Prince's Proposition (The Exiled Royals #3) (4 page)

By one a.m., everyone had finally made their way out of the event. She and Xavier, as the guest of honor, were the last two to filter out. He was the dutiful host and shook hands with everyone as they left, spending an inordinate amount of time charming Sylvia McCorkle. That brought a wide smile to Paula’s face.

Sylvia was a dear woman and possibly the dearest friend the foundation had. She also was one of the most useful. The woman had married three, different, and legendary Vegas real estate magnates and outlived two of them. She had resources to spare and was kind enough to spare them often with
Lillian’s Fund
.

Paula was touched and excited that Xavier had made such good inroads with Mrs. McCorkle. This exchange of partnerships was going great already. Even though it was torture being this near to him and letting old feelings and urges creep in. However, she was on her way to helping him work out a great agreement with Huang, and he was already working the crowd like a pro and making her donors feel special.

Frankly, she couldn’t wait to see the magic that Xavier would wield at the masquerade ball. He might have an ego and be a workaholic, but like all of his cousins, the exiled prince could also pour on the charm. After all, hadn’t she fallen for it?

After the guests were gone, Paula smiled gratefully up at her new, unlikely partner. Slipping her arm through his crooked elbow, she burrowed into his side as they headed out to the curb, where his private limo waited.

Sometimes she could enjoy the perks, couldn’t she?

She’d only had one drink that night---the Cosmopolitan. When she’d been shut away in the high-powered world of banking where so many deals happened after hours at bars or even in airport lounges, she’d always felt the pressure to be as much like “one of the guys” as possible.

But, she’d seen the eyebrow raise from Xavier and knew that her current drink of choice had surprised him. So had the club sodas she’d had after it. She was sober as a judge, and Paula knew it.

So why then did she feel so damn giddy slipping into the limo with Xavier?

Usually, being crammed in such a tight space with him would leave her antsy. He’d made no secret of his still-thriving attraction for her. He’d been busy checking his smart phone and updates on the Asian markets on the way to
Quake
, but now he was undistracted.

Maybe they were both riding on the high of a successful night with investors, of actually making some real strides for
Lillian’s Fund
. She’d felt elated after the 5k and how successful they’d been. Could that be it? Xavier seemed to be
Lillian’s Fund’s
lucky rabbit’s foot, and he was two-for-two in charming donors and drawing a crowd. For this, at least, she was eternally grateful.

There was adrenaline and the traces of booze and, yes, familiar feelings of lust simmering between them. This time, she wasn’t pressed tightly against the limo’s right passenger door and he wasn’t staring absently at his phone.

Hell, the exiled prince seemed to be working hard to undress her with those unearthly gold-flecked eyes. Crossing her legs tightly over each other, Paula took a deep breath.

Steady there, girl
,
just because things feel like three years ago, doesn’t mean it
is
three years ago
.

“So,” she said, struggling to keep things on a more even keel. “You and Sylvia seemed to really click. That’s amazing. She’s been the best donor for
Lillian’s Fund
since the beginning. Her poor sister---”

“I’m aware,” he said, his tone short.

This helped even if it confused her. She could deal with the tough businessman, the one who evaluated everything with exacting precision. Whatever had flipped Xavier’s switch from ravenous lover to Wall Street wunderkind was appreciated. Frankly, with the tension thick between them, Paula didn’t even trust
herself
not to jump him, let alone Xavier to refrain from his usual flirting and invitations.

“What did I do?”

“If I’m going to be the star of a party with some of your biggest donors, I need to know who they are and what they’re worth, so I know how best to woo them for you. Yes, I know most of the investment bankers who were there, and the town council members, and I know a lot from helping Raymond with his own business endeavors. But Paula, you need to get on your game. I don’t understand what you’re doing here.”

“What do you mean? I know we just rushed into this in the week. And I’ve been knee deep in
both
our accounting
as well as
your sets and sets of briefs so I can serve as the COO for you and your needs. Yes, I should have briefed you better, but I just ran out of time.”

“You definitely seem to have,” he said, his expression softening. “I worry about you. Your head for business is as clear as it ever was when it’s working with me on
Rostov Investments
. Yet, these smaller gaffes and faux pas working with the charity confuse me. I just need you to remember. For the charity’s sake. And for Raymond and Melissa’s sakes. You’re better than you’ve been performing for them.”

What? How dare he say such a thing! Paula crossed her arms over her chest and sat up higher in her seat. It wasn’t going to help her see exactly eye-to-eye with the prince, but it made her feel stronger. Maybe then he would recognize her as a force to be reckoned with.

“
Excuse
me?”

He barely batted an eyelash. “I’m giving you constructive criticism. The more focused you are, the better you work for my cousin,
and
the better things are both for your reputation and your work. No wonder New York went badly.”

Wait a minute.
“You’ve kept tabs on me?”

“It’s not hard to Google anyone these days. I wasn’t stalking you on social media. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Paula laughed and it was a harsh, discordant sound. “Sure. But you’re still the one who after three years, saw me and immediately asked me back, in the middle of a 5k. Who does that? Someone still clinging to the past.”

With a cool and deliberate look, Xavier stretched out his legs and slouched against the upholstery, and his knee tapped against her own. Paula jumped as a slight moan escaped from her throat and her pulse quickened.

Damn it, and I’m supposed to be the coolheaded one!

“I don’t think I’m the only one,” he murmured, leaning closer.

