The Playboy Prince (2 page)

Too bad, in that moment, it felt like failure.

Still he’d managed to draw her out a little this evening, asking about New York, a fairly innocuous subject, and then moving on to herself—clearly not innocuous to Ella. She had deflected the personal questions, determinedly steering the conversation back to architecture.

“Chase Bryant always uses local, renewable materials in all of his buildings. And he strives to blend his design with the natural landscape.”

“Admirable,” Philippe murmured. He knew this already, and it was why he’d already decided to go with Bryant. “Are you interested in architecture, Ella?”

The seemingly innocent question caused a lovely blush to tinge her cheeks pink. “Of course,” she said after a second’s pause. “I work for Mr. Bryant, after all.”

“I mean personally. Did you consider training as an architect yourself?”

The blush deepened, the simple reaction making Philippe shift in his seat as desire streaked through him. “I did,” she said, glancing away. “But I only completed one year.”

Intrigued, he leaned forward. “What happened?”

“Life,” she said flatly, her gaze on him once more. “The reality is you can’t always have everything you want. But since you’re a prince, maybe you wouldn’t understand that.”

She was going on the defensive, a tactic he was very familiar with. “Actