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I tilt toward her, and she takes a sharp intake of breath.
“I couldn’t be too obvious about it.” Imelda bites her bottom lip. “My father’s here. He’d burst a blood vessel if he knew what we were doing right now.”
“Let’s make sure no one finds out, then.”
She giggles, making sure to press her chest firmly against mine. Reaching between her legs, she starts sliding the fabric of her panties to the side for an easier entrance.
Finally losing myself, I grab the underside of her thighs and hoist her further up the wall of this cubicle. She has no intention of keeping quiet. I’m so lost in the throes of pleasure that I don’t remotely care.
2
VIVIENNE
“Have you seen Prince Caesar?”
Aurora shakes her head. I would expect her, as the event coordinator, to know the whereabouts of both of the Vanecourt princes hosting tonight’s event. At the same time, I can’t fault her. While Prince Alex is a dream to work with, Prince Caesar gets slippery when he loses focus on what’s important.
I would know. I’m his secretary.
“He’s probably mingling in the crowd. I’ll keep an eye out for him. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. The hors d'oeuvres are about to head out soon,” Aurora says, jutting her thumb over her shoulder. Her blue eyes twinkle underneath the bright lights of the hallway.
Pressing my lips into a thin line, I nod and offer a small wave as she hurries off in the opposite direction. I sigh and lean against the wall behind me. I’m doing my best not to start chewing off all my fingernails right now.
Dammit, Caesar. Did you really have to choose this exact moment to run off?
That’s the thing about him. He’s never too worried about anything. He leaves that part of the job to me. And he knows he’s charming enough to get away with it with one incandescent smile.
When I met him for the first-round interview after I submitted my application, I was dressed in the finest outfit I could afford, an expensive white shirt and dark pencil skirt. I somewhat styled my curly dark hair and applied a bit of dark foundation and bright coral lipstick for the interview at the embassy.
When he walked in, I didn’t know who he was, but with the way he carried himself, he commanded respect. The type of man who’d be admired effortlessly.
“I read over your application. You’re highly qualified.” He looked me up and down, which made me fidget. Male attention made me nervous back then. Even now, at the age of twenty-four, it still does. “And you’ve certainly dressed the part.”
“Thank you.” I held a baby blue folder in my hands, holding all of the documents and credentials I’d painstakingly printed. “It would be an honor to work here at the embassy.”
“Where are you from?” I caught another subtle glance down at my body, this time at my waist, cinched in my tight skirt. The heat of it made me physically weak, but I snapped back into focus.
“I live in New York City. I’ve got a degree in international relations from Columbia. But I grew up going back and forth between the D.C. area and Missouri. For my father’s work.”
“It’s clear you’re very smart. Or else you fake it very well.” He flashed me a charming smile and held a hand out for me to take. “Prince Caesar Vanecourt of Solvaria. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around soon.”
“What makes you so sure?”
He smiled at me in a roguish way that I was never able to forget. A look I’m sure has brought countless women to their knees just at the sight.
“Because I know you’ll get this job.”
And I did. Despite trembling violently and tripping over my words during the interview, my skills shone through. That wasn’t enough for me to be satisfied, though.
I wrote him a formal thank you note for taking time out of his schedule to speak to me, written in calligraphy on embossed, monogrammed paper. He said he’d never gotten anything like it.
He’d never even seen an American operate with the sort of refinement he’d grown up with in his country. Being the daughter of a United States senator teaches you early on that those sorts of formalities can go a long way.
He called me immediately after receiving it to offer me the job. I started a few days later.
His cologne consumed me at the time, and he flashed me the same smile that I’ve been unable to erase from my mind. But he couldn’t recall my name.
Somehow that lapse in his memory seems all the more pointed right now, as I’m stranded in the middle of a state event without the host, seemingly forgotten.
