The Prince's Fake Fiancée

by Leah Ashton

  She thought back to those moments after she’d smashed that glass: Can I kiss you?

  No, he wouldn’t ask her to do anything she didn’t want to do. It was impossible in the fairy-light-lit almost darkness to read Marko’s gaze, but in the silence he was definitely looking at her.

  She sensed, rather than could clearly see, his lips curve into a grin.

  Had he stepped closer?

  Suddenly the air between them felt hotter—and infinitely more electric.

  ‘Unless,’ Marko began, and his voice was all low and impossibly even sexier than normal, ‘you would like there to be a kissing policy?’

  The atmosphere fairly crackled now.

  Had she moved closer? Someone definitely had, as no longer would she need to reach far to touch the fabric of his suit. Not very far at all.

  A sudden breeze made the towering trees beside the terrace rustle in the darkness, but the sound barely registered in Jas’s periphery.

  Instead, her gaze remained on Marko, and, while she desperately wished she could see him more clearly, there was no questioning the hotness of his gaze, or her certainty that Marko would be seeing a matching heat in hers.

  It would be so, so easy to close the gap between them. To run her fingers along the fine wool that covered his broad shoulders and then entwine her hands behind his neck. To allow herself to fall into him—to press her body close against his, and to kiss him very differently from before. This time with open lips and tongue and...

  ‘You mean a no-kissing policy?’ Jas said suddenly, and sharply, brutally yanking her traitorous libido back to reality.

  And the reality was that this was not real. Prince Marko was a client. She was a professional.

  Marko stepped back.

  ‘You can have Ivan add it to the contract if you wish,’ he said, not missing a beat.

  As if the last few minutes had never happened. As if Jas had imagined the almost magnetic pull that she’d felt between them.

  Jas straightened her shoulders.

  Thank goodness she’d pulled herself together before she’d done something stupid.

  He was the Playboy Prince, after all.

  He probably seduced every woman he met. She’d just happened to be the closest one available.

  And the fact she hadn’t felt that way—that he’d made her feel special rather than one of many—was just a mark of what a player he was.

  ‘We’d better get back inside,’ Marko said. ‘We don’t want to miss out on dessert. Have you had Vela Adian pastries before? Our chef is famous for his pršurate and hroštule.’

  Jas just nodded and followed Marko back inside. At the top of the steps, and just before they walked through those gauzy curtains again, he took her hand in his. Once again he casually laced his fingers with hers, and once again he smiled at her.

  Still that made her heart do a little flip.

  But she ignored that entirely, and instead smiled right on back.

  And silently decided that she would be adding that no kissing clause.

  It would make things between them crystal clear.

  There would be no more kisses from the Playboy Prince.

  Chapter Six

  MARKO FOUND JAS sitting at the only table on the dining room terrace the next morning.

  Her attention was focused on her open laptop, and she didn’t immediately notice his approach.

  She sat at the table where the King and Queen generally had breakfast together, but Lukas and Petra had left early that morning for the Pavlovic Estate where they’d be based during Lukas’s treatment. It was also the table where the previous King and Queen—Marko’s parents—had taken their breakfast.

  ‘My mother and father used to like sitting here,’ Marko said when he stood beside Jas. ‘My mother used to get Lukas and me to count all the boats we could see in the harbour.’

  Her head jerked upwards at his voice, and she blinked in surprise as she met his gaze. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I was in my own little world.’ Then she turned to look out to the ocean. As always, boats dotted the view, and even from this distance Marko could make out colourful towels decorating the white sand of a beach, and a flock of seagulls hovering above the water.

  ‘I can’t imagine waking up to this every morning,’ Jas said, turning back to Marko. ‘My mum’s flat had a balcony with a view of the neighbouring building, and I used to eat breakfast cereal in front of the TV while she got ready for work.’

  ‘We had a chef,’ Marko said. ‘Lukas and I used to ask him to make us dinosaur-shaped pancakes.’

  Jas laughed out loud. ‘I’m glad I didn’t know there were some kids on the other side of the world with their own chef each morning, as otherwise I might not have been so happy with my Weet-bix.’

  ‘But you were?’ Marko asked, curious.

  ‘Happy, you mean? With my Weet-bix and a balcony with a herb garden instead of a view?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, now looking at him, curiously. ‘Very much. It was just Mum and me, but we laughed a lot. Even at the brick view when we first moved in.’

  But Marko didn’t elaborate, and instead placed his coffee on the table. Jas’s brow wrinkled.

  ‘You want to sit with me?’ she asked.

  ‘Unless that’s a problem?’ Marko said, surprised.

  The kiss last night could’ve complicated things, but Jas had made her feelings clear with her ‘no-kissing’ clause.

  He had wondered, for more than a moment, if maybe they could build on that kiss they’d shared, and discover where the electricity he’d felt would lead them. Out on that ballroom terrace, it had momentarily been all he could think about.

  Sex definitely hadn’t been a requirement of his fake fiancée, but it could certainly make things over the next few months more fun.

  Or—as he’d belatedly realised—more complicated.

