by Ana Adams
The Antonia the outer world knew was sparkling, gorgeous, and sweet, but Antonia from the inside was a carnal pleasure that made his mind spin. Pure velvet and heat—only he knew this side of her. The thought made him dizzy. His orgasm rushed hot and fast, and he grunted, doubling overtop of her, tense against her as he came.
She laughed groggily, eyes hazy with lust. “That was fast.”
“You made me do it.”
He slipped himself out of her, rolling the condom off. She eyed him, her pink nipples still tight and staring at him. “So it’s my fault?”
“Entirely.” He leaned down and kissed her. “You’re too sexy. I lose my mind.”
He hopped off the bed, tossing the condom into the trashcan, where ten of its brothers lived.
“I better keep you locked up during the tournament, then.” She rolled onto her side, dragging her fingertips over the plush comforter. “I can’t have you losing your mind and making a scene.”
“I promise I’ll control myself.” He grabbed a pair of underwear slung over the high-backed chair near the wall. “Only in public, though. When it’s just you and me, I make no promises.”
She giggled and rolled out of bed, kissing his bicep before wandering toward the adjoining master bathroom. The water sprang to life, and over the gentle hum, the same panicked question returned to his mind: What are you doing?
Each passing moment with Antonia seemed to be pushing the plan toward crisis. He’d envisioned a one-night stand, a tour of the city, and then a paparazzi scandal. Instead, he was having the time of his life, and the only paparazzi run-in had been accidental. He’d checked the tabloids enough during the weekend to see that they’d picked up the story and run with it. Not as he’d envisioned, but with a murmur of wonder around them. Returning to the hotel today would fan the flames, launching it from hook-up drama into a different realm altogether.
Which meant he had to milk the new situation for all it was worth. The long weekend with her could brew some type of relationship potential in the magazines, once he chose to break the story. Since he planned to accompany her to the tournament, all eyes would be on them. Speculating. Gossiping. Wondering.
So the one-and-done approach would become a sordid heartbreak. His squeezed the back of the chair as he stared out the window at the bright morning, not really seeing anything as his mind turned over the plan.
The affair would still infuriate her father. Perhaps even more than simply bedding her. Not only did he have her virginity, he had her heart. And when the pieces fell…
A grin flickered across his face, but the familiar lust for revenge had been dampened somehow. Enacting the plan meant hurting Antonia. And the thought of making any pain or confusion cross her face was somehow unsavory.
But no matter. He’d figure it out. He always did. And this turn of events could be squeezed for every last drop—most of all for pleasure.
Chapter Five
Antonia glided through the hallway of the casino toward her old room as if she were made of helium. She’d been smiling so constantly the past few days that her face hurt. Too much happiness—far too much!
She slid the key into the door. It opened with a quiet click. Inside, everything was tidy and sparkling. Her pasta bowl had mysteriously disappeared, her strewn clothes hung in the closet, and the bedcovers were neatly in place. Of course. Housekeeping.
Lou awaited her downstairs. His eagerness for the tournament to begin was evident, which made her suspect that he was feeling as insanely, stupidly, blissfully intense as she was about this whole…thing between them.
Was she in love? She threw her head back and laughed. Ridiculous. But fate worked like that. Louis was entirely her Prince Charming.
She gathered up her bag and headed to the elevator, humming as she swayed down the hall. The tournament would begin in an hour. Once she dropped her stuff off with Lou, she’d take her place among the players and begin staking her claim on the jackpot.
It was hard to imagine what life would be like after the tournament. Would she go back to Italy? Was there some way she could stay in Monaco, closer to Lou? The thoughts scared and thrilled her—sure, it was probably too soon to be thinking such things, but why not run with it? Lou could be her real-world royal flush, the best natural hand out there. Maybe she could start designing linens in Monaco.
OK, calm down there. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her wild mind. She was thinking far too much, way too fast. The wildly intimate, satisfying weekend had nothing to do with their future. He was a prince after all. He probably had a princess somewhere in another country. That’s what royal people did after all—married each other.
The elevator doors opened, and she wandered toward the lounge where Louis waited for her. He paced the far wall, deep in a conversation on his phone. She drifted toward him, loving the power in his gait, the fierceness of his gaze, the sharp crack of his words as he spoke.
When he hung up and turned toward her, he looked frazzled but reached out to stroke her cheek.
“What was that about?” She cocked her head to look up at him.
“Work stuff.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What do you even do?”
“I told you last night. I handle the affairs of the people.”
She snorted. “That tells me nothing. You said yourself that your father handles most of the governmental affairs.” She nudged him, pouting a little. “What do you do?”
He looked at her so tenderly that her heart wrenched. “I’m a businessman, that’s all.”
“What sort of business?”
“Imports, mainly.” He checked his phone again, not watching as her gaze fell from his face, across his body, and over across the room. Imports. The word rang dissonant and shrill inside her. She swallowed a sick knot.
“Oh?” She flashed a bright grin, unnerved by the disappointment fluttering through her, like snowflakes in the mountains. “Do you import things personally or just…control them?”
