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But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered more than Monte Blanco. Nothing mattered more than the good of the nation.
Certainly not his own errant lust.
But tomorrow everything would be as it should be.
He was a man of control. A man of honor.
And he would not forget.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT HAD TAKEN her several hours to regain her breath after seeing him without his shirt. There it was. She was that basic.
She had known that he was spectacular. Had known that he was muscular and well-built. Because she wasn’t blind, and it didn’t take a physique detective to know that he was in very good shape underneath those clothes.
But then she had seen it.
His body. All that golden, perfect skin, the dark hair that covered his chest—she would have said that she didn’t like chest hair, but apparently she did—and created an enticing line that ran through the center of his abdominal muscles.
He was hot.
Her captor was hot.
She did not have time to ponder that. She had a mission.
She steeled herself and took one last look in the mirror before leaving her room. She had told him they could meet in the antechamber. She was pretty sure she knew which room the antechamber was. She had made it her business to figure out the layout of the palace. It was difficult. But she had done it.
And she had her phone back.
She had been feeling gleeful about that since the moment it had been deposited into her hand this morning.
And yet... And yet.
She hadn’t been able to think of a single thing to update her account with.
If she still didn’t want to call home.
Because she was mad.
Because she didn’t even know what to say.
She tucked her phone in her purse and made her way to the appointed meeting place. He was already there. She tried to force her eyes to skim over him, not to cling to the hard lines and angles of his body. To the terrifying symmetry of his face.
Terrifying and beautiful.
Saved only by that scar along his cheekbone.
She wanted to know how he got it.
She shouldn’t want to know how he got it. She shouldn’t want to know anything about him.
“Good morning. As you can see,” she said, waving her hand over her face, “I’m restored to my former glory.”
His eyes moved over her dispassionately. And she felt thoroughly dismissed. Insulted.
She shouldn’t care.
“All right. Where are we going to first?”