  He’d never had a relationship stretch from weeks into months, and so there was no doubt that any physical relationship between himself and Jasmine would come to an end well before Lukas returned. And where would that leave them? Best case, it would end amicably and their business relationship would continue as before.

  Worst case, it would end acrimoniously and continuing to persuade Vela Ada they were in love would be impossible.

  So, yes—Jasmine’s ‘no-kissing’ clause was definitely a good thing.

  Even if he had to remind himself of that as he admired her long legs revealed by denim shorts and tan sandals that criss-crossed just past her ankles.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Jas said, shaking her head. ‘Of course not. I just didn’t expect you to.’

  ‘I think the staff would think it strange if we didn’t keep each other company.’

  ‘Oh!’ Jas said. ‘That makes sense.’

  She seemed to relax at that explanation, and she snapped her laptop closed and moved it aside.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘if we have to sit together, it probably is a good idea if we talk a bit about ourselves. You know, the kind of stuff that we should know given we’re engaged.’

  Marko didn’t feel he had to sit with Jasmine at all. In fact, he’d come out here because he’d been looking for her—not because of the role she was playing for him, but because he was wondering how she was after last night. After their...uh...conversation on the ballroom terrace there’d been little opportunity to talk, and she’d said very little when he’d handed her the contract outside her room later on.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked. ‘After your first royal engagement?’

  Jas tilted her head, as if confused. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ She reached for her own coffee. ‘Now, let’s start with the big questions: how do you like your coffee?’

  * * *

  Jas had been almost glad at Marko’s interrupt
ion.

  Almost, because she’d already determined that time spent with Marko was not exactly relaxing. Around him, she wasn’t herself. She wasn’t calm, she wasn’t together.

  She did not like that.

  But—Marko’s interruption had allowed her to save her reply to her mother’s email as a draft, rather than finish it. A reply to an email that had consisted of an official palace photo of Jas beside Marko, Lukas and Petra as they’d welcomed guests to the ball, and a subject line of question marks.

  That was definitely going to be the worst part of all of this: lying to her mother. She had several missed calls on her phone as well from family and friends—but she’d responded to only one: her mum. Although she’d cheated and called her when she’d known she’d be at her yoga class, and had left a voicemail.

  ‘I’ll send you an email and explain everything.’

  Explain things how, exactly, Jas?

  The confidentiality agreement she’d signed as part of Gallagher Personal Protection Services already meant that telling her the truth was not an option. Her latest contract—which she’d sign once Ivan had added the no-kissing clause she’d requested—only made the requirement for secrecy even more iron clad.

  So yes—she’d have to lie to her mum. And so yes—briefly—she’d been glad for Marko’s interruption. Even as she’d noticed how fantastic he looked in faded jeans and a T-shirt that did more than hint at the power of his chest and shoulders.

  But then when he’d sat down, her tummy had done all that ridiculous flip-flopping again, and it had been concentrating on their business relationship—which was, of course, all this was—that had helped her to refocus.

  From the coffee discussion, their conversation had flowed to other easy topics: favourite movies, food, holiday destinations. She’d asked him more about his childhood, curious at the almost wistful look in his gaze when she’d mentioned her Weet-bix and TV breakfasts. She wasn’t even sure if it was possible for Prince Marko to look wistful, but the discovery that he’d had private tutors until university helped to make a bit more sense of why the simplicity of her youth might have seemed appealing to him. Although she definitely wouldn’t have said no to ‘all you can eat’ dinosaur pancakes.

  ‘So why join the police?’ he asked.

  A member of the palace staff had magically appeared once they’d each finished their coffees, and now fresh coffee and pastries sat between them, their delicious aroma mingling with the clean scent of the giant firs that surrounded the palace.

  Jas smiled. She’d been asked this a million times before.

  ‘I always knew I would,’ Jas replied. ‘Since I was a little girl. My mum and I didn’t have a lot of money, and for a long time after my dad left we were waiting for public housing. So we both slept on couches, always feeling like an imposition on mum’s friends and acquaintances and hyper-aware of overstaying our welcome. We had absolutely no control over our situation, and I hated it, and I hated how much my mum worried.’

  She reached for one of the pastries—a piece of strudel packed with apples, sultanas and cinnamon.

  ‘So, I guess it’s no surprise that I grew up into someone who likes to be in control of things. And for some reason I thought that if I was in the police, I’d be in control. I mean—of course I was also attracted to the idea of protecting people—and I have a really strong sense of right and wrong, too—but there was a lot about the allure of having authority. Of being in charge in a situation.’

  ‘And is that what you experienced?’

  Her lips curved upwards. ‘Not the way I expected. There was a lot of frustration too—of being part of some great police work that sometimes led to soft or no sentences for the bad guys. And then there were the people—mostly men—who had real issues with a woman in the force. It was exhausting having to prove myself all the time—to the members of the public who’d talk to my junior male partner more than me, and even within the job itself. When I made it to the ANP, and protecting the Prime Minister, it felt even more like a boys-only club.’