“It’s all about control, isn’t it?” He snagged her at the waist, pulling her closer. “Just as you like it.”
A laugh escaped her, but it felt forced. “You sound like a very powerful man.”
“I am.” His jade eyes flashed with something primal, deeply bound inside him. It was both a turn-on and a warning bell.
She held his gaze as long as she could before she wilted under the intensity. She giggled, turning away, heart pounding in her chest as a disgusting realization blossomed inside of her. The truth gonged through her. He was linked to her father’s distress and financial woes throughout the last six months. Somehow.
But she couldn’t let on that she knew. She had to learn more. But until then, she’d play her cards the best she knew how.
She slipped her fingers around his wrist, guiding him toward the casino. “I’ll show you one place where you’re not so powerful.”
“But I beat you the first night.” His eyes twinkled.
“I let you win.”
His eyebrows shot up. “How do I know that’s true?”
She laughed throatily. “You’ll see how true it is soon. Just watch.”
Pushing through the casino doors, she took a deep breath. Turning to cards was often the only respite she had in life, especially among the fray and foibles of balancing the family business with her own independent ventures.
The thought of Louis and her father being linked was a stain that refused to dissolve. She’d figure out a way around it—she had to.
But also, she worried that whenever she checked her email, her father’s email would be waiting there, the answer in black and white, stealing any hope that her suspicion was false. Until she knew, she could pretend he was just a charming lover who happened to be a prince of Monaco.
***
Louis sipped at a tumbler of whiskey as he hung back toward the sides of the room. Watching Antonia play cards was like watching a magician work the crowd. She put the others under a spell. Some combination of those
pouty lips and the dark eyes that swept across the table like a caress, or maybe a slap.
He got hard just watching her. He tossed back the rest of his whiskey and crunched on the ice. She knew what the hell she was doing. She knew how to play cards and play people. That was more than obvious after seeing her slay round after round against these unsuspecting chumps who thought she was just eye candy, easily disposed of.
She’d gamed him the same way that first night, and he’d been none the wiser. A sick fear emerged in his belly, making him lose focus on the hand. Was she gaming him now? Had the weekend together been her winning hand?
His mind made weak circles around this thought, unable to find any satisfactory conclusion. Antonia was sweet. She was pure. She was genuine. Her skills at the poker table were just that—finely applied skills in their time and place.
Not, for example, some sort of strange overarching plot by her father to humiliate him further.
He turned toward the bar, ordering another drink. He’d cleared his schedule for the day to see Antonia’s first round of matches. He didn’t plan on missing any of her games, actually. His assistant would rework Louis’s schedule to accommodate only her this week.
The pile of work that resulted would be well worth the mini-vacation as he continued to explore the complex yet captivating poker vixen.
Cameras lined the perimeter of the main gambling room. Several networks were covering the tournament, and the winners and losers were interviewed in a far corner behind a black drape on a rotating basis. Despite the commotion, there was a heavy calm in the room, like the air before a thunderstorm. The precise concentration of gamblers. Weighing their moves. Watching for the tell.
Was it possible he was the actual pawn? He accepted the new drink eagerly, anxiety making steady swirls inside him. Antonia didn’t seem capable. She was too nice. Her purity seeped out of her—he’d taken her virginity, for god’s sake.
Unless that was all a lie?
Across the room, her eyes darted between competitors as they assessed their hands. Her face was blank, not a hint of anything, as if she were reading the newspaper on her lunch break. The players laid out their cards. Antonia grinned and raked in the chips.
Heat thrummed through him, some combination of curiosity and preemptive betrayal. If this was an act, she was a damn good actress. But another part of him reared up in fear, desperate to believe that the connection between them had been real.
It was real on his end, even if he’d sought her out for a different reason. The chemistry between them couldn’t be faked. People either had it or they didn’t. He relaxed, smirking at a player as he went by, grumbling. That was his Antonia—leaving everyone in the dust.
Not your Antonia. Not for much longer. The new plan allowed him to extend his time with her. Maybe he could spend the whole week with her, cultivating this relationship, strutting around with her in front of the cameras like a proud peacock. They’d be the hit of the tournament.
All the farther for her to fall when he dumped her in front of everyone at the end. The perfect finale for her imbecile father to witness, time and time again, splashed across the headlines of every tabloid and newspaper. Monacan Prince Deflowers and Departs. That might make a lovely headline.
A grin flickered at his lips, but widened when Antonia made her way toward him. He grabbed her face, planting a quick kiss on her forehead then her lips.
“You did so well,” he whispered into her ear, the scent of vanilla and lilacs clouding his mind. She even smelled pure, innocent.
She batted her eyes at him, clearly absorbing the compliment. “Why thank you. I plan to do well tomorrow, as well.”
“Is that it for today?”
“Just for my group. I’ll meet new opponents tomorrow and inch closer to my inevitable victory.” She grinned like a devil.
“Have you done your interview?”
