of her skin.
His dark, sinful gaze commanded hers. Dragging his thumb along her lower lip, he nudged the tender flesh free of the bruising grip her teeth had taken of it. “Stop fretting,” he murmured, “and make the decision.”
She got all tangled up in him. In the intimate claim he was staking on her mouth, the pad of his thumb stroking the vulnerable curve of her lower lip. Her stomach went into free fall as heat built between them, wrapped itself around her like an invisible force she was helpless to resist.
Her mouth went dry, anticipating, willing the kiss she knew would be worth the insanity of allowing it.
He brought his lips to her ear, his warm breath playing across her skin like an intimate caress. “That would be breaking the rules. I have a great deal of incentive not to do that, angel.”
Rolling to his feet, he picked up his jacket. She hauled in a breath, attempting to corral her racing pulse.
He tossed his jacket over his shoulder, his gaze on her. “The woman who sashayed her way into the royal ball insisting on speaking to the king would see this for the opportunity it is. Guess you have to decide which one you are.”
Turning on his heel, he sauntered off into the night. She watched him go, head spinning. Inhaling a long, steadying breath, she digested the encounter. Attempted to determine the veracity of what he’d said.
Had she been missing out on the world in Stygos? Would she regret it if she stayed there? It had been easy to work most of her waking hours, to devote herself to the family business in the pursuit of a better life for her and her mother. To satisfy her need to know the world by burying her nose in a book, lost to the adventures she’d found there. Safe.
She thought about everything that had happened since her mother revealed her shocking news. How it had seemed as if the world had shifted beneath her feet. How everything she’d thought she’d known seemed like an illusion, and everything she hadn’t, her earth-shattering new reality.
She had a choice. To take back control of her life or have it control her. Because one thing was for sure; Nik had been right. Her life would never be the same no matter what she decided. She was a royal. A princess.
Perhaps it was not duty that would inform her decision, but a desire to truly know herself. To expose herself to the world and see what it reflected back at her. To stop living her life on the pages of a book and instead experience it for real.
Did she have the courage to take another huge leap? To leave everything she knew behind? If she did, what would she find when she got there?
“HOW DOES IT FEEL to be a princess, Aleksandra?”
Terrifying. Bewildering. Like I have no idea what I am doing.
Alex swallowed hard, her knees knocking together as she looked out at the sea of reporters crowding the palace gardens for the official announcement of her appointment as Her Royal Highness, Aleksandra, Princess of Akathinia. Packed into the center of the labyrinth of neatly trimmed hedges in the Versailles-style gardens, there were hundreds of them toting cameras of all varieties, the buzz in the air palpable as they waited to grill the new royal.
It was the largest showing of a press contingent since the king and queen’s wedding the year before, a showing Alex had been well prepped for since making her decision to take her place as a Constantinides. And still her tongue was cleaved to the roof of her mouth, a rivulet of perspiration running down her back under the handpicked designer dress she wore.
Stella gave her an encouraging look from her position beside her, Nikandros flanking her other side. Taking a deep breath, Alex addressed the reporter in the front row.
“I’m still getting my feet wet. Perhaps you can ask me that again in a few months and I’ll have a better idea.”
“What is your role going to be?” the reporter followed up. “Do you have any causes you currently support?”
She was still trying to figure that out. It was her number one point of anxiety, in fact, since getting the hotel in the black had been her “cause” to date.
“I’m working through that,” she said. “More to come.”
“Why hasn’t the world known about you before now, Aleksandra?” another reporter called out. “Is it true your mother kept your birthright a secret?”
“That’s a personal matter I won’t comment on.”
“What about your father’s affairs? Is it possible there are more of you out there?”
“Again,” she said, “I won’t comment on my family’s personal affairs.”
“How do you anticipate handling the glare of the spotlight?”
“Day by day. Like any new job, I will have to learn my role. Luckily,” she added, nodding at her siblings, “I have my brother and sister by my side.”
A reporter directed a question at Stella about her new sister. Alex took the opportunity to breathe. A tall figure leaning against a tree behind the reporter claimed her attention. Aristos.
Clad in another of his bespoke suits, he sent her pulse scattering. What was he doing here?
“Aleksandra.” The reporter turned her attention back to her. “Overnight you have become one of the country’s most eligible women. Are you single or in a relationship?”
“I’m single.”
“What are you looking for in a potential husband?”
“I’m not looking,” she countered. “I have enough on my plate at the moment. But if I were, integrity, intelligence and kindness would be high on the list.”
Aristos’s mouth kicked up at the corners. Heat flamed her chest, rising to her face. Diavole, but why was he here?
“It’s rumored the duke of Catharia is quite taken with you. Perhaps there’s potential for a romance there?”
Her eyes widened. The duke had been seated beside her at an official dinner two nights ago. He was charming and attentive, and she’d enjoyed his company, but since she’d been told to keep a low profile considering today’s announcement, she hadn’t given him any encouragement. Perhaps also because her head had kept going back to her encounter with Aristos in the gardens. Charming as he might be, proper like the duke, he was not.
“The duke is lovely,” she said, lifting her chin. “But nothing to report there.”
The press flung a dozen more questions at her, covering everything from her life in Stygos to her favorite color. When they had exhausted anything that could be considered remotely interesting, a reporter in the middle of the pack directed a question at Nikandros.
“What do you make of the fact that Carnelia has called its reservists up to active duty?”
Her heart jumped. It had? Nikandros moved to the mike. “I think we’re doing everything we need to be doing to ensure Akathinia’s
