His

Royal Princess

Jessica Clare
 Copyright © 2016 Jessica Clare

Cover photograph ©

The right of Jessica Clare to be identified as the Author of the Work has been assertted by her in
accorddance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Published by arrangement with InternetMix,

A member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,
A Penguin Random House Company

First published in this Ebook edition in 2015

by HEADLINE ETERNAL
An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or
transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case
of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing
Agency.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.

Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

eISBN 978 1 4722 4120 7

HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

Anne Hachette UK Company
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 Contents

Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Praise for Jessica Clare
By Jessica Clare
About the Book

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve

Welcome to the Billionaire Boys Club

Meet the Billionaires and the Bridesmaids
Find out more about Headline Eternal
 About the Author

Jessica Clare is the New York Times bestselling author of the Bluebonnet series, as well as the Billionaire
Boys Club novels. She also writes under the names Jill Myles and Jessica Sims, and has a day job in
finance. Jessica lives in Texas with her husband and cats, spending her time writing, reading, writing,
playing video games, and doing even more writing.

Follow her on Twitter @_JessicaClare or join her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AuthorJessicaClare.

 Be dazzled by Jessica Clare’s passionate love stories . . .

‘Just thinking about it puts a smile on my face . . . In short, this is a really fun, entertaining, engaging book,
and I can’t wait to read (and reread) the other billionaires’ stories’ Heroes and Heartbreakers

‘Saucy, blistering and emotionally endearing . . . sizzling good fun. With broad strokes and wry detail,
Clare creates characters who are unapologetically individual and wonderfully unpredictable’ Romantic
Times

‘An awesome quick read that touched my heart and stirred my spirit. Buckle up and take a ride – you’ll
enjoy every peak, valley, twist, and turn’ Cocktails and Books

‘Fun and sexy and flirty . . . Stranded With A Billionaire has reignited my love of the billionaire hero’ The
Book Pushers

‘Sizzling! Jessica Clare gets everything right in this erotic and sexy romance . . . You need to read this
book!’ Romance Junkies

‘A cute, sweet romance . . . A fast, sexy read that transports you to the land of the rich and famous’ Fiction
Vixen

‘Fast-paced, passionate, very sexy . . . A unique, modern-day fairy-tale that’s as steamy as it is entertaining’
Harlequin Junkie

‘A fun, flirty, and sexy read . . . an emotionally rich love story’ Fresh Fiction
 By Jessica Clare

Billionaire Boys Club Series

Stranded With A Billionaire
Beauty And The Billionaire
The Wrong Billionaire’s Bed
Once Upon A Billionaire
Romancing The Billionaire
One Night With A Billionaire
His Royal Princess

Billionaires And Bridesmaids Series

The Billionaire And The Virgin
The Taming Of The Billionaire
The Billionaire Takes A Bride
 About the Book

HIS ROYAL PRINCESS

Their romance led to a royal wedding in Once Upon a Billionaire.

Now see how it all began for Princess Alexandra of Bellissime and American actor Luke Houston.

As heir to the throne of Bellissime, Princess Alexandra is supposed to be cool and calm . . . not crushing on
a movie star. When she hears that Luke Houston is filming a scene for his next movie in her tiny country,
however, she can’t resist sneaking onto set to get a glimpse of the Hollywood hunk.

When Alex is almost caught on set by the press, she ducks into the first available hiding place – only to find
herself in Luke’s private trailer, and getting much more than just a glimpse of him. It’s an up close and
personal encounter that sets her heart aflutter, and sets her mind on some very unladylike plans to get to
know him better . . .

Want more irresistible romance? Look for the rest of Billionaire Boys Club titles, starting with
Stranded With A Billionaire, as well as the sizzling spinoff series, Billionaires and Bridesmaids,
starting with The Billionaire And The Virgin.
 CHAPTER ONE

Summer 2013

“Royal princesses really should not have crushes on Hollywood actors,” Lady
Margaret Von Strauss told Alex for what felt like the seventh time that day. “It’s
improper and unseemly.”
“It’s not a crush,” Alex protested again, even as she straightened her dark-
haired wig in the mirror. She found a pale scarf and tucked it around her hair,
then put on a big pair of rounded glasses that dwarfed her face. “I just want to
see what he looks like in person.”
Okay, so it was a crush, but Alex would be damned if she’d admit it to stuffy
Margaret. Margaret was supposed to be her companion-slash-assistant but with
their age difference, Margaret felt a lot more like a mother or a babysitter. For
goodness’ sake, it wasn’t as if Alex was going to hunt Luke Houston down on
the set of the movie and proposition the man. She just wanted a peek at him.
And really, what was the harm in that? She’d never get the chance again.
Movies didn’t often choose to shoot on location in tiny Bellissime. Their country
was tucked into the mountains between France, Switzerland, and Italy, and while
they were world famous for truffles and chocolate? They were not famous for
tourism. The fact that a car-chase action movie was being shot mere kilometers
from the royal palace?
Of course Alex had to get out and see that.
Dreamily, she stepped out of the back of the sedan and pictured Luke
Houston. He was utterly handsome and charming, even if his movies were a
little on the questionable side. She’d seen Mars Troopers seven times, fascinated
with his character, and Alien Overlord only three times because his role had been
a small one. She’d seen all of the Pirates! Ahoy! movies more times than she
could count, because he’d been a scruffy sailor who stole the heart of the
heroine. And while Alex wasn’t much of an escapist, she had to admit that she’d
wished to be that damsel in distress more than once.
 Most of the time, she just wished she was the actress, so she could spend time
around Luke himself.
“Wait here,” Margaret said to Alex, and put a hand on her arm. “I’ll look for
photographers.”
Alex nodded and waited patiently by the ivy-covered wall of an old building.
It was an old chocolate warehouse for a business that had gone belly-up last
year. According to her “sources,” the movie was shooting a series of gambling
scenes in this warehouse. Judging by the fleet of trucks and cars parked along
the cobblestone road, her source had been correct. Alex felt a breathless twist of
excitement in her stomach.
She was going to see Luke Houston, the hottest, sexiest man in Hollywood.
It was risky, of course. So incredibly risky that her body clenched rigid with
fear when a car drove down the street. If Grandmother found out, she’d be upset.
She’d heard it so many times in the last year. With your mother’s actions, things
are unsteady. Now, more than ever, we need to present a serene, unified front to
the people.
And she would . . . right after she met Luke.
Margaret returned after circling the building. “I don’t see any paparazzi,” she
said, a bit winded. “Are you still sure you want to do this, Your Grace?”
Alex nodded. She wasn’t turning back now.
Margaret gave her a long-suffering sigh, then smoothed her hair. “Very well.
Let us enter, then.” She opened the door to the warehouse and the two women
went inside. They didn’t knock, of course. Alex never knocked, and knocking
implied that you weren’t supposed to be there and were asking for permission.
Alex never asked for permission, either.
The interior of the warehouse was echoing. It looked like a small building,
given that most of Bellissime’s buildings were older. The interior seemed empty,
though. The ceiling was shadowy, and in the distance, she could see a lit area
and several people crowded around it, microphones hovering. Others raced
around, and there seemed to be power cords everywhere. At the far end of the
warehouse, two trailers were parked neatly next to each other. Off to one side
there was a table laden with sandwiches and fruit trays and drinks, and a few
employees hovered near it.
Alex clasped her clutch purse tightly, gazing around with excitement. So this
was his newest movie. What would he be playing this time? A gambler? An ex-
con with a heart of gold? A billionaire with a vendetta?
 One employee broke off from the group near the table and approached them,
frowning. “Can I help you ladies with something?” He had a thick American
accent, and he sounded disgruntled to see them.
Margaret stepped forward, a haughty expression on her face. “I need to speak
to the person in charge here.”
The man crossed his arms. “You ladies need to leave. This shoot is off
limits.”
Shoot! So they were shooting! Her expression serene, Alex picked at
invisible lint on her navy wool jacket and then smoothed a hand over the
matching skirt.
“Who is your superior?” Margaret’s voice was icy.
“I’m in charge of set security, so unless you want to be tossed out on your ass
—”
Alex cleared her throat. They weren’t here to make a fuss, just to snoop
around.
Margaret glanced back at Alex, and then nodded. She leaned in toward the
man. “My name is Lady Margaret Von Strauss, and I am the personal
companion of Her Royal Highness, Princess Alexandra Olivia III of Belissime.”
At the man’s blank expression, she continued. “You do know this country is a
monarchy, yes? Her Grace wishes to take a look at the set.”
The man’s jaw dropped, ever so slightly. He looked over at Alex.
She tilted her head in acknowledgement.
“I . . . need to talk to the director. You two wait here.” He gestured at the
women, then pulled a walkie-talkie to his mouth and began to murmur into it as
he stepped away.
Margaret returned to Alex’s side with a sniff. “Rude Americans.”
“Now, now,” Alex said, voice placating. That was her job. She was always
the faultless, kind one. It was Margaret’s job to be the bad guy. “I’m sure we’re
intruding. If the director asks us to leave, we will.”
“He won’t if they tell him who you are,” Margaret said with another haughty
sniff. She was very old-fashioned and didn’t grasp that society was changing,
and that royalty weren’t quite . . . revered in modern times.
A tall, thin man with wild gray hair came trotting forward a few minutes
later, the frowning guard at his heels. He had wire-framed glasses that didn’t
seem to sit quite straight on his nose, and his clothing was rumpled. “Princess!”
He extended his hands out to Alex. “It is a pleasure to have you on set.”
 Alex extended a hand to him and gave him a polite smile, ignoring the breach
of protocol. People normally bowed when they met her, but again, Americans
didn’t have the same rules that a lot of Europeans did, and she didn’t mind.
Margaret’s stiff posture spoke of insult, so Alex made sure to make her voice
warm with greeting. “I do hope we are not intruding, Mr. . . .”
“Stanton. Nick Stanton.” He pumped her hand vigorously.
“Ah. You directed Pirates! Ahoy!, yes?”
The man practically quivered with pleasure. “I did! Are you a fan?”
“Very much so.” Alex glanced about the set and tried not to be too obvious
that she was looking for someone in particular. “Is this a similar film?”
“Oh, no, no. This is very much a car-chase sort of movie.” He laughed and
then tucked her hand in his arm before she could pull back. “I’m so honored that
you’re here! Let me give you a tour of the set.”
“Why, that would be absolutely lovely.” Alex smiled. She hoped the tour
would include a nice meet and greet with the principal actors, as well.

***

An hour later, Alex had been treated to a very brief tour of the set (which mostly
consisted of being paraded around to the staff) and then ushered into Mr.
Stanton’s crowded, paper-strewn office, where he proceeded to regale her with
tales of Hollywood and how much cheaper it was to film in Bellissime than in
Prague, where he’d been on location last. Alex kept up her polite smile, but
inwardly she was despairing that she’d ever get to meet Luke Houston.
Goodness, at this point she’d settle for a brief glimpse of the man. But the
director didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. In fact, he was shoving a script
in her direction and offering her a walk-on part since she was such a fan.
Alex, of course, demurred. It would be unseemly for a royal personage to
show up in a pop culture film, especially one that might have sex, nudity,
violence, or foul language. That was a public relations nightmare in the making.
“Look,” the director said, pushing a much-thumbed script in her direction.
“You can read for this part right now. I’ll tell you if you need work.”
“I really must decline,” Alex said gently. “But—”
There was a quick knock at the door. “Mr. Stanton?”
Irritation flashed across the wiry man’s face. “What?” His voice bit out the
word sharper than Alex expected, and at her side, Margaret jumped.
“The photographers are here.”
 Photographers? Alex’s stomach gave an unpleasant twist, and she gave
Margaret a mild look of distress. Always mild. Never show how worried she
truly was. A royal princess was always unruffled and calm.
Margaret, of course, freaked out. “Photographers?”
The director’s gray, bushy brows drew together. “Why, yes. We’re doing a
piece for the local news. I don’t see—”
Alex’s hands tightened on her tiny purse. Oh, no. She couldn’t be on the
news, snooping around an American movie set. They would wonder what she
was up to, and people would speculate on her character, her motives, and
goodness knew what else. This was bad. This was very bad. And her in a wig!
They’d think she was meeting someone for a clandestine affair!
The papers would have a field day with it. Worse than that, her grandmother
would be so very disappointed in her.
“The princess cannot be seen here.” Margaret hissed the words between her
teeth. “It will cause a scandal and your movie will be shut down if the palace
hears of this.”
“Are you threatening me?” The director blustered.
“I’m sure there’s a perfect solution for this,” Alex chimed in smoothly.
“Perhaps I could exit out the back of the building while you invite the
photographers in?” She’d just have to give up on seeing Luke Houston in person
and be content to see him on screen. She fought hard to quell her
disappointment. Margaret had been right. This was a mistake.
“Providing that there is no one waiting at the back of the building to
photograph you,” Margaret said acidly.
Alex turned a supplicating look on the director.
He snapped his fingers. “We can put you in one of the private trailers until
the coast is clear,” the director said, jumping to his feet. “We’ll make sure no
one sees you and then get you out the back, Princess.”
“Address her as Your Grace,” Margaret corrected.
Alex’s heart fluttered madly in her chest, but she gave Mr. Stanton a sweet,
unhurried smile. “That would be lovely of you.”
 CHAPTER TWO

Luke scrubbed his face in the shower of his trailer, as if he could somehow wash
away his irritation with this project. One week into shooting, and he was already
sick of everything.
He needed a vacation, he really did. The trouble with acting was that the
moment your career took off, that was when all the projects started heading your
way. And in his case, his career had taken off after several years of hard work
and small roles in endless low-budget films.
Ironic that now that he was getting somewhere, all he could think about was
getting away. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly terrible about this
movie. The script was asinine, but reshoots would probably fix the worst of it.
His co-star was a ditz and into nose-candy, but at least she showed up on time
every day and knew her lines. The director was stressing him out, though. He’d
worked with Nick on the pirate movies, but Nick had been married then. Now
Nick was in the middle of a messy divorce, and he was nitpicking the fuck out of
Luke’s performances. The muscles in the back of his neck tensed, and he rubbed
them under the spray. He knew he wasn’t the best actor in Hollywood, but fuck,
he wasn’t a moron. And for this film? It seemed like Nick wanted a moron.
Every time Luke made a suggestion or tweaked his lines a bit, Nick had a fit.
Luke had tried calling his agent, but his agent was starstruck over this
picture. The studio was in love with the concept, his agent said. This one had all
the makings of a star vehicle, and Luke was already on the upswing. If this
picture performed at the box office? Luke would be on the A-list.
So he gritted his teeth and endured every inane suggestion. He stopped trying
to improve his character. He gave the director exactly what he wanted, even if he
hated every moment of it.
But it was killing his love of acting. He spent a lot of time in his trailer,
moping and exercising to burn away some of the frustration.
The water turned cold, a sign he’d been in the shower for far too long, and
Luke sighed, turning it off and grabbing a towel. They’d come looking for him
soon enough. The director was busy schmoozing some important person in his
office, so Luke had taken the opportunity to head to his trailer to “study” his
lines. Not that there was much to study. His “deep, layered” assassin character
had all the depth of a caveman.
Grabbing a towel, he scrubbed at his hair to dry it and then stepped out of the
bathroom and into his trailer.
He wasn’t alone.
There was a woman standing there, her back to him. She was wearing a prim
navy suit, the pencil skirt to her knees, the jacket tailored to fit her slim
shoulders. Her hair was covered by an ugly scarf and when she turned her head
slightly to the side, he saw she wore sunglasses despite the fact that she was
inside. Her shoes were dainty nude heels, and she carried a tiny handbag
clutched in her hands. She was staring up at one of the posters on the wall, of
him on his last movie. He’d been stoked that he’d actually made the poster for
the last one, and his manager had made sure that copies of it were displayed
prominently wherever he went.
Luke quickly wrapped the towel around his waist. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
The woman turned. Her mouth worked silently, and then snapped shut. He
couldn’t see her eyes under the enormous sunglasses, but he couldn’t help but
feel like she was . . . ogling him. After a moment, she cleared her throat
delicately. “The . . . director told me to come in here.”
Her voice was smooth and cultured . . . and accented. A local, then. He
studied her form again. He couldn’t tell how old she was, but she seemed young
enough, and her legs were divine. Her tailored jacket hinted at a fine shape
underneath. So why was the director sending her in here?
Unless . . .
Luke groaned. Since his divorce, Nick had been very “into” hookers. That
was one reason why they were shooting in Europe instead of Canada. Europe
was very open to prostitution, he’d been told by the twitchy director more than
once, and it did wonders for stress levels.
And Nick had noticed that Luke had been stressed all week.
Well, that would explain her frumpy outfit and what was obviously a wig. If
Nick had sent him a hooker, then it’d be best if she was anonymous, because she
was about to get booted out on her ass. The last thing he needed was
entanglements of any kind at the moment. “Look, miss. I know why you’re
here.”
“You do?” She sounded surprised.
 “I do. And while that was real nice of Nick and all, I’m not in the mood
for . . . company.”
“Oh, but I’m not here to keep you company,” she said, her voice smooth and
charming. A dimple appeared in her cheek.
Great. Not only was she a hooker, she wasn’t a bright one. He rolled his eyes
and moved to the bed at the far end of the trailer, grabbing a pair of boxers.
“You wanna get rid of the sunglasses? You’re not fooling anyone.”
“I’m not?” Her voice sounded wistful.
“Nope.” He dropped the towel and pulled on his boxers, then turned to face
her.
While he’d turned around, she’d removed the sunglasses, all right, and he
was surprised. Strong brows arched over clear blue eyes, and her face was
square and regal. Not delicate and pretty like most Hollywood women who had
their cheeks sculpted and noses trimmed to perfection. She was elegant, but not a
beauty, and younger than he’d expected.
She also looked utterly shocked, her gaze flicking from his chest back down
to his boxers over and over again.
His eyes narrowed. “Problem?”
She tilted her head as if considering the question. “No, I’m quite all right.
Thank you.” He noticed her grip on that little purse was white-knuckled, though.
A nervous hooker who looked more like Mary Poppins than an escort? Either
Nick thought he had some weird fucking fetish, or something was lost in
translation. “Do all European escorts dress like you? With the schoolmarm
getup?”
Again, her mouth opened silently, as if she wanted to respond and had no
answer prepared. She quickly covered the shocked look and a small smile spread
on her face, making her seem downright impish. The dimple reappeared. “I don’t
really know. Do most escorts not dress in similar attire?”
“Not that I’ve seen.” Why was he conversing with her instead of shooing her
out of his trailer? Was it because she was smiling as if she were so very amused
by things? There was something about that flash of naughty dimple that
intrigued him.
“Is there a dress code?” Her face was utterly serious as she asked.
“I guess not, huh?” When that smile returned, Luke couldn’t decide if he
wanted to smile along with her or if he wanted to scowl. A damn hooker in his
trailer. He’d really come up the ranks, hadn’t he? He should have been flattered,
but he was mostly insulted. “Why do you think this is so amusing?”
 She smiled again and gave a shrug of her shoulders. “I just . . . This isn’t how
I pictured it.”
“Meeting me?” He tried to imagine how she had pictured it. Maybe on her
knees in those prim little heels in front of him, with his dick in her mouth? Him
pushing her over the arm of the sofa in his trailer and fucking her until she was
screaming his name? His dick grew hard at the thought, and he grabbed a nearby
T-shirt to hold in front of him so she couldn’t see how his daydreams affected
him.
“I thought you’d be . . . taller.” She bit her lip and looked almost apologetic.
“You must not know a lot of Hollywood types.” He sauntered toward her.
“I don’t.” There was an almost kittenlike curiosity in her bright eyes as she
watched him.
“We’re all short.” Luke leaned in toward her, a bit too close. He’d found long
ago that getting into people’s personal space forced them to really concentrate on
you, and they usually gave you what you wanted. He watched as her eyes
zoomed in on his face, and her lashes fluttered. “Guess the reality isn’t good
enough for you?”
Her lips parted, and for a moment, he wanted to plunder that pretty mouth
and take control of the situation. “I . . . I didn’t say that.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” He leaned in a bit closer. “You’re a bit like me,
aren’t you? Paid to spin a story for your customers. To pretend to be whatever
they think you should be instead of who you really are.”
For some reason, that made her grin again. “I suppose I am.”
He found himself grinning back at her. She was so . . . pleasant. It was hard
to stay angry. “Well, you can tell Nick that I appreciate the gesture but I’m really
not into”—he waved a hand, indicating her— “escorts.”
“I don’t know if I should be thrilled or hurt.”
“Don’t worry, this is a first for me, too.”
Again with the attentive head tilt. “First time turning away an . . . escort?”
“First time I’ve been offered one. I’m normally eating out at food service
with everyone else. Guess I should be pleased I finally hit it big.”
She looked pleased as well. “It’s because you were so wonderful in your last
movie. So very heartbroken.”
Luke stilled. This woman constantly surprised him. “In Pirates?”
She nodded enthusiastically, her hands tight on that little purse she held
before her like armor.
 “You’ve seen it?” Of course, he immediately felt stupid for asking that.
Everyone had seen Pirates! Ahoy!, if only for the beautiful Estrella George.
“Several times.”
He felt a frown crease his face. “My character was the romantic lead.”
“But it was obvious he was recovering from a past heartbreak. The way he
looked at her . . . in the beginning of the movie, it was clear he was seeing
someone else.” Her expression grew dreamy. “You were so forlorn.”
Luke rubbed his jaw, feeling a mix of weird pride and awkwardness. He had
played his character as one coming out the other side of heartbreak. The
background for his role had been paper-thin, so he’d tried to make it more
emotional. No one had ever picked up on that until now. Until her. “Well . . .
thanks.”
She just gave him another one of those serene smiles. “You are most
welcome.”
So formal. A chuckle rose in his throat, and he leaned forward and gave her a
peck on the cheek. It was obvious she was a fan, so he’d give her a little
something to go home with, even if it wasn’t his dick. “I appreciate the flattery,
but nothing’s changed. I’m still not interested.”
She touched her cheek and a faint flush crept over her face. “I’m almost
disappointed.”
He was, too. Luke pointed at the door, and she nodded and exited the trailer.
He flung himself down on the couch and rubbed his aching groin absently. She
wasn’t his type: too oddly elegant, too interested in his career, and too much of a
sex professional.
But sometimes . . . He sighed. Sometimes it was nice to be appreciated for
your work, rather than if you could connect someone with a director or agent.
Luke rubbed his face. He must really be on edge if he was assuming all that out
of a freaking hired escort.
His phone buzzed with an incoming text. He reached over and picked it up,
glancing at the screen. His publicist.
Beckee here! Just heard Steve’s looking for someone to date Janella
Davidson for some press. Few red carpets, few photo ops, etc. She’s A-list! U
interested??
Luke groaned. He knew Janella. Nice girl, but she slept with all her directors.
He didn’t want to be a public cuckold, no matter how fake the “relationship”
was. Pass.
Ok but we have to get u someone on ur arm! Get u in those tabloids!!
 I’ll think about it, he sent back, and then tossed his phone away. He couldn’t
even be angry at Beckee. She was just doing her job. It was him who was
suddenly balking at everything.
He was finally getting everything he’d worked so hard for. Why was it that it
left him so cold?
 CHAPTER THREE

Alex dreamily sipped her tea over breakfast with her mother.
“You’re not eating, darling.” Her Royal Highness Alexandra Olivia II gave
her daughter a look of mild concern as she delicately nibbled on a triangle of
toast. “Are you well?”
“I’m fine.” Alex put down her tea and dutifully picked up her knife and fork.
“Just distracted.”
“Too much work? Shall I tell Mother she is giving you too much to do?”
Alex shook her head and cut into a sausage. “It’s not crown related.”
“Then you don’t mind if I take off and have myself a wild weekend in Monte
Carlo?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Alex and grinned. “Spreading my royal
oats and all that.”
“Mother, please, I’m trying to eat.” Alex gestured at her sausage, but she was
smiling.
The last year had been one of change for both mother and daughter. Four
years earlier, Alex’s father, Duke Jerome Von Schessel of Saxe-Gallia, had died
in a boating accident. Her mother had dutifully mourned him, even though the
marriage had been an arranged one and not always happy. After three years of
“appropriate widowhood” had passed, the elder Princess Alex had gone to her
daughter and had a heart-to-heart. She’d given the first half of her life to the
throne, but now she wanted the second half to be about herself. She’d decided to
abdicate from the line of succession and live life on her own terms.
And while that was perfectly fine with Alex, because she loved her mother
and wanted her to be happy . . . she didn’t necessarily want to hear the details of
her mother’s trysts with the royal gardeners, stable-keepers, gamblers in
Monaco, and what have you. She was always discreet in public, but Alex heard
far too much about all of it.
Her mother sighed again and put down her toast. “I just worry about you,
darling.”
 Alex took a bite of her food, chewed, and then tapped her mouth with a
napkin. “I assure you, I’m fine, Mother. Grandmama has been giving me just
enough to do so I can take over her duties slowly. It’s not as if I haven’t been
groomed for this all my life.”
“Yes, but before you were second in line to the throne. Now you’re the heir. I
just worry you’re going to resent me.” Her mother’s sparkling eyes looked
unhappy.
“Never. I want you to enjoy yourself. And I like being crown princess. It
gives me purpose.”
Her mother smiled. “Just don’t let it define you. You’re always so serious.
Haven’t you ever met someone who just made you want to forget all about
propriety and be normal?”
Alex ate another chunk of sausage so she wouldn’t have to answer that. The
truth was, she had. She thought about Luke Houston and his bare chest. Luke
Houston giving her a kiss on the cheek. Luke Houston stripping off his towel
and stepping into boxers right in front of her eyes.
Oh, she thought about someone who made her want to forget propriety a lot.
And she was still thinking about him. In fact, she was constantly thinking
about ways to see him again. “So you’re going to Monte Carlo this weekend,
Mother?” She kept her tone mild, but the wheels in her head were spinning.
Perhaps she might invite the cast of the movie to come and tour the royal
palace? It wouldn’t be so out of place. Important dignitaries and famous visitors
to Bellissime were often invited for dinner and a visit.
She’d just . . . make sure both her grandmama and her mother were away
when the palace invitation was sent.

***

Two days later, her mother was in Monte Carlo, her grandmother was out at her
country estate for a weekend of fresh air, and Alex had the royal palace to
herself . . . well, herself and a hundred staffers. But that was close enough. She
sent out a personal courier with a handwritten invitation to dine and receive a
personal tour of the royal palace of Bellissime. Her messenger was instructed to
invite the director and the main cast and to return with a headcount of who
would be coming. Silently, she fretted, hoping that thirty people didn’t show up
when she only cared about one. But propriety must be served, and so she ignored
her worries.
 While she waited for responses, Alex tore through the clothing in her closet.
Everything she had was . . . well, goodness, it was demure. It was all made of the
highest quality, but her skirts were fitted (so as not to fly in a breeze) and long,
her dresses were either extremely formal or more along the lines of power suits.
She had nothing suitable for a “casual” evening at the royal palace.
Actually, she had nothing casual at all.
She pulled out a new de la Renta and then rang for her assistant. “Call the
messenger and tell him the party has changed to formalwear.”
“Right away, Your Grace.” The woman exited quickly, and Alex returned to
studying her dresses. Then she called down to the kitchen to let them know of
the impromptu dinner party. The staff had to be notified to prepare the
Chesterfield drawing room, the dining staff of how to handle the dinner, and
then there were additional servants who would do everything from take coats to
ensure that muddy footprints did not remain on the marble floors for longer than
a moment. Soon the palace was a flurry of preparations, and Alex herself dressed
carefully.
Instead of her normal chignon, she left her hair down and loosely curled. Her
makeup was light, and she wore only the barest jewels, and no crown. A crown
would be gauche. The dress she picked out was a lovely floor-length gown with
a bell skirt that was slightly shorter in the front and longer in the back, so her
heels peeped out. It was a lovely taupe-colored brocade that should have been
ugly, except for the exquisite, tiny flowers that had been delicately embroidered
in vines up the skirt and on the bodice. The dress itself had a tight bodice that
went from hip to breast, and was cut straight across the chest so as not to give
her cleavage (princesses never had cleavage). Because it was strapless and
sleeveless, the designer had made her a matching bolero jacket, because she
wasn’t allowed to show too much skin. For a moment, Alex considered ditching
it, but the party was bound to be in the news the next morning, and she didn’t
want to give them more to write about than they already had. So on it went.
When she descended from her room, the guests were to arrive in a half hour.
She didn’t worry that they were coming. Of course they would—who turned
down an invitation from the royal palace? She adjusted her sleeve just as her
messenger came up to meet her.
“How many are coming?” Alex inquired.
“Four, Your Grace. Would you like their names?”
And make herself seem too eager? That wouldn’t do. She gave a quick shake
of her head, even though she was dying to ask if Luke Houston would be
coming. “I shall see them at dinner. Please let the staff know how many they will
be receiving.”
He nodded and bowed, zipping away.
Alex smoothed her skirts and went to her private parlor, where she could
fidget in peace. There was a parlor for guests, and then the immediate royal
family had their own room to relax in. She went there and picked up a book, but
she couldn’t concentrate. All she wanted to know was who would be coming.
Would it be the director and three strangers? She hoped not. If Luke Houston
wasn’t there tonight, it’d take everything she had not to be utterly crushed. She
wanted him to see her, and to see the look on his face when he realized who she
was and who he’d met in his trailer.
Who he’d kissed on the cheek. Who he’d undressed in front of. Her cheeks
heated at the thought and she pressed the back of one hand to her face.
The time for the party passed, and Alex stared at the clock. She was never
exactly on time. Her grandmama the queen insisted that royalty was always five
minutes late. Never earlier than that because it showed eagerness, and never later
than that because it showed rudeness. But five minutes? That built anticipation.
Each minute ticked past infinitely slowly, until she groaned and rechecked her
makeup for the hundredth time that evening. Her lip gloss was immaculate, her
eyes subtle, her hair blonde wavy perfection. There would be photos taken
tonight and she would look as she always did—utterly serene, completely
without blemish. A princess doll who smiled and did as she was told.
Pretend to be whatever they think you should be instead of who you really
are.
Boy, he really had her pegged with that observation. Alex smiled gently at
her reflection, pinched her cheeks to give them becoming color, and then
carefully left her private sitting room to go and greet her guests.

***

Luke tugged at the tight neck of his green bow tie. Normally he liked wearing a
jacketed suit, but the tie felt like it was choking him. He’d been bulking up for
this role and his neck was a little thicker than before. He swallowed hard,
encouraging his Adam’s apple to silently break through the silk fabric and leave
him with no choice but to go tieless.
Or leave the formal affair. Yeah, that might work.
 It was the first time Luke had been invited anywhere quite so . . .
intimidating. Red carpets and movie premieres had nothing on being invited to a
fucking royal palace. He’d been of a mind to cancel, just because he was in a
foul mood lately, but the director had absolutely insisted that his stars go.
“The princess is a big fan of my movies,” Nick had insisted for the twelfth
time that day, and it seemed he wasn’t wrong, because here they were, being
dropped off at the front steps of Cinderella’s freaking castle. A hundred carved
steps led from the cobblestone driveway up to the front of the palace. It looked
like something out of one of the period movies he told his agent to avoid—acres
and acres of windows and cornices and staff everywhere you looked. Two
footmen in livery opened the doors to the palace, and Pamela Jones, his co-star,
squealed with excitement and hugged his arm.
“Isn’t this exciting, Luke?”
“It’s something,” he drawled, feeling even more out of place. They were
making a high-speed-chase movie about the mafia. Why on earth were they
invited to dine with royals? It made no sense.
The interior of the palace was just as posh as he’d expected. Paintings of
important royals lined the walls, and everywhere there was antique furniture,
Aubusson carpets, and shit far too expensive for the likes of him. Hell. Luke
started to sweat. Were they being pranked? They were being pranked, weren’t
they? Someone from one of those “gotcha” TV shows was going to pop around a
corner and make them feel like fools.
They were led into a formal parlor with more antique furniture and a large
marble fireplace, crackling with a fire despite the warm summer air. Over the
fireplace there was an immense painting of the queen, seated, one of her
trademark fluffy white cats in her lap.
“You think we’ll see one of the cats tonight?” Pamela asked, nudging his
arm.
“Dunno.”
One of the servants coughed and clasped his hands, looking at them. “I wish
to verify your names for your placeholders at dinner. Please let me know if these
are incorrect.” He held up a list and began to read in a sonorous voice. “Miss
Pamela Jones.”
“Here,” Pam chimed in.
The servant gave her a disapproving look, and Pam quailed on Luke’s arm.
“This is not attendance.”
“Sorry,” she said meekly.
 “Lucas Houston,” the man read next.
“Luke,” he corrected. “Just Luke Houston.”
The man made a note of it and continued. “Tony Crawford?” The movie’s
villain raised his hand. “Nicholas Stanton?” The director nodded. The servant
folded the list and gave them an austere look. “When Her Royal Highness
Princess Alexandra enters the room, the proper Bellissime protocol is to bow at
the waist for men, and for women to curtsy. She is to be referred to as Your
Grace unless she gives you permission otherwise.” The look he gave them
indicated that it was an unlikely event.
Pam nodded and immediately bobbed into a curtsy.
“Not him, sugar,” Luke told her. “He’s just the staff.”
“Oh. Right.” Pam rubbed her nose. “I’m just nervous.”
They all were. The servant turned and left, closing the doors behind him, and
the three actors were left alone with the director.
“I told you she’s a big fan of mine, didn’t I?” Nick said for the millionth time
that night. “She loves my movies.”
“Is she old?” Tony asked. He seemed unruffled, but Tony had been acting
longer than Luke had been alive, so maybe this was old hat to him. “I don’t
recall seeing pictures of the royal family in tabloids.”
“Bellissime’s royalty isn’t as well known as Monaco or the Brits. They like
to keep a lower profile.” Nick gave them a knowing nod, as if he were intimately
familiar with the royal family. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they pulled strings to
make sure that we set the movie here. Big film buffs, all of them.”
“Wow,” Pam said, impressed.
Luke held back his snort of derision. He doubted anyone in the royal family
knew anything about films.
The doors opened behind them, and two footmen stepped inside. Strangely
enough, Luke’s heart thumped. The pomp of the place was staggering, he had to
admit.
“Her Royal Highness, Princess Alexandra Olivia the Third, Duchess of
Beaulac and Heir Apparent to the throne of Bellissime.” The footmen stepped
aside and bowed.
Everyone else bowed as well, except Pam, who dropped into another curtsy.
Luke felt awkward as fuck, like a puppet dressed up for someone else’s
amusement.
“Rise,” came a smooth, familiar voice.
 Astonished, Luke straightened, and when he did, he looked up into blue eyes
with strong brows, an elegant but not pretty face, and a dimple that he
remembered all too well.
Oh, sweet Jesus. He’d called the fucking royal princess a hooker. He was
horrified. Almost. Then he noticed the impish look on her face.
And he laughed aloud. She’d gotten him good, hadn’t she?
 CHAPTER FOUR

Dinner was . . . wonderfully awkward.

Alex ate her meal delicately, kept the conversation flowing, and listened to
the director’s incessant rambling with an attentive look on her face. All the
while, she wanted to stare at Luke, to pull him aside and ask him what he
thought of her now. She couldn’t, of course, not with three other people in the
room. But oh, she wanted to so badly.
She tried to give them a bit of Bellissime culture through dinner. The wines
were a special kind grown in her own vineyards, and each course was served
with a variety of sauces traditional to Bellissime dining. They mostly guzzled
wine and ignored the carefully prepared menu, growing louder with every refill
of their wineglasses. An expert at handling dinner parties—even bad ones—Alex
paid attention to each guest, noticing what they ate and what they didn’t. The
director and Tony drank and ate with gusto, ignoring anything that looked
“unfamiliar.” The actress next to Luke also drank quite a bit, but pushed her food
around her plate more than she ate.
Luke drank only water and ate small portions of chicken and plain
vegetables, and ignored everything else.
Talk turned to the movie at one point, which she’d been expecting, and Nick
boasted that they were going to have a box-office smash. As she watched, Luke
grabbed a saltshaker, poured a bit into his hand, and threw it over his shoulder.
This sent Pam into drunken hysterics. “You’re not supposed to do that at the
royal palace, silly!”
He froze, as if realizing what he’d been doing.
“Quite all right,” Alex broke in smoothly. “Truly. Are you superstitious, then,
Mr. Houston?” She fixed her gaze on him, excited. This was her chance to have
a conversation!
Before he could reply, Pam giggled drunkenly again. “Oh, god, yes. He’s
totally batshit about anything with the film. There was a ladder on set once and
we had to reshoot a scene because he kept coming too close to it and refused to
walk under it!”
Luke’s expressive mouth flattened and he took a sip of his water, silent.
The conversation carried on without him, and Alex was disappointed. While
the other three were carousing and in high spirits, Luke was quiet, only speaking
when directly addressed. Was he not enjoying the dinner party? Was he annoyed
with her? Her palms sweated at the thought.
Once dinner was over, they took a few photos for the inevitable press release,
and she asked them if they would like a tour of the palace, since it was the polite
thing to do. They jumped at the chance, and only looked a little disappointed
when she handed them off to the royal housekeeper, who took care of all the
tours.
Princesses did not act as tour guides, of course.
She excused herself from her guests and retreated back to her private parlor
down the hall, and tried to ignore her frustration. Maybe she should have been
forward and just invited Luke to dinner instead of all of them. But she hated to
give the papers fodder right now, especially when her mother was already doing
her best to make the royal palace’s publicist have a nervous breakdown. Hot
weekend in Monte Carlo, indeed.
Alex sighed. Sometimes she wished she were as brave as her mother and
didn’t care what the world thought. Maybe then she’d have been able to shove
all the others aside and go to Luke and say I like you. I want to talk to you and
not these fools. Will you talk to me?
But protocol had been beaten into her from the moment she could stand. It
had taken her mother nearly fifty-five years to get the courage to do what she
wanted. And maybe . . . maybe it was for the best that she didn’t talk to him.
She’d just get all giggly and stupid over him and he’d think she was a fool. Alex
thumped down on an elegant settee, sighed, and put her head in her hands.
“Am I intruding?”
Alex looked up in surprise to see Luke—the famous Hollywood star Luke
for-goodness-sakes Houston—leaning on the door that she’d closed behind her.
She’d been so wrapped up in her own angst that she hadn’t heard him open it.
He gave the door a small knock as an afterthought, and a lopsided grin
appeared on his face. “Hi.”
She blinked. A thousand thoughts raced through her head. You shouldn’t be
here. This parlor is for royal family members only. Where are your friends? The
staff is going to see you.
 All that came out of her mouth was a small, “Hi.”
“So . . . can we talk for a moment? Because I feel we really should talk.”
Alex rushed to her feet and waved him forward. He took a step inside, and as
he did, she quickly shut the door behind him and leaned on it. With it shut, she
was able to breathe again. At his confused look, she gave him a small, apologetic
grimace. “If the staff see you in here—”
His eyes widened. He gestured at the door she leaned on. “Should I go?”
“No!” Her hands pressed to her mouth after she blurted the word, horrified.
“I mean, no, please, sit down.” She gestured at a chair.
Instead of listening to her, he leaned on his shoulder, arm on the door, his
face moving close to hers. She could smell his aftershave, spicy and delicious,
and his height was exactly the same as hers. Alex could look him right in the
eye, and it was a little disconcerting and a lot exciting. Luke grinned wider. “So
were you going to tell me you were a princess?”
“You had me all figured out.” Goodness, she was finding it hard to catch her
breath. “Why correct you?”
He chuckled. “I’m just glad I didn’t do all the things I was thinking about
doing to you.”
Oh. Did she think it was hard to breathe before? It was impossible now.
“Such . . . as?”
“Well, I admit I was intrigued by the prim hooker disguise, but I liked you.”
He flicked a finger at her hair. “This the real color?”
She nodded.
“Your wig was terrible.”
“I know. It was so the paparazzi wouldn’t follow me.”
“So you were sneaking around? Naughty princess.”
Alex felt rather flushed and excited at his words. “Good princesses don’t get
what they want, so I decided to go rogue.”
He grinned again, as if utterly delighted by the thought. “I’m a fan of rogue
princesses myself.”
“Are you?” Oh, sweet lord have mercy, he was flirting with her! She caught
herself and added, “But not rogue escorts.”
His laughter barked out, echoing against the walls. “No, not a fan of escorts.”
“I’m curious . . . why did you immediately jump to escort? I didn’t think I
was dressed like one.”
“You weren’t. I just . . .” He rubbed his face with a hand—a big hand, she
noticed. “I was having a rough week on set, and some directors have been
known to ‘encourage’ their leading men by sending them masseuses or escorts or
drugs to help them relax.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Drugs? Illegal drugs?”
“No, they send them sinus medication,” he said sarcastically. “Yes, illegal
drugs.”
Alex’s cheeks flushed and she felt foolish. What a stupid question. “Of
course.”
“Bit sheltered here in the palace, Princess? Sorry, Your Grace?” He
grimaced. “Guess we’re both out of our element a bit.”
“Please, call me Alex.” She waved a hand, dismissing the thought of her
titles.
“Alex,” he said slowly, and she shivered at the way he said her name. It was
nice. Maybe too nice. “I’m Luke.”
“I know.” She bit her lip. “I’m a bit of a fan.”
“I knew that part.”
“But I’m not a fan if you do drugs or fornicate with escorts.”
He laughed, his smile returning and widening so much she got a flash of
pearly white teeth. “I’m not a fan of those things, either. If he’d wanted to make
me happy, he should have sent my personal trainer up for a good workout.”
She gave him a timid smile, relieved. The thought of her glowing image of
him tarnished had hurt more than she’d liked to think.
He studied her face, his gaze flicking from her eyes down to her mouth. He
studied her there for a long second, and her entire body screamed KISS ME.
KISS ME. But he didn’t. Instead, he straightened. “Anyhow, I just wanted to
apologize to you, Princess. I was pretty sure I’d offended you the other day by
kicking you out of my trailer.”
“Not at all,” she breathed. Heck, she still thought every night about the
perfectly tanned, rounded globes of his butt as he’d dropped the towel and
slipped on his boxers. “I was intruding.”
“Not really. I should know better than to think things are private on set.”
That reminded her of something he’d said earlier. “You were having a bad
week? May I ask why?”
“You may,” he teased. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on one
of the heavy oak wood chairs her grandfather had been fond of, looking slouchy
and delicious all at once. “The director and I aren’t seeing eye to eye on
everything.”
“Oh? But you’ve worked together before, haven’t you? On Pirates.”
 “That was married Nick. Single Nick is fond of hookers and not fond of
changes to the script.” He grimaced. “And it’s not a good script.”
Nick had given her a copy on her tour of the set, and she’d paged through it.
She’d thought it was terrible, too, but assumed it was her own ignorance at how
Hollywood scripts should read. “Can you talk to him about it? I’m sure he wants
to keep you happy. You’re his leading man.”
“Some directors are very firm about the script. I’ve tried making small
changes as I go, you know? Improv-ing on scene. Tweaking things here and
there to give them more depth. He immediately freaks out and makes us reshoot.
And I know that when the movie’s in the can, I’m going to look like a big
wooden idiot and I’ll get panned everywhere.” He blew out a breath in
frustration and got back to his feet, pacing. “He just can’t see that the script is
bad because he wrote it himself. He has every line memorized.”
“Oh, dear.” Alex bit her lip. “What do your peers think?”
“My peers? You mean the other actors?” He shrugged. “Tony’s on a
downward spiral because his last few movies have been flops, so he’s just happy
to get work, even if it’s not headlining. Pam’s a paycheck player. She shows up
for the movies but she’s more into red carpets and celebrity. No one seems to
give a shit about the movie but myself and Nick, and we’re on opposing sides.”
“You’ll figure something out,” she soothed, and then felt like an idiot. She
was just parroting useless phrases while he told her about his work frustrations.
But what could she do? She wanted to have him keep talking, but she couldn’t
think of anything to say. For the first time in her life, making conversation was
hard.
Luke gave her another lopsided grin. “Guess so. Sorry to fill your ears.”
“Don’t be sorry. I enjoy hearing you talk about your work.” She paused and
then clasped her hands. “I still think you should try and talk to Nick. Let him
know your frustrations.”
“It’s a nice thought, Princess, but he doesn’t seem to respect anyone’s
opinions but yours.” The look he gave her was half amused, half frustrated.
She thought for a moment. “Then clearly, I shall have to influence him.”
Luke stilled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if he respects my opinions, we need a plan.” She tapped a finger on
her lip, thinking, and then felt all disconcerted when she realized Luke’s gaze
went to her mouth. “I’ll come to the set next week. We need a signal for when
you are changing a scene.”
 “Like tapping my leg?” He put his hand down to his side and double tapped
his forefinger against his pant.
She nodded. “And if he tries to change it, I’ll just make it clear that I adore
the new way the scene is going. If you think he truly values my opinion as much
as you say, it should work, yes?”
“You’d do that?”
Alex gave him a playful look. “Clearly you have never been around very
many royal princesses. Our best weapons are honeyed words.”
“And you use them to get everyone to do what you want?”
“Not always. I usually just try to get them to see things how I want them to
be seen.”
“Same thing.”
Was it? Because right now he was on the same page as her, but he wasn’t
asking her out, which was what she wanted. She smiled at him, wishing
desperately that she knew how to flirt. But she’d been raised in a royal palace
full of women and had been more sheltered than she cared to admit. She didn’t
date. Anyone she showed interest in who was at the same peer level as her would
require a constitutional agreement between two countries to date.
But right now? She’d give her right arm to be able to flirt effectively with the
man. To have him realize just how interested she was. So she kept smiling like
an idiot and begging with her eyes for him to notice her.
“Well . . . that’s real nice of you to offer, Princess. I guess we’ll see if it
works, huh?”
She inclined her head.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I know I don’t. But we’re . . . friends.” She choked on the word. She wanted
to be more than friends. So, so badly. Ask me out, Luke! Tell me you’re
interested in me as a person! Please!
But all he did was nod. “You’re a good friend.”
She swallowed her sigh. She was, wasn’t she? A nice, safe, sweet friend.
Ugh.
 CHAPTER FIVE

Shooting resumed that Monday at six in the morning, and Luke noticed as he got
his morning coffee that the princess was on set. She was there in her terrible wig
that hid her pretty blonde waves and sunglasses that hid her bright eyes. Once
again, she was dressed in an utterly bland jacketed suit and prim skirt, and he
wondered why he’d ever thought her a hooker. She radiated serenity and
elegance even in her disguise.
And man, she was so completely out of his league that he almost felt bad for
the hard-ons he’d had all weekend, and the stroke-outs he’d done in her name.
Maybe it was that rather virginal mouth of hers and the way she never seemed to
lose her cool around anyone but him. Him? He could tell she was flustered. It
was like she cared what he thought, which was a fucking heady feeling for a
bonehead actor. And maybe it was the prim skirts and the way he’d caught peeps
of her small ankles and delicate feet in that gown she’d been wearing Friday
night. He’d jerked off a few times, imagining her bending over and removing her
strappy shoes.
Yeah, his spank material had officially changed to princesses. He was pretty
sure it wasn’t a problem most men had, but most men hadn’t met Princess
Alexandra of Bellissime.
Alex, she’d told him in a husky voice. Call me Alex.
Oh, he called her Alex all right. He called her that in the shower when he was
pounding away at his cock with one hand. He called her Alex in his dreams
when he had her bent over the sofa in his trailer, fucking her. He called her Alex
when, in his imagination, he was pushing her head down toward his cock and
imagining the blow job she’d give him with that serene, regal air of hers.
Luke was pretty sure he shouldn’t have sex fantasies about the princess, but it
was okay to dream, right? She’d never look at a tool like him, even if he was a
famous tool. She was a fan of his, and interested in the movies, and that’s all
there was to it. Girls like her dated dukes and guys who had polo ponies and shit,
not guys like him who had grown up in a trailer in east Texas and had relatives
who chewed tobacco and thought camo was a wardrobe staple.
But there she was, all fresh and pretty. He tried not to stare at her as someone
in craft services gave her a cup of coffee and she smiled at him like he’d
bestowed jewelry on her. Nick was once again chatting her ear off, and she had a
companion with her—a dried up, angry-looking stick of a woman—so that
meant his chances of getting a few minutes to say hi to her were zilch.
But when she looked up and their eyes met? And she gave him a subtle
wink? Luke couldn’t help but grin. Today would be interesting, all right.
Today’s scene was a heartfelt bit of dialogue as the hero confessed his past to the
heroine. And it read robotic and stiff as hell, which meant Luke had ideas for
tweaks.
Lots and lots of ideas. And he was pretty sure Nick would hate all of them.
He brought his coffee with him to wardrobe and let them paint a few bruises
on his face, then changed into his character’s clothing for the scene. They
compared stills of him from the prior scene to make sure his hair and clothes
were just right, and when all was good, an hour or so had passed. He headed out
to the set itself and flexed his arms, running through his lines and trying to get
into his character’s headspace.
Or at least, that’s what he should have been doing. Instead, he glanced over at
Alex. Nick had a director’s chair for her tucked next to his, and he was talking
away to her. They both had scripts in hand and Alex looked as if she were
hanging on every word the director said.
Had he been talking her ear off for the past hour? The woman had the
patience of a saint.
Lighting was adjusted, Pam arrived on set with her own set of painted-on
bruises, and they both sat on the edge of the bed. In the scene, his character was
supposed to clasp his hands and deliver his lines while staring down at them the
entire time. He was going to change that a bit.
“All right,” Nick said, getting up from his chair. His curled-edge script was in
his hand, and smudged glasses were askew on his nose. “Luke, in this scene,
you’re telling Pam’s character about your past. The terrible things you’ve done,
and how much you regret them. You’re conveying to her that you’re a bad
person and you’ve made bad choices. Pam? You’re just listening and as he tells
you, you’re more and more horrified, okay? Great. Let’s go.” He waved a finger
in the air. “Action.”
 Lines of dialogue flowed in Luke’s head. He became his character. He looked
over at Pam’s character, concern written on her face, and began to speak. Not the
way the script had it, but the way it should have been read. He told her the
tragedies of his childhood while he reached out and clasped her hand, then
slowly pulled her against him. When she pulled away from him and shook her
head in horror, he allowed the pain and anguish of that to show in his face.
He didn’t get more than halfway through his lines before Nick bellowed,
“CUT.”
It was like popping a bubble. Luke snapped back and jumped to his feet,
frustrated. Damn it. That had been good. That had been better than good. It had
been amazing. Even Pam was giving him more than she normally did. You knew
when a scene felt right, and that had felt so right.
“You’re doing it all wrong, Luke,” Nick snapped. “My god, how many
fucking times—”
A loud sniff made him go silent. Nick turned, and so did Luke.
The princess was wiping a tissue at the corners of her eyes. “That was
beautiful. So emotional.” She gave them a tremulous smile and then turned her
megawatt attention back to Nick. “What was wrong with the scene?”
Nick gestured at the script. “It says clearly here that he needs to stare at his
hands while he’s talking!”
“Oh, but did you see the anguish in his face?” Princess Alex pressed a hand
to her breast as if struck. “It was so moving, I couldn’t look away. I loved it.”
Nick paused. He looked down at his script, and then began to pace. “We’ll
shoot it both ways and then see which way is better.”
Damn. She was good. He hadn’t even remembered to give her the finger-tap
signal and she was already on the ball. The princess gave him a teary smile and
daintily dabbed her eyes.
The demure princess was a better actor than he was.

***

Every day that week, the princess showed up on set in her proper suits and her
god-awful wigs, and listened to hour upon endless hour of Nick yammering in
her ear as the film went on. And while not every scene was modified to Luke’s
liking, he was adding enough to his character, with the subtle help of Alex, to
not hate the damn movie anymore. He felt like he was getting somewhere, and
every time he saw the princess and her mouth curl into a faint, approving smile,
he wanted to either shout to the heavens . . . or grab her and kiss that smile off
her face.
He did neither, of course, but he thought about it a lot. Too bad she was so
out of his league it was pathetic. He’d never considered himself to have a
specific type, but her elegance and confident bearing were doing all kinds of
mad things to his libido. Luke concluded that he did, in fact, have a type, and
apparently he had a thing for long legs, modest skirts, and sly, clever women
who knew how to get what they wanted. But what normal, red-blooded man
wouldn’t have a thing for that? He told himself it was normal that Alex fueled
his now-obsessive masturbating. Maybe it was because she was around all the
time and they never could say more to each other in passing than a greeting.
Maybe it was that despite their lack of communication, it was clear to both of
them that they had a secret agreement.
That was it, he decided. The secrecy and the thought of getting one over the
director were fueling his lust. It wasn’t the modest confidence of a woman he
found more beautiful every time he looked at her. It was just the situation.
The situation got . . . damn weird on Friday.
They’d had four terrific days of shooting, four days in which Luke had felt
“on” with his character, and the scenes filmed were making him happy. By day
five, the princess had shown up and her chair was already pulled next to the
director’s chair, and the assistants knew to bring her hot tea instead of coffee.
She showed up with not a yawn, a gracious smile for everyone, and bright eyes
ready to watch the day’s filming.
Luke stared down at his script, disturbed. Today’s shot was an emotional
argument that was . . . going to lead into angry sex between his character and
Pam’s character.
And the princess was here watching.
Fuck. This was . . . awkward.
He blew out a breath and tucked his script under his arm. Maybe he could
talk to Nick, see about filming this another day, preferably when the princess
wasn’t around. For one, he wasn’t sure he wanted her watching as he simulated
sex with Pam. For two, it was a nude scene, and while he wasn’t embarrassed
about walking around in a cock sock, if she was there? The cock sock might be
stiff, and that’d be awkward for everyone on the fucking set.
Now . . . how to extract himself from the situation without fucking things up?
Luke approached the director. Nick was already in his chair, animatedly telling
Alex about his last shoot as she listened attentively. Luke was pretty sure she’d
already been told the story twice, but she made it seem as if no one else had her
attention when she listened, so he understood Nick’s obsession with her.
Hell, he felt pretty obsessed with her himself.
“Nick?” Luke cleared his throat to get the director’s attention. “Can we talk
for a moment?”
The director frowned over at Luke. “Shouldn’t you be in wardrobe? We need
to get started while the natural light is still golden with the sunrise.”
“Yeaaah. I was thinking, maybe we should film a different scene today? I’m
not feeling this one.” He gave a pointed look at the princess, who was flipping
through the script, and hoped that Nick got the hint.
Nick, of course, did not get the hint. He frowned. “But we’re all ready for
this one today.” He put a hand on Luke’s shoulder.
“I’m not sure I should be doing this scene with an audience,” he said, hinting
more broadly.
“You want us to close the set? Don’t you think you’re being ridiculous?”
That was one of Nick’s pet peeves—he wasn’t a fan of working around actor
foibles. Normally Luke saw eye to eye with Nick on this, but today . . .
Princess Alex chose that moment to look up at him, and with her blue-eyed
gaze on his face, it made him feel even dirtier about the upcoming scene.
He tried to think of new excuses. Pam had her period. He was sick to his
stomach and couldn’t handle a kissing scene at the moment. Something.
Anything. But as he looked up at Nick’s unhappy face, he supposed he could just
fucking nut up and make it through the scene. “Nah. You know what? Never
mind. Let’s do it.”
Luke thought about unsexy things in wardrobe. Wasn’t hard, considering his
wardrobe lady was eighty if she was a day. His character—still bruised, of
course—was supposed to be naked under the sheets, and Pam was going to enter
the room and confront him. He would get up and argue with her, and they’d start
to fight, and it would turn into lust. No problem. He’d just stay in character,
pretending.
Lots and lots of pretending.
He managed to keep his cool walking out onto the set with nothing but a
towel around him, cock sock firmly in place. His makeup had been completed,
and Nick was pacing by his chair. “Finally,” the director snapped. “Can we get
on with this?”
Luke nodded, refusing to look over at the director. If he did, he’d see Alex,
and the last thing he wanted to see at the moment was her lovely face watching
his every move.
He headed onto the set and got into the bed. Overhead, the boom mic hovered
into place. Cameras circled, and for the first time in his career, Luke felt . . .
nervous. God, this was fucking weird. He normally didn’t give a shit about who
watched, because acting was so impersonal. Everyone on the set had seen people
mock-fucking a hundred times.
But Alex was here. Alex was new to this, and she wouldn’t grasp just how
little he cared about any of it. How when he kissed Pam, it wasn’t about her.
And when he mimed that he was fucking her, it was all just awkward pretending.
“Let’s give this a shot. Action!” Nick’s voice rang out.
Fuck. Time to get his head in the game. Luke laid down in the sheets and put
his hand to his forehead, as his character would. The door on set opened and
Pam stepped in.
“We need to talk, Jason.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Stef.”
“I think there is.” Pam’s voice wobbled and then grew stronger. She was
doing a great job at playing the timid heroine finding her strength. “You should
have told me who you really were. That you’re a . . .”
“A what?” He sat up in bed and the sheets pooled around his hips. To the
audience, he was supposed to look naked. Hell, he was naked except for a tube
of “nude” stocking around his johnson. “A mobster? A killer? A criminal for
hire? When should I have brought that up in conversation, Stef? At what point?”
On the far side of the room, Pam shook with restrained fury. “Before I fell in
love with you, you bastard! Before my life got tangled up in this!”
Luke jumped from the bed, the covers falling to the floor. He stalked across
the room, putting every ounce of menace in his steps, and Stef/Pam quivered
against the wall. “So what now? Am I not good enough for you? Because I’m a
killer I shouldn’t put my hands on you? Because I’m a monster, that makes you
want me less?” He put his hands on the wall next to her and leaned in.
Stef/Pam shivered. “Jason—”
Then they were supposed to kiss. Passionately, wildly kiss, and he was
supposed to rip her dress off of her. They’d fall into bed and passionately make
love. And two minutes of filmed “fucking” would probably end up being hours
on set. Hours and hours of being spritzed down and people trying to get the
lighting just right on his ass . . .
He leaned in to Pam . . .
 She panted. She smelled like onions and garlic on her breath. Behind her,
there was a tiny spider on the wall.
It was a sign.
“Spider,” Luke yelled out. “It’s upside down. Can’t do it. Bad luck. I’m
going to my fucking trailer.” He grabbed the sheet off the bed, wrapped it around
his hips, and stormed away.
At last, an excuse he could lean on. Everyone knew he was superstitious.
They’d grumble but they’d fucking cope. And he’d . . . he’d somehow figure out
how to handle his dream girl watching him simulate sex with another woman.
“Is he serious?” he heard Pam ask behind him.
“Luke, get out here!” Nick yelled at him.
“I have to light a candle for luck,” Luke said. “I gotta reset my chakras.” It
was bullshit, of course, but it sounded good. He slammed the door to his trailer
and breathed a sigh of relief when he was alone. Fuck. Why was he having such
a hard time with this? He lit the luck candle (he always found one at a grocery
store and brought one on set) and set it down, then grabbed a beer from his mini-
fridge and collapsed on his couch.
This was not working.
He chugged the beer, but even that didn’t do much to relax him. He was too
wound up, too tense. Did Alex think he was a jackass because he ran off the set
due to a spider? Man, he fuckin’ hoped not.
There was a knock at the door of his trailer.
“Go away,” he called. It was probably Nick, coming up here to bitch at him
about ruining the scene.
The door opened. Alex peeped in, her black wig puffy on her head. “May we
talk, Luke?”
That hadn’t been the person he expected to come after him. But still, how
could he refuse her? He waved her in.
She entered the trailer carefully and shut the door behind her, then stood next
to the wall, watching him. “You seem troubled today.”
“You heard what I said out there—bad luck. A spider hanging upside down is
a bad omen on set.” It wasn’t, but it sounded plenty ominous to him and suited
his needs. He was all for starting a new superstition if it got him out of an
awkward situation.
Alex cocked her head. “You were stressed prior to the spider. What’s going
on? Is it my presence?”
 Boy, she didn’t beat around the bush, did she? “Actually, now that you
mention it,” he drawled, getting to his feet. He still had the sheet clutched around
his waist and he kept it there as he approached her. “Exactly how long are you
going to be watching the filming?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why do you keep showing up? Every day, you’re here at daybreak.
You leave at night when everyone else does. All week, you’ve been watching
the filming and letting Nick yap in your ear nonstop. I know it’s not because he’s
interesting. And I appreciate the help you gave me with the scenes, but I’m
trying to figure out what the deal is. Why you keep coming back.” Damn it, the
closer he got to her, the more perfect she looked. Her skin was like porcelain, her
lips a flushed pink that made him think dirty things. A few wisps of blonde hair
were peeking out from under her wig. He wanted to rip the ugly thing off her
head.
Actually, he really wanted to kiss those parted lips, but that was probably a
bad call. Guys like him didn’t kiss girls like her.
Her eyes widened, ever so slightly, as if she wasn’t used to showing surprise.
“Why do I keep showing up?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought it was obvious. I was waiting for you to ask me out.”
Stunned, he stared at her. If she’d have said the world was flat, that would
have been more plausible. “What?”
“I said, I was waiting—”
He waved a hand in the air. “I heard you. I just . . . didn’t believe you. Why
would you want me to ask you out?”
That tiny, enigmatic smile that drove him so crazy curled her mouth. “I like
you.”
“You said I was short.”
“It makes you human. And you’re not that short. Just shorter than I’d
pictured. I’d still like for you to ask me out.”
“You’re royal. I’m just . . . nobody.” Hell, he hadn’t even finished college.
She should be asked out by guys with degrees, at the very least. She was smart.
She needed someone with at least a PhD.
“You’re Luke Houston, and you’re funny and intelligent and one of the best
actors I’ve ever seen, and—”
He was convinced. She wanted to slum it with him? He’d gladly take her up
on it. His hands went to her shoulders and he pulled her against him, his lips
going to hers in a kiss. She was right—he was the perfect height for her. Just an
inch or two taller, and just enough that their bodies fit perfectly together.
She stiffened for a moment, and then melted against him. All the air seemed
to leave her lungs in a soft, breathy sigh, and her hands went to his chest. His
naked chest, because he was wearing nothing but the cock sock. Fuck it. He
didn’t care. His mouth slanted over hers, hot and devouring. Her reaction was
curious, her kiss almost . . . timid. He wanted more of a reaction from her. She
wasn’t pulling away, but she wasn’t into it yet. His hand went to her hair,
knotting at the base of her skull, and he began to work her mouth with slow,
sensual licks. With each lick, she eased against him a bit more, until she was
clinging to him, and her tongue stroked to meet each one of his flicks. Soft,
mewing little noises escaped her throat when he pulled away, and her lips were
swollen and red from his kiss.
She was utterly beautiful. Her gaze was dazed as she stared at him.
“You wanna go out with me?” he asked, and nipped her pretty mouth before
she could answer, just because he could.
Alex nodded, still looking dazed. Her hand curled on his chest, and she
tensed again. “You . . . you have to be very direct with me,” she said, breathless.
“I’m a princess. I don’t know how to ask for things I want. I’m used to being
given things, but I don’t know how to ask—”
“Shh,” he whispered, and leaned in to give her another kiss. “So you like me?
That what you’re telling me, sweetheart?”
She nodded and lifted her chin, just a little, so he could kiss her again.
He obliged, even though his cock felt as if it was going to bust through the
damn sock. He wanted to press her back against the wall of the trailer and push
against her hips, but he suspected he’d have to go slow with the princess. And
really, that was fine with him.
Be direct with her. “I like you,” he said between deep, searing kisses. “I’ve
liked you from the moment I met you. I have filthy daydreams about you.” That
made her quiver. “But you’re kind of out of my reach, sweetheart.”
“Am not,” she breathed. “You’re the famous Luke Houston.”
“And you’re Her Royal Highness Princess Alex blah blah blah.”
She giggled at his mangling of her title, and he grinned back at her, liking
that she relaxed in his arms again. His hand slid down her side, caressing her
through the jacket. Her laughter was beautiful. He wondered how many people
got to hear it? It felt fucking special to him. “Would you like to go out on a date,
Princess?”
 “Princess Blah Blah would very much like to go out on a date,” she said,
staring at his mouth. “When? Where?”
“Tomorrow night. We should meet somewhere private. So you can get rid of
this.” He flicked a finger at the wig. It was a little askew from their kissing. He
didn’t care.
She bit her lip, which made him groan inwardly. “I’ll think of something and
then send a driver to come get you. You should be incognito as well, just to be
on the safe side.”
“Will do. But now I need a favor from you.”
The dazed, pleasure-flushed look faded from her face a little. “From me?”
He nodded and squeezed her hip. “I need you to leave the set today. It’s
throwing me off.”
A knowing look crossed her face, and the playful dimple returned. “Because
you want to kiss Pam and it’s awkward when I’m there watching?”
“Because kissing Pam is terrible. She smells like onions and slobbers.” At
Alex’s horrified laugh, he felt a little better and continued. “I hate kissing her
when I want to be kissing you. It’s not real. None of it is. And I don’t want you
to even think that I’m thinking about her.”
“Why, Mr. Houston. Are you trying to tell me that the movies are pretend?”
She batted her lashes at him, all fake innocence. “Do I look like a fool to you?”
“You look like a lovely, beautiful woman . . . who’s also not seen just how
depraved Hollywood can sometimes get. And they’re probably going to be
spraying my ass down with fake sweat in about an hour, and it takes a lot of the
glamour out of a romance.”
She giggled again, and her hand smoothed down his arm. Was she feeling his
muscles? Perhaps this attraction wasn’t all that one sided after all. “Very well. I
shall develop a headache. A headache that is not caused by Mr. Stanton telling
me the same story seven times this week, I would like for you to know. Not in
the slightest.”
He groaned. “You put up with him all this time just so I’d ask you out?” At
her nod, he leaned in and kissed her again. “You should get sainted for that.”
“I shall let you know when I decide upon my reward for good behavior,” she
teased, and then impulsively leaned forward and nipped at his lower lip.
That was . . . one of the sexiest damn things he’d ever seen. “Do me a favor,
Alex.”
“Hmm?” God, she was still staring at his mouth like it was the best thing
she’d ever tasted.
“Don’t look down. I’m indecent.”
She looked anyway. Naughty princess.
 CHAPTER SIX

“Do you think this is acceptable for a date?” Alex held a champagne-colored
long-sleeved sweater up to her chest and examined her reflection in the mirror.
“Or is it too provocative?”
“Darling. You know I love you, right?”
Alex turned to her mother, who was sitting on the edge of Alex’s sumptuous
bed. “Of course.”
“A sweater is absolutely the worst thing you can wear on a date. You said
you liked him, right? Do you think a sweater sends out I like you vibes to a
man?”
Alex frowned at her reflection, trying to determine if any vibes were being
sent out. “I don’t know.” It still felt strange asking her mother for dating advice.
Alex’s companion, Lady Margaret, was out of the question. Margaret was a
spinster and disapproved of everything and everyone. If she’d found out that
Alex had been kissing Luke in his trailer, she’d have informed Grandmama in a
heartbeat, and Alex would have been commanded to cease making a spectacle of
herself. To Margaret, a date with a royal princess should be a chaperoned affair
complete with background checks. Alex had thought about approaching one of
the maids, but they couldn’t be trusted not to turn the information over to a
tabloid.
So she’d gone to her mother, who, in the last few years, seemed to have
blossomed into a far more worldly creature than Alex could have possibly
imagined.
That worldly creature was flipping through a fashion magazine on the edge of
Alex’s bed, shooting down every possible idea her daughter had for date wear.
Even now, she was shaking her head. “You want sexy, darling. Sexy and fun but
still casual. What about jeans?”
“Jeans?” Alex echoed the word.
“You know, denim.”
 “Mother, I don’t own any jeans.” The palace thought they were improper
attire for a princess. Far too casual!
Her mother’s eyes twinkled. “It’s a good thing that I have a few pairs and
we’re the same size. Come on. Let’s go to my suite.”
“You have jeans?” What was next, handcuffs and weed? Good lord.
Her mother nodded and took Alex’s hand, and they dashed down one of the
massive palace halls, like two teenage girls. Alexandra the elder’s room was
always a mess. She didn’t let the maids in often like Alex did, and there was
laundry everywhere, shoes covering the floor, and the bed wasn’t made. Alex
blanched at all of the chaos, but her mother waded right in.
“Now, we’ll need some cute shoes for you as well, darling. None of those
boring heels Grandmama keeps insisting you wear. You need something strappy
and fun to go with your jeans and slutty blouse.”
“Slutty . . . blouse?” She didn’t know if she wanted to be slutty with him.
Wasn’t she rather forward already, what with asking him out on a date?
“Mother, I’m not sure—”
“Tut-tut, you let me handle this. If you want to impress an American man,
your palace-approved wardrobe isn’t going to cut it.” She kicked aside a few
shoes and headed for her enormous closet. “I’m thinking peacock green or
maybe a dark blue. You do look so good in blue.” She stepped inside and
considered her wardrobe, then emerged a few minutes later with a wrap blouse.
“What about this?”
“That’s pretty,” Alex said, dubious. If she liked it, her mother would find
something wrong with it. It was silky and loose, but it still seemed like
something Alex herself would wear.
Her mother beamed and then returned to the closet. A moment later, she
returned with a pair of skinny jeans, nude heels with peep toes (something
forbidden in Alex’s wardrobe) and a slinky camisole.
Alex picked up one of the shoes. “Mother! Where did you get this?”
“They’re everywhere, darling. I like to shop.”
“But Grandmama—”
“I am fifty-four years old, Alexandra. No one’s going to tell me what to wear
anymore. Your grandmother knows that. Now, come on. Try it on and let’s see
what we’ve got.”
Alex went behind a dressing screen and put the clothes on. The jeans fit like a
second skin, which felt wicked and a little wild all at once. Everyone in the
modern world wore jeans, though, didn’t they? It shouldn’t be too strange for her
to wear a pair. The top was a different situation, of course. The moment Alex put
it on over the camisole, she knew why her mother had picked it. The modest cut
was deceiving: The fabric was so flimsy that it clung to her breasts, and the
neckline was low and loose, which hinted at a lot of cleavage. She tried giving
the neckline a bit of a tug to make it more modest, but it slithered right back into
place no matter how much she adjusted. “I’m not sure this top is appropriate.”
When she stepped out to show her mother, the elder Alexandra sighed and
clasped her hands under her chin. “You’re so sexy, darling. This must be what
American mothers feel like when they send their daughters to prom.”
Alex peeked at her reflection in the full-length mirror nearby. She had to
admit, she didn’t look like herself. When she stepped into the heels, she looked
like kilometers of legs set off by sensual, silky cleavage in a deep sapphire blue.
It was rather attractive, she had to admit, and turned to admire her behind in the
mirror. She looked so different.
“You know,” her mother said, and swiped at her eyes. “I worry about you,
Alex, darling. Your father was a good man, but we didn’t love each other.”
“I know.” She fiddled with the blouse, because every time this came up in
conversation, it was awkward. Alex had loved her father, but she’d always
known the relationship between him and her mother was distant. He’d spent a lot
of time in his home country when Alex was growing up, and while the elder
princess was suitably grieved when he’d died, it was clear she wasn’t
heartbroken.
“Your grandmother and I don’t see eye to eye on some things. Namely, I
think the world is changing and I don’t know that a princess should have an
arranged marriage anymore.”
Alex blinked at her mother. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I don’t care what your grandmother says. You go out and you nail
this man, honey.”
Alex stared, aghast. “Mother! It’s just a date.”
Her mother only smiled. “Yes, I know. That’s how all relationships start out.
One date.”

***

Alex locked the door to her room after putting the Do Not Disturb placard on the
doorknob. Then she grabbed her purse, slipped on a pair of slides, and pushed a
button under the mantelpiece in her room. Her mirror slid to the side, revealing a
secret passage to get out of the palace from one of the back entrances. She
ducked down the narrow corridor and came out near the old carriage house that
had been converted into visitor quarters. There, her personal chauffeur was
waiting for her. Instead of taking one of the royal family’s black sedans, she’d
suggested they take Gregory’s car instead. The paparazzi permanently encamped
at the gates of the royal palace wouldn’t follow that.
Which was how Alex found herself lying down in the backseat of a tiny
Peugeot.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?” Gregory asked as they drove through the
gates.
“Fine, thank you.”
“We’ll be at the hotel very shortly. I’ve contacted his room to let him know
we’re on our way.”
“Lovely, thank you very much, Gregory.”
Alex felt safe enough to sit up a few kilometers away from the palace, though
her heart still thudded in her chest and she worried she’d turn around and see a
car trailing them. So far, though, it was quiet. All this subterfuge, just so she
could go out on a date with Luke Houston. Was it worth it?
What a silly question. Of course it was.
She touched her lips, recalling their kiss and how he’d been almost naked. It
was shameless of her but she’d wanted to run her hands all over his body in a
very un-princesslike manner. She hoped she’d kissed all right. Other than a few
family pecks on the cheek, it was her first real kiss, and she felt rather chagrined
that she was so old to have her first. Most girls got their first kisses in their early
teen years. Alex had been so sheltered she was twenty-eight years old and Luke
was her first kiss. That seemed . . . wrong.
She adjusted her neckline, making it deliberately a little lower. Being proper
was so damn tiring sometimes. Tonight, she was going to try and be normal.
And she was going to enjoy herself.

***

Luke adjusted his baseball cap as the small, mustard-yellow car pulled up to the
curb. Neither the driver nor the person in the back got out, and that pinged his
radar. He leaned in to look in the window, and there Alex was, smiling
nervously at him from under her big, round sunglasses and that hideous dark wig
he’d sworn she’d gotten at a costume shop or something. The beaming smile was
all her, though, and he couldn’t resist smiling back as he got into the backseat
next to her.
“Hey, Princess.”
“Hi,” she said, a nervous, breathless note in her voice. “Were you
recognized? Do we need to take a back route out of the city? Should—”
He shook his head. “We’re good. People only see celebrities when they
expect to. Most of the time, we’re free to go about our day.” When she looked
skeptical, he reached over and squeezed her hand. “I promise. Do you trust me?”
After a moment, she nodded.
“Then can we do without this?” He reached over and pulled off her
sunglasses, revealing her pretty eyes. That was much better. He liked looking at
her, especially when that dimple peeped out as it was now.
“Well, at least now I can see,” she teased. “Those things are dreadful in the
dark.”
Luke grinned and fingered one of the locks of her wig. “Can we do without
this, too?”
She considered for a moment. “Can I borrow your baseball cap if I start to
feel conspicuous?”
“Absolutely.”
Alex reached up and pulled off the wig, revealing her tightly braided natural
blonde hair underneath. She yanked at a few pins and then used her fingers to
shake out her hair, revealing a tumbling mass of waves that bounced around her
shoulders and made her look tousled and vibrant and so achingly beautiful that
his entire body responded. “Better?”
“Perfection.”
The smile she gave him was shy. “I do hope it’s all right if we leave the
country for dinner? There’s a lovely place just across the border in France. Or
will that break your anonymity?”
“I’m fine with France. And my real name is most definitely not Houston, so
I’m good. What about you?”
She shrugged. “I go back and forth regularly. We’ll simply ask for
discretion.” Her small hand was on the seat between them, and that seemed
wrong. So he took it in his hand and linked his fingers with hers. It felt right to
touch her, even in this small way.
She bit her lip but smiled, and slid a little closer to him in the seat.
Since she’d mentioned driving to France for their dinner, he’d assumed
they’d be in the car for a while, and he was perfectly content to stroke his thumb
over Alex’s soft knuckles and listen to her murmur about the weather and
interesting landmarks they passed in the dark. They paused briefly to speak to
someone at the border, but the man was pleasant, took their ID without fanfare,
and then let them proceed on. Luke was surprised when they pulled up at the
restaurant in about fifteen minutes, and a little disappointed. “I thought it’d take
longer to get here.”
Alex chuckled, pulling her hand from his. “Bellissime is very small, didn’t
you know? We are the third-smallest country in the world. Just a little over forty
square kilometers and three cities.”
“Damn. I think I know people who own more than forty square kilometers
around their houses.”
“I don’t doubt that. America is very different, is it not?”
It was different, but not in a bad way, and he liked Bellissime’s old world
charm. He told her as much as he opened her door for her and led her into the
restaurant. She was stiff and nervous, her gaze darting around in a manner totally
unlike her. He leaned in close to her, putting a hand at the small of her back. “I
know you’re a good actress, Princess. Be casual and normal, and no one will
look at you.”
“I feel very on-display, oddly enough,” she murmured to him, leaning in.
As she moved closer to him, he caught a whiff of her perfume—just a hint of
citrus, sweet and clean like her. Damn. He happened to glance down and caught
a hint of cleavage in the loose front of her shirt, and his cock began the hard
press against his jeans. They needed a dark booth, and fast.
“Bon soir,” the maître d’ said to them as they approached. “Vous voulez un
table pour deux?”
“Ask for a private booth,” Luke said, leaning in close so his lips could brush
against Alex’s ear again, because he was a fucking horndog and couldn’t help
himself.
She held up two fingers. “Nous voulons une cabine privée dans le dos s’il
vous plaît.”
“Mais bien sûr. Suis-moi s’il te plait.”
Alex took his hand and pulled him along behind her. To her credit, she
sauntered through the restaurant like she owned the place, and he was pretty sure
not a single head turned around. That was good. He snatched his baseball cap off
his head and when they were led to their table, he was pleased to see it was a
candlelit nook in the back of the restaurant that was cozy and extremely private,
with high walls separating the diners. The only people who would be able to see
them there would be the waitstaff as they rushed back and forth to the nearby
kitchen.
He waited for Alex to sit, and then slid in next to her. The maître d’ rattled
off some fancy-sounding shit in French, and Alex smiled and listened
attentively, ending with “Bon, merci.”
“What was that?” Luke asked when the man was gone.
“He said he’s always had a crush on you and wanted to show up at your hotel
room later to give you a personal massage.” Her dimple peeped out.
Luke snorted and caught her hand in his. He rubbed her knuckles again.
“Nice try. What did he really say?”
“You don’t speak French?”
He shook his head. “You are talking to a very uneducated man, Alex. I’m
lucky I passed English.” Actually, he was pretty sure he hadn’t, which was why
he’d gotten his GED. But he didn’t tell her that. She was already outclassing him
by far. “Do you speak a lot of languages?”
“Not that many. French, Italian, Spanish, German, and some Portuguese,
though that involves a little guesswork.” Her soft smile indicated that she was
serious.
“You . . . think that’s not many? Jesus.”
Alex looked worried. “You forget that we are a small European country. All
of those languages are spoken around us on a daily basis. To not know them
would be impolite.”
Then he put himself down as impolite, he supposed. But damn, he felt like an
idiot around her sometimes.
He let her order for him, since she was the one fluent in the language, and it
felt like a weird sort of role reversal. She didn’t seem to notice his discomfort,
maybe because she didn’t date much. The wine she ordered was incredible, and
he had a moment of apprehension when her plate arrived and it was full of
delicate vegetables and sauces. The sizzling steak put in front of him a moment
later showed she knew him better than he’d expected.
“To a first date?” she asked, raising her wineglass.
“To the first of many, hopefully.”
Her blush-tinged smile was charming, and Luke relaxed again. The
conversation picked up, and he was having a hell of a time enjoying himself in
her company. She was smart, witty, and listened as much as she talked.
The role reversal came to an end a short time later, when the check was sent
to the table. Alex stared at it, confused. “Oh, dear.”
 “What is it?”
She looked abashed. “I . . . don’t carry money. It’s something I’ve never truly
thought about—”
He laughed and reached for the check. “This, I can handle, Alex. Let me.”
“All right.” She gave him a nervous smile. “I feel foolish, though. Such a
small, simple thing.”
A small, simple thing that didn’t seem to exist in her world. He got it,
actually, and his weird feeling about the date vanished. They were both out of
their element, weren’t they?
Luke paid the tab and left a generous tip, just in case tipping rules were
different in France. Alex didn’t know the answer, either, and they were afraid to
ask anyone around them. As they left the restaurant, the moon was high in the
sky and a cool mist covered the streets.
“It’s lovely,” Alex said with a happy sigh. “Want to go for a walk? There’s a
lovely little bridge down by the river.”
So she wasn’t ready for the date to end, either? “A walk sounds great.” He
took her hand in his and linked their fingers again. Just being here with her was
nice. Real nice.
They talked about the movie and some of the scene changes that Luke had
been sneaking into the film with Alex’s help, and he shared a story about Nick
on the last movie set that had them both laughing. Too soon, they were there by
the edge of the water and on the small bridge.
“It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?” Alex’s voice was soft. “I almost wish it wasn’t
so misty, so you could see the mountains in the distance. They’re beautiful in the
moonlight.” She gave a small shiver and then crossed her arms over her breasts.
And because Luke wasn’t much of a gentleman, he noticed that her blouse
had started to stick to her body in the damp mist, and her nipples were clearly
outlined, and Jesus, he wanted to touch her. He groaned and turned away,
discreetly adjusting himself so she wouldn’t be startled by his, uh, enthusiasm.
“You okay?” Her voice was concerned.
Shit, had she heard his groan? What could he possibly say that wouldn’t freak
her out? Just adjusting my inappropriate boner? Looking at your tits gave me a
hard-on? He went with a blunted version of the truth. “Finding it really, really
hard not to kiss you right now, that’s all.”
Alex laughed. “I’d be willing to make that sacrifice if it’d please you.”
He turned to look at her and grinned. “I won’t get shot by the royal guards for
manhandling the princess in public?”
 She slid a bit closer to him, and her fingers tugged on his sport jacket. “Not if
the princess wants to be manhandled.” She leaned in until her mouth—and her
breasts, heaven help him—were nearly brushing against him. “And tonight I’m
just Alex, remember?”
“I happen to like Just Alex quite a bit, you know.” His hand moved to her
hair, wild and wavy and carefree. She closed her eyes, looking blissfully content
to be in his arms. He had to touch her. His fingers grazed her jaw, feeling her
smooth skin. She leaned into his touch, and he tipped her chin, then kissed her.
Her mouth was soft and sweet and tasted like wine. He felt her tremble
against him, and he wanted to comfort her, to let her know everything was fine,
that he liked kissing her. For some reason, she struck him as incredibly skittish
when it came to anything intimate. A product of her upbringing? Or was she as
innocent as she seemed? The thought of Alex kissing another man filled him
with a helpless sort of jealousy, and he pulled her tighter against him. She was
his, damn it.
His kiss took on a possessive edge. Luke’s tongue slicked into her mouth,
claiming her for his own. He felt a surge of masculine pride when a soft moan
escaped her, and when she began to lean into each kiss as if her life depended on
his mouth being on hers. He wanted her. He wanted to take her back to his hotel
room and strip the clinging blouse off of her, unveil the pretty breasts that had
been tormenting him all night, peel the tight jeans from her long legs and see
what she looked like naked. Wrap a fist in her hair as he fucked her and—
And damn it, she was still a royal princess. He was lucky to even speak to
her.
Reluctantly, he broke off the kiss, ignoring her small noise of protest.
“You’re shivering,” he said, rubbing her arm through her blouse. “You want my
jacket?”
“Are you offering to strip for me, Luke Houston?” Her head tilted at a flirty
angle, but her voice was weak and breathless, and her lips bruised from his
kisses. God, she looked fucking sexy. Utterly delectable. How did no one sweep
into that royal estate of theirs and kidnap her to claim as their own? How was it
she was single? Fucking idiots, all of them. She was the most delectable thing
he’d ever seen, and he’d seen a lot of sexy women in Hollywood.
“You want me to strip for you, Princess? I would.”
Her eyes widened and she clung to his shirt. “Maybe . . . Not today. But
soon.” She sounded disappointed and her fingers flexed on his chest.
 They were ice cold, and he felt like an ass. Of course she was cold. They
were in the mountains and it was damp out. Shrugging off his sport jacket, he
wrapped it around her. “Can’t let you catch a cold, Princess. You won’t be able
to come on the set next week.”
She slid her arms through his sleeves and hugged the jacket close to her,
looking a bit like a child in it despite the fact they were nearly the same height.
They definitely weren’t the same bulk. The smile she gave him was playful.
“Are you sure you want me on the set still? You might get tired of me being
there.”
“Not a chance.” If he didn’t see her again, he’d . . . well, he’d go mad for
starters. Maybe he’d show up at the palace and demand that she go out with him
again.
Alex grew very still, and the expression on her face was concerned. “I’m not
very good at this, Luke.”
“Good at what?”
“Dating.” She fiddled with one of his sleeves. “I know it’s probably forward
of me, but I’m the crown princess and not used to waiting for things. I read
somewhere that women should play hard to get with a man they like, but I’m
afraid that simply won’t do. Are we going to see each other again? You can, of
course, decline. My feelings won’t be hurt.”
Decline? After he’d just kissed her like a starving man in need of sustenance?
Not likely. “Do I need to kiss you again to show you how I feel about you?”
“You could,” she said, and stepped in close again.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her until she was soft and sighing
once more. “I want to see you again, Princess Alex of blah blah blah,” he
murmured. “How do we do this?”
She giggled. “My people will contact your people?”
That was a terrible answer . . . and yet the most accurate one. “Why is it so
hard for two people to schedule a damn date?”
She shrugged and slid her arms around his waist. “Because we’re not normal
people?”
“I guess I can deal with not normal if it allows me to date you.”
The sparkle in her eyes as she gazed up at him? That was everything.
 CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning, Alex was daydreaming over breakfast as one of

Grandmama’s large white cats jumped up on the table and strolled past her plate.
She picked up her toast and moved it out of the way without batting an eye, her
thoughts on other things.
Things like Luke’s jacket, which she still had and still smelled faintly of his
aftershave. Things like the kisses they’d shared on the bridge, and the way he’d
talked to her, like they were sharing secrets. Things like his smile, and the way
his nose bumped against hers when he leaned in to kiss her. The little jokes they
shared between them. The way he liked to link his fingers between hers when
they walked.
Luke Houston in the movies was sexy and dynamic. Luke Houston in
person? He was a dream come true. She took a bite out of dry toast and smiled at
nothing in particular. He’d be on set tomorrow, so once she’d had breakfast with
Grandmama, she’d make plans to stop by in the morning—
“Alexandra.” Her grandmother’s reedy voice still had the power to cut
through the room.
“Yes, Grandmama?” She straightened, feeling a bit like a guilty child, and
looked over at her grandmother. Queen Alexandra Olivia I was in her eighties
but still a force to be reckoned with . . . most days. Sometimes she had moments
where she was confused and tired, but most days she was as sharp and cutting as
she was in her twenties. Alex loved her . . . but she also lived in fear of
disobeying. Her grandmother could be stubborn and unrelenting when she didn’t
see things the same way as Alex, and they’d butted heads more than once
already.
“What do you think of Roderick?”
Roderick? Alex straightened in her chair, trying to focus her attention. The
only Roderick she knew of was a cousin, one of the royal family in Saxe-Gallia.
“Cousin Roderick?”
 “Yes. Are you inclined to marry, and if so, what do you think of him?”
Grandmama’s hawklike eyes gazed at Alex from across the expansive breakfast
table, and the elderly woman casually turned a page in the paper.
The bite of toast Alex had just taken stuck to the roof of her mouth. Marry?
Roderick? She swallowed hard and then drank a sip of hot tea. “I . . . I don’t
know. I haven’t really thought about marriage.”
Her grandmother folded up the paper in front of her and, to Alex’s surprise,
tossed it in her direction. “Then are you telling me that this is a fling?”
Alex picked up the paper with trembling hands. A cat meowed and pushed at
her hand, but she ignored it. The paper was the Bellissime national one, and
Alex was on the front page, kissing Luke on the bridge in France. THE
PRINCESS’S HOLLYWOOD LOVER the headline read boldly. Below that, it
went on in a smaller headline. SCANDAL AT THE ROYAL PALACE? OR
SANCTIONED BY THE QUEEN?
Alex swallowed again, feeling very much like a child. “I . . .”
“You didn’t ask permission to go out on a date.” The queen’s tone was
withering. “You know the rules, Alexandra. We are the voice of the people of
Bellissime. We represent them in our every action and word. What message do
you think this sends?”
That Luke Houston really is irresistible? That I’m human and fell for a hot
guy? “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be sorry,” the queen snapped. “Just tell me what response you wish
for the palace to make. Is this a fling like one of your mother’s tawdry Monaco
affairs that I pretend not to see?”
Alex’s eyes widened. She knew?
The elder woman waved a bejeweled hand. “I’m not foolish, Alexandra. And
I know your mother has been unhappy for a long time. As long as she is discreet
and not in line for the throne, no one cares. But you are my heir.” Her eagle-eyed
gaze focused on Alex. “So?”
She stared at the picture. It was grainy, but there was no doubt it was her on
the bridge, her hair flying around her head. Goodness, she looked so improper
and utterly . . . happy in that picture. Normally she was posed perfectly for the
photographers, having practiced for years the right way to hold her hands, tilt her
head, how much teeth to show. This was natural and it was . . . wonderful. She
wanted more. “It’s not a fling,” she said in a quiet voice. “I really like him. I
want to go out with him again.”
 “Then the palace will issue a statement accordingly.” Grandmama folded her
napkin on her lap and picked up her teacup. “The princess is dating an American
and wishes her privacy at this time.”
Alex was utterly shocked. “You . . . support it? Truly?”
The queen’s lined face softened. “Alexandra, my dear. You are my heir.
More than that, you are my granddaughter. I love you and your mother very
much, and I know all too well how your mother endured an unhappy marriage
for the sake of the crown. I regret it fiercely, even if it did bring you into this
world. And if I can spare you the misery she had, then I will.”
“Thank you.” Alex wanted to get up and hug her grandmother, but they
weren’t the hugging type. She settled for beaming at her from across the table.
“Thank you for understanding.”
The queen simply winked at her.

***

Across town, Luke was staring at the newspaper with a look of horror on his
face. The headline was screamingly bold: THE PRINCESS’S HOLLYWOOD
LOVER. The picture was of them on the bridge, Alex’s face pressed to his, her
hair flying. He’d sworn up and down to her that they wouldn’t be recognized.
That they’d be left alone.
He’d been wrong, and he felt like an ass for compromising her privacy.
His publicist, however, was thrilled.
“My god, Luke. You don’t do things halfway, do you?” Beckee tittered into
the phone. “Can we make a statement? Please? Pretty please?”
“No statement,” Luke said, tossing aside the paper. He rubbed a hand down
his face, frustrated. “I want it all to go away.”
“Are you kidding me?” Beckee’s screech was so loud that he had to hold his
phone away from his ear. “The hottest rising hunk in Hollywood is dating a
European princess. This is not going away, buddy. Not at all. You’re going to be
in every tabloid possible. But if we make just the right statement, we can
capitalize on things. Set you up for—”
“No statement.” He needed to talk to Alex. Apologize. Something. She was
probably devastated. Would she want to see him again after this?
“Luke, we need to talk about this.” Beckee was now annoyed. “This is the
biggest publicity you could possibly make for the movie unless . . . Wait. Could
you hold off on dating her until the picture hits theaters?”
 “I’m going now,” Luke said, and hung up the phone. God, what a mess. He
stared up at the ceiling of the hotel. Some days, it was a pain in the ass to be an
actor. What had happened to the thrill of the role? Of losing yourself in another
character? Of seeing your face on screen? Now it seemed to be lost in who was
dating who.
The moment he set his phone down, it buzzed with incoming text messages.
Beckee: What about an exclusive interview? Will u do one of those? Just a
small TV show! One of the Late Nights. Not a big deal!
Nick: I can’t believe you’ve been going behind my back. After all I’ve done
for you to make your career! CALL ME.
Tony: Hey, bro. I saw the papers about the princess. She bearding for you?
Or is it the other way around? LOL.
Beckee: Media Weekly wants to put you on the cover!!! Can we make a
statement? Please!!! Just a small one!
He turned his phone off entirely. At least now the incessant incoming-text
buzz would stop. He took a shower and dressed to head down to the hotel gym.
Maybe working up a good sweat would get his mind off of the upcoming
clusterfuck. He dressed in sweats and his sneakers, and, on a hunch, headed to
the balcony and peered down below.
The front of the hotel was mobbed with photographers holding cameras,
waiting anxiously. Cars were blocking the narrow Bellissime streets as far as he
could see, and horns honked as irritated drivers tried to push their way through
the crowd.
Fuck. That was for him?
As he watched, a black sedan pulled up, two tiny Bellissime flags waving
from the hood. The photographers clustered around it, and Luke tensed. Was the
princess coming to visit him at his hotel? Surely that seemed like a bad idea,
didn’t it? But he couldn’t pull away from the window, and he held his breath as
the door opened.
A man in a black suit stepped out. Frustrated, Luke pushed away and slapped
the curtains shut. Now he was just being a mopey schoolboy, wasn’t he? He
needed to get out of his own head for a bit. Definitely time to head down to the
gym. He pulled out a music player and strapped it to his arm, and then headed
down the hall to the elevator.
It opened as he stepped forward, and standing there was a man in a black suit,
a black chauffeur cap on his head. He looked surprised to see Luke. “Mr.
Houston?” He held out an envelope.
 Luke pulled out his earbuds and examined it. “What’s this?” He’d been
handed all kinds of weird shit on the red carpet, but this seemed like a plain
envelope.
“I believe it is an invitation, sir.” The man clasped his hands and waited.
Luke fiddled with the envelope. When the man didn’t leave, he arched an
eyebrow at him.
“I’m supposed to wait for your response, sir.”
“Ah.” Luke shoved his thumb under the sealed flap and ripped it open, then
pulled out the card inside. It was plain eggshell colored, the national symbol of
Bellissime on the front. The interior was neatly printed. Your presence is
requested by HRH Crown Princess Alexandra Olivia III for dinner tonight. A
driver will be there to pick you up at seven sharp.
Below the type, a note had been scribbled in a feminine hand. I hope you’re
not mad. Come see me tonight? I promise we’ll have more privacy here than on
the bridge! Best, Alex.
A slow smile curved his mouth. Boy, she didn’t waste any time, did she? It
was a bold move, and a ballsy one for the shy princess. He imagined she’d seen
the newspaper, and she probably knew he had, too. She was pushing Go on
things, then. If he was truly interested in her—mob of photographers hounding
them and all—she was giving him an opening. If he wanted to back off, he could
decline the formal invitation without too many hurt feelings.
He folded the invitation shut again and glanced at the waiting man. “Casual
or formal?”
“Palace casual, sir.”
That probably meant not black tie but still formal. “Please let the princess
know I will be there.”
The man nodded and stepped back into the elevator.
Luke waited until the man left, and then tucked the envelope into his pocket.
He was grinning. Tonight, he’d get to see Alex again. Sly princess.
He couldn’t wait.
 CHAPTER EIGHT

Three Weeks Later

“It’s a royal media frenzy,” Beckee said into Luke’s ear. He sat in the backseat
of the sedan that had been sent for him, and his publicist chatted his ear off,
excited. “Ever since Will and Kate’s marriage, people have been nuts over royal
families of any kind. The fact that Princess Alex is young and pretty and you’re
freaking Luke Houston? The papers are crazy here.” He could hear Beckee
shuffling things on her desk. “I’m inundated with requests for you to talk to
people—Barbara Walters, Oprah, you name it. Inundated!” She sounded thrilled.
She was inundated? She didn’t know the half of it. Luke grimaced as he
glanced out the window of the slowly crawling sedan. The media was even
worse in Bellissime. It seemed like photographers and reporters from every
country in Europe had sent a team to try and get a photograph of him and Alex
together. They pestered him at the hotel. They clustered around the doors when
he went to the set. They mobbed the car every time Alex sent for him for one of
their dates. People had actually started camping out in front of the royal palace
gates, trying to get a picture of him (or her). He was beginning to feel like he
couldn’t head to the restroom without a posse of bodyguards following him.
Privacy was quickly becoming a thing of the past, and Luke had thought he
would be used to it after years of climbing the rungs in Hollywood.
Turned out that dating a royal princess escalated things into an entirely
different stratosphere. Hell, they even had helicopters following them around,
hoping to get the scoop.
Was she worth the media frenzy?
Hell yes she was.
Alex was an utter joy to be around. He’d never met anyone quite like her.
She was fun, playful, intelligent, able to hold a conversation about anything he
threw at her, and always managed to surprise him. She was utterly confident in
social situations, but shy when it came to him and kissing. Luke was utterly
addicted to her. He dreamed about her at night, thought about her when he woke
up, and was having a hard time focusing on the movie because he just wanted to
spend more time with Alex. She consumed him, and he’d never been like that
around other women.
Beckee continued to babble in his ear, but he wasn’t really listening. He was
back to thinking about Alex, his favorite pastime. Tonight she wanted a quiet
dinner alone in the palace, because they’d been mobbed at the last restaurant
they’d tried to go to (despite disguises). There were royal gardens, as well, and
Luke had been daydreaming about sneaking Alex away into them for a bit of
late-night heavy petting. They were constantly surrounded by people, so it was
hard to get intimate—though not for lack of trying on both their parts. It was like
there was an electric connection between them . . . and people kept flipping the
switch to Off. Damn frustrating.
“Do we want to make a comment about the superhero script you’re
considering? Get the fans going?”
“Hmm?” Luke tried to pay attention. “Which superhero script?”
“There’s more than one? The big tentpole production!”
Actually, he’d gotten four in the last week, all either action- or blockbuster-
type roles. He was thrilled, of course . . . and a little disappointed because he
hadn’t gotten them for his acting merit, but because he was dating a princess. All
of this had made him incredibly cynical about his job, and even more wary of the
fans. If this was what the media would be like, maybe he’d be better off on the
B-list than reaching for the A-list.
Not that he had a choice in that matter at the moment.
The sedan crawled up to the palace gates, and sure enough, there was a
cluster of people waiting there. In addition to the regular photographers, there
was a barricade set up and several teenage girls were holding up signs: WE
HEART YOU LUKE! BELLISSIME’S FAVORITE ACTOR!
Aw, hell. “Let me let you go, Beckee. I need to go sign some autographs.”
“Go forth and conquer the people, sweetie!”
He hung up and tossed his phone onto the seat next to him. “Can we stop for
a minute?”
The driver—Alex’s driver—frowned back at him. “I’m not sure that’s wise,
sir.”
“It’s kind of a thing. I try not to disappoint kids. I’m just going to sign a few
autographs and take a few pictures and then I’ll be back.” He figured that if
anyone waited hours to see him, the least he could do was sign an autograph.
Plus, it was bad karma to disappoint fans. The paparazzi? He didn’t give a shit
about them, but when there were fans involved? He wanted to make them happy.
He remembered being a kid and being starstruck by the big names. Hell, he
remembered being starstruck his first day on the set.
The car stopped and Luke got out, waving.
The crowd of girls behind the barricade screamed, posters shaking madly.
The palace guards at the gate frowned but didn’t leave their posts.
“I can only stay for a minute,” Luke called out to the crowd as cameras
flashed and phones raised in the air. “I just wanted to say hi to everyone and to
thank you for your support.” He moved forward and photos of him were thrust in
his direction, along with Sharpies. He grabbed the first one and greeted the fan,
signing the picture and then leaning in for the obligatory selfie.
Happy squeals of joy told him he’d brightened a few people’s days, and he
reached for the next picture. The crowd shoved against the barricade and it
wobbled, causing one of the guards to move forward. A few of the people in the
back started shoving, and a camera got awfully close to his face.
“Everyone calm down, please,” Luke said, keeping his best smile on his face.
“I’ll sign for everyone, okay? No pushing, please.”
“I love you, Luke!” someone wailed in the back.
“Love you, too,” he called back, and the audience broke out into laughter.
Luke signed another picture and leaned in for a selfie. The girl at the front
was short, and so he squatted down by the guardrail so they could be face to
face. The crowd surged again, and someone grabbed his shirt. Other hands
grabbed him, and the squeals grew deafening.
A moment later, a hand yanked backward and his head cracked against the
metal of the railing. A blinding flash of pain went through his head and then
everything went dark.

***

“Mr. Houston’s been hurt.” Lady Margaret raced into Alex’s chamber.
Alex jerked up from her dressing table, where she’d been contemplating her
phone. The queen found them unseemly, but Alex kept a private one for “just in
case” and Luke liked to send her the occasional text. She’d been re-reading some
of them in a lovesick moment. She tossed down the phone and tightened the sash
on her silk dressing robe. She had a date with Luke soon, and was just about to
get dressed. “He what?”
 “He’s been hurt. He was signing autographs just outside the gates and some
fans attacked him. He hit his head against the barricade and was knocked
unconscious.” Margaret wrung her hands. “What should we do?”
Her heart clenched painfully. Oh, Luke. Please be okay. “Take me to him.”
“But . . .” Margaret sputtered. “You’re not dressed!”
Like that mattered right now? Alex hurried out of her room and down the
stairs, Margaret trailing behind her. “Where is he?”
“They brought him into the Green Parlor, I believe.”
“And the royal physician? Has he been called?”
“I don’t know—”
“Find out,” Alex barked, racing down the last few stairs and running for the
Green Parlor. “And tell the palace secretary that I need him!” They’d have to
make a statement of some kind before things went out of control.
She burst into the parlor a moment later, her heart hammering in her breast so
loud that she thought it might break through her skin. There he was, lying on a
mauve settee, his face utterly pale, limbs hanging over the edge of the seat. A
guard held a bloody cloth to his forehead, and another paced nearby.
Oh, dear god.
The two guards immediately looked away as she raced to Luke’s side. “It’s a
head wound?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The one guard coughed and pointedly avoided making
eye contact with Alex as he held the cloth to Luke’s head. “He hit the barricade
rather hard. The crowd grew unruly very fast.”
“The doctor has been sent for,” she said, taking the cloth from the man and
lifting it to peer at the wound. There was so much blood, but she knew head
wounds bled a lot. She wouldn’t panic. “Has the crowd on the street been
dispersed?”
“The captain of the guard is handling that right now, Your Grace.”
“Good.” She caressed Luke’s cheek, looking for other wounds, but he
seemed to be all right otherwise. He was breathing regularly, too, thank
goodness. Her heart stopped hammering and she began to take control. They
would be looking to her. “I’ve asked Margaret to bring the doctor, and the
secretary will be coming by. I want this room guarded, and not a peep of this is
to spread beyond the palace. Do you understand me?”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Both guards bowed.
“One of you get some water and some fresh cloths. The other please remain
outside the door. No one is to come in other than Margaret or the people that
I’ve mentioned. Where is the queen today?”
“I believe she is out at a ribbon cutting, Your Grace. Your mother is on
vacation in Greece.”
She nodded. Good. It was less to worry about. The smaller she could keep
this, the better. “Thank you, gentlemen.”
The guards left the room and she was alone with Luke. She arranged his legs
and then took off his shoes, trying to make him comfortable. There was a small
embroidered pillow on a nearby chaise, but there was already one pillow under
his head and she didn’t want him to move if at all possible. She fidgeted over
him as she waited for fresh cloths and water—or the doctor.
This was all her fault. Alex gazed down at his handsome face and resisted the
urge to press her mouth against his. Instead, she took his hand and twined their
fingers together.
Things were going to have to change, that was clear.
Luke’s eyes fluttered open and he squeezed her hand. “Hey, Princess.”
“Don’t move,” she told him softly. “The doctor’s on his way.”
“I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.” He started to get up, but Alex froze him
with her iciest princess look, the one she used only in dire situations of insult.
“Or I’ll lie down here and let you tend to me.”
“Better.”
By the time the doctor arrived, Alex had carefully bathed much of the dried
blood from Luke’s forehead, changed into a dress that Margaret brought her, and
issued a statement from the palace. The media was to be informed that Luke had
taken a small tumble outside the palace gates and would be remaining on the
grounds under the doctor’s care until further notice, and that the injury was not
expected to be serious.
It was that whole expected thing that was rattling Alex. She didn’t know
much about head wounds. She remained at Luke’s side and held his hand as the
doctor examined him.
“You washed the head wound?” the doctor asked, frowning. “You should
have left it for me. It could have caused issues if there was an abnormal amount
of bleeding.”
Alex stiffened. “Is there?”
Luke squeezed her hand again. “I’m fine. Really.”
The doctor shone a penlight into Luke’s eyes and then made him follow his
finger. “His pupils are the same size. Doesn’t look like a concussion. That gash
will need a stitch, though, and we’ll want to supervise him for the next several
days to ensure there’s no swelling in the brain.”
Swelling in the brain? Alex’s heart started thumping nervously all over again.
“I want round-the-clock care for him,” she insisted. “If you have to call
additional colleagues to the palace, do so. I want Luke to have the best care.”
“You’re going to break my fingers if you squeeze any harder, Princess,” he
murmured to her.
Oh. She released his hand, and then fussed with the throw blanket she’d
tucked around him.
The doctor nodded. “We’ll make sure he’s not overstimulated. No phones, no
television, no reading for the next while. Just relaxation.”
Luke tried to put a hand to his head. “I’m shooting a movie.”
“Not right now you aren’t,” she said tartly, and grabbed his hand before he
could touch the wound. Turning to the doctor, she told him, “He’s staying here
until further notice.”
The doctor’s gray brows drew together. “Your Grace, I’m not sure that’s
appropriate.”
She arched a brow at him. “I’m the one to decide what is appropriate or not.
Am I not the crown princess?”
The doctor flushed. “Of course, but you are also an unmarried young woman
—”
“This is the twenty-first century, not the first. I can stay under the same roof
as a man without flinging myself upon his loins.” When the doctor’s face began
to turn purple with embarrassment, she softened her voice. “Luke will be under
care at all times, and we will have him constantly chaperoned. His room will be
guarded and he will be accompanied everywhere. We’ll make additional
statements to the press if necessary.”
“And the queen?” the doctor asked.
Alex didn’t hesitate. “The queen will of course want nothing but the best care
for Mr. Houston. Now please, see to it.”
Luke just gave her a sleepy grin, as if proud of her imperious tone, and she
resisted the urge to clench his hand in hers again.
 CHAPTER NINE

A week with a head injury was a long damn week, Luke decided. Even though
the doctor had cleared him for work, declaring that he was fine and the injury
had been minor, Alex was insistent that he continue to take it easy. The lights in
his room were deliberately low, and he wasn’t allowed visitors, his phone, the
Internet, television, or scripts to read.
Other than the head injury . . . it was kind of nice. The incessant buzz of
Hollywood had dimmed, and in its place was Alex. She was there to have
breakfast with him every morning, she took her meals at his side and ate the
same bland things he did, and since he couldn’t do much, she kept him company
and they talked. He napped a lot, but mostly they talked.
He never got tired of hearing her voice, her husky, sweet laugh. He was
falling for the woman, and that could be a problem. She was out of his reach,
and even if she wasn’t . . . he had a movie to finish.
A movie that he really needed to check in on.
Luke was in a palatial bed in one of the palace suites normally reserved for
visiting royalty. A dozen pillows were propped behind his back, and a fluffy
blanket covered his legs. He was in pajamas that Alex’s personal shopper had
purchased for him, and his things had been retrieved from the hotel. He was well
rested, though itching for a workout, and as comfortable as he could possibly be.
Alex was at his side, curled up in a chair, stifling a yawn, and writing a few
notes to give to staff later. She was always awake, he’d noticed, and wondered if
she was getting enough sleep.
Luke reached over and nudged her with his hand. “Tired?”
“Mmm? No, I’m fine.” She gave him a bright smile. “I might have another
cup of tea, perhaps.”
Yeah, she’d been mainlining tea like he did coffee. “I feel fine. You know
that, right?”
“One of the doctors said that you should probably relax for another week—”
 “And all the other doctors said I was fine. Really, Alex. Even my stitch is
gone. See?” He pointed at the tiny red slash on his brow, where the wound had
been.
Her full lips pressed together, unhappy.
“Can I have my phone?”
“Absolutely not.” She gave him a stubborn look.
“I need to talk to Nick.”
“I already talked to Nick. They’re delaying shooting while you get better.”
He sighed, frustrated, and then nudged her again. “You’re bossy.”
“I’m the crown princess.”
Luke settled back in the pillows. “So I don’t get a say in things?”
Her expression softened a little, and Alex looked uncomfortable. “Luke, it’s
not that I’m trying to be overbearing. It’s just—”
“I know, Princess. It’s just frustrating. I promise you I’m fine. My head
hasn’t hurt since that day and meanwhile you’re running yourself ragged trying
to take care of me.”
“I’m not,” she protested, straightening in the chair.
“You are.” He patted the bed next to him. “Why don’t you come and curl up
next to me? We can nap together.”
She bit her lip, her gaze on the bed. A hint of a flush touched her cheeks. “If
someone sees us—”
“If someone sees us, they will see two exhausted people sleeping next to each
other, fully clothed. And they will think nothing of it.”
Alex hesitated a moment longer. He patted the bed again, and she slowly got
up, closing her notebook. “I’m not getting under the covers.”
“That’s fine.”
She moved to the side of the bed and sat gingerly. So prim, his princess. Luke
shifted over a little and indicated she should move in closer to him. She glanced
at the door to his room, then slipped her shoes off and crawled over the bed to
him.
And, holy fuck. He was glad the blanket over him was thick so it could hide
his erection. Just that small moment of her crawling toward him? That was going
to live in his fantasies forever.
This had been the longest he’d dated someone without even getting to second
base. All they’d done was kiss. And while kissing Alex was amazing, he was
craving more intimacy with her. Maybe now was the time to approach it. He was
only human, after all.
 She snuggled in next to him, tucking her head against his shoulder, and he
felt the curve of her breast against his side. Her arm went to his waist and she
gave a small sigh.
“Better?” he asked, voice husky. His cock ached at her nearness.
She nodded and poked his rib with her finger. “You need to sleep, though.”
“Of course.” He closed his eyes and pretended to relax. Truth was, he
couldn’t. Not with her warm, sweet body pressing against his, the scent of her
shampoo in his nose, the tickle of her hair against his skin. He could tilt his head
just a little and then they’d be face-to-face. He could brush his lips against hers
and pull her against him and let her know that he was willing to take things to a
whole new level if she was.
The soft sound of gentle breathing interrupted his thoughts.
“Alex?” he whispered, glancing down at the woman curled against him. Her
eyes were closed, her mouth slightly slack. She slept on.
Damn. Of course, now that he’d decided to put the moves on her, she would
pass out against him. In the next moment, though, he felt guilty. She was
exhausted from nursing him and worrying over him. She was entitled to a little
sleep. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and pulled her close against him.
He ignored the way his body reacted and settled in, relaxing.
His dick would just have to wait a little longer. Some things were worth
waiting for, and Alex was definitely one of them.

***

Alex woke up from her nap, disoriented. She was warm and felt delicious, a pair
of arms holding her close. Her cheek rested on a broad chest.
Luke.
She yawned, trying to peep over his chest at the clock.
“It’s late,” he murmured. His arms tightened around her.
He was awake? Oh, mercy. Alex sat up, gazing down at him. “I . . . Have you
been awake long?”
“Awhile.” Luke’s mouth tugged at the corners in a smile. “You were so tired
I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.”
“Nonsense. You’re the patient here. You—”
He put a finger to her lips, jolting her into silence. “I may be the patient, but
it’s not right for my princess to exhaust herself trying to take care of me.”
 Her nipples pricked at his words. His princess? He made her sound like . . .
something he wanted to keep. Something cherished and valued and adored. Alex
licked her lips and gazed down at him. The look on his face was soft, but there
was a sensual hint to his gaze that made her body go alert. As she hesitated, his
hand slid up and down her arm, caressing her.
“You all right?”
Was she all right? The man she loved had a head injury and . . . Oh.
She was in love.
Dumbfounded, Alex stared down at him. Had she always been a little in love
with Luke? Even when she hadn’t known him, he’d seemed the epitome of her
male ideal—handsome, witty, charming, and polite and kind in his off-screen
interviews. Getting to know him had only reinforced her high opinions of him,
and . . . yeah. She was definitely head-over-heels for the guy.
Before she could think twice about it, she leaned in and kissed him, her lips
brushing against his in a gentle caress.
Luke groaned, and his arms went back around her, pulling her down against
him. His tongue slicked into her mouth, and then she was lost in the kiss, her
mouth hungrily fixing on him. With rough hands, he dragged her over him until
her hips cradled his, and she felt the firm press of his . . . privates pushing
against her. Alex gasped against his mouth, but she didn’t want to stop. All of
this was wonderful and exciting and exactly what she wanted. Involuntary, her
hips rocked against him, and she was pleased to hear his low groan. She could
make him feel good, too.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Princess.” His hand went to her hair, even as his
mouth plundered hers with deep, stroking, wet kisses. “And you’re mine, aren’t
you, Alex?” His other hand moved up and down her arm, rubbing her, as if
wanting to touch her more and not quite sure he had permission.
“All yours,” she breathed against his mouth. “I belong to you, Luke.” It felt
thrilling and oddly powerful to say the words.
The breath hissed out of him and his hand slid to her breast, cupped it gently.
“Been waiting weeks to touch you. It’s been a damn torture, but every moment
with you is worth it, Alex. I’m addicted to your smiles, the smell of your
shampoo, the way that you make everyone feel important, that damn dimple of
yours . . .” His thumb flicked over her taut nipple, sending shockwaves through
her body. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s going crazy at not being able to
get a few moments alone together.”
 “You’re not.” Her hips rocked against him again. She wanted to crawl under
the blankets with him. She wanted to press her overheated, naked skin against
his. She wanted—
Someone knocked at the door.
Alex jerked to her feet, rolling off of Luke and stumbling to the far side of
the bed. She scrambled to her chair and picked up her notebook, one hand
smoothing at her hair. Oh, dear lord. Did she look like she’d been kissing him?
Were her nipples evident through her sweater? She clutched the notebook to her
chest to hide them, just in case. “Enter,” she called. To her relief, her voice was
steady.
Luke fell back on the pillows, running a hand through his tousled hair. His
expression was bland, too. Such good actors, the both of them.
One of the nurses entered the room with a meal tray. “Just coming in to check
on you. How’s your head?”
“It’s fine,” Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “Just fine.” He sounded
irritated.
Alex jumped to her feet. “I really should go. I have a few things to get done
before the evening runs away.” She gave Luke a polite smile and hoped he could
see the frustration in her face as the nurse passed by. “I’ll see you in the
morning.”
He nodded at her. “See you then, Princess.”
She turned and swiftly stalked away, out of the room and down one of the
long, echoing halls of Bellissime Palace. Her mind was whirling full of naughty
thoughts, but one thing was becoming crystal clear to her.
She wanted to take things to the next level with Luke. She wanted to be in his
bed. It was time to stop being the prudish princess everyone thought she should
be and take what she wanted.

***

Late that night, after everyone in the palace had gone to sleep, Alex was awake.
She was thinking about Luke.
More specifically, she was thinking about the secret passage that led out of
her room. One of the rooms it connected to? Luke’s chamber.
No one but the royal family knew about the passage. And her mother was
gone, and Grandmama was too old and set in her ways to go poking around at
night.
 Alex could see Luke. Sneak into bed with him. They could just cuddle like
when they’d napped earlier, because that had been amazing. Or . . . they could
do more. She was ready for a lot more. And she suspected Luke wouldn’t need
much convincing. But she hesitated, torn between what she wanted and what
was proper. Royal princesses didn’t throw themselves at men, even if it was the
modern era. Going to him went against every bit of decorum she’d ever been
taught. If it got out, there’d be a massive scandal. She’d be destroyed in the
papers. Bellissime would be a laughingstock. The scandal would last for years, if
not decades.
But . . . no one would find out. Luke’s room was private, it was late, and no
one knew about the secret passage.
She fiddled with the ties on her silk robe, uncertain. What if she went to him
and he turned her down? Or worse, he didn’t turn her down . . . and then told
everyone in Hollywood about the time he slept with a royal princess? If she did
this, she had to be sure about him.
And she had no way of being sure. It’d be a leap of faith.
Her hands trembled and she knotted and unknotted the sash of her robe,
hesitating. Was she ready to leap? What would happen if she never did?
She might end up a virgin princess all her life, a la Queen Elizabeth of
England.
She might end up marrying someone who she didn’t love, like her mother
and her grandmother before her, just because it was expected.
Or . . . she could leap.
Alex checked her hair in the mirror one last time, then hit the switch for the
secret panel. This was her life, and she was going to claim it and the man she
wanted. If she hesitated . . . she’d be stuck in the same loveless rut she was
always in, and she was tired of that.
She wanted to take a chance on Luke. Please, please don’t prove me wrong
about you.
Alex kept a flashlight by the door to her room and she clicked it on and
headed down the narrow secret passage, her mind whirling. Would Luke be
asleep? Should she let him sleep since he had a head wound? The doctors said he
was fine, but was she pushing him because sex with him was what she wanted?
Had she come on too strong earlier? Would he think her vulgar if she
approached him now?
Goodness, she needed to get out of her own head. She was going to make
herself crazy before she ever got to her destination. She gave herself a little tap
on the cheek to clear her mind and swung her flashlight at the hidden doors that
led to different rooms, looking for the Imperial Suite, where Luke was
ensconced. She hesitated again. Was this a mistake? Once she showed up in his
room, asking for sex . . .
Well, there was no going back from that, was there? She had to make
absolutely sure that this was what she wanted. Alex shone the flashlight on her
feet, wiggling her toes in her slippers. One step forward, or turn away.
She stepped forward.
 CHAPTER TEN

Luke wasn’t asleep. Hell, a man who took as many naps as he did in a day due to
the fact that he had no phone, no computer, no books, and no TV? He was
surprised he got any sleep at night. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling, thinking.
Thinking about his career, the movie, his future . . . and Alex.
The last month had been an eye-opener. He’d always pushed back when his
publicist had wanted him to date other high-profile women to increase his
visibility. He wasn’t into climbing the social ladder. But now? Now it seemed
like everything was a social ladder. He was dating Alex, and he’d been offered
more big roles in the last two weeks than he had in the last eight years of acting.
It should have been exciting. Instead, he found it annoying. They didn’t want
him for his acting ability. They wanted him for his ability to pull tabloid
headlines.
He was pretty sure Nick was pissed at him, too. Production had mostly halted
while they waited for Luke to get better. Even when he had been on set, he
hadn’t been giving it his all. He’d balked and fussed at the graphic sex scene in
the movie (thankfully shot without Alex there) until Nick had decided to go a
different route entirely, and they’d faded to black on the scene instead. He’d just
felt . . . strange about making out with Pam on camera knowing that Alex would
see it. Nick had bitched and thrown a fit, but Luke hadn’t caved. And now that
Luke was on bed rest? Nick had a standing invite to come and visit at the palace,
and hadn’t shown up once.
Pissed was probably too mild a word. On the verge of recasting the role was
probably more like it, but Luke was now the hottest thing in Hollywood, he
thought cynically. There was no way he’d get a better box office draw than Luke
now, so they were stuck together.
Plus, he suspected Nick’s brittle ego had been bruised when it got out that
Alex was romantically interested in Luke and not Nick. Sometimes directors
were funny that way.
 Alex. His thoughts went to her and her regal face, that dimple that flashed
when she really smiled. How utterly sexy she’d been in bed with him earlier.
He’d wanted to flip her down into the bed and push himself on top of her.
They’d gone really slow in their relationship—real fucking slow. He wanted her,
and he wanted more of her. After having her in his bed earlier? It felt real damn
lonely to be there by himself.
His hand went under the blanket and he stroked his cock, imagining Alex’s
soft mouth and the small noises she’d made when he’d kissed her. Fuck, she’d
been pretty. It felt wrong to have a jerk-off session in the posh bedroom with her
sleeping a few doors down, but if he didn’t get rid of some of the tension in his
body, he’d lose his mind. Just thinking about Alex made him want her. Not just
her body, but her smiles, her teasing conversations, her simple joy.
He had it bad for the princess, all right. And he didn’t even mind it. Being
with her felt good and right, like he’d found his other half.
Luke’s hand stroked up and down his shaft again. Too bad his other half was
currently in her virginal bed down the hall. He’d love to sneak in next to her,
slide under the covers, and—
The wall moved.
Luke jerked upright in the bed, flicking on the light. This palace was old but
surely it wasn’t fucking haunted, was it? His heart hammered as the shadows
moved.
And then Alex stepped out.
“Princess? What the fuck—”
She put a finger to her lips and clicked her flashlight off, then turned to the
wall and touched the underside of an old painting. The wall slid closed again and
she moved forward toward him.
He stared. “Is that a secret passage?”
She nodded, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. She wore a silk night
robe and her breasts swayed as she moved toward him on the bed. “Please don’t
say a thing about it, Luke. Only the royal family knows. It’s for emergencies
only.”
“I won’t say anything.” He sat up straighter in the bed, the covers falling to
his waist. Hopefully they’d hide his rather rampant erection that was not being
helped by Alex’s presence . . . and in that silky robe. “Why are you here? Is
everything all right?”
Instead of answering, she continued to approach the bed. When she got to his
side, Luke half expected her to sit down on the edge of the bed, or the chair
nearby. She crawled on top of him instead and began to kiss him.
Damn. If this was a wet dream, he didn’t want to wake up. With a groan,
Luke pushed his hand into her hair, anchoring her in place against him and
kissed her with all the need that had been building over the last few weeks. Her
mouth moved with his, soft and sweet, and she made a low noise of pleasure in
her throat before breaking away from the embrace. “I want to make love to you,
Luke.”
“Princess . . . baby, you sure?” He could feel her trembling against him.
She nodded and buried her face against his neck. “I want us to be together in
all ways. Do you . . . do you want me?”
Did he want her? Was she crazy? He was going mad with wanting her. He
slid her off of him and onto the bed so she lay next to him. Then, he took her
hand in his and carefully moved it down under the sheets until she could feel the
bulge of his aching erection. “What does this tell you?”
Her small gasp was gratifying. “That . . . I might have interrupted something
before I came in?”
He chuckled and leaned in to nuzzle her lovely mouth. That hand on his cock
was doing crazy things to him. “You can’t blame a guy with no TV and no
Internet. Gotta do something to pass the time. I was thinking about my princess.”
Her hand tightened on his shaft, and the breath nearly hissed from his throat.
“You were thinking about me?” she asked, breathless.
“Always.” Luke’s hand trailed down her side. “I think about you
obsessively.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one,” she said with a soft smile. Her hand
squeezed his shaft and balls. “Though I haven’t gone to this level.”
“Do princesses not masturbate?”
A little shocked gasp escaped her throat.
“I’m going to take that as a no.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers.
“Hollywood actors do, though. Especially when they’re dating sexy princesses.”
The look in her eyes was soft, and she bit her lip while gazing at his mouth.
Her hand hadn’t moved from its spot on his cock, and he had to admit that he
liked it there. Maybe a little too much. “You gonna keep touching me while I
kiss you, Princess?”
“Only if you like it.”
“Oh, I like it all right.” He kissed her again, his tongue flicking against the
seam of her mouth. She opened for him, and the kiss grew deeper. He thrust into
her mouth and his hips moved against her hand, almost as if the two were
connected. In response, she gave a soft little moan. He kissed her again, and she
was content to flick her tongue against his, and he realized that she . . . probably
didn’t have a lot of experience kissing. He lifted his head. “You’re a virgin,
aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Alex jerked back from him, her hand flying off his cock. She looked shocked
and a little embarrassed. “Why would you say that?”
Because of that reaction right there? Because she wasn’t an amazing kisser,
but what she lacked in experience, she made up in the way she reacted? Because
he didn’t think that the palace let her have a lot of sleepovers? “You just seem
sheltered, Alex. It’s not a bad thing. I just want to know if I need to go slower
with you.”
She relaxed at that. “I don’t care if you go slow or fast as long as we keep
going.”
“But you are a virgin?”
Alex nodded slowly. “Does that change things?”
“Only if you want them to.”
“I don’t.” Her hand went to his chest and she pressed against his bare skin. “I
hope you don’t think less of me.”
“I think the world of you, Alex.” He kissed her again, paying attention to that
soft, pouty lower lip of hers. Then he kissed lower, moving down her chin, then
to her neck. “Surely you’ve figured that out by now.”
She trembled underneath him and her hands went to his shoulders, as if
wanting to hold on to him for strength. “I’m pretty new to . . . relationships in
general. You’ll have to give me a pass on some things.”
“Or we can just work through them,” he said with a wicked smile. “I’d be
happy to show you lots of things.” Luke sat up and put his hand on the tight sash
of her robe. “May I?”
Alex nodded, everything about her body screaming shyness. This was a
woman who could carry on a conversation with a dozen dignitaries at a dinner
party, yet she was shy around him? It was strange and humbling. He wanted to
put her at ease, but other than plying her with alcohol, he’d have to use words to
make her relax.
Words were something Luke was good at. Granted, they were usually other
people’s words, but Alex’s loveliness inspired him. “I love how soft your skin
is,” he said, lifting his hand from the sash at her waist and deciding to stall for a
moment. Instead, he brushed the backs of his knuckles along her jaw. “How your
skin feels like petals against mine. How lovely you are.” His knuckles dragged
lower, down the elegant column of her neck and to the gape of the material
between her breasts. He skimmed the soft skin there, and then leaned in to kiss
it.
She gasped, and her hands went to his hair.
“Too fast?” he asked, slowly kissing that small patch of bare flesh between
her cleavage. She smelled like scented soap here, and her skin was warm and so
soft that it made him ache all over. He wanted to caress every damn inch of her.
“I’m fine.” Alex was breathless, but her fingers were curled in his hair and
she hadn’t pulled him away from her. He felt her quiver when his tongue flicked
out against her skin. He loved that small quiver. He couldn’t wait for her to
quiver like that when he put his tongue on her pussy.
“So you don’t mind me kissing you?”
Her little laugh was breathless. “I might die if you stopped.”
“Oh, I don’t plan on stopping.” He flicked his tongue over her skin and then
dragged the fabric open a little more using his chin. She squirmed a little but
didn’t move away, so he decided to take the next step. His hand went back to the
sash and he sat up, watching her face as he slowly pulled the knot undone.
Her eyes were shining in her face, her lips parted slightly, and she looked so
very intent and serious that he wanted to kiss her and tickle her at the same time.
Sex was about fun and release, but Alex looked as if she would somehow fall to
pieces if he made a joke or laughed.
He resolved then and there he’d treat her like she was the fucking goddess
that she was. Because he never wanted her to doubt herself for a moment. He
wanted to worship her the way she deserved.
The knot fell open, and he pushed the fabric apart, his mouth dry.
Alex’s body was gorgeous. He’d suspected that, of course, but ogling her
while clothed was very different than viewing her while half naked and stretched
out in his bed. Her skin was a creamy pale, with a tiny mole here and there. Her
breasts were small and high, with pale pink tips that were taut with excitement.
Her belly curved in, her navel a perfect little dip. She wore a tiny pair of silky,
pale-pink panties with lace on the edges that looked downright demure and
sinful all at once. Her hips were flared and she had a little more padding there,
giving her a plump, cushiony ass that would be fucking gorgeous to hold on to
while he pumped into her from behind.
His cock jerked in response to the thought. Luke closed his eyes and groaned.
“God, you’re beautiful. Can I touch you?”
“Of course.”
 “Anywhere?”
Her breathless laugh was utterly beautiful. “I’m not going to stop you, Luke.
That’s why I came in here. I want you to touch me.” Her fingers flexed against
his skin.
Then he was going to stop asking and start taking. Luke pushed the fabric of
the robe aside until all of her body was revealed to him, and he skimmed a
knuckle down her belly, contemplating her. Her skin prickled in reaction to the
small touch, goose bumps rising on her skin. Her nipples were twin beads, hard
and tight, and he wanted to taste them.
Hell, he wanted to taste all of her. He was feeling downright greedy at the
moment.
“Can . . . can I see you naked, too?” Her shy voice broke into his thoughts.
He mentally cursed himself for being a wound-up idiot. Of course she wanted
to look, too. He pushed the blankets away and then kicked them off to one side,
letting them tumble to the floor. It left him in his boxers and nothing else, and
her gaze roamed over him appreciatively. One finger trailed down his arm,
outlining a vein on his bicep, and he imagined her doing the same thing to his
cock.
He nearly spilled in his shorts at the thought. And then he wanted them off,
pronto, so she could look her fill at him like he was with her. Luke got up from
the bed, practically ripped the shorts off, and flung them aside. He knew he had a
good body: Hollywood required their leading men to be sexy and buff,
especially action stars. He’d never really been all that interested in feminine
approval until this moment, though. His hands went to his hips, and his cock
jutted out as he strolled next to the bed where Alex reclined. “You okay with me
naked, still?”
Her mouth curved into a dimpled smile. “I’ve seen naked men before, Luke.
There is such thing as the Internet.”
He grinned back at her. Imp. “Seeing and touching are two different things,
though.”
“Then I promise not to touch just yet.”
Damn. He wanted to earn those touches. “I’m not going to hold myself to the
same promise,” he said, climbing back onto the bed and leaning over her.
“Because I’m going to touch you everywhere.”
He saw her visibly tremble again. “You are?” Her voice was achingly soft.
Luke gave a slow nod, and then moved up to kiss her mouth, then began to
kiss slowly downward. To her neck, her collarbone, and finally, to those pretty
breasts he’d been dying to touch for over a month now. His lips moved over that
soft, soft skin and gently nipped at the slope of one breast. He moved his way to
the tip and licked one nipple, dragging his tongue against it.
Alex made a soft whimper in her throat, and her hands stole to his hair again.
“God, Luke . . .”
If she kept making noises like that, he was going to start whimpering himself.
He flicked his tongue over the nipple again, and his hand went to her other
breast, cupping it and then teasing the nipple in tandem with his mouth. She
gasped and clung to him, her back arching as he teased her.
“Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” he murmured, then kissed one
pink nipple before sucking it into his mouth again.
“If I liked it any more, I might fall apart,” Alex whispered, and moaned again
when he rewarded her with a scrape of his teeth over the sensitive nub. Her hips
bucked under him, and she was moving in the bed, pushing up against him.
He massaged her breasts and then began to kiss her stomach. Those silky,
pale panties were bothering him. He wanted to rip them off of her and bare her
to his gaze. He wanted to bury his mouth in her hot flesh and feel—and taste—
her need.
And he reminded himself that he needed to go slow, damn it. Because Alex
said she’d seen things on the Internet, but seeing and experiencing? Not the
same, and he wanted to make her crave him as much as he craved her. So . . .
slow and sensual. No ripping of panties . . . yet.
Luke moved lower, his tongue dipping against her belly button. His hands
went to her panties and he brushed his fingers against the band, then paused,
waiting to gauge her reaction. She moved against him, pushing against his
hands, and wiggled as if trying to get rid of the scrap of fabric.
That was good enough for him. He tucked his fingers in the fabric and
dragged the tiny panties down her thighs. And then he studied her. Darker
blonde hair, neatly trimmed. A hint of pink lips peeping out from the cleft of her
sex. Her curls were damp, indicating she was aroused.
And she was squirming. Not much, just enough of a wiggle to let him know
she was acutely aware of his gaze.
“What?” Alex asked after a moment. “You’re staring.”
“Just admiring the view,” he drawled. “And trying not to lick you up one side
and down the other.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she went still. “Is that a bad thing?” she
asked after a moment.
 Luke chuckled and flung the panties aside. He’d find them later, and maybe
tuck them away for safekeeping so he could further obsess over her. “Not a bad
thing at all. You’ve just got a very pretty pussy.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice quite serious.
God, she was adorable sometimes. “Why don’t you put one of those thighs
on my shoulder?”
Her brow drew down. She lifted a knee to comply, and then a hot blush
moved over her face. “Luke, I’m not sure—”
She was thinking too much. He just wouldn’t give her time to think, then. He
pushed forward, between her thighs, and buried his mouth against her skin. Her
loud gasp was almost as gratifying as the way she clung to his hair next, as if
she’d fall apart if she let go.
Perfect.
And then her taste was on his tongue, and he forgot all about going slow. He
groaned against her skin, resisting the urge to fling her thighs back to her ears
and fuck the daylights out of her. “You’re so damn wet, Alex. All this because of
me, Princess? Were you this wet before you got here?”
She didn’t answer, just quivered. That was all right, he knew what her silence
meant. It meant he’d guessed and she was embarrassed. He didn’t want her to be
embarrassed; he wanted her to love everything he was going to do to her. So he
carefully parted her folds and explored her with lips and tongue. Each soft fold,
the tiny bump of her clit, the hood covering it—he left nothing unexplored. His
tongue dragged over all of it, and her hands knotted in his hair, small whimpers
escaping her as he took his time. He dipped lower, finding the source of her
honey, and stroked his tongue over her core. Alex sucked in a breath, her body
stiffening, and he wondered if she was close to orgasm.
It was suddenly important that he make her come more than once tonight. So
Luke slid a hand between her legs and pressed a finger at the entrance to her core
while his mouth found her clit. He rubbed the tip of his tongue against it even as
his finger pressed into her.
She gasped and jolted on the bed, her hips bucking.
“Too much?” He asked, lifting his head.
She gave a quick, trembling shake of her head and pushed him back down in
a silent plea for more. Sweet princess. He pushed his finger deep, groaning
inwardly at how tight she was. Either she was tense, or this was going to get
unpleasant for her at some point. He hoped it was tension—he wanted nothing
but pleasure for his Alex. So he concentrated on making her come. His tongue
expertly played and flicked at her clit, circling the small bud and sucking, trying
to determine what touches she liked best. His finger stroked slowly in and out of
her, and he tongued her in time with the motion, noticing that it made her quiver
deep inside when he did so.
Alex’s thighs spread wider, and she moaned, her hips undulating as he sped
up his rhythm, finger and mouth moving in harmony. Her moan changed to
small gasps, and her thighs jerked, as if wanting to snap shut. She pulled at his
hair, panting. “Luke. Oh. Oh, Luke. Wait. I think—”
A new burst of wetness touched his tongue and he groaned against her skin.
“I’ve got you, baby.” He added a second finger to the first one deep inside her,
and his thrusts grew stronger.
A soft keening noise escaped Alex’s throat, only to be muffled a moment
later. He wanted to look up but couldn’t—if he broke his rhythm, she wouldn’t
come, and he knew she was close. Her pussy was clenching around his fingers,
clamping down on him, and her thighs were trembling nonstop. He kept going.
“Oh,” she said brokenly, and then he felt her entire body clench around him.
Her heel dug into the mattress, and she gave a guttural groan as her pussy milked
at his fingers and she came against his tongue.
Beautiful.
Luke continued to lick her clit, wringing out every bit of pleasure from her,
until Alex was whimpering, little twitchy shudders moving through her in time
with each drag of his tongue. And he felt . . . fucking good. Oh, sure, his cock
was about to explode, and his pulse throbbed in his ears, but seeing Alex come?
Feeling her come around his fingers? Knowing that he’d been the first to give
her that pleasure?
It was incredibly heady. Luke lifted his head and saw she was biting down on
a knuckle, sweat beaded on her forehead. She looked dazed and flushed, and
gave him a heavy-lidded glance a moment before popping her finger out of her
mouth. She said nothing, just panted and stared at him with her heart in her eyes,
utterly vulnerable.
And god, he loved her in that moment.
He kept it to himself, of course. A man who declared love in bed was a man
not to be trusted. But seeing Alex like this? Flushed with pleasure under him? It
made Luke feel insanely possessive and hungry for even more of this. He wanted
to wake up with her in his bed for the rest of his life.
But all in due time.
 Luke slid up her body and propped himself up on his elbows over her, then
leaned in to give her a soft kiss. “You okay, Princess?”
She nodded slowly, still panting. “It’s just never been that intense . . .
before.” Her gaze slid away from his.
“When you touched yourself?”
She gave a shy smile and pressed her fingers to his mouth to hush him.
“Princesses don’t masturbate,” she told him in her starchiest voice.
He snorted. “It’s a good thing you’re a very naughty princess then, isn’t it?”
He nipped her lower lip and pressed his cock against the cradle of her sex. She
was so hot and wet there he was dying to bury himself in her. But he needed
condoms.
Thank fuck someone had brought his bag from the hotel, or he’d have been
royally screwed. He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. “Wait here. I need to get
something.”
She was silent as he got up from the bed and headed for his bag. He
rummaged around until he found condoms in the hygiene kit his assistant had
packed for him back in California. Thank god for assistants who thought you
were a big horndog. He ripped one free from the strip and tore the package open,
heading back to bed as he did. On the bed, Alex had grabbed one of the pillows
that had been shoved aside and was artfully covering her nudity. Clearly she had
no idea how lovely she was.
Clearly he’d have to show her again.
Luke slid the latex sheath over his cock, dragging it down to the base of his
shaft. He noticed Alex was watching his movements, so he might have
exaggerated them a little to give her a good show. Just a little. He moved back
toward the bed and pushed the pillow aside. “No hiding that gorgeous view from
me.”
Her responding giggle was light and airy. So carefree. God, he loved hearing
that. The world needed more of happy, smiling, lighthearted Alex instead of
serious princess Alex. That would be his mission, then. To make his princess
dimple with pleasure. To make her laugh. To keep her from becoming too lost in
her manners to enjoy herself. Luke positioned himself on top of her again and
kissed her, careful to balance his weight on his elbows so as not to crush her.
One of her legs slid to the side and she rubbed her foot along his thigh as they
kissed, a silent urge for more.
He nipped at her mouth again. “You’re my princess, aren’t you? All mine.”
Alex’s eyes were shining. “All yours.”
 He entered her carefully. Her body tensed under him, but she didn’t move,
just stared up at him with big, trusting eyes. She was tight, but he went achingly
slow, until little by little, he was seated deep inside her hot, wet warmth. Luke
inhaled deep, trying not to lose control. Alex was very still under him, and he
didn’t want to start moving until he knew he wasn’t going to hurt her.
Luke kissed her again. “You okay, Princess?”
She nodded, her expression a little dazed. “It just feels . . . strange.”
“Painful?” If he was hurting her, he’d pull out right now, even if it killed him.
“No, just strange. I feel very full.” She shifted her hips, and everything
tightened around him.
He smothered a groan. “I’m going to move now. Tell me if you hurt.” He
rocked against her, testing her reaction. When she smoothed her hands over his
shoulders, he began to move in a slow rhythm. His hips pushed against hers, his
cock dragging in and out of her. Each movement felt so good he wanted to
growl, but he held back. For now, his focus was on Alex.
Alex . . . who didn’t seem to be all that impressed. She had her eyes closed
and her expression was one of patience more than lust.
So he leaned in and kissed her. “How do you feel?”
“It’s nice.”
Well, if that wasn’t a dick-shriveler, he didn’t know what was. Nice? Here
his nuts were about to explode because he was working so hard to contain
himself, and all she thought was that it was nice? Just nice? He changed
rhythms, speeding up and then swiveling a bit more with every thrust. She gave
him a look of intense concentration and then frowned. “Luke, am I doing
something wrong?”
“Not you, Princess. Me.” Alex probably needed a bit more in the way of
stimulation for her first time than just him shoving his dick at her. All right, then.
It was time to find her G-spot. He pressed another quick kiss to her mouth and
then got off of her. “Let me get you a pillow.”
“A pillow?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed one off the floor, and then on second thought,
grabbed a second. “We’re going to change things up a bit.”
“But it was fine?” Her brows drew together.
He didn’t want fine. He wanted to blow her mind. He instructed her to lift her
hips and he pushed the pillows under her bottom, elevating her slightly. He
moved back on top of her and kissed her, then pushed his cock inside her again.
She sighed against his mouth, as if utterly content. That foot started rubbing his
thigh again. He pushed into her, thrusting deep, and she gasped.
“That felt different.”
Good. He grazed one nipple with a hand before pressing it back on the bed
and then thrust into her again. She gasped once more, and from there, he began
to pump slowly into her, determining what she liked. He noticed that she
responded to short, shallow thrusts, and so he began to give her that. Alex began
to gasp with every stroke, and her fingers dug into his arms.
“I need . . .” she breathed. Her mouth opened and closed silently as if he’d
just hit a rather sensitive spot. “I need,” she began again, only to trail off into a
breathy cry.
Luke could feel her tightening around him. Her body seemed to shiver every
time he thrust into her—which was good, because his balls felt so tight he was
pretty sure he’d explode soon. But he wanted Alex to come first, so he held tight
to her hip and began to pound into her faster, the entire bed shaking.
“Oh, god!” Alex arched on the bed, nearly flinging him off her. Her hands
were all over him in the next moment, desperate. “Oh, Luke! I need that again! I
—” She broke off into a small cry, her hips rising to meet his.
He gritted his teeth, dangerously close to spilling his seed. If she gave
another one of those startled, breathy cries—
And then she did, and he felt her clench around his cock like a fist, her entire
body quivering. She made another soft, gurgling noise that sounded more
startled than sexy, and he came like a goddamn rocket. With a hiss of breath,
Luke thrust into her harder, stars flaring behind his eyes as he emptied himself
into her.
He collapsed onto the enormous bed next to her a moment later, sweaty and
replete. Next to him, Alex stared up at the ceiling and toyed with a lock of her
hair, a dreamy expression on her face.
“You okay?” He rolled onto an elbow to look at her.
“Mmm,” she said with a nod, and then gave him a mischievous look. “I liked
that.”
He blew out a breath. “I hope you enjoyed it more than just like.”
“Then you won’t think I’m weird if I say I want to do it again?”
Luke chuckled. “Have mercy, woman. Let me get a drink and a fresh condom
and you can use me to your heart’s extent.”
She gave him another one of those shy smiles that made his chest ache, and
he leaned in and kissed her fiercely.
Because she was his princess.
 CHAPTER ELEVEN

Two Weeks Later

“Wake up, babe.” Luke’s mouth brushed against Alex’s ear. “It’s almost dawn.”
She groaned and snuggled down deeper under the blankets, nestling against
him. “I don’t want to go.” She pushed her knee between his legs and slid her
hands down to his butt. His delicious, delicious butt. Mmm.
He blew a warm chuckle against her ear. “I don’t want you to go, either, but
I’m pretty sure the staff would flip out if they found us in bed together.” He
kissed her neck. “Though we could give them something to really freak out over,
if you want.”
Drat. Alex stifled her second groan and peeked an eye open. She had to get
back to her own bed before anyone found out where she’d been last night. And
the night before. And every night for the last few weeks.
And today was his last shooting day in Bellissime. After this, they were
moving on to Poland for the rest of the movie.
His hand slid to her breast, teasing her nipple, and a curl of pleasure moved
through her belly. “You’re not fair,” she breathed, even as she twined her arms
around his neck. She wouldn’t think about him leaving. Not now. They’d figure
out a way to get together. Right now, there was only Luke. “So unfair.”
“I’m selfish,” he agreed, nipping at her collarbone. “I want to fling you down
on your back and fuck you again. I’m tired of sharing you with Nick.”
She gave an unladylike snort at that, her hand skimming down his side. Her
nights were spent with Luke, but her days? When she wasn’t obligated for a
personal appearance in Bellissime, she spent her time on set. And when she was
on set, Nick was hovering, telling her yet another story about one of his movies
or trying to impress her with his clout. “He’s just jealous of you.”
“Mmm, he should be. I made you come three times last night.”
Four, really, but who was counting? Alex sighed and rubbed his jaw, then
gave him a small kiss on the mouth. “I suppose I should go back.”
 “I’ll miss you.” He sucked on her earlobe. “Think you can sneak into my
trailer for an afternoon quickie at lunch?”
Alex smiled. “Maybe.” They’d managed that twice so far, an incredible feat
considering the paparazzi seemed to be hounding them at every corner. The
palace itself was the only place that Alex felt truly relaxed, and even there, she
had to be careful.
“Mr. Houston?” A maid knocked at the door. “Your wake-up reminder, as
requested.”
“Give me a moment,” he called as Alex scrambled from the bed.
Drat. There was never enough time with Luke. She snatched on her robe,
shoved her feet into her slippers, and looked back at him one last time. He gave
her a wink and she blew him a kiss, then opened the secret panel and escaped
down the hall.
They’d been lovers for two weeks now. Two glorious, wonderful weeks of
sex, kisses, and more orgasms than she could count. Two weeks of sneaking out
of her room every night and into his. Two weeks of constantly wishing that they
were both just normal people, so they could spend a day lazing in bed together
instead of hiding.
But that wasn’t who they were. She yawned as she headed back to her room.
Her staff had instructions to wake her up fifteen minutes later than Luke’s, so
she’d have plenty of time to sneak back to her own bed. Once back in her room,
she kicked off her slippers, tossed aside her robe in favor of a prim nightgown,
and crawled under the blankets. She couldn’t resist another yawn—all the sex
with Luke was exhausting, if wonderful. Better than wonderful. Earth-shattering,
maybe.
Alex hugged her pillow close, waiting for the inevitable knock at the door.
Being with Luke had been the happiest time of her life. And now he was going
and she . . . well, she was going to have to figure out how to date him long
distance, she supposed.
Surely this wouldn’t be the end. Luke hadn’t indicated anything to her, and
she assumed he would have told her. Still, the twinge of doubt remained. Should
she have insisted on something more between them? Something concrete? She
wasn’t very good at dating.
“Your Grace?” There was a gentle knock at her door. “You wanted to wake
up early to be on the set?”
“I’m up,” she called out. It was time to start the day. “Enter.”
 ***

The sedan pulled up to the warehouse/studio and as usual, the crowd of

paparazzi was there waiting for her behind the barricade. She was no longer
bothering to hide her coming and going, since her dating Luke was now on the
front page of every magazine and newspaper in several countries. There wasn’t
anywhere that she would have a moment’s peace from them, so there was no
point in hiding.
Lady Margaret gave an irritated sniff at the sight of all the cameras. “Don’t
they have better things to do with their time?”
“Likely not,” Alex said cheerfully. She couldn’t help it. She’d been in a good
mood for weeks now. Since having sex or since Luke? She suspected it was
since Luke, but she was also self-aware enough to know that regular sex
probably helped things. She pressed her fingers to her cheeks, feeling a bit
overheated at the thought. “You can go back to the palace if this bores you.”
“Not at all, Your Grace.” Lady Margaret adjusted the hem of her plain black
skirt. “Besides, this is the last day they are shooting here. I might as well see
things through to the end.”
Alex’s smile didn’t waver, but inwardly, she flinched. The last day. After
today, everything changed.
Security piled out of the building, directing the photographers off to one side
so Alex could exit her car. Once they were clear, she nodded at her driver, and a
moment later, he opened the door for her.
The flood of shouts began as she stepped out of the car.
“Princess! Princess! What’s it like dating Luke?”
“Princess! Are you jealous of Pamela? Is it true the movie’s rating has been
moved to PG-13 because Luke won’t shoot sex scenes?”
“Princess! Are you going to follow the movie to Poland or will Luke be flying
back to visit you?”
“Are there wedding bells in the future?”
“Will you be in the movie?”
She ignored the questions and gave them her most serene smile, raising her
hand in a gentle, rehearsed wave. Then she stepped forward and headed into the
building, ignoring their shouted protests as if they weren’t there.
They had good questions, naturally. Questions that made her want to answer
them. Problem was, she didn’t have any answers.
 Alex kept her serene smile on her face as she entered the set and met with
Nick and his entourage. There were new people in the studio today, and some of
them seemed to be part of a tour, though a cute, chipper woman paced a few feet
away, her phone to her ear, and two men in sports jackets chatted nearby. In the
distance, she could see Luke on set, his shirt off as someone painted dust and
sweat on him. Her heart fluttered at the sight of his broad shoulders. Even
though she’d kissed—and licked, and caressed, sigh—every inch of him, she
never got tired of looking at Luke. He was hers.
“Would you like coffee, Your Grace?” Margaret’s disapproving tone spoke
volumes about how the day was going to go. “Shall I round up one of the
caterers and inform them that you’re waiting? I cannot believe no one is here to
greet you with a drink. The manners of these people.” She huffed.
“Just tea, black. Thank you, Margaret.” Alex smiled at her companion. It
wasn’t that she was thirsty, but a chance to distract Margaret for a few moments
would help things.
Her companion went off with a loud click of her heels. Alex turned to Nick,
but he was busy poring over the script with one of the writers, so she tucked her
clutch purse under her arm and strolled (oh so casually, she hoped) toward the
waiting set, where Luke was ready to film.
“You’re the princess, aren’t you?”
The quick, American voice caught her attention and Alex turned. The woman
who’d been on the phone snapped it shut and practically galloped toward Alex,
extending her hand. Thank goodness Margaret was gone, Alex thought as she
graciously shook the woman’s hand. She would die of mortification if she saw
Alex shaking someone’s hand like a commoner and being addressed as princess
instead of Your Grace.
But it was rude to correct people, and so she smiled at the woman. “I’m
afraid we haven’t met.”
“Oh, no, I just flew in today.” The woman pumped her hand. “I’m Beckee.
Beckee Stadler. Luke’s publicist. And can I just say, I don’t see how he managed
this?” She hooted. “That boy’s a genius, isn’t he? I love him.” She took Alex’s
arm and began to steer her away from her destination and toward the two men in
sports jackets. “You’ll want to meet Luke’s team, of course. That’s his manager
and the other man’s his agent.” Beckee seemed to talk a mile a minute. “This
picture’s screaming box-office smash and we haven’t even finished filming it
yet, so everyone’s practically peeing in their pants, they’re so excited.”
“That’s wonderful,” Alex said.
 “I don’t suppose you’d want to do a joint interview, would you? You and
Luke together? Talk about the movie?”
For a moment, Alex almost forgot her composure and gaped at the woman.
She recovered, but not fast enough.
“No?” Beckee went on. “I didn’t think so. Thought I’d try! I bet Oprah would
talk to you two. That’d be magazine fodder for months on end. And Luke’s
career would be set.”
His career? “Oh?” Alex paused, wanting to hear more about this. The two
men in the distance were looking in her direction, but she wanted to hear more of
what this small, nosy woman had to say.
“Oh, yes,” Beckee declared. “I’ve been telling him for years that it’s make or
break based on who you date. He didn’t believe me, of course, but last year he
lost that role to Thomas Gunnar and I think that opened his eyes, you know? I
tried to set him up with an actress who’s looking for a red carpet partner, but he
said he had something else in mind.” Beckee winked conspiratorially at Alex.
“Didn’t realize it was you.”
“It was me,” Alex echoed, her smile feeling tight on her face. Her stomach
flipped and she felt a little . . . ill.
“You know Hollywood,” Beckee said with a cheery wave of her hand. “It’s
all about who you climb into bed with. That’s how you get the good roles. I told
him Vicky Stanton but he really one-upped me by dating you!” She hooted.
“And now he’s a megastar. His next six movies could flop and it wouldn’t
matter.” She squeezed Alex’s arm. “This is a dream come true.”
Or a nightmare.
So.
Luke wasn’t interested in Alex because of Alex. He was interested in Alex
because of what she could do for his career. Things like . . . getting him on the
front page of every tabloid known to mankind. He’d told her all about the big
roles he was offered recently, and she’d been overjoyed for him because she
genuinely liked his acting.
It seemed like Alex had been responsible for getting him those roles.
It’s all about who you climb into bed with.
He really one-upped me by dating you.
And she’d practically thrown herself at the man.
She felt sick. Sick, and full of disbelief. She didn’t want to believe it was
true. That wasn’t her Luke. Her Luke was funny and sweet and smart and knew
just where to kiss her . . .
 And was a professional actor who lost himself in his roles.
Was dating Alex just another role to him? They’d never talked about what
happened next. Alex had just assumed . . .
God, she was a fool, wasn’t she?
“If you’ll excuse me,” Alex said faintly, pulling her arm from Beckee’s
clinging one. “I’m late for an appointment and I really must be going.” She
smiled to take the sting out of her words and charged at Margaret, who was
returning with one of the craft services staff. “We’re leaving,” she told her
companion.
Lady Margaret frowned. “Is there a problem?”
Yes. “Not at all. I’m just not feeling very well.”
Beckee trailed behind her. “Can we meet for drinks later, Princess? I can add
you to my planner. I’d love to sit with you and chat—”
For once, Alex was grateful for Margaret’s aristocratic snarl.

