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She only registered that she’d been staring at him for an indecent amount of time when his gaze swung sharply to her, one eyebrow cocked at whatever he read in her expression.
She resisted the urge to drop her gaze, allowed hers to linger before, feigning boredom, she turned towards the podium as the socialite ended her speech to applause.
Violet couldn’t fault her. As her own mother had repeatedly striven to maximise every opportunity by hosting such events, people were more prone to opening their wallets when in a good mood.
And the sight of Prince Zak Montegova, rising with masterful grace and long-limbed elegance to step up to the podium, made them feel extra-special.
His speech was a sublime combination of wit, gravitas and arrogant challenge, rousing consciences and stirring sluggish apathy. Heads nodded and any remaining sceptics couldn’t help but be moved by the video presentation of the trust’s needs, especially in deprived communities.
‘And just so you’ll appreciate the urgency of my latest project, I’ve been informed by Lady Violet Barringhall, my newly appointed special advisor on our latest project in Tanzania, that time is even more of the essence if we’re to meet our goals. Which means you’ll also need to move fast or this particular train will leave without you. And if you miss this one, you won’t be guaranteed a seat on the next one.’
And, simply because everyone in the room wanted a connection with the Royal House of Montegova and its representative Prince, they laughed a little more eagerly, their glances sharper as they turned to her, prying and assessing whether she was the conduit to their ultimate prize—access to Zak Montegova.
But Violet wasn’t interested in them. She was wholly consumed by Zak’s revelation. Her heart banged anew when he stared at her in blatant challenge for a sizzling few seconds, absorbed the applause at the end of his speech, before stepping off the podium.
He neither paused nor smiled in acknowledgement of the accolades dropped in his wake as he returned to the table.
Soft music struck up from a string quartet as he resumed his seat.
‘You couldn’t have told me before you made the announcement?’ she asked, wondering why her excitement, while effervescent—because this was what she’d dreamed of for as long as she could recall—was tinged with an even sharper thrill she suspected had nothing to do with her new role and everything to do with the man who’d granted it.
‘I believe this is the moment in the process where you thank me for giving you this opportunity?’ he drawled silkily, dark grey eyes fixed on her face.
Violet swallowed her sharp reply. Regardless of how the package had been delivered it was the content, the chance to start to make a difference, that mattered. ‘Thank you for the opportunity. And before you taunt me by asking me if I’m up to the task, I a
ssure you I am.’
‘You urged me to test your mettle. Consider this the first lesson. But I’ll be watching you every step of the way. One misstep and you’re done.’
‘There won’t be any,’ she stressed, for him and especially for herself. She couldn’t afford any, not if she wanted to drag herself out of the shadow of her parents’ misdeeds.
‘Good. We leave in seven days. You can have tomorrow morning off to pack.’
Something wild and urgent fluttered in her belly. ‘We?’
‘Did I not mention it? I’ll be in on the ground in Tanzania too. Which means you’ll be working directly under me,’ he said, his voice deep, weighted with evocative meaning that sent blood surging through her body to concentrate traitorously between her thighs.
He stared at her long enough to register the effect of his words on her. Then he turned away and addressed the other guests at the table.
Violet sat back, attempted to absorb the swift turn of events, and the image she couldn’t erase from her mind—of her trapped beneath the sensual power and might of Zak Montegova—quickly enough.
The gauntlet had been thrown down, and her with it, right into the spotlight. Perhaps in more ways than one.
Either way, it was up to her to show him, to show everyone, that she wasn’t just a tainted title, biding her time until a rich, preferably titled man swept her off her feet and answered all her mother’s prayers.
CHAPTER THREE
TANZANIA WAS HOT, humid and stunningly beautiful. Even the humid bustle of Dar es Salaam held a unique vibe that escalated Violet’s excitement as they disembarked from Zak’s private jet and headed out of Tanzania’s largest city.
Air-conditioned SUVs allayed a little of the discomfort travelling into the heart of the country caused with potholed roads, but Violet absorbed every second of it, still pinching herself that she’d managed to get herself into the field so quickly.
Their final destination, Lake Ngoro, was still a good two hours away, according to the satnav, when they stopped for lunch.
Despite the stunning and picturesque vista, the restaurant was little more than a few thatched huts with tables and chairs grouped under shaded umbrellas. When the procession of four SUVs stopped, Violet hid a grimace as the suited bodyguards alighted stiffly and formed a loose semi-circle around their Prince.
‘Something annoying you already?’ Zak enquired, his laconic drawl suggesting he wasn’t surprised. ‘The heat perhaps? Or the sparse surroundings? Five-star establishments a little thin on the ground for you?’
Violet ground her teeth and breathed through her irritation as a waiter hurried towards them. ‘None of the above. If you must know, I was thinking that six bodyguards seem a little...excessive, don’t you think?’
