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The Prince's Ultimate Deception (Monte Carlo Affairs #2) Page 9
Author: Emilie Rose

“Yes. On the same floor as you, but at the opposite end of the hall in the Royal Suite. We are temporary neighbors. Why else do you think I was waiting for the penthouse elevator the night we met?”

She frowned as she considered that and then growled in anger and shifted on her feet behind him. Each movement rubbed her br**sts against his nak*d back, a distraction he didn’t need if he wished to avert disaster.

“Your henchmen can go on deck, but we’re locking the door behind them and if they try to come through, I’ll shoot because I think you’re full of sh—”

“You know how to handle a gun?” Most shooting accidents happened at the hands of the inexperienced and he would prefer to avoid bloodshed. Particularly his.

“My father was a vice cop. I can not only handle a gun, I’m a damned good marksman. He made sure of it.”

Ian caught Dominic’s attention and tapped his thigh, indicating the smaller weapon Ian kept strapped above his ankle. Dominic signaled the negative and maintained eye contact long enough for the man to understand Dominic would handle the situation. Ian clearly didn’t like it, but he accepted Dominic’s silent command with a slight nod.

“Pull up anchor and return to port.” Dominic’s order contradicted every oath his bodyguards had taken. Members of the royal guard had to be willing to die for their country. That meant not leaving one of their leaders with a knife at his throat. But Ian and Makos did as he requested, climbing the ladder and closing the cabin door behind them.

Madeline pulled him toward the hatch and latched it.

“Sit.” She shoved him toward the sofa.

Flexing his shoulder, Dominic sat because not fighting would serve his purpose better than asserting his authority or his physical dominance.

Poised on the balls of her feet, Madeline kept the knife at the ready and her eyes fixed on him as she quickly closed the blinds on each window. Smart move. Being unable to see inside the cabin would prevent Ian from trying anything heroic.

To make her feel less threatened Dominic propped his feet on the coffee table, crossed his ankles and leaned back, linking his fingers over his belly. As soon as he did Madeline backed toward the galley and collected the guns.

She handled the firearms comfortably, competently, checking the safeties and the clips of each weapon before shoving the knife back into the drawer. His respect for her climbed another notch. She was smart, resourceful, strong and calm in a crisis. Not to mention sexy as hell.

If a little misguided.

“My passport is in my bag. I’m blond and have a beard in the photo, but you’ve known me for a week and spent the night in my bed. You should be able to see past facial hair and a temporary dye job.”

She kept the width of the room between them. “I don’t care about your stupid and probably forged passport. You’re still a liar.”

Guilty as charged. “I didn’t originally intend to conceal my identity, but Madeline, when you looked at me that night by the elevator I saw a woman who desired me, not a woman who wanted to land a prince. Do you have any idea how rare that is? It has only happened one other time. With Giselle, my wife.”

“Spare me the sob story. I’m sure that was fiction, too.”

“Sadly, it is not. I had known Giselle since we were children. We became engaged when I was nineteen and she sixteen.”

Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “That’s positively feudal.”

He shrugged, but didn’t waste time trying to explain a bridal selection process he knew she would neither like nor understand. “I agree. She was too young. That is why I insisted we postpone the marriage until I graduated from the university. And then as I told you in the café, she died two years into our marriage along with our first child.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

He ignored her words and kept talking to keep her calm and to get her to let down her guard. “My country is raw and largely untamed due to the royal advisory council’s fear of change.”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“It is believed that Montagnarde was once a massive volcano, but sixty million years ago the ocean breached the walls and extinguished the fire. There are three islands now surrounding an inland sea of crystal clear water.”

“What a great imagination. You should write a book.”

He smiled at her acid tone. She didn’t believe him. Would she, like so many others, become deferential, obsequious and more interested in what his wealth and power could do for her once she accepted his identity? Undoubtedly. And when she did he was certain his fascination with her would end. “My youngest sister is writing a history of the islands. I have three sisters. Danielle, Yvette and Brigitte.

“Each generation of monarchs must have an agenda. My great-grandfather’s was to protect our borders from outsiders and pests which might devastate our crops or wildlife. My grandfather focused on building a first-class transportation system within and around the islands, and my father on exporting our products. I am determined to introduce the world to the beauty of Montagnarde. Like Monaco, we should maximize our tourist potential. That is why I focused my degree and the past ten years’ study on tourism. I intend to implement change and put my country on the map.”

“So you admit ‘your country’ isn’t on the map.” More sarcasm.

“In terms of global recognition, not yet. But our wines, olive oils and organic produce are beginning to find success in foreign markets. As for our tourism development potential, we have mountains suited to skiing or climbing, depending on the season, blue seas perfect for sailing, sport fishing or surfing, underwater caverns to explore and hot mineral springs for rejuvenation. The natural reefs off our shores put the man-made ones in Monaco to shame and the species of fish and marine life are incredible.”

