh Christ, I’m thinking about Egyptian gods now.

  I forced myself out of bed, my bladder screaming for release, and I threw the covers back to climb out of the bed. When I looked down, I realized I was still in my short T-shirt, bra and my thong.

  Oh my God, he slept with me in my thong.

  Snagging my pants, which lay askew on the floor, I slipped them on. As quiet as possible, I rummaged around for a change of clothes and headed for the shower.

  As the heat of the shower pummeled me, I focused my mind for what I was going to be doing, why I was in Vegas, and psyched myself out for spending the day with hairdressers. I applied makeup, perfected the hair with some wax and began the final step of beautification—lip liner.

  “Hey.” Hadrian’s voice made me jerk, and I rubbed my lip liner up my cheek.

  “Don’t sneak up on me.” I grabbed a tissue and tried to correct the mulberry stain that ran up my face.

  “Sorry. Didn’t realize it was critical in here.”

  He hadn’t dressed. Yet, his boxer briefs sported a decent case of morning wood.

  Hairdressers had this amazing habit of seeing everything in mirrors, and right then, I thought it was a great bi-product of the profession.

  “Mind if I jump in the shower?” Though he had a smile on his face, his eyes were dark and feral, and I swear, his personal upright friend bounced in the boxers. My cheeks got extra red, and I realized he caught me checking him out.

  Stepping closer, he whispered in my ear. “Like what you see?”

  I elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Ouch.” He caught my arm. “You hit me because you got busted?” He pulled me tight against him, wrapping his arms around my waist, his cheek scraping against mine as we met each other’s gazes in the mirror.

  Not to mention what a nice feel morning wood was against my butt.

  “You weren’t supposed to see that.” The way he stood holding me, my brain raced to an overwhelming romantic notion—the two of us would fit together in the most complete way.

  What asinine bullshit. I’d thought the same thing about Jim once and look where that got me.

  “Hope you liked the view.” He kissed me on the cheek and stepped into the bathroom. “Nice thong, by the way.”

  “Hey.” I grabbed a washcloth—yes, it was clean—and threw it at him. He caught it and closed the door. I let out a sigh and returned to getting the last of the lip liner off my face. I bit my lip to keep from giggling.

  Oh my God, he spent the night with me.

  Ack!

  Hadrian had to smirk. Checking him out as he came in the bathroom, that cracked him up. His ego swelled, and so did other parts.

  Although, standing there with her in the bathroom with his arms around her was something he could certainly deal with. There was comfort there, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  The royals weren’t exactly the most huggy-type people.

  He stuck his head under the water, letting it stream down his face. He pulled his head out, and ran his hand across his face as he scanned her shower for some shampoo. He picked up the dark red bottle. He dumped some out and started shampooing. He hoped it wasn’t what made her hair blue.

  Suddenly Alicia’s voice was in his head.

  What were you thinking? Spending the night with her? A virtual stranger? She could be anyone—a stalker, a crazy, or worse, an assassin.

  Stop it, he ordered himself. He trusted his gut enough to know Sydney wasn’t any of those things.

  Alicia was always paranoid he would be hurt in some political gesture against the Korosian royal family, or worse, convinced every female Hadrian met was out to ruin his life. Scheming and plotting ways to ruin his life or reputation.

  It made meeting women a pain in the ass. Not that there were many women out there in LA worth knowing. Not with his schedule, anyway.

  It would have to be totally random.

  Like yesterday.

  He shut down the shower and hopped out, drying off with an extra towel. He refused to follow his earlier train of thought, instead noticing his morning wood had finally gotten some manners.

  When he emerged, Sydney wasn’t in the bathroom, and he could hear her milling around in the room.

  She had her black leather backpack-purse on the bed, going through the insides of it, hunting for something. A stack of books sat on the bed, along with other miscellaneous items—evidently she was cleaning it out.

  He grabbed his shirt and pants off the dresser and slipped them on.

  “Thanks for the shower.”

  “No problem.”

  “So what are your plans for today?”

  “Well orientation is over in about twenty minutes, so I need to get down there to pick up my paperwork, and then I head to my first class.” She turned to face him, and he could see the pink T-shirt she wore today was even tighter than the black one she wore last night. This one read “I’m here,” which strained across her chest,
and below that it said “so what are your other two wishes?”

  He smiled at the shirt, but she didn’t notice. “What class is that?”

  “Uh, Corrective Color Made Easy, I think.”

  “Oh that sounds interesting.”

  “I really have to go.”

  He wanted to see her again, but he hesitated—she seemed in a mind lock. He opened his mouth to speak, ready to ask her for a next time, but she spoke first.

  “Uh, I could, if you want to, that is, uh, meet you for lunch?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and her gaze flickered around the room as she spoke.

  “That would be great.” He couldn’t help grinning. Interesting how she could read his mind so easily.

  “I’m not sure where I’ll be or what time the class gets out.”

  “How’s this,” he said. “Here’s my cell phone number, and you can call me when the class lets out.” He scrawled it on a piece of paper and handed it to her.

  Sydney nodded. “Perfect.” She shoved the piece of paper in her back jeans pocket, and grabbed her backpack. “I really have to go.”

  “No problem, I should go too.”

  “Of course.”

  They both started walking to the door, and Sydney stopped, spun around, grabbed her room key off the dresser, and shoved it in her back pocket. Hadrian remained a step behind her as she opened the door.

  “I had a really great time last night,” she said as she pulled the door shut.

  An evil grin spread across his face as every detail of last night—at least the interesting ones—came back to him. “No you didn’t.”

  “I did too.”

  Hadrian brushed her hand with his, letting their pinky fingers tangle together. She glanced at him, a smile in her eyes as she squeezed his finger. They came around the corner, and she pressed the button for the elevator.

  Hadrian reached up, brushing one of the longer blue bangs out of her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

  She arched her manicured eyebrow at him. “Oh really? Then what did I have?”

  He pulled her up against him. “You only had a good time. A great time is yet to be had.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down then brought those green and gold eyes back up to his face. “And what makes you think I want to have a great time with you?”

  “This.” He started to lower his head to hers. A low bing sounded, but he ignored it. His lips were about to graze her very open and accepting mouth when he heard:

  “Going down?”

  He popped his head up. Damn, damn, damn. Sydney pulled away from him, and she spun around, smiling at the men on the elevator.

  “Yes, thank you.” She stepped on the elevator. Hadrian followed her, moving so he was behind her, and he rested his hand on her shoulder. She tensed at the touch, but only for a second, then she relaxed.

  His thumb grazed up and down her neck—she had the sexiest neck—and she tilted her head, allowing him to run his thumb all the way up the side and fiddle with her ear. He noticed she had doorknocker earrings in. As he looked, he saw there were four in the left one, and he shifted his gaze to the right side, seeing only two over there.

  “So there’s nine piercings?” He kept his voice low and out of hearing of the others on the elevator.

  “Yeah,” she replied, the same quiet voice.

  “So when do I get to see the two I haven’t seen yet?”

  Her body steeled against him for a second, but he didn’t let go of her.

  She turned her head, and he could see a wicked smile on her perfectly painted lips. “You have to earn that viewing.”

  “I plan to.”

  The elevator came to a stop, and they both got off on the main floor, along with everyone else.

  “Well, I’ll see you later,” Sydney said, facing him.

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “There are signs. I’m sure I can find it.” She pointed to the signs up above pointing arrows to where the Mandalay Bay hotel walkway was.

  “All right, then.” He pulled her back up into a hug. “Don’t forget about me.”

  “I won’t.”

  He kissed her on the lips, a soft, barely there kiss, partially because he didn’t want to smudge the lipstick she had painstakingly applied, but also because he feared he wouldn’t let her go.

  He pulled away, and she swooned against him, a big, stoner smile spread across her face.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah.”

  He held her hand for a second, squeezing her fingers, and they both started to walk away, not letting go of each other’s hand until they just couldn’t keep walking away.

  Chapter Six

  I found my way to the registration area, and was rather pleased I wasn’t horribly late. In fact, I wasn’t the only one who was late. There were several women who approached, some even carrying large glasses with drinks in them. I was willing to bet those ladies hadn’t been to sleep yet. I picked up my packet of stuff, grabbed a bagel and took off for the first class.

  I had maybe five minutes to get to it.

