or pleasure?” the desk clerk asked him in unaccented English.
“Pleasure. Most definitely.” When he noticed she was examining his attire, he said, “Cave exploration. Been wanting to do it since my first visit.”
“I would have been happy to set that up for you.” She made a show of wetting her lips. “And anything else you need, Mr. Hale.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for my next trip.” He gave her an easy smile. Part of him wanted to take her up on it now. He could just bend her over the couch in the office and slake his lust. Something, anything, to ease his body before more hours of confinement with the beautiful but innocent princess.
Except he wasn’t actually interested in anything this woman had to offer him. She was beautiful, accomplished and he was sure from the way she moved she’d be great in bed.
But she wasn’t Damara Petrakis.
He had to get those thoughts out of his head—he didn’t know how, but it would be so much easier once he’d put some distance between them.
“The penthouse suite is available. Shall I charge it to the card you have on file?”
“Yes, thank you. Double the room service order from my last visit, please. And I’d like to access my box while I’m here, as well.”
“I’ll let security and the kitchen know. Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Hale? Anything at all?” She smiled and leaned over the desk, emphasizing her ample and lovely cleavage.
“Not at the moment.” He accepted the key and winked at her.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Hale?” Damara said in a sickly sweet voice as he took her up to the penthouse.
Byron laughed. “Are you jealous?”
“No, of course not. But that was just pathetic.” She rolled her eyes. “Even I know that a man won’t buy the cow if he can get the milk for free.”
“I don’t want to buy the cow.” He snorted.
“Glad you see it my way.” She harrumphed.
He laughed again. “Call me Brian while we’re here. It’ll most likely be for only a few hours, but just in case, okay?”
“Yes, Brian.”
“And what’s your name?”
“I get to play, too?” Her pique seemed forgotten. “I want to be Holly Golightly, like Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
“You know she was a prostitute, right?” He raised a brow.
“It’s not a bad profession. It’s not unlike being royalty.”
“How’s that?” He couldn’t wait to hear how she’d managed to work that out in her head. Byron opened the door to the suite.
“Pay to play, right? I have to trade myself to my husband for his resources. It’s basically the same thing. He gets to sleep with me, but he has to pay for it.”
“I think that’s just being married.”
“So she gets to be married to a lot of men, doesn’t have to stay with any one of them and still gets to utilize their resources. I like this idea. Maybe instead of freeing my country, I should just go home and have a harem?”
“I’m not calling you Holly Golightly.”
“I’m surprised you even know who I was talking about. My brother said it was a movie for women to make themselves feel better about being powerless.”
“We’ve established that your brother is an asshole.” He studied her for a moment and tried to imagine any scenario where he’d ever think of Damara as powerless. There wasn’t one.
“Did you order food?”
“Yes, Highness.”
“Don’t call me that.” She bristled.
“Why not?”
“I already told you why not. I’m a woman, the same as any other.”
“Who talks about having harems of men to do her bidding.” He could admit, the thought was like rubbing sandpaper on his face. Byron didn’t want anyone to touch her but him. It was good that he needled her. Maybe she’d get tired of him and stop engaging. Maybe she’d want to get away from him as much as he needed to get away from her.
He had a burner phone in the deposit box, and he hoped he could make contact with Renner and work out an end to this soon.
If he had to spend more than one more night with her, and she offered herself to him, he didn’t think he’d be able to turn her away.
TREPIDATION AND EXCITEMENT were tangled up like vines in Damara’s belly.
This wasn’t what she’d expected at all. It was definitely better than a lifeboat or being chased by men with guns.
When he left to access his security box, Damara took stock of the room. It was a master suite with every luxury, from a wet bar to a king-size bed. She sat on the bed, running her fingers over the purple duvet.
For a brief moment, she wondered if she was being selfish. Maybe she should look for another royal to marry, someone strong enough to defeat Abele— No. No. Her father had wanted to bring democracy to Castallegna and if she married another royal, he wouldn’t want to give up a crown for her father’s dream.
Even though it was the right thing, it still felt wrong and strange to go against what she’d been told was her duty her whole life.
Damara told herself that her duty was to protect her people, to do what was best for them. And this was it. A monarch was a law unto himself, and Abele took that to the extreme. She was the only one who could stop him.
She exhaled heavily. She couldn’t wait to get into the shower. Maybe it could wash away the dirt and that feeling of guilt.
Probably not, because she’d decided.
Even after everything, Byron Hawkins would be the one. She wanted to experience him, and what did it matter anyway? They’d never see each other again after this.
Sometime later, when he reentered the room, their eyes met and it was as if they’d both been caught in some high-voltage current they were helpless to stop. She moved toward him, unable to direct her steps anywhere else.
He welcomed her into his arms but did nothing more. The tension between them was thick and heavy, like a weight pressing them down.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“No.” Only his head dipped toward her anyway.
“Oh.”
