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The Prince's Ultimate Deception (Monte Carlo Affairs #2) Page 8
Author: Emilie Rose

The man who’d given her the most incredible night of her life was a liar?

Shades of Mike.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes.” He exhaled. “Madeline, I am sorry for the deception, but I wanted a chance to be with you as a man instead of—” his chin shifted, his shoulders squared and resignation settled over his face “—instead of a monarch.”

Confused, she blinked. “As in ‘butterfly?’”

A smile twitched his lips. “As in Prince Dominic Andreas Rossi de Montagnarde at your service.” He bowed slightly.

“Huh?” What in the hell did that mean? He thought he was a prince? Was he certifiable?

His eyes narrowed as he straightened. “The name means nothing to you?”

“Should it?”

“My father is the King Alfredo of Montagnarde, a three-island nation in the South Pacific. I am next in line to the throne.”

Fear slithered through her, making her heart blip faster. She was somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea at least a mile offshore with a delusional guy. “Sure you are. A prince, I mean.”

Where were the survival instincts her father had drilled into her from an early age? Why had she ignored the warning prickles when she found out there were strangers on board? And why had she ignored the voice that said Damon was too good to be true?

Adrenaline flooded her veins, making her extremities tingle and her heart pound. Medical professionals called it the fight-or-flight response. Her father had called it live-or-die instinct, and he’d credited it with saving his life on more than one occasion. She’d put herself in danger, but she was going to get out of it. There was no other option.

Without taking her eyes off Damon, she reached for the skirt she’d discarded last night, yanked it on and zipped it. “Take me to shore.”

“Madeline—”

“Now.” She fumbled on her bra and then her shirt. Where had he thrown her panties? She couldn’t afford to be vulnerable in any way, shape or form. She located the scrap of lace and donned it.

“I can’t do that. Not yet.”

She stilled and alarm raced through her. “Why not?”

“You must listen to me first. I wish to explain.”

She didn’t know why Damon had lured her onto a yacht, but she wished like the devil she’d paid more attention to the grim warnings of white slave trade and crime outside Monaco that Candace’s future sister-in-law had shared along with etiquette lessons, but Madeline had written the woman off as an obsessed alarmist.

Wrong. Inhaling deeply, she tried to recall what she’d been taught about handling unbalanced people and hazardous situations in the E.R. It didn’t happen often, but there had been a few times when she’d had to protect herself and the other patients until security arrived.

Rule one: be aware of your surroundings. “Where are we exactly?”

“Off the coast of France.”

Rule two: don’t alarm the suspect. Keep him calm.

She forced a smile, but it wobbled. “Damon, I’d really like to go ashore.”

“That’s impossible. You don’t have your passport.”

Good point. But wouldn’t the authorities understand just this once?

He moved closer. “Madeline—”

“Stop. Stop right there.”

Rule three: when all else fails use the weapons at hand. There were knives in the kitchen. She’d seen them last night when she and Damon had prepared dinner together. Damon had cooked. What prince cooked? Royalty had servants for that kind of thing. Therefore, he was no prince.

She shoved her feet in her shoes, jerked open the cabin door and scanned the kitchen—galley. Dammit, who cares what it’s called? She had to get off this boat. Ian and Makos sat at the table. Would they help her? Or were they in on this, too? She could take one guy. But three would be tricky.

She opened drawers until she found the one containing a razor-sharp filet knife with a nine-inch blade. And then Damon—Dominic…whatever the hell his name was—entered the small kitchen and reached for her. Using one of the self-defense moves her father had taught her she grabbed his right arm, ducked and turned and twisted his wrist up behind his back. She pressed the knife to his throat.

“Tell your friends to take me to shore. Now.”

She heard an ominous sound and looked up to see two handguns pointed at her from across the room. Big, black ugly weapons. The crew members were in on this and armed.

My God. She was being kidnapped.

Chapter 4

“Ian, Makos, lower your weapons,” Dominic stated calmly. Neither man complied. “That is an order.”“But Your Highness—” Ian protested.

“Do it. Madeline isn’t going to hurt me.” Dominic honestly believed it. He could feel the frightened quiver of her tense body pressed against his bare back and see the fine tremor of the hand at his jaw—the same hand that had brought him indescribable pleasure last night.

“That’s what you think, buster. I’m a trained medical professional. I know where to cut to take you down instantly.” The hand clamped around his wrist might not be completely steady, but her grip and voice were strong. She honestly believed her life was in danger—a circumstance he deeply regretted.

His bodyguards had lowered their guns, but raised them again upon hearing her threat.

Dominic subtly shifted a couple of inches to his right to prevent the men from getting a clear shot at her. “Perhaps I should mention that Ian and Makos are my bodyguards. It is not wise to provoke them.”