  The tingly sensation I’d had last night that felt like I was being watched, came back, and I spun around to look over my shoulder.

  I didn’t see anyone, but I couldn’t help wondering what was going on. I would get the same weird vibes when I was at home and Jim was sneaking around.

  It was strange.

  I scanned the area, looking for—well, I was kinda looking for Jim, or someone else who looked out of place. Security around the registration area kept out people who weren’t supposed to be down here, and I kept looking for someone trying to sneak past.

  A lady nudged me, trying to get me to move out of her way so she could get to her class. I mumbled an apology and made myself focus on the task at hand. I had a class, and I needed to get to it.

  Fortunately, though, there was about seventy-five feet between registration and my first class, and I didn’t think I could walk too much further on those floors.

  Mandalay Bay took their oasis theme quite seriously. The floors were polished rock. Uneven polished rock. Several times as I traversed the walk to the convention area, I almost fell on my ass. I wasn’t the only person around who almost bit it while trying to walk across the floors.

  My first class, Color Correction Made Easy, was in one of the smaller rooms, but the room was packed. Almost every seat was taken, and I had to work through the small room to find a chair. I tossed my trusty black leather backpack on the floor as the class teacher took the stage.

  I got out my cell phone and started to switch it to the work profile, which was a silent profile I’d configured that only allowed emergency calls through.

  While the teacher began talking, I pulled out the piece of paper Hadrian had given me and programmed the number into the phone. I got out my packet of stuff including a big bound notebook, and opened it to the section on color, which had several blank heads and spaces for notes.

  I buckled down and started taking notes.

  Hadrian walked across the main shopping area toward one of the shops selling necessities for travelers like him who forgot to pack things like toothbrushes.

  There was always something he forgot when he traveled.

  Today, the toothbrush won. He’d remembered the toothpaste, but no brush. It amazed him that he’d forget one and not the other.

  He wandered through the shop, scanning around at all the little knick-knacks after he picked up a toothbrush and a couple of other little things he hadn’t brought. As he walked through the store, he jerked his head up.

  He had the strangest feeling he was being watched.

  He blew it off. It was probably another fan or something. People tended to see him and point, but only a few would actually approach him. Eighty percent of the world didn’t know he existed, which was fine by him.

  The twenty percent who did know him, knew him from The Pasta Prince. His producers knew enough to understand the
family responsibilities, but not much else.

  Something dawned on him. Alicia didn’t know about Sydney. She couldn’t forbid Sydney from him.

  She wasn’t going to either. He headed upstairs to his room.

  Unlike Sydney’s small hotel room, Hadrian had a suite, which had a living area, a dining room table and a separate bedroom. He wondered why he’d bothered getting such a large suite for himself. He really didn’t need it.

  Granted, it was nice for the space, and it felt more like a small apartment than a hotel room, but he found himself wondering what Sydney would think. Would she think he was showing off? Or would she care at all?

  When he walked over to the couch, he glanced at the phone, because it was blinking. He keyed for the messages and picked up the receiver. There was one from the front desk, asking him to call.

  Great.

  He called downstairs. “Yeah I have messages?”

  “Yes, Mr. Drake, you have five messages, left here for you at the desk. We can send someone up with them, if you would like.”

  “That’s fine. And transfer me to room service, please?” He connected with room service and ordered an omelet.

  He pulled his Blackberry out of his pocket and realized he didn’t have it turned on. He clicked it on and tossed it on the couch next to him. It started to buzz with the messages icon.

  He let out a sigh, and picked the phone back up. He really didn’t have to guess who the voice mails were from. Not many people actually had his phone number. His mother and his assistant, along with the family in Koros had the number.

  Alicia was the only one who bothered to call him on it, though. He’d given the number to a few friends, but none of them called—showing who his true friends were.

  His mom called once a week, but only because she had mobile-to-mobile calling for free. And if there was one thing that could always be counted on with his mother was her frugalness. She never went to the grocery store without coupons. And she never paid full price for anything she could find on sale somewhere else.

  A complete and utter flip from his father. Understandable though—when one was raised the brother of a king, money tended to be no object.

  Too bad the messages weren’t from his mother. They were from Alicia in varying degrees of worry, anger and frustration.