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CHAPTER ONE
CALISTAKOUROSCONCENTRATEDon the slight prickle of her woollen uniform chafing against her wrists, needing something to focus her attention on that wasn’t the half-naked man pacing back and forth across the expanse of the massive living area, a phone jammed to his ear as he argued with someone on the other end.
The glorious man, who was currently wearing a pair of worn jeans and nothing else, was proportioned very much like the Greek gods his ancestors had no doubt worshipped thousands of years ago.
Broad, powerful shoulders, muscled chest, six-pack abs, lean hips, long legs. Olive skin and short black hair. A face that was all exquisite angles, sharp, sculpted cheekbones and a high forehead. Straight nose. A beautifully carved mouth that somehow managed to be both hard and sensual at the same time. A deep, rich voice with a faintly rough edge, like black velvet or melted bittersweet chocolate...
You’re staring at him again.
Annoyance shot down her spine.
She shouldnotbe staring at him. That was the one thing she shouldn’t be doing. As a palace guard, she was there to protect him, which meant she should be alert for threats, not gawking at his body.
He’d stopped in the middle of the cavernous room, his back to her, facing the huge plate-glass windows that looked out over the lake on which the royal villa was situated. It was dark outside, the moon glittering on the water.
His voice rolled over her, sin and smoke. ‘You were expected to be in Axios today. What? Yes, I’m aware you had a council meeting to attend, but I’m afraid that’s not my problem.’ There was a pause. ‘I don’t care. The gowns are here and you were required to attend a fitting.’
Calista stared at his sleekly muscled back and the magnificent tattoo of a lion that stretched from one powerful shoulder to the other.
The royal lion of Axios.
Only one other man in the country was permitted such a tattoo: the king.
‘No,’ Prince Xerxes Nikolaides of Axios said tersely. ‘I’m not couriering them to you. The designer needs to be back in Paris by tomorrow, which means she needs to make the final alterations tonight.’
Calista dragged her gaze from him, fixating on the middle distance instead. But it was difficult and that annoyed her acutely—a problem when one had a volatile temper that needed effort to keep controlled.
For the past month, ever since she’d been promoted to the prince’s personal guard, she’d been finding it very, very difficult—sometimes next to impossible—not to simply ogle him like a teenager would their favourite pop star.
It was an issue. Especially when she’d never had this issue with men before.
She was a soldier, a member of the elite royal guard tasked with ensuring the protection of the king of Axios and his family, a position for which she’d worked very hard. The Axian army included women, but the royal guard didn’t. Or, at least, it hadn’t until she’d been assigned to it a month earlier.
She was the first woman to be an active royal guard and she took her position extremely seriously. One day she hoped to be promoted to the king’s personal guard, perhaps even making captain as her father had, but she wouldn’t until she’d made an impression as part of Prince Xerxes’ detail. And she had to make a good impression.
His official title was Defender of the Throne, a title that all second royal sons were given, and his duties included being the head of the Axian army. Which meant if she was going to be promoted to the king’s guard, she would need his good word.
Not an impossibility, but it was difficult trying to do her best for a man she personally didn’t think much of.
Prince Xerxes had not been popular when he’d been appointed, mainly because he’d been disinherited and exiled from Axios by his father, King Xenophon, ten years earlier. The rumours went that it was for cowardice, which was on a par with treason to most Axians, and his behaviour—that of a spoiled, self-centred playboy touring the bedrooms of Europe—certainly didn’t enhance his reputation with the army.
After the old king had died and his eldest son, Adonis, had succeeded the throne, Adonis had brought Xerxes back to Axios, and, despite strong disagreement from the generals, Adonis had reinstated him, titles and all.
The army had been openly scathing, but Xerxes’ acceptance of responsibility for his own reputation and the rumours that dogged him, and his determinedly spotless behaviour since returning to Axios, had somehow mitigated the generals’ disapproval. That he had proved to be an excellent strategist, a decisive leader, and possessed of a huge amount of personal charm also helped. He’d endeared himself to the rank and file with his easy camaraderie and his almost perfect recall of their names. He had the ability to make people feel special and somehow the tide of approval had turned in his favour.
Calista still found him deeply troublesome.
Despite his charm, she suspected he was a rule-breaker. A secret rebel. There was a casualness and lack of deference to him that offended her rule-following, ordered nature.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
The worst part was that somehow, despite her best intentions, she wasn’t immune to his physical beauty or his intense personal charisma, a legendary magnetism that had once brought half the female population of Europe to their knees.
She hated that. It reminded her that no matter how hard she tried to be like her comrades in arms, to make sure she wasn’t treated differently because she was a woman, there was still some part of her that remained intrinsically female. And that female part of her found him absolutely fascinating.
She despised that part of herself. Despised it utterly.
‘I see.’ The prince’s usually warm voice was distinctly cool. ‘Well, don’t expect me to care if you turn up to our engagement party in a gown that doesn’t fit properly.’
