was no point in answering. That road, well-traveled over the decades, led nowhere.
“Good night,” Maria said, “I love—”
Too late. Luz had already disconnected. Maria put down the phone and swallowed hard. The Prince of Arrogance hadn’t moved; he was still standing right next to her. She drew a long breath, let it out as slowly as she could, then turned to face him.
“Wasn’t he interested in your charming declaration of affection?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your lover. Joaquin. I had the impression he ended the call rather abruptly. Didn’t your news please him?”
“That wasn’t—” She bit her lip. Would having a lover, however imaginary, offer her some protection? She needed protection; every instinct told her that. “That wasn’t polite,” she said. “Listening to my conversation.”
He smiled thinly. “And you, Ms. Santos, are the expert on etiquette, are you not?” The smile vanished; he shoved a gold pen at her. “Sign the contract.”
Why did that sound so ominous? “I insist you meet my conditions before I—”
Suddenly, his hands were on her, cupping her shoulders, lifting her to her toes.
“You’re lucky to be getting this commission,” he said coldly. “We both know that. You’re desperate for money—please, don’t waste my time denying it. And you need the prestige that comes with creating a necklace for a queen.” His tone hardened. “Sign the contract, Maria.”
Her lip trembled. She looked away from him and, for a heartbeat, he hated himself.
Was he really reduced to this? Bullying a woman on the skids? A woman whose lover had obviously not said a word to congratulate her on winning this commission?
And why should he give a damn? Maria Santos was nothing to him.
“Sign the papers,” he growled.
She picked up the pen, smoothed out the documents, laid them on the table and scribbled her name where he indicated. He felt a surge of heat sweep through him. But he said nothing, simply took the papers, folded them and tucked them back in his pocket.
“As for conditions… there are others besides the ones I mentioned. There are my conditions,” he said in a softly ominous tone. “And you will meet them.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. She felt her pulse begin to race. Whatever he was about to say was going to turn her world upside down; she could sense it.
“One,” he said, still in that soft voice, “you shall have the studio of your dreams—but on Aristo, not here.”
“Are you insane? I have no intention of—”
“I assume your passport is in order.”
“Of course, but—”
“You will leave with me, tonight.”
“You cannot do this to—”
He bent to her and kissed her. Kissed her as if she belonged to him, his tongue in her mouth, his hands cupping her bottom, lifting her to him, into him, into the heavy thrust of his erection.
“And,” he said thickly, when he finally raised his head, “you will warm my bed until you finish the job.”
“No!” She shook her head as if to emphasize her refusal. “No,” she said again, her voice high and wild, “I’ll never—”
“You will, or I’ll do what I should have done when you left my bed the first time. I’ll tell the queen about our little adventure. I’ll tell her you’re not worthy of designing her gift or of working in proximity to her. And then you can stay in this loft and forever live with the knowledge that you failed at the one thing that could have changed your life.”
Maria wanted to weep but she knew damned well her tears would have made him not just the victor but the conqueror. Instead, she forced herself to meet his gaze without flinching.
“Is this how you get your women, Your Highness? Through blackmail?”
His eyes flashed a warning. She tried to pull away but his mouth swooped down to hers; his hands swept into her hair, holding her captive to his merciless kiss until, at last, a sweet moan whispered from her throat.
Despite her fury and her hatred, it was happening again.
The hot spiral of desire she’d felt that night all those weeks ago. The sudden swift race of her heart. All those amazing, incredible feelings she’d never known before were sweeping her away.
She was dizzy in his arms, dizzy from the taste of him, the scent, the feel of his hand, now in her hair, his fingers cupping her scalp. He gathered her even closer. The hard press of his arousal dug into her belly.
Oh God. She wanted him, wanted him, wanted him…
Maria wound her arms around Alex’s neck and kissed him back.
SHE was on fire.
It had been like this that night on Aristo.
Alex had kissed her, and it had been like touching a match to tinder.
Until then, she’d always thought descriptions like that were clichés, the stuff of novels and movies, but Alex had taken her in his arms and taught her that a man’s touch could change everything you knew, everything you believed, forever.
One kiss. One warm mingling of breath. One caress of lips and tongues and you were transformed, became someone else.
Someone you didn’t know, didn’t understand.
Didn’t respect.
Her eyes flew open. She slammed her hands against Alex’s broad chest. He made a sound that was almost a growl and gathered her closer. Her struggles increased.
“Alex! Damn you, let me go.”
For a moment, her words didn’t penetrate. He was lost in the taste of Maria, the feel of her soft body against his. But her hands became small fists, hammering at his shoulders. The message was clear. A moment’s tease, just enough to drive him half out of his mind…
It wasn’t going to work.
He opened his eyes and let go of her.
“Pack your things.”
His voice was low and rough, his muscles taut with anger and frustration. She had a way of getting to him and he didn’t like it. It was not something he was accustomed to.
“That’s it?” Her voice shook with indignation. “You walk in here, announce that I’m