A slight shake of his head had the guards returning the weapons to the holsters concealed by their jackets with obvious reluctance.

He didn’t doubt Madeline had the skill to kill him, but he doubted she had the nerve, and he wouldn’t give her reason to find it. “If you incapacitate me, you will lose not only your human shield, but also your bargaining power. As a medical professional you took an oath to do no harm. Release me before someone gets hurt.”

“Right.” Disbelief colored the word. “And then what? You and your goons sell me? Ransom me? What?”

“I have no intention of ransoming or selling you. We’ll return to port. Ian, give Madeline your phone so that she may call the hotel. Gustavo will vouch for me.”

Her br**sts nudged his back and her breath puffed against his nape as she snorted. “The concierge is probably in on this…this kidnap attempt. He told me I could trust you. If I call anyone, it’ll be the police.”

“You haven’t been kidnapped. You boarded this yacht of your own free will as any of the other marina patrons will attest. And you will be returned unharmed. Call the authorities if you must, but doing so will be time consuming and embarrassing once the press gets involved.”

“What press?”

“The ones I had hoped to avoid with my disguise. I colored my hair and shaved my beard because I wished to vacation without being hunted by the paparazzi. That’s why I avoided the hotel after our swim at Larvotto. I did not wish to be recognized by predators with telephoto lenses.”

A half minute passed. Although he’d never needed to use his skills, he’d been trained from an early age for situations like this. If he weren’t concerned about hurting Madeline, he could escape her hold. An elbow here. A head slam there. He could easily hook one of her legs out from under her with his and send her tumbling to the floor. But she might impale herself as she fell. So he wouldn’t. He’d already violated her trust by deceiving her. He wouldn’t add physical injury to his crimes.

“Put the guns on the counter and slide them this way. Grips first,” she demanded. “The phone, too.”

He signaled with his free hand for Ian and Makos to do as she ordered. Both men looked at him as if he’d lost his mind but after a tense silence complied.

She edged closer to the weapons, towing him along with the knife still at his throat. The sad truth was her strength and bravery impressed him and turned him on. Luckily, he’d donned his pants before coming after her or she and his crew would see exactly how strongly she affected him.

He’d never met a woman like Madeline Spencer. Each time he thought he had her figured out she threw a new and intriguing puzzle piece at him—one that didn’t fit his image of her.

Who was this woman who didn’t hesitate to defend herself? And what had her ex-fiancé done to disillusion her so about love and to make her so distrustful? It had to be more than merely ending the relationship or finding someone new. And why did the knowledge fill Dominic with rage and a thirst for revenge on her behalf?

She halted a yard from the counter. To use the cell phone she’d have to have at least one hand free. He waited for her to choose between releasing him and putting down the knife, but evidently she came to the same conclusion. “I want to go ashore.”

“Then you must allow Ian and Makos to go on deck. We can be back in Monaco in an hour.” That would give him time to convince her to trust and forgive him. He’d had every intention of telling her the truth before making love to her. Each time he’d opened his mouth to do so he had looked into her eyes and considered what he stood to lose. Her sassy, confident smile. Her relaxed yet seductive grace. The easy flow of conversation between a man and a woman who were equals. He’d lived with stiff formality for too many years. She’d given him a taste of what he’d been missing, of what a relationship should be, but what his future marriage would very likely not entail.

Last night when she’d stopped his words with gentle fingers on his lips he’d been weak enough to let desire overrule his conscience, but this morning he hadn’t been able to stomach having her call him by the fictitious name. He wanted her crying out his name next time she cli**xed.

And there would be a next time. He was more determined than ever to enjoy his last days of freedom in Madeline’s company and in her bed. Whatever experience she might believe she lacked as a lover she more than made up for with an earthy sensuality that had brought him pleasure more intense than any he’d ever experienced. He wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet. But soon, unfortunately, he would have to.

She jerked his wrist upward with enough force to get his attention, but not enough to do permanent damage. “How stupid do you think I am? They could sail anywhere.”

“You can see the GPS screen from here and know if they sail away from port. You’ll have the phone, a pair of handguns and me as your hostage if they head in the wrong direction. And Madeline, my passport is in the cabin. Check it.”

Another snort. Another brush of her br**sts against his back. Another spark of arousal below his belt. “As if you couldn’t fake that.”

“Then pull me up on the Internet.”

“Gee whiz. I forgot to pack my computer in my beach bag,” she drawled sarcastically.

“When we get back to Hôtel Reynard then. I have a laptop in my suite.”

“Do you think I’ll follow you anywhere after this? And what do you mean ‘your suite?’ You’re staying at Hôtel Reynard?”

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Emilie Rose's Novels
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