Corrupted by the Prince (A is for Alpha Book 5)

by Shelli Stevens

  She tilted her head. “Your costume is an angel?”

  “No. I’m a swan.” Lilly’s lower lip protruded into a pout.

  “Ah, of course. My mistake.”

  “I’m eighteen now. This is the first time I’ve been allowed at the End of Summer Soirée. I really want you to be there.”

  The wave of sadness that hit Eva was so sudden she had to bite her lip to stop the sudden prick of tears.

  Lillian was the youngest of the Fairchild siblings and it was hard to see her growing up. It seemed like yesterday that her little sister had been more interested in riding her horse and having sleepovers with friends than partying with elites.

  But she’d transformed into a gorgeous, confident woman interested in men and partying. Gone were the T-shirts, jeans and bare face. Now she wore tight, revealing clothes and didn’t leave the house without a full face put on and every last freckle covered up with concealer. She fit in rather well with the three other Fairchild sisters now.

  Which meant Eva felt even more like the fluke of the family. Discomfort slid through her and she shifted in her seat, averting her gaze from her sister’s crestfallen expression.

  After a soft sigh, she admitted, “I’m just not really the partying type, Lilly. I don’t really fit in.”

  And she never had. Not at the parties, not with her family. Oh she loved them unconditionally, and blood was blood. But the only Fairchild she took after was her grandmother Edith, and she’d passed away several years ago.

  As a child, Eva had often sat on the beach outside their Hampton summer home and stared out at the ocean. Dragging her toes in the sand and waves, she’d wondered if maybe she’d been rescued from a shipwreck and adopted. That, or she was a mermaid. Only she’d never grown that sparkly fin.

  “You know you could try and fit in, Eva,” Lillian cajoled. “If you just put on something a little sexier. Have a drink. You know…let your hair down a little.”

  Even as Lillian said it, she started to giggle, and when Eva raised an eyebrow in disbelief she started to laugh harder.

  “Fine. I admit it’s a stretch. But promise you’ll at least come downstairs for a bit, won’t you?”

  It would’ve been so much easier to say no if her family hadn’t been the ones hosting the soirée.

  “I’ll drop by for a bit,” she finally agreed with some reluctance. “And speaking of drinking…”

  “I’ll only have one.” Lillian’s heavily lined, mascaraed-lashes dropped quickly. “I mean, it’s a party, I can’t just drink water. No one actually waits until twenty-one. Geez, you are such a rule follower it’s kind of ridiculous, sis.” Lillian flounced over and gave her a hug. “But that’s why we love you. Anyway, I should go meet up with Anna, she promised to do my hair.”

  Annalise, the oldest sister who practically had a flat iron surgically attached to her palm.

  “Can’t wait to see you tonight.” And then Lillian was gone, leaving Eva alone with a small ache in her stomach and a throat that was suspiciously dry.

  She set her pen down on the invoice she’d been looking over and leaned back in her chair.

  The idea of going to the soirée was about as appealing as getting a Brazilian wax. Not to mention she had another couple hours of work to do. But she’d given her word that she’d drop by, so she’d have to make the time to do so.

  No matter that everyone at the party became tastefully drunk and went on the not-so-discreet search to hook up. Both were activities that Eva had no desire to engage in. She’d never been drunk. Never hooked up. Actually, she’d never had sex period.

  Which was a little embarrassing being that she was twenty-five. She’d never set out to be a quarter-century-old virgin, it had just happened. She’d been focused on making sure she didn’t fall into the Fairchild sisters’ stereotype.

  Gorgeous women who were known not only for their last name, but also for their sensuality and party lifestyles that were splashed in magazines, gossip blogs, and social media.

  Eva had avoided that foray. Getting her CPA and launching a career had been her first priority. She hadn’t made time, or had the desire, to date. Sex simply hadn’t been on her To Do list. Not to mention she’d never found anyone who’d tempted her to want to get involved in an intimate relationship.

