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But she knew why. Brittany hadn’t been thinking after that kiss, which looked even more carnal and impossibly sexy in the pictures than she remembered it. And her memories were explicit. She hadn’t been thinking when she’d staggered away from him and hid backstage, where none of the other girls talked to her and she could pretend she was utterly at peace as she changed back into her street clothes. She hadn’t been thinking when she’d opted to walk home despite the hour and the questionable neighborhood, hoping the exercise and the night air might clear her head.
He’d kissed her. She’d kissed him. It had been the most sensual experience of her life, and she hated herself for that. She hated that she’d responded to him like that.
That kiss had been the only thought in her head.
The truth was, she hadn’t been doing a whole lot of actual thinking since she’d walked into that casino in Monaco.
The fact that Cairo was certain to destroy her had loomed so large inside of her from her first glimpse of him that even now, it was making it hard for her to breathe. It was clouding her judgment, confusing her, making herreactto him rather than act in her own best interests the way she always had before.
The way she’d been doing all her life, or she’d never have made it this far.
“Pull yourself together, Brittany,” she ordered herself, her own voice loud in the quiet of her little studio, her own face much too big and exposed on the laptop screen before her, looking vulnerable and needy and entirely too aroused.
It horrified her to see that expression. Or it thrilled her, because she could stillfeelthat kiss.
Or maybe she couldn’t tell the difference. “This is an opportunity. Since when do you turn down an opportunity?”
Destructionwasn’t a good enough excuse to avoid something. If it was, she’d never have left Gulfport at sixteen in the company of Darryl, whom she’d known perfectly well was nothing but trouble.
The kind of destruction Cairo was likely to cause, she understood in the wake of his kiss in a way she hadn’t before, was purely internal. He wouldn’t take a swing at her the way Darryl had. He might rip out her heart with his royal hands. He might tear it into pieces, mash it into a pulp beneath his feet. She didn’t understand why a man she should find laughable in any real sense instead posed such a risk for her neglected little heart, but there it was. She didn’t know why. She only knew it was an inescapable truth. She’d known it the moment she’d laid eyes on him.
“But so what?” she asked herself now, digging the heel of one palm into her chest as if that could make the feeling of immensity and inevitability go away.
Because other than the small issue of her inevitable ruin, Cairo Santa Domini was perfect for her purposes. More than perfect. He wasCairo Santa Domini—he was a dream come true. Richer than sin, possessed of more blue blood in the tip of one toe than her entire family tree put together and not in the least put off by her sad, tacky and deeply checkered past. Most of the wealthy European men Brittany had met after marrying Jean Pierre, including his own sons, had indicated that they would be happy to sully themselves with her in private of an afternoon, but would never allow anyone to see them in her gauche presence in public, lest their ancient claims to aristocracy collapse into so much deeply inferior dust.
Cairo was quite the opposite.
And if she still felt that strange pang at the fact he wanted herbecauseof the image she’d crafted instead of despite it, to say nothing of her low-class upbringing, well...of course he did. Why else would a man like him notice a woman like her? That sillypangwas between her and the heart he was going to break without even trying very hard, and the truth was, she could as easily live on her far-off island with a shattered heart as without it.
The point was the palm trees and the fruity drinks and the solitude. Who cared what happened to her heart?
So when her other mobile phone rang—the one she kept for paparazzi, tabloids and whoever else wanted to reach her yet didn’t know her personally—she answered it.
“Please hold for His Serene Grace the Archduke Felipe Skander Cairo of Santa Domini,” the cultured voice on the other end of the line intoned.
Brittany didn’t hang up, despite that spike in her pulse. Because her own internal destruction was a small price to pay. Cairo Santa Domini might be as dangerous as he seemed. After last night, she knew he was.
But he was her only escape. He was the light at the end of the tunnel as much as he was also the train.
She had no choice.
“Darling,” she purred when he came on the line, that voice of his dark and sinful and good enough to eat. God, she was in so much trouble. But she told herself it would all be worth it. One day, all of this would be worth it. Vanuatu waited for her across the planet, white sand beaches, peace and anonymity at last. “I saw our engagement announcement in all the tabloids. You shouldn’t have.”
