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‘Even you?’
‘I have an alibi for the night Frédéric was killed.’
‘Really?’ She finally sat down and crossed her legs. Slowly. ‘What is it?’
Wolfe regarded her wryly. ‘And I don’t have any motive for wanting to kill you.’
Yet.
She smiled, clearly sensing his frustration. ‘Am I getting to you?’
‘You don’t want to get to me, Princess.’
‘No, I want you to quit.’
‘Get over it.’
Suddenly her gaze turned serious. ‘Are you planning to investigate my artists?’
‘Of course.’
‘Be nice. Some of them are sensitive.’
‘Unlike you?’ It was both a statement and a question.
‘Unlike me.’
He didn’t believe her. Just the fact that she cared about her artists told him more than anything else. And then there was the look of concern that had briefly crossed her face when she’d first walked into the King’s office. She had a heart. She just guarded it well. He could relate to that. He’d put his in a box years ago, and that was exactly where he intended it to stay. It was a timely reminder to keep his head on straight around this woman. She got to him as no one else ever had, and that made her dangerous and him volatile.
‘Who was your last lover?’
She threw him a look.
‘Before that,’ Wolfe said gruffly.
Her eyes widened. ‘You want a list?’
No, he did not want a damned list. ‘Yes.’
She looked as if she was about to tell him to take a hike. ‘A lovely American took my virginity when I was eighteen because he thought it would be fun to bed a European princess. Then I met a novelist who wanted to write the great Parisian novel. We were quite serious—unbeknown to my father—but three years ago I realised that we weren’t after the same thing and we broke up.’
Wolfe could tell that both men had hurt her and he wanted to run them through with a blunt instrument.
‘Did you love him?’ The question was irrelevant and he hoped she wouldn’t pick up on that.
‘How is that relevant?’
Damn. ‘If you’re going to question me at every turn this won’t work.’
‘I already know it won’t.’
‘Ava...’
She huffed out a breath. ‘I thought I did at the time. Now...I’m not so sure.’
He wanted to ask what had happened since to make her question that but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. ‘And since then?’
The look she gave him made his stomach knot.
‘Apart from the Anders football team...’ She recrossed those long legs in the other direction and stared straight at him. ‘You’re the lucky last, Monsieur Wolfe.’
Wolfe sucked in a litre of air at her admission, ignoring her snipe about the football team. How had he so completely misread her? But he’d known, hadn’t he? He’d needed to believe she was as sophisticated and jaded in the art of seduction as he was. It had made it easier to let her go after the night they’d spent together. Made it easier to believe that what was between them was nothing more than mutual biological gratification. Not that it had worked exactly...
He stood up and startled the cat, who promptly jumped down and crossed to Ava. She reached down, her movements as graceful as the animal she scooped into her arms to cuddle.
‘I’ll need to see your itinerary for the next few days,’ he said gruffly.
She didn’t look up. ‘I’ll have Lucy forward it to you tomorrow morning.’
Wolfe moved to the picture window and stared out at the acres of grass that ringed the palace to the sprawling mountains beyond. Incredibly, he was thinking how happy he was that she’d never slept with Gilles.
Hell.
If he was going to protect her he had to stay on task. He had to stop thinking of her as a person. As a desirable woman. And he especially had to stop thinking of her marrying some stupid fool her father was planning to choose for her.
CHAPTER SIX
AVA WASN’T SURE how she was supposed to find a husband when she compared every man she came across to Wolfe. Not that she had taken her father’s oppressive statement seriously. She had no intention of letting herself be bullied into a convenient marriage just to suit his wishes. Not on something this important.
Fortunately she was getting a reprieve from having to pretend to go along with it in the arms of her debonair cousin Baden.