“Not yet. I’ve never been interviewed before.” She glanced around, nervousness clouding her features. “What’s it like?”
“Easy. Just be yourself.” He squeezed her hand, warmth creeping across his chest. “Everyone will either fall in love with you or hate you. But with your looks and your personality, I think most people will love you.”
“Is that the only option? Love or hate?”
They began walking slowly toward the far corner, where the interviews were happening. “In my experience, most human emotions tend to be on either extreme of the scale. But maybe it’s different for me, coming from a political family, a monarchy no less.”
She snorted. “Exactly. But for me, a common plebe, I’d like to think I could inspire just a few lukewarm reactions out there.”
“Don’t bet on it.” He eased his hand around her waist, pulling her into step with him. “You’re far too beautiful for anyone to be lukewarm around you.”
She tilted her head, color creeping up her neck. “It must be a requirement for princes to flatter every lady you’re with.”
Her words were like a sharp crack against his knuckles. “Every lady? How many do you think I have?”
She lifted a brow. “I’m not sure. I would expect at least a couple.”
He sighed, lacing his fingers through hers. “The truth is that there is no waiting room of ladies at my beck and call. Maybe other princes do it that way. I’m far too busy to maintain so many affiliations.”
“So I’m the only lady in the waiting room?”
He grinned, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “Indeed, you are.”
***
Antonia awoke the next morning in a nest of gossamer and feather down. Louis’s weight beside her was missing; she reached out with her hand, cracking an eye against the early morning sunlight. Across the room, Louis sat at an enormous circular table made of rich, old mahogany. She rolled to her side, blinking blearily against the new day, struggling to focus on him as he bent over papers, gnawing at his lip.
“Good morning,” she whispered, her voice still hoarse from their celebrations the night before. They’d opted to join a meet-and-greet dinner with the other players, one that segued quickly into too much drinking and second-hand smoke. She’d even offered Louis’s lead security guard a shot, but he didn’t bite. They always just stuck to the shadows, keeping an eye on things.
He looked up, a smile tugging at his lips. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
She nodded. Sleeping at the palace provided better sleep, better views, better food…better everything. She was happy to forego the hotel in favor of this luxury, and even happier that it had been Lou’s idea.
“Extremely.” She propped herself up on an elbow, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Are you working?”
He nodded, glancing down at his papers. “I have some things to finish up. I want to be able to spend the whole day with you. So I have to work when I can.”
Her throat tightened. In the early morning vulnerability, she wanted to cry at something so plainly sweet. “You don’t have to rearrange everything for me. Please, don’t.”
“But I want to.” He held her gaze, his words sounding final, decided. “Once this tournament is over, I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”
Simple, true, and crushing. She dropped back into the pillows. Maybe the tournament could never end. Maybe she could start looking for a job, as she’d envisioned in her fit of idealism the day before.
But would that be prolonging a fantasy? Maybe this tête-à-tête was only meant to last a week and then evaporate into the air like a puff of steam. Louis could be her legendary first time, and she would be…his legendary four hundredth time, or whatever number he was on.
“We can always see each other, you know.” Her voice came out small. “I don’t live far from here.”
He watched her, a pen poised over the paper. “Would you like that?”
“Of course.” She rolled back on her side to watch him, the shoulder of her silk nightie falling away. His gaze moved to her exposed shoulder. Tingles flooded her. It seemed s
inful to not continue seeing the one man who could make her feel this way simply with his eyes alone. Didn’t that mean something?
These were questions for Gabi. But without her phone, all her thoughts and questions simply disappeared into her own head. Getting on the internet was an unsavory task as well—the disconnect was nice, now that she’d adjusted to life without a phone. And the threat of her father’s response loomed. The longer she could postpone learning something she didn’t want to know, the better.
“What about you?” She tugged the front of her nightie down, exposing her cleavage. She looked down at it then back at him. He was hooked.
“You have no idea, woman.” He slammed his pen down and stormed over to her, unbuttoning his shirt in the process. He tossed it aside, jumping into the bed beside her. She giggled as he wrapped his arms around her, sealing her against his body. His lips appeared at her neckline and he drew a deep breath, sighing with satisfaction.
“You make me feel so good,” she murmured. His lips traveled along her jaw, nipping at her earlobe. When he pulled away, she hooked her leg around his butt, cinching them closer again. “Why can’t we just be in bed together all the time?”
He laughed, nuzzling the dip between her breasts, grazing his tongue over the roundness there. “Because then my city-state would really fall apart.”
“Mmm. My city-state. I love it when you talk royal.” She squeezed her thighs around him and he laughed.
“Yeah? I can talk royal all day.” He drew a hand down the side of her body, all the way to her ass. “You want to hear about the Grimaldi fortune? The governance of the principality? Maybe a little something about the struggles of the microstate?” He squeezed her ass. Giggling, she hooked her arms around his neck.
“Yeah. What a turn-on, baby.”
He buried his face in her cleavage, and when he looked up, his face was flushed and content. “If that’s your definition of dirty talk, I have enough for ten lifetimes.”