  Jas stopped talking, unsure why she was going into so much detail. The Prince didn’t need to know all of this.

  ‘So that’s why you started your own company?’ Marko asked.

  No.

  Her stomach roiled in a familiar, unwanted, visceral reaction to the real reason she’d left the ANP.

  She’d started her own company because she’d made the mistake of falling in love with a sergeant within her department. A man who she’d found out, too late, had definitely not loved her back. A man who’d betrayed her in the most—

  ‘Yes,’ she said, forcibly halting the direction of her thoughts. ‘That’s exactly why I did.’

  She’d answered his question completely normally—she seemed to be getting better at channelling her usual, measured self around him—and yet Marko was studying her as if she’d said something he didn’t believe.

  Jas looked down at the untouched pastry still in her hand. She took a bite, but barely tasted it.

  This was the second time in two days that she’d allowed memories of the past to clutter her brain.

  But she could not allow that.

  And so she dusted off the icing sugar that had fallen onto her fingers, and met his gaze again. Steady and assured.

  ‘So,’ she asked calmly, ‘why did you join the military?’

  Now he looked away—out over the trees that covered the hill the palace was built upon. But he was looking at Jas again when he said: ‘Because I hated this place.’

  Jas felt her mouth drop open, but before she could say anything footsteps alerted her to Ivan’s arrival.

  ‘We have an hour before we need to depart for your school engagement, Your Highness, Ms Gallagher.’

  Marko nodded sharply, then stood, and left without a word.

  * * *

  Because I hated this place.

  Why would he say that?

  He sat in the back seat of one of the fleet of low, dark palace sedans, with Jasmine beside him. They were heading to an elementary school in one of the lower socio-economic townships of Vela Ada, where he’d be representing Lukas at the announcement of a palace-funded literacy programme.

  Why would he say that?

  His dislike of royal responsibilities was well known, but he’d certainly never said anything like that before. He didn’t even think he’d said it to himself privately.

  Had he hated growing up in the palace?

  Did he still hate the palace now?

  He kept asking himself those questions as the car slid over undulating roads that narrowed as they approached the town, but he found himself unable to answer.

  By the time the convoy of three cars pulled onto a grassy verge to allow a small truck laden with a family of goats to pass, he’d managed to shove the questions aside.

  It didn’t actually matter, after all.

  Whether he liked the palace or not—and all it represented—he was living there for the next few months.

  That was all that mattered.

  The woman he’d be living with for that time was currently chatting to the driver and to the bodyguard sitting in the passenger seat.

  No—not chatting. She was running through the plan for this school visit, reminding her team of the school’s layout from a reconnaissance visit she’d led two days earlier. She then noted the possible exit points should there be any need to evacuate the Prince.

  ‘And his fiancée,’ Marko reminded Jas.

  She slid a glance in his direction, and her lips quirked upwards. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said drily.

  His gaze flicked over her. She wore a navy blue and white summer dress that was part of a wardrobe of clothing that Ivan had sourced under the guise of lost luggage. Sleeveless, but with a high neck and shirt-style collar, it was fitted to her waist before flaring out to a full skirt t
hat finished not that far above her contrasting pale pink sandals. She looked lovely, with her hair styled into a low bun and swept from her face. But when he met her gaze again, she also looked imminently capable. A woman most definitely still able to do her job, regardless of the height of her heels.

  It occurred to Marko, as the car came to a stop outside the school’s three-storey building, that in the unlikely event that he and Jasmine were attacked by an unknown threat—then with his military training and Jasmine’s skill set, there probably didn’t exist a more difficult royal target in the world.

  He was smiling as the driver opened Jasmine’s door, and still was when he joined her on the footpath. He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers in an action that had quickly become second nature to him.

  ‘What are you grinning about?’ she asked, tilting her head up to look at him.

  It was a warm day, and the sun was hot against his unbuttoned charcoal suit jacket. The sun also made Jasmine’s skin glow, highlighting the subtle curves of her biceps and the quiet strength in her lean physique.

  ‘I was just thinking how I almost want someone to try and take us down,’ he said. ‘Good luck to them—you and I would end it before it even started.’

  Jasmine gave a shocked, loud laugh, and then clapped her hand over her mouth. When she removed it, she was still grinning. She shoved him in the shoulder with her spare hand.

  ‘You nong,’ she said, her eyes twinkling.

  ‘Nong?’ he asked, confused.

  ‘You know, like a ning-nong? A bit of an idiot?’ She brought her hand to her mouth again. ‘Whoops, I’m probably not supposed to call you an idiot, am I?’

  But Jas didn’t sound at all concerned that she had.

  Marko just found himself still smiling at her.

  She squeezed his hand, and then, on tiptoes, whispered in his ear, ‘While I tend to agree that we are pretty well qualified to defend ourselves, I just want to make it clear that you are not to go all superman on me should anything go down. My team is in charge, and you follow our orders, understand?’

  He squeezed her hand back. ‘Understood.’

  She stepped back, just as Ivan loudly cleared his throat.