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Clearly.
All she’d heard was how fair he was, and how he fought for equal rights and equal wages, and how cool-headed he was in a debate. The staff who brought her clothes, food, and anything else she needed—except for her phone—extolled the many wonderful traits of their royal prince. Everyone loved him. Adored him. Cherished him. It was enough to give her doubts about what happened. Was he telling the truth about the letters? It wasn’t in her nature to hold a grudge, but this was tough. If he had done what she accused him of—there was just no coming back from that. No matter how “wonderful” he might be.
It didn’t help that all she’d seen was the controlling jerk who had ordered her to his castle.
And, frankly, that was all she wanted to see.
As he spoke, he leaned into the hallway, his pants hugging his hard ass even tighter. She sucked in a breath and held it, heat sweeping over her body as she stared at his big, muscular thighs. He might be the ruler of the country, but he obviously spent as much time ruling a gym. He was lean, hot, and rock hard everywhere she’d touched. She wished she didn’t know that firsthand, but God, she did.
Nodding, he closed the door and turned back to her…
And totally caught her staring at his butt.
That cocky brow of his shot back up, and she turned away, cursing herself. “You like what you see?”
“Nope.” She took a sip of scotch. “Why were you at the nightclub that night? Seems like an un-princely thing to do.”
That should take the attention off my butt-appreciation.
He finished off his drink and went to the little side bar in her room. Once his back was to her, she studied him again. As he poured another glass, he said, “I like to see how the country thinks I’m doing. You’d be surprised how often my name comes up in clubs, and that one is particularly handy because I can darken my hair, put in brown contacts, and hide my face without looking out of place.”
“You do all of that to hear how you’re doing?” she laughed. “Wow. Okay then.”
Stiffening, he turned back to her. “You’re laughing at me. Why?”
“I just didn’t expect you to care what others think about you.” She waved a hand to him. “I mean, look at you. You’re a prince, you walk around in suits, everyone bows to you, but you’re secretly worried they don’t like you.”
“Believe it or not, I do want to be liked, and to be a fair ruler.” He pressed his lips into a thin line. “It’s human nature to want to be liked.”
“If you say so.” She stared down at the amber liquid in her glass. “I don’t really care whether people like me or not. Not anymore.”
“What changed that?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Life, I guess.”
Neither one of them spoke. The longer they stayed connected like that, the higher the tension rose in the room. That undeniable attraction between them hadn’t died, not even with him holding her captive, and it buzzed like static electricity in the air between them, threatening to set her on fire. And as angry as she still was at him for bringing her here, she almost understood it. Almost.
Not enough to trust him,
though.
“It’s good not to care, in some ways, I suppose,” he said. “I don’t have that luxury, though.”
“Why not? You’re a prince, not a president. It’s not like they’ll vote you out,” she said drily.
“I refuse to be that type of ruler. The kind who doesn’t care about his people’s wishes and thoughts.” He gripped the side of the chair with his free hand. “My father isn’t like that, and I won’t be, either.”
Well, that was…admirable. “I see.” When he adjusted his jacket again, she said, “You can take it off.” She pointed to the tie. “And that. I won’t let anyone know.”
“I know I can.” He raised a brow at her again. “But it’s my duty to look the role, as well as fill it, because you never know when someone will come by the palace and catch you off-guard. One time, my father was in pajamas, and the queen of—”
Someone knocked on the door, cutting off his story, kind of proving his point, in a way. And, despite her desire to remain aloof, she was dying to hear what happened to his father when he was in pajamas, and what the queen had done.
Why did she want to know so badly?
“Give me a minute,” he said politely. It didn’t escape her notice that he stood at attention out of instinct, as if he didn’t know any other way to react to a knock. Setting his glass down, he walked to the door and opened it, nodding at the person outside. “Bring it in front of the fire, please, Samuel.”
While she’d never admit it to him, she was in awe of the overdone opulence of the room. It had plush, tan carpet, light blue walls, softer than silk sheets and pillows, a marble fireplace, and its own bathroom…and, as already mentioned, a bar.