  Well, until today. A vision of the man on the beach slid through her mind and her pulse quickened. It was still a puzzle as to why a certain prince with a reputation had sat down by her on the beach and begun to flirt. Not that she’d realized he was a prince until he’d left her. That tiny, not-so-insignificant fact hadn’t been behind her attraction to him.

  He was unapologetically forward, charming, and simply an Adonis personified. And while he’d been sitting so close to her, flirting, she’d felt stirrings in all the right places.

  Heat stole up her cheek and she pushed a hand through her hair, shaking her head as if to dispel the image of him. Her reaction had been so completely abnormal it had left her a bit shaken all afternoon. Almost to the point where it had been hard to concentrate on her work.

  Hopefully Kostas was only passing through the Hamptons on a brief vacation. Because the idea of running into him again had her pulse quickening and chest tightening.

  Ridiculous. She wasn’t a teenager in the midst of raging hormones. She refused to let him affect her as if she were such.

  Besides, surely the prince of Mykorini had better things to do than attend a costume party in the Hamptons.

  Chapter 5

  Not easily impressed by displays of wealth, even Kostas had to admit the waterfront home in the Hamptons was impressive.

  The three-story home itself had to be on at least twenty acres of property. Once you stepped into the double-height entry hall, it was all luxury. Marbled floors, and curved staircases, with 22-karat gold finishes. Swarovski chandeliers that dangled above the room full of costumed people.

  “Thank you.” Kostas accepted the glass of wine that a tuxedoed gentleman offered him, and then turned to continue his observations.

  While the home was extravagant, he couldn’t help but find it all a bit predictable and gaudy. Just as it seemed so many of the people who filled the room were.

  It was a costume party, and yet the expanse of bare flesh seemed to make a mockery of the costume part. A woman moved past him, wearing a tiny super hero costume literally painted onto her body. Another danced by with loads of makeup, a tiny silver dress, and a sparkly unicorn horn attached to her head.

  The men who’d dressed up wore an interesting array of choices as well. A highlander who wore a kilt but no shirt. Tarzan with just a loin cloth. A firefighter with baggy pants and suspenders.

  Not that he’d ever considered himself a prude, but it was amusing to see what qualified for a costume at this party. Back home, a costume themed party meant the more creative and extravagant, the more impressive. Here, it was all about displaying the human body. Perhaps it was simply a very Americanized trend.

  He moved about the room and was soon caught up in numerous conversations and harmless flirtations, but quickly grew weary of it all.

  An hour passed, and he eyed the door with a plan to escape. There’d been no sign of Eva—the woman he’d met on the beach—and no one else at the party had captured his attention.

  He set his half-empty champagne glass on a nearby table and made his way toward a set of double doors that emptied onto the expansive property.

  The air outside was at least several degrees cooler, and he filled his lungs with the crisp sea air. There were a few guests lingering on the grounds, but for the most part he was awarded with a quiet peace that he welcomed.

  A figure appeared from the shadows across the far end of the lawn, moving slow and seeming reluctant. It only took another few seconds before he recognized the person to be Eva.

  His chest rose with the breath of surprise he drew in. He’d given up hope of seeing her at this party. Watching her approach, he couldn’t help but be perplexed by her costume
choice.

  She wore a fitted skirt that ended just above her knees, and a patterned blouse that was buttoned to her collarbone. Her hair was in the same sort of loose knot that she’d worn on the beach, and she had on thick rimmed glasses now.

  Her costume was unique, whatever it was. In a way, the almost prudent nature of it stuck out more than the women who wore more jewels than clothing.

  She clearly hadn’t seen him as early as he had her, and when her gaze slid his way she stumbled to a halt. She looked left and then right, muttered something he couldn’t hear, and then lifted her chin and continued his way.

  When she stood in front of him, she hesitated and then did some little awkward movement that might’ve passed for a curtsy.

  “Your Royal Highness.”

