The new bride, Malia, started dancing in the center of the ballroom with her handsome husband. They both smiled and stared into one another’s eyes with an intensity that bespoke true love.
A prince. A real live prince. Not only had Malia been swept off her feet by a good looking, wealthy man, but he was a prince to top it all off.
Cora pushed down the envy that bubbled up in her chest. She was happy for Malia. She really was. But, unfortunately, her recent breakup with Mr. Cheaterpants kept casting shadows upon this joyous event.
Still, she smiled when Prince Ramul twirled Malia across the dance floor and the entire room erupted in applause. The song ended and the happy couple shared a lingering kiss, much to the delight of the crowd.
Cora finished her glass of champagne and set it on the tray of a passing servant. She smoothed a hand through her curls and decided a breath of fresh air was in order. Turning for the balcony, she navigated through the multitude of royal guests, vaguely wondering which of them were indeed of noble blood.
The king of Ismallia had over a dozen legitimate children, some of whom had children of their own already. And if the tabloids she’d glimpsed on the newsstands were correct, the king was a bit of a rogue, having fathered many children outside of his two official marriages. King Brenul had numerous brothers and sisters who’d all had many children as well. Cora had read somewhere that Ismallia had eighty-nine princes and ninety-eight princesses in total.
As she stood on the balcony that overlooked a well-lit garden, her eyes drifted upward. The moon was full and beaming, the stars sparkling against the velvet black of the regal night sky. The only person she knew at this gathering was the bride, as none of their mutual college friends had been able to make the trip. She was awash in a sea of strangers, in a foreign country thousands of miles from home, but, thankfully, the magic of this entire day outshined her inevitable sense of isolation.
But I’m not really lonely. I’m not.
If she kept telling herself she was perfectly fine, she would eventually start to believe it. Cora believed in the power of positive thinking, that enough good thoughts would lead to good fortune, and she wasn’t about to forsake one of her best habits all because the man she’d thought she would marry and grow old with had betrayed her.
She released a long breath, imagining all her negative thoughts and emotions departed her body with the exhale to carry away on the faint breeze.
Everything would be all right.
She would enjoy the remainder of her weeklong stay at the palace. She would visit every tourist spot in Ismallia she’d originally planned to visit with Mr. Cheaterpants all by herself, and she would have a damn good time without his negativity weighing her down. Then she would return to Manhattan and the job she enjoyed, working for the top public relations firm on the east coast.
Yes, everything would be hunky dory.
The breeze picked up, ruffling the sheer layers of the elegant dress Malia had insisted she borrow. One of Cora’s suitcases hadn’t made it to Ismallia, and her friend had graciously lent her a ballgown to wear. Smoothing her hands down the silky fabric, she gazed across the garden, imagining she was one of the princesses who called this grand castle home.
A smile tugged at her lips, it was a silly thing to pretend, but she kept the fantasy going for a few more seconds.
I’ve been betrothed to a handsome prince I’ve never met, and this is my engagement party. I’m to meet my fiancé for the first time on the dance floor tonight, while the entire kingdom watches with bated breath. Though I’m initially nervous, my soon-to-be husband’s kindness and charm wins me over, and I fall fast in love. We have a fairytale wedding, and then comes the wedding night, where he takes his time stripping off my wedding gown, his dark eyes flaming with unbridled lust, and then…
“Champagne?”
A deep, sexy voice jarred Cora from her reverie. Her cheeks blooming with heat, she turned and found herself face-to-face with a man so darkly handsome he could have been the very prince from her fantasy. Her cheeks flamed hotter, and she took a deep breath, staring into his strikingly beautiful gaze as her mouth grew increasingly dry. She swallowed hard and glanced at the drink he was still offering.
“I… thank you,” she finally said, hoping the darkness hid her incessant flushing.
She reached for the flute of champagne and nearly gasped when his fingers brushed over hers in a deliberate swipe of flesh on flesh. The self-assured quirk on his lips told her it definitely wasn’t an accident. He’d meant to touch her just now, but only for a split second.
With shaking hands, Cora clutched her drink and continued to stare up into the most handsome dark eyes she’d ever glimpsed. The undeniable predatory gleam in his gaze prompted her pulse to quicken.
This sexy stranger looked like a man used to getting what he wanted, and right now, he looked like he wanted her.
Her pussy clenched as she took in the rest of his features.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a suit that had been tailored perfectly to his huge muscular physique. Upon further inspection, she decided he wasn’t one of the many legitimate princes in attendance, as they typically wore a small golden royal insignia on their jackets.
But whoever he was, he exuded power and confidence, and while she wasn’t easily turned into a quaking puddle of hormones, her body was having an extreme visceral reaction to his sudden presence on the balcony.
Spasms of heat besieged her womanly core, and her nipples went painfully hard in the confines of her bodice.
Gathering her senses, she cleared her throat and offered him her hand. “Hello. I’m Cora. And you are?”
He grasped her hand and squeezed harder than she expected. When she tried to pull away, he didn’t release her. Instead, he kept holding her hand and rubbing his thumb on the soft underside of her wrist. Goosebumps rose on her arms and her heart pounded faster.
Finally, he introduced himself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cora. I can tell you’re not from around here. American, I presume? I’ve been watching you all evening. My name is Akeen, and I’m the man who’s going to convince you to stay in Ismallia.”
* * *
