The Cinderella Princess Read online

  “I just arrived,” she continued. “I was sent to help you. Not have sex with you.”

  That explained her outfit and her tone. Not to mention her presence in his hotel room. “Are you alone?”

  “My assistant is getting you a glass of water.”

  He tried to ignore the lightning bolt pain in his head. “Who sent you?”

  “Don Peabody.”

  Peabody-Franks was the US advertising firm associated with the reality TV show’s production company, but his father could still be the puppet master behind this farce of finding a princess bride.

  A noise sounded in the bathroom. Something clattered against the floor. Water ran. Must be the assistant.

  Luc wanted to get up, move, but he didn’t see any clothing nearby. Had the hotel management put him to bed last night? “Tell me how you plan to help me.”

  “First we go back to Italy to film.” A smile still hadn’t cracked her tight lips. “I brought a list of additional bride candidates since the others haven’t…worked out.”

  “Not my fault. I’m doing what I can.”

  “Really?” She motioned to him lying in bed. “Running away and overindulging in champagne isn’t helping. Princesses are turning down first dates with you. We need one that will at least go out with you once if we’re ever going to find a woman to accept your marriage proposal.”

  Each word slapped his face. The sting, however, was nothing new. “If you’re trying to make me feel worse, you’re succeeding.”

  “That wasn’t my intention.” Her voice softened slightly. Her expression didn’t. “But sugarcoating your situation isn’t going to find you a bride.”

  “I appreciate your honesty.” Few told him the truth. Others only repeated what his father wanted said.

  Birth order had determined Luc’s fate long before he was born. Being the youngest child of the king meant no one had expectations he’d amount to much. Unlike his six older siblings, he’d had few rules to follow growing up. Spoiled, yes. Indulged, all the time, especially by his mother. That was why he hadn’t thought his parents would pressure him to marry like the others.

  “I do need to find a wife,” Luc admitted. “But I don’t understand how you’re supposed to help me unless you know of a princess living in a tower with no electricity or a noblewoman who’s run out of other marriage options.”

  “I don’t know any women like that, but trust me. I’ll be able to help you.”

  “Are you a matchmaker?”

  “I’m an account executive at the advertising agency.”

  That didn’t tell him much, but he hoped she wasn’t like the worthless royalty consultant hired by the production crew. “Tell me the difference between a marchioness or a viscountess.”

  “I have no idea, but I’m happy to find out.”

  Not a bad answer. “That’s more than the show’s former royalty expert offered to do.”

  “I’ll do whatever has to be done for the show to be a hit.”

  Her confidence appealed to him. “A true professional.”

  Defiance flashed in her eyes. “Is there any other kind?”

  Her ballsy tone impressed him. He guessed she succeeded, more than she failed. Maybe she would be the right person to help him find a bride. “The hotel allowed you into my room…”

  “Nick spoke to them.”

  Of course, who else? The man had ruined many an opportunity for fun since he arrived a month ago. But Luc had one more thing to do before leaving the country. No one would stop him.

  Another woman approached the bed. She wore a baseball cap and carried a glass of water. A smile lit up her beautiful face.

  Smiling hurt from his teeth to his brain, but Luc did his best. He wanted to make a better impression on this one. “Hello there. You must be the assistant.”

  “I am.” She handed him the glass and two white pills. “These should help you feel better, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you.” This was the kind of care Luc was used to. He took the pills and downed the entire glass of water. Refreshing and needed. Both the liquid and the woman. “There’s no need for formality. Please call me Luc.”

  “I’m Addie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Addie.”

  Something landed on his midsection—the thick, white robe provided by the hotel.

  “What?” he asked.

  The woman in black—he’d forgotten her name—glared at him. Forget shooting daggers. She was firing RPGs.

  “Addie is my assistant. She’s also Nick Cahill’s wife. Unless you’d prefer to be known as Princess Lucy in the future, you’d better watch yourself around her. If you’re not wearing anything under the sheet, put on the robe before Nick arrives.”

  Luc was naked. The bodyguard with hawk-like vision had never made him feel safer or more imprisoned at the same time. No doubt the man would be overprotective of his wife.

  “I’ll refill your water.” Addie picked up the glass and walked away.

  Luc would put on the robe with her out of the room. He also wanted to see how Miss Prim-and-Proper Professional handled the unexpected. Maybe he could get her to loosen up and smile. “I’ll put on the robe now.”

  He moved the robe to the side and threw back the sheet.

  Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. Her gaze lingered longer on his naked body than he expected.

  Interesting. He’d thought she would gasp, turn around, act upset. Not…look at him.

  She blinked, raised her gaze to meet his. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I’m not impressed.”

  “Perhaps not, but you are blushing.”

  Her hand flew to her cheek. “I’m not.”

  Luc liked that she hadn’t been sure and checked. Not one hundred percent in control. He wondered how else he could get her to react. “Only a touch of pink.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Put on the robe.”

  The woman ground out each word. Not one hundred percent professional. Perhaps attracted, in spite of her words.

  Mission accomplished. He sat.

  The room tilted, spun. He clutched the bottom sheet. Didn’t help. His stomach flipped upside down.