His lips were just inches from her own. And his breath was warm as it puffed over her cheeks. It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss him. As much as she told herself she didn’t care, that she didn’t want to be involved with him, the truth was she’d missed him. But Paula had to stay strong.

Kissing Xavier was a terrible idea. He was an illusion, nothing like the Xavier she’d known years and years ago, the one who no longer existed. That Xavier who laughed, who wasn’t permanently attached to a wireless device…the one who’d had time to made love to her.

As much as she wanted that Xavier back, she knew he wasn’t here.

She reminded herself that he’d been the one to leave first. At least emotionally. She’d only made their separation physical, and that had been to protect herself from further pain.

Pain he was good at inflicting, and when it came to sex, he was god-like. But love and love-making? Xavier didn’t have a clue.

“I don’t want to flirt,” she told him. Her voice sounded weak and not very convincing, even to her own ears. But what did she expect? One of the most gorgeous bachelors on Earth was hanging on her every word, and waiting for her to demand he take her to his bed again. She remembered those orgasms; they could only be described as earth shattering.

But her heart would shatter, too.  “We need to---”

“…keep it professional,” he replied, his tone bored as if he were a kid explaining why he needed to eat broccoli or finish his homework. Xavier licked his lips with deliberate slowness. Paula knew he was seeing her refusal as a challenge to overcome. Worse, she knew, that he was going to win. She’d remembered so much about him, except the fact that Xavier couldn’t resist a challenge; he always set out to win. It’s what made him a success in business. It’s what made him be exiled. And, it’s what was making her willpower crumble. “You don’t really mean that, P” he coaxed, hooking his ankle around hers, coaxing it away from its safe nest against her right. “You want me as much as I want you.”

He pressed his mouth to hers, and she tasted mint and a hint of the Vodka and vermouth still on his lips. The scent of him and his designer cologne and the heat and heft of his broad chest engulfed her.

She’d been correct; Xavier had lost none of his talent. His tongue locked with hers in a dance of both plundering and passion. She mewled as he placed his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her even closer; his other hand drifted lower, to cup one of her breasts.

No!
This wasn’t what they needed, and it went way beyond her “no flirting” rule. This was a few minutes away from full Deco One, naked fun. Paula pulled back and pushed back so that she pressed against the door.

“Xavier! I can’t.”

He moved after her, reaching for her as he said, “It’s okay, P. Don’t worry. People won’t talk. Everyone knows we were an item before, and they won’t say it’s some nepotism thing now.”

“No,” she said, forcing her voice to stay level, even as it threatened to crack and tears filled her eyes. Damn it, he’d made her cry far too much. She was
not
going to let him see how torn apart he made her feel. “I won’t be shattered by you again. I said ‘no flirting’ and I meant it. I just can’t.”

“I guess that means no fu--”

“It means no
nothing
, Xavier. No flirting, no kissing, no
anything
. We’re over, and that means in every way.”

Even though, a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered, we wish it wasn’t. Shut up, she told herself. Even if she’d been as eager for Xavier as he was for her. No meant no.

Especially
because, the voice whispered, she’d been even more eager than he.

***

She was glad the day after the event was a Saturday. It had been scheduled as a Friday night event, and she needed it to be. Now that Paula was holding down two impossible jobs, keeping the struggling
Lillian’s Fund
alive and also trying to build
Rostov Investments
up to compete flawlessly with other major banks.-- most of all The Royal Bank of Ruminea-- she wasn’t sleeping much. Worse, the more she had to study and prepare for meetings or assistant duties, the less sleep she got. But last night?

Last night, sleep had been impossible. She’d start to nod off and fall into sexually charged dreams, a mix of memory and wishful thinking for what could have happened with Xavier. Most women would kill to be slumbering away, dreaming of Xavier’s talented tongue between their legs.

But she couldn’t have him—and she didn’t want to want him--so whenever she could catch herself dreaming, she’d shake herself awake. Damn it, she even sat up around three to five a.m., guzzling coffee and staring at one of the never ending infomercial channels and, seriously, who needed twenty-four hour access to ordering ugly purses the size of small suitcases?

But now she was trying to rouse herself by noon, get a sense of everything back in her head. There wasn’t technically anything on her agenda and, even as muddled as what she had with Xavier was after their fateful limo ride, she was certain he wouldn’t be calling her until Monday.

She had time off, and that was the most important thing. She decided to use the thirty-six hours she had to patch herself back together, harness her resolve and steel her will until she was like a nun or a nineteenth century school marm.

At least that
had
been the plan.

Once she booted up her computer turned to her favorite home page for the latest news, her heart dropped and nausea roiled through her stomach.
This can’t be true.
She stared at the screen. But a leopard never changes its spots, especially if that leopard was a swaggering, self-important and business-obsessed prince. Paula’s heart plummeted to her stomach and beat there until she could feel it through her entire body.

There was just no doubt in her mind that the boldfaced headline was true:

Rostov Investments Cleans up at Charity Party
.

That
bastard!

Fucking Xavier hadn’t been schmoozing on behalf of
Lillian’s Fund
, his actual reason for being there. Oh no. The rat had been using those three hours to sweet talk everyone who was anyone in Vegas high society in order to make funds and connections for his own business.

The article had been barely a level above the usual fluff for
The Star
or
The National Enquirer
, but whoever was the source claimed to be an annoyed entrepreneur invited and actually invested in the charity. They’d only gone on record enough to confirm they were there and that such a coarse display from the prince had disappointed them. Worse, they’d declared themselves soured on further
Lillian’s Fund
events if they were only going to be solicited about a burgeoning bank.