  His gut clenched and a wave of disappointment swept through him. “You recognized me?”

  She gave a faint smile that had his gaze slipping to the pink fullness of her mouth.

  “Not initially. It was only when your bodyguard, or whoever he was, nearly called you by your title on the beach.”

  Yes, it was his guard. “I see.”

  Her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip, and the first small spark of desire spiked in his veins.

  “You’ll keep my secret that I am here?” he murmured, half-kidding.

  “I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but I don’t think it’s much of a secret.” She pulled her glasses off and tucked them into the pocket of her blouse. “A prince vacationing in the Hamptons is always going to be a source of gossip. I was just a bit late in hearing it.”

  “Of course. Though I did try to keep a low profile.”

  “Ah, well, then you probably shouldn’t have come to this soirée. Pretty much every unattached woman has shown up tonight in hopes you’d be here, I’m assuming.”

  “You included?” he couldn’t resist asking.

  Her eyes rounded and her head jerked back. “Me? Of course not. And,” she floundered, her cheeks turning red beneath the freckles, “that’s quite a big assumption to make. That I’m unattached.”

  The jealousy that had his jaw clenching was both surprising and unwanted. His smile in response felt forced.

  “Am I wrong, Eva?” He took a step closer, and her breasts rose with the quick breath she drew in. “Where is this husband?” He glanced at her ringless finger. “Or lover?”

  Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, and she shook her head. “You’re not wrong. I’m unattached, but I’m also not looking for anyone right now.”

  The tension that had corded through his muscles eased, and he gave a slight nod. In truth, that was a relief to hear. Made him even more determined to find out what those full lips would feel like beneath his.

  “Understandable. Nor am I. I, as well, prefer my relationships to be, how do you Americans say it? String-free?”

  Her brows drew together and her mouth compressed into a thin line. “Yes, I’ve heard that about you.”

  Of course she had. The tabloid sites and media hadn’t painted him in any other way. Then again, he really hadn’t given them reason to.

  Changing the subject, he asked, “Have you only just now arrived to enjoy the soirée, Eva?”

  She sighed and gave a small nod. “I don’t usually attend these sort of things, but I made a promise to my sister I’d come for a bit.”

  “And after that? What are your intentions?” He would have to persuade her to join him for a drink at his house.

  “Honestly? Probably just be a total bore and go to bed.”

  Her blunt, honest reply made him laugh, but the image of her taking her hair down and removing the starchy outfit had his laughter drying up.

  She cracked a smile and glanced over him from head to toe. “I’m sorry, you look very nice, but I have to say I just don’t understand your costume.”

  Kostas adjusted his tie and gave her his most charming smile. “Well now, I’m a stockbroker from Wall Street.”

  Her brows lifted and she gave a soft laugh. “Now that’s pretty clever.” She tapped her forefinger on her chin and gave him a considering glance. “Though for the full effect you might’ve considered a hooker on your arm, and some cocaine dangling out of your pocket.”

  Stunned, and delighted by her surprising humor, he confirmed, “The Wolf of Wall Street movie?”

  She gave a nonchalant shrug. “Or reality for some, I’m sure.”

  “You’re probably right.” He gave a sage nod. “I’ll remember that for my next costume party. Unfortunately, I had to make due with the clothing I had on hand. It was either this or come in my briefs as an underwear model.”

  She kept her attention completely on his face, and didn’t even so much as blink. Her only reaction was the deepening of red on her cheeks.

  Amusement lanced through him and he wondered if she was imagining him in a pair of briefs. She’d already seen him in his swim trunks; it wasn’t that much more of a stretch to the imagination.

  Deciding to cut her a bit of slack, he turned his attention to her outfit once more. “It’s taken me a moment, but I believe I’ve figured out your costume.”

  “My costume?”

  “Yes.”

  Her mouth opened, but he waved his hand to silence her before she could tell him what she had dressed as.