  “You’re turning green,” she said. “Here’s a trash can.”

  Luc closed his eyes. That helped. Sort of. He felt as if he were spinning.

  “It’s going to be okay.” Her tone was compassionate and warm, not businesslike. Could she have developed a heart in the last fifteen seconds? What was her name? Em…?

  “I can do this.” Keeping his eyes closed, he tugged on the robe. The terry cloth fabric felt like sandpaper against his skin. His fingers fumbled with the belt. He sucked in a breath. Wished his stomach would stop churning like a whirlpool. “I need a shower.”

  That would make him feel better.

  Luc swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then stood.

  The room tilted to his left. He reached out, grabbed hold of Em-something and tumbled to the bed, landing on top of her.

  His chest pressed against her soft breasts. His face was inches from hers. Her green eyes widened. Her lips, soft and pink, parted.

  Forget about a hangover. Heat rushed through him. The urge to kiss her was strong. Such nice lips. Add a little color…

  She pushed against his chest. “What the hell? I’m not some princess-wannabe turned on by Alvernia’s version of Adonis.”

  Luc considered her words. There was enough of a compliment in them to make him hesitate. “Adonis? Like what you see?”

  She cringed. “No.”

  The one word spoke volumes.

  Luc rolled to the side, then sat on the edge of the bed. The room kept spinning. Putting his head between his knees might be prudent. He stared at the carpet.

  She moved away from him. “You’re still wasted.”

  No, he was naked and reliant on a woman he’d only met with a name he couldn’t remember. Said woman also turned him on, even with his head about to implode. Strange. The assistant was more his
type, but this one intrigued him.

  “I’m hungover. Not drunk,” Luc announced in the royal voice he’d perfected over the years. She’d surprised him. His turn to see what else she could handle. “I’m going to need your help taking a shower.”

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Help him shower? No way. Emily needed to settle her sprinting pulse and stop her body from buzzing with awareness over this blue-blooded player who didn’t mind exposing himself to, well, her.

  His mussed, I’m-too-sexy wavy brown hair brushed his shoulders. Pale skin tone—a result of his hangover?—didn’t detract from the high cheekbones, straight nose and full lips. Classically handsome described him. His only physical flaw seemed to be a small scar beneath his left eye. But the slight imperfection made his looks more interesting.

  From an accident, sports or a fight? Most likely a jealous boyfriend or husband. Yeah, she could see that.

  Emily realized she was staring and looked away. She focused on artwork hanging on the wall. A gilded framed oil painting. The landscape consisting of rich, jewel-tone colors fit the luxurious décor of the room and Prince Luc himself.

  She’d known he was handsome from his photographs, but she hadn’t been prepared for his knock-her-down charisma and sex appeal. Or the sound of his voice that washed over her like a caress. Or him wearing nothing, but a smile.

  She took a breath, then another. She still felt like she’d sprinted a hundred yard dash and needed a breather.

  Addie returned with a full glass of water. Her gaze traveled from the prince to Emily. “Everything okay in here?”

  “Fine.” Luc took the water and drank.

  Maybe he was fine. Emily wasn’t. She took two steps back.

  Had she really called him Alvernia’s Adonis?

  So not good.

  But the guy did have a killer body…face…blue eyes… Those thick eyelashes were to-die-for. Seriously.

  She’d never understood the definition of swooning before, but the prince made her feel weak-kneed and all-too-feminine. She didn’t like it. Or him. She stepped back again.

  “Shower?” he asked.

  An image of the white robe slipping off his muscular shoulders and the opening widening at his chest, then lower, made her swallow. Hard.

  If she didn’t stop the fantasy in her mind, she was going to want to get in the shower with him.

  No. NO. NO!

  Her answer had to be no.

  Getting Luc to the bathroom, let alone the shower, meant being close to him. Touching him. That might sound the wake-up call to her hibernating ovaries. She didn’t want her biological clock to start ticking for another ten years or so.

  N-O.

  “I—” Emily’s voice cracked. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her feel like this. She bit her lip.

  A serious expression formed on Luc’s handsome face. He glanced at Addie. “If Emma—”

  “Emily.” Getting worked up over a man who didn’t remember her name was the definition of pathetic. She thought about her mom sticking with her dad for so many wasted years. With a flick of the proverbial switch, Emily’s attraction for Prince Luc disappeared. She would never be like her mom.

  Emily squared her shoulders. “My name is Emily.”

  “My mistake.” His attention remained on Addie. “If Emily isn’t up to the task, perhaps you’ll help me shower.”

  Addie pinned him with a stare before Emily could say a word. “Got a death wish? Because if my husband—”

  “Oh, right. Nick.” Luc flashed Emily a this-will-be-fun smile. “Looks like you’re it.”

  Lucky her. A prince with a hangover and short-term memory issues. Who wouldn’t want this gig?

  No worries. Saying no might have been her first instinct, but she couldn’t. Until the prince was back at the villa and his search for a wife underway again, he was her responsibility. Don expected results. She wouldn’t disappoint her boss.

  What was the big deal helping Luc to the shower? He’d caught her off guard. She would be better prepared now. She appreciated the male physique. Never mind that Luc was a stranger or a prince. A naked guy was just that—naked. Nothing left to see except his backside. No reason to stress out.