***

“She’s gone.” Beckee pouted. “I didn’t even get the chance to put her in my
phone as a contact.”
Luke flipped another page in the last-minute script changes Nick had sent his
way, distracted. Beckee was good at her job but damn, she was annoying. She
also had shit timing. Hard enough to concentrate on filming this next bit in the
movie when all he wanted to do was turn around and go right back to bed with
Alex. Poland was going to be the longest fucking six weeks of his life, but he
was already making plans to clear his schedule, spend the rest of the summer in
Bellissime, get to know his sweet princess a little more . . . He forced himself to
glance up, her words registering. “Who’s gone?”
“Princess Alexandra.”
He frowned and glanced around the studio. No sign of his Alex. Was it her
mother? “One, two, or three?”
“What?”
“They’re all named Alexandra. Was it the queen, the daughter, or the
granddaughter?”
Beckee waved her phone. “How should I know? The young one! The one
you’re bearding for!”
He froze. Bearding? Bearding? “What?”
“I said, the young one. The—”
 “I know what you said. Why would you think I’m bearding for her?”
Beckee blinked at him. “Because she’s not pretty?”
He was dumbfounded. “Of course she’s pretty. She’s beautiful.” Had she
never seen Alex’s adorable dimples or the way she looked when her eyes got all
soft? And under those modest clothes, she had gorgeous, small tits and an ass
that wouldn’t quit.
“I mean she’s regal and all, but she’s not Hollywood pretty. Not like Pam.”
“I like the way she looks.” And not the way Pam looked, because Pam was
pretty much half plastic at this point.
Beckee’s expressive face scrunched up. “So you’re not bearding for her?”
“No! Why would you think that?”
“Because she’s hugely famous and you’re dating someone for a high profile,
right? Like we talked about?”
“No, I genuinely like Alex.”
She blinked again, like an owl. Or a deer caught in headlights. “Oh. Oh,
dear.”
Panic flared in Luke. “What did you say to her, Beckee? Tell me exactly.”

***

This was a fucking nightmare. Luke rubbed his face and stared impatiently out
the window as the sedan crawled through the crowds toward Bellissime Palace.
He should have been shooting his scenes, but instead, he’d left the set and
managed to piss off his director and his team, who thought he was being
unreasonable.
Fuck that. They were the problem in the first place. Part of him wanted to
choke Beckee for making such a careless mistake. For all that Alex was a
princess of a European country, she was incredibly naïve about some things. She
wouldn’t understand that Luke might have dated someone to raise his profile
once. Nor would she understand that what they had was totally different. That
meeting a girl in a limo five minutes prior to pretending to hold hands on the red
carpet was vastly different than waking up with Alex curled around him and
wishing he never had to get out of bed.
That she’d changed his life. That she made him want different things, like a
life outside of the next script or movie premiere. That he didn’t realize how
hollow and unhappy he’d been until she’d smiled at him.
 Nothing mattered if he didn’t have Alex. The realization was stunning and
yet so true. If he lost her? He’d be utterly destroyed in every way.
That just wouldn’t happen, then. He’d find a way to fix this. He’d talk to
Alex and make her realize the mistake Beckee had made. Clear things up. Make
her smile again. Make her realize that he wasn’t in this for just a month or two,
but forever.
Unless . . . temporary was all Alex had wanted?
Luke wavered, his ego bruised at the thought of Alex possibly taking
Beckee’s words as an easy way out of their relationship. She wasn’t trying to
ditch him . . . was she?
Not his princess. That was just his old self-doubt creeping up, the demon in
his head that told him he’d never be anything except trailer trash. That someone
of Alex’s class and breeding wouldn’t want him. His princess wasn’t like that,
and he wouldn’t believe otherwise.
He was practically crawling out of his skin with impatience when his car
finally got to the front gate of the palace. The driver rolled down his window and
spoke to the guard at the gatehouse. A moment later, the guard shook his head.
“I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Houston is no longer on the authorized list for visitors.”
“What?” Luke shoved his face forward, until he was practically in the
driver’s lap. He craned his neck to stare out the window at the guard. “I’ve been
staying here for the last several weeks! How is that possible?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m told that you’re no longer on the authorized list. I’m sure
if you have things in the palace they will be delivered to your hotel.” The
guard’s face was carefully blank.
Luke flung himself back in his seat. Damn it. So she was going to try and
erase him out of her life to mend her broken heart, was she?
He’d simply have to find another way in. And then he’d talk to Alex, and
make her realize how much he loved her.
“Turn around,” he barked to the driver. “And find a deserted side street.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver said, and began the ordeal of backing up the car on the
crowded street.
 CHAPTER TWELVE

Bellissime’s palace was on several acres of manicured grounds and surrounded

by a high, wrought-iron fence. Luke remembered Alex commenting on how
she’d managed to sneak to their date without being seen leaving the palace.
There was a secret tunnel by the old carriage house.
He’d just have to find that damn tunnel.
Luke had the driver drop him off and park the car nearby, and then walked
along the railing for a block or two, trying to figure out how to get in. He felt a
bit like a naughty schoolboy, his entire body stiffening every time a car passed
by. After a few minutes of pacing, he found the carriage house and jogged
toward it.
Alex had told him about it on one of their dates; it was a building on the
palace grounds, restored into a private residence for long-term guests of the
palace. It had once housed all the royal carriages and thus had been the natural
place to build a secret tunnel to allow a speedy getaway in case of trouble. Of
course, as he approached the house, he had no clue where the secret door would
be. Ground floor, maybe?
He’d just have to tear the damn place apart until he found it.
Determined, Luke glanced around before heading to the front door. It was
almost stupid to walk right up to the place, but he knew it was empty. The staff
had commented several times that he was the only current visitor. The door was
ornate and old fashioned but had a regular doorknob, so he pulled out a credit
card and jimmied the lock until it slid open.
The interior of the house was a smaller replica of the palace itself, minus the
sweeping staircases and baroque chandeliers. Delicate Queen Anne furniture was
artfully placed in the entryway and fresh flowers decorated a nearby vase.
Upstairs, he could hear a vacuum running, a sign that there were staff nearby and
he needed to stay out of sight. Where to start? He turned to an enormous oil
portrait on the wall next to the staircase and ran his fingers along the edge of the
gilded frame.
 “Oh good, you’re here.”
The smooth, slightly accented voice took him by surprise, and Luke spun
around. A woman sat delicately at a table in a nearby room, the door open. She
flipped through a magazine, a cup of tea before her. She was of an indeterminate
age, her face unlined. Her hair was dark and pulled back into an elegant chignon
and she wore a pale pink jacket and skirt that he might have seen in Alex’s
closet. He’d never seen her before yet there was something very familiar about
her jaw . . .
And then she smiled at him, a hint of dimple peeping in her cheek.
“Princess . . . Alexandra?” Was this Alex’s mother?
Her smile grew broader and she stood elegantly, smoothing her skirt with
tiny white gloves. “My correct title is now Alexandra Olivia, Duchess of Vallée
Profonde, which means Deep Valley. I’m afraid my ancestors had more money
than artistic sensibilities when it came to naming our lovely country.” She tilted
her head at him. “I abdicated in favor of my daughter a few years ago. She is
now Princess Alexandra.”
“Of course.” He strode forward and offered her his hand, then realized he’d
been caught breaking and entering. “Uh.” He drew back. “This isn’t what it
looks like.”
“You’re not here to find Alex?”
She knew? “Okay, then maybe this is what it looks like. How did you—”
Alex’s mother daintily lifted one hand and began to tug on the fingertips of
her glove. “Because I know my daughter. She’s very stubborn and remote when
her feelings are hurt, and she’s been utterly joyous the last few weeks. Today,
she was very cool to everyone, retreated to her room, and insisted that you were
to be removed from the visiting list at the palace. It’s not difficult to figure out
that there was trouble.” She removed her glove and glanced at him. “And then I
saw you on the cameras and realized you’d probably try to find a way in. Given
that you knew about the secret passages, I assumed you’d turn up here. It looks
like I assumed correctly.” She smiled and offered him her hand. “It’s lovely to
meet you, by the way.”
“You, too.” He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles, thoughts
whirling. When he straightened, she was still smiling at him and it dawned on
him that she knew a lot more about his relationship with Alex than he realized.
“Secret passages?”
She waved her hand in the air, the mannerism so similar to Alex it made his
heart ache. “Oh, darling, I know all about sneaking in and out of those. I was
Alex’s age once, and you’re much better looking than any of my paramours
were.” She gave him a wink and he remembered some of the things Alex had
mentioned about her mother sowing her wild oats. It seemed that his princess
wasn’t the only naughty one. She’d inherited her rebellious streak from her
mother.
“I need to talk to Alex,” he told the elder Alexandra. “She had a conversation
on set with someone who was misinformed and jumped to conclusions, and I
want to set things straight. She . . .” He cleared his throat, feeling a bit like a
schoolboy under that knowing, motherly gaze. “I love your daughter, ma’am. Er,
Princess.” Then he remembered she wasn’t really a princess anymore. “Um.
Alexandra.”
Her smile widened and if she noticed his breach of etiquette, she didn’t call it
out. “I’m thrilled to hear that you feel so strongly about my daughter. She’s very
lonely. She loves her country and her duties, but she struggles with connecting
with people. That’s why I’m so happy she’s found you.” One eyebrow arched.
“Unless you plan on breaking her heart?”
The thought stabbed him with fear. “I don’t want to hurt her. I want to marry
her.”
Both eyebrows went up. “Well, you need a royal decree for that, and my
mother’s a bit old fashioned.” Alexandra smiled and strolled forward, to a large
mirror in the parlor. “But I’ll handle her. You should go talk to Alex.”
Her fingers brushed over the edge of the mirror, and the fireplace in the
parlor began to turn slowly, revealing a hidden passage.
Luke’s heart pounded with excitement. He impulsively moved forward and
hugged the older woman. “You’re going to be an awesome mother-in-law.”
She giggled, sounding girlish and half her age. “I certainly hope so.”

***

Alex hugged her pillow and wished she could run away from home. It was a
stupid wish for a grown woman, and a princess to boot, but she couldn’t help the
feeling of needing to escape. Since she couldn’t, she’d just hide in her bed like a
child, cry her eyes out, and then move on with her life.
Without Luke, the man who’d used her.
Hot tears spilled down her face and Alex dashed them away for the
hundredth time that day. She should have known better. She should have
guessed that a man as sexy, as charming, and as successful as him wouldn’t
really want some naïve princess who didn’t even know the first thing about
kissing. What did she have to offer him other than media attention?
Okay, now she was just being silly, Alex chided herself. She was a European
princess and first in line to the throne of Bellissime. She was rich. She was
educated. Lots of men would want her if she wanted them.
But . . . she wanted Luke Houston, and he was a wildly famous actor and a
rising star. Even some things were out of reach of a princess.
She scrubbed at her face with a fist, trying to calm down before she ended up
bawling again. How long did it take to get over heartbreak? Because right now?
She felt like her world was ending. The thought of Luke just using her to get
media attention? It hurt more than she could bear. Maybe she should take a page
from her mother’s book and leave Bellissime more often, travel the world.
Except . . . she loved her country. She loved representing it and she loved
being involved. She loved learning from Grandmama and working toward
someday being a good monarch. Being the Crown Princess was who she was . . .
even if it did make her a naïve idiot who chased after Hollywood actors. She was
normally so very self-assured. What was it about love that made her a weepy
idiot?
A scrape off to the side, like the sound of a door being pushed open, made
her sit up in her bed. Over on the far side of her bedroom, the door to the secret
passage was opening. She frowned at it, surprised—
And then gasped when Luke strode in, as determined and fierce as he was in
any of his movies.
Alex scrunched backward on the bed, her pillows shoving up against her
back. “What are you doing here?”
“Why’d you leave the set?” He strode forward, and she could tell he was still
in his set clothing, his T-shirt torn around the neck and a fake bruise on his
cheek.
“I—I don’t want to talk to you ever again! I can’t believe you used me!” She
pointed at the wall he’d just emerged from. “Get out, or I’ll call the guards.”
“Alex, be reasonable,” Luke warned as he moved to her bed. “I’m not going
anywhere until we talk things through—”
“I’ll scream,” she warned. “You don’t belong here and I’ll have you
removed!”
His eyes narrowed and the next moment, he was on top of her in the bed,
pinning her hands down. His mouth covered hers in a hard kiss, and she went
stiff under him . . . for about two seconds. Then she melted against him the
moment his tongue stroked against hers. The kiss seemed to go on forever, until
she was dazed and breathless under him.
“Now,” he murmured, lifting his mouth from hers. “Are you going to be a
brat or are you going to talk to me like a regular human being and tell me what’s
wrong?”
“You know what’s wrong,” she hissed at him, her hands jerking under his.
Him holding her down on the bed should not have been sexy, but now, after that
kiss? Her mind was whirling with all kinds of naughty thoughts . . . and those
thoughts only made her feel worse. Fresh tears threatened, and she closed her
eyes, averting her face.
“Oh, Alex. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, baby.” Luke’s voice was soft. He
released her wrists and gently cupped her face, kissing her. “I hate that I’ve
made you cry somehow.”
“Of course I’m crying,” she said, and hated that she was. Her heart and soul
ached. “How would you feel after finding out you’ve been used simply for
tabloid fodder?”
“Well,” he said, and gently kissed her again. “I’d have probably confronted
the person and found out the truth from them instead of jumping to conclusions.”
He was blaming her? Alex clenched her jaw. “But if that person was an actor
and made a living at pretending? And had lied to you thus far? What would you
do then?”
She was pleased to see him wince. “I didn’t lie to you, Alex,” Luke said. “My
publicist is just . . . overzealous. She’s been shoving women at me for years to
try and raise my profile.”
“Do you deny that you’ve dated women just to get ahead?”
His brows furrowed. “No, I don’t deny it. That’s just how Hollywood works.
But those weren’t even relationships. They were just . . . coordinated meetings.
There was nothing romantic about them at all. You and I are totally different.”
“How? How are we different? How can you expect me to believe you?”
“You think I slept with all those actresses? Seriously?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said, and her voice caught. “I don’t know what to
think.”
“Fine,” he said, and sat upright on the bed. He pulled his phone out of his
pocket and started to flip through it.
Was he telling the truth or was this more setup for his lies? She sat up,
slowly, feeling unsettled. “What are you doing?”
 “Finding you some of my supposed ex-girlfriends for you to talk to.” He
thumbed through a list of contacts on his phone and then handed it to her. “You
can call Gina,” he said, pointing at one of the names. “She’s gay but her manager
won’t let her come out because it’ll hurt her leading-lady status. Or Ashley.
Same thing. Or you can call Pam. You know her, right? My co-star? She’s
dating a married director and is faking a relationship with another actor to give
him a boost. That’s how it’s done. It’s not about sex or love. Not like me and
you.”
Love? He’d never mentioned love to her. She lowered the phone, going very
still. “Are we about . . . those things?”
“Alex.” He took the phone out of her hands and tossed it down on the bed. In
the next moment, he gripped her hands in his and slid off the bed, onto his knees
on the floor in front of her.
On his knees. Her entire body trembled at the sight.
“I’ve never felt like this with anyone other than you,” he told her. His thumb
brushed over her knuckles in that way she loved. “From the moment I met you, I
thought you were different, and I was intrigued. And since I’ve come to know
you, I can’t imagine spending a day without you. It breaks my heart that you
think I’d deliberately use you. I love you.” His hands squeezed hers. “Alex, I
want to marry you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Marry?”
Luke’s mouth cocked in a half smile. “Yeah. I love you and want to claim
you as mine. I want to grow old with you. I want to make superstitious babies
with cute dimples with you.”
She laughed and started to cry at the same time. “Luke . . . I’m a princess—”
“I might have noticed that at some point,” he cut in dryly.
“I can’t leave my country. I can’t abandon my throne and follow you to
Hollywood.”
Again, he squeezed her hands. “I’m not asking you to, baby. I’m asking you
to marry me. I know you’re a princess. I don’t see that changing just because we
happen to be in love.”
Maybe he wasn’t understanding what it would mean to be her husband.
Sudden pain shot through her. “Luke, I’m the Crown Princess. You’re not from
Bellissime, so you can never be in line to inherit the throne. When I’m queen,
you won’t be king. You’ll just be my husband.” Maybe a duke, but the
Bellissime parliament would have to decide that.
He shrugged. “I don’t want to be in charge of anything. I just want you.”
 “I’ll have to live here,” she continued, feeling a little desperate. He wasn’t
getting this. “I don’t know if you’d be able to continue making the movies you
do. The queen’s husband can’t be sleeping with other women on camera—”
“Shhh,” he said, when her voice sped up. He got to his feet and put his arms
around her. “You think I haven’t figured that out? I’ve been frustrated for a
while now. I’ll take some time off, and when or if I go back, I’ll pick up some
smaller roles. A movie that I’ll do because it means something to me instead of
because it’ll lead to other roles.”
“But all those scripts—”
“I looked through all of them. They’re all the same. Tentpole action movies
with cardboard characters. I’d only take them for the money, and honestly? I’m
doing fine on money.” He drew her closer to him. “What I don’t have is you, if
you say no.”
Her hands tugged at his shirt, and she felt overwhelmed. He was going to
give up his career to be with her? Her? “Luke, I don’t want to hold you back.”
“You’re not holding me back, baby. I love you. Being your husband is the
next role I want to take on.” He kissed her gently and then paused. “You never
said if you love me—”
“I love you,” she yelled in his ear and flung her arms around him. “I love
you, you foolish man.”
He laughed and picked her up, swinging her around. “So does this mean
we’re getting married?”
She clung to him, her head whirling. “Luke, if you’re sure . . .”
He set her down again and gave her a stern look. “Is this the part where I
should tell you about how much I can learn about acting from you? Because you
play a role every day, too, you know. Except yours actually means something.
And if I can be at your side every day and in your bed every night? It sounds like
the role of a lifetime to me.”
Alex bit her lip, worrying. “We’ll have to ask the queen for permission.”
His hands slid to her hips and he pulled her against him. “I have it on good
authority that someone’s going to intervene for us and convince the queen that a
royal princess marrying an actor is a very good thing for the country. Now, do
you want to marry me or not?”
“I do! I do. So badly.”
“Then shut up and kiss me.” He grinned and leaned in.
She flung her arms around him and kissed him with all the happiness and joy
in her body. Maybe even modern princesses could get a happy ever after, too.
 ***

It turned out that the queen did not need much convincing after all.
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