  “A naughty librarian?” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Though perhaps without the naughty part. Or maybe the naughty bit is there waiting to be discovered by the right person?”

  The hitch in her breathing was audible, and he could see her nipples now beneath the blouse. The outfit was damn near prudish, but there was no hiding the curves beneath it. She had breasts that would fit perfectly in a man’s hands, and lightly flared hips he could hold onto during lovemaking. What sort of bra did she wear beneath such a blouse? If he unfastened each pearly button, would he find lace? Satin?

  Need coursed through him and he took another step closer to her, closing the distance between them easily.

  With the smattering of trees and nightfall covering them in shadows, he reached out and cupped one soft cheek.

  “Tell me, Eva, am I right?”

  Chapter 6

  Eva couldn’t move. Could barely even breathe as strong, long fingers cradled her jaw. Tingles from his touch radiated from her face down her neck, dancing throughout the nerve endings in her body.

  He was wrong. He was so completely wrong it was almost comical. Was that really how she came across? As a naughty librarian? This was just one of many outfits she wore to the office on a daily basis. She wasn’t trying to be sexy. Wasn’t putting on a form of pretense tonight. She’d simply finished her work, brushed her teeth, and left her small apartment on the edge of the property to make an appearance for her sister.

  Somehow Kostas had gained the impression that this was all a costume. An act. But then he hardly knew her. They’d had one brief conversation on the beach this afternoon.

  Here he was, touching her cheek, waiting for her to answer. Giving her the opportunity to correct him. To explain how he’d formed a wrong impression of her.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth and her pulse went into overdrive. Was he going to kiss her? She was beyond awful at reading signals from men, but everything inside her zinged to life with a bone-deep female awareness.

  It was the perfect opportunity to set him right. To step back and rebuke him for turning both her and her outfit into a cliché.

  The air around them turned heavy and thick, swirling with a charged current. He stroked a finger inward, just barely touching the corner of her lip, and her belly warmed and her knees weakened.

  “Are you, Eva?” His voice dropped an octave, becoming low and gravely. “Just waiting for the right person?”

  He couldn’t have known she was a virgin. Couldn’t have known she would take his guess and twist it to suit her own needs, but suddenly and selfishly, she did. No, she wasn’t waiting for the ‘right person’ to turn on her naughty side, but she had been wai
ting for the right person to make her feel a hot awareness and desire like this. To make her feel something.

  Somehow, this man—this bad boy prince of a small island outside of Greece—had been the one to wake that dormant part of her life. And she couldn’t make herself walk away from this moment, no matter how completely foolish it seemed.

  “You know what? Maybe I am.” It hardly seemed like her own voice. Confident and husky.

  She didn’t hide her eyes from him, and was thankful as she watched his gaze darken.

  The only warning she had of his next move was the slight flaring of his nostrils, before his head swooped low. There was no asking permission, no gentle coaxing, just the sudden, intoxicating firmness of his mouth claiming hers.

  Her lips parted helplessly beneath the experienced demand of his tongue. Then he was inside tasting her, teasing her, coaxing a response she gave all too easily. He tasted like man, champagne, and all sorts of sin.

  He hauled her against him, an arm possessively about her waist as they tasted and discovered each other. Beneath her breast she could feel the pounding of a heart, but she couldn’t be certain if it was hers or both of theirs.

  She’d been kissed before, but never like this. Never with such skilled confidence that it drove every last thought out of her head besides following this thread of pleasure and where it ultimately would lead her.

  The hint of fingers brushing her breast made pleasure roar through her and she swayed—unsteady on her own feet now. She gripped the lapels of his jacket and gave a soft cry of pleasure.

  Kostas broke the kiss first, lifting his head and drawing in a ragged breath, even as she made a soft murmur of protest.

  Neither of them said anything, just stood drawing in uneven breaths. Eva was fairly certain she couldn’t have formed a coherent sentence even if she wanted to, and her mind truly did try. But what did one say after that kind of kiss? What did one do?