  Resolve firmly tucked into place, she raised her chin. “I’ll help you.”

  So what if Prince Luc was nothing but trouble wrapped in a sexy package of movie star gorgeous looks, to die for wavy brown hair that curled at the ends, triathlete muscles and wiggle-you-out-of-your-panties charm?

  She had this.

  Emily glanced at Addie. “Call room service. Order lunch. Sandwiches. Salads. Coffee.”

  “I prefer tea.” Luc sounded like he was speaking to a servant. “Earl Grey.”

  “Tea and coffee,” Emily said to Addie.

  His gaze narrowed. “No need to order coffee.”

  Jerk. Guess royals didn’t consider the needs of peons, only themselves.

  “What?” He raised his glass of water.

  “You drink tea, but Addie and I drink coffee.” Emily waited for an apology or simply an acknowledgment. None came.

  He sipped his water.

  She wasn’t surprised he hadn’t said a word. Prince Charming existed only in fairy tales. And even then, he left a lot to be desired. Emily preferred men who were uncomplicated and convenient and didn’t act superior.

  “Order whatever else you want,” she said to Addie. “Use the phone in the sitting room.”

  “I’ll stay in here.” A worried look crossed Addie’s face. They’d been friends since grade school, roommates for a few months last year. She knew Emily’s patience was draining. “You might need something.”

  Emily tilted her head toward the doorway. “I’ll yell if I do.”

  Addie hesitated, then walked out of the bedroom.

  Luc watched her go. “She seems sweet. Nick’s a lucky man.”

  “The luckiest.” Though Addie hadn’t made out too badly herself. The two belonged together.

  “Are you married?” Luc asked.

  His question surprised Emily. One glance at her ring finger, and he’d know the question. “No.”

  “Divorced?”

  The word prickled. Divorce was a four-letter word in her vocabulary, and the last thing she’d ever be. Not that she’d tell Prince Nosy that.

  She raised her chin. “My relationship status is none of your business.”

  “If we’d just met and were never going to see each other again, I’d agree.” He took another sip of water. “But you’re here to help me find a wife. Knowing your relationship background is relevant to your job.”

  She’d bet matchmakers didn’t have more successful relationships than the couples they introduced. Love was a crapshoot no matter who you were. But Emily was too tired to argue. She didn’t have much to tell about her love life, and she doubted he would remember what she said.

  “No current boyfriend.” The last man she’d dated had been a pilot she saw whenever he flew into town, which wasn’t much. The perfect arrangement until he’d wanted to get more serious. Her job didn’t leave time for that. “Never engaged nor married.”

  “And they chose you to help me.” Luc didn’t sound impressed.

  She didn’t care what he thought. “Last year, I casted a honeymoon reality TV show that broke rating records. I also fixed problems during the production. My boss trusts me to do the same here.”

  Luc set the empty glass on the nightstand.

  She stared down her nose at him. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

  His mouth slanted in a lopsided grin. “Do you hate all men or is it just me?”

  Her blood boiled. She pressed her lips together to keep from cursing. He was being obnoxious on purpose, trying to get a reaction and piss her off.

  Five days. One hundred and twenty hours. Seven thousand two hundred minutes. That was how long she had to stay on this continent with him. After she returned home, she would be one step closer to mak
ing partner. She could put up with anything and anyone, including Prince Luc, for that to happen.

  “Neither.” She imagined business cards with her new title. That lowered her blood pressure. “The only things I hate are dentist visits, paying taxes, and fava beans.”

  “Fava beans?”

  “Never quite developed a taste for them. You?”

  “Does my answer matter to you?”

  “I asked the question.”

  His gaze narrowed, as if he were trying to analyze her. “You’re different.”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  “What about nice?”

  She shook her head once. “I’m too preoccupied with work to be described as nice.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  Emily shrugged. “My job is my focus. But I’m not mean. At least not on purpose.”

  That gave her an idea. Maybe she should rethink her interactions with the prince. If she approached him with more honey than vinegar in her words and deeds, things might go smoother. Luc seemed to get along with Addie, who was the definition of sweet. Emily was all for making an assignment easier.

  “Come on.” She hadn’t smiled in hours, but she forced her lips to curve upward even if the action felt unnatural. “Let’s get you into the shower. Nick will want to leave right away.”

  Luc stared at her with an odd expression. Puzzled or confused, Emily couldn’t tell. She waited for him to say or do something. He didn’t. Maybe his hangover had worsened.

  “Change your mind about a shower?” she asked, unsure what was going on.

  “No.” He stood. Stepped. Swayed.

  Timber. The word perched on the tip of her tongue. She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Hold onto me.”

  He leaned into her.

  “I’ve got you.” She grunted. Supporting his weight and keeping him steady wasn’t easy, but she managed to keep him upright. “You’re not going to fall.”

  Seconds, maybe a minute passed. She held onto him tight.

  “Lost my balance.” He steadied himself. “I’m okay now.”

  She didn’t want to take any chances and kept hold of him. “Go slow, just in case. I don’t want you to fall.”