The urgency to share the beauty of his country with her was unexpected and unwelcome, not to mention impossible. “The emeralds mined in Montagnarde are almost as lovely as your eyes, Madeline.”

She snorted. “Save your breath. I am so over your flattery and so over you.”

Frustration rose within him. He had power and wealth at his fingertips and yet the one thing he wished for he couldn’t have. He wished for more time with Madeline. But time was a luxury he did not have….

Unless he could turn this disaster to his advantage.

A gurgle of disgust erupted from Madeline’s throat. “You are really something.”

“So you told me last night. I believe magnificent is the word you used.”

She wanted to smack that confident smirk off Damon’s face. A shocking fact, since she’d never been one prone to violence. Her cheeks burned hot. She’d been a fool for swallowing his garbage the way she had Mike’s. Just how stupid was she to let two handsome faces override her common sense?

“Keep it up, bucko, and I might just shoot you for the fun of it. I don’t like being made a fool of.”

“Is that what your ex did? Made you look foolish?”

She very deliberately released the safety on the gun. “It’s not smart to piss off an armed lady.”

Damon held up his hands as if in surrender. “Then I will tell you more about my homeland instead.” He lowered his arms and linked his fingers over his navel. She could not believe she had nibbled her way down that lying rat’s goodie trail last night.

Worse, the proof of Damon’s deceit had been right in front of her. Only she’d failed to see the signs because the lights had been out. Sort of like her relationship with Mike. She’d only seen what she wanted to see until he’d forced her to acknowledge the truth.

She hated feeling stupid. Clueless. Duped.

“Each of the islands of Montagnarde has one or more glacial lakes with water pure enough to bottle. The streams and rivers are a fisherman’s paradise. Like New Zealand, we have no poisonous snakes or spiders.”

Blah. Blah. Blah. She focused on the GPS screen and tried to tune out his words. Whatever he said would be more lies anyway. She could hear the men above them moving about and raising the sails.

Trapped on a yacht with a trio of lunatics. What had she done to deserve this? And would she live to tell the tale?

Yes, dammit, you will. Your mother’s depending on you. “My country was discovered in the 1700s by the Comte de Rossi, a Frenchman searching for a shorter route to the spices of India,” he continued. “His ships veered off course in a storm. He landed on the main island searching for food and to make repairs. He decided to stay and explore.”

“Right. And the natives just let the French drop anchor and take over?”

“Initially, the islands’ inhabitants were bribed with the luxuries on board the ships, but sadly, within the first year the majority of them were decimated by European diseases—also on board de Rossi’s ships. The Comte, owner of the fleet, declared himself king and named the islands Montagnarde for the peaks that pierced the clouds. During his lifetime he selectively allowed his countrymen and the finest craftsmen to immigrate, and it is said his advisors kidnapped the most beautiful woman in all of France to be his bride and queen.”

Until he uttered the last part his tall tale had almost sounded plausible. Her mouth dried. “You’d better not be thinking along the same lines.”

“I regret that our affair must end when I leave Monaco.”

“In case you missed the bulletin, our affair is already over.” Her stomach growled. She glanced at the coffeepot and inhaled the aroma of the strong brew. Her racing heart didn’t need the caffeine jolt, but she did need something in her empty stomach to counteract the light-headedness caused by an adrenaline rush combined with not replacing the large number of calories she’d burned off in the past twelve hours.

Naked and entwined with the dishonest snake. With a gun in her right hand she found a mug with her left and mounded a diet-wrecking amount of sugar inside, and then she poured a stream of coffee on top and swished it around to mix it. She didn’t risk taking her eyes off Dominic long enough to search for a spoon or cream. She sipped the syrupy brew. Eeew.

“There are pastries in the cabinet to your left and eggs, sausage, fruit and cheese in the refrigerator.”

His words made her salivate, but blocking her view of her captive to search the fridge was out of the question. “You’d love it if I’d drop my guard, wouldn’t you?”

“I would enjoy breakfast more. We worked up quite an appetite last night.”

Her body flushed all over. “Jerk.”

She opened the cabinet, found the croissants and hurled one at him with enough force to break a window had it been a rock.

He snagged it out of the air. “Thank you. I am fond of Ian’s coffee, as well.”

She almost flung her mug at him. Instead she extracted another from the cabinet, filled it and shoved it to the far end of the bar. He was out of luck if he wanted cream or sugar.

He rose and slowly approached. “You don’t need the gun, Madeline.”

She cursed him, using the one four-letter word she never used and he grinned.

“I believe you did that last night. Three times. And with extremely satisfying results.”

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Emilie Rose's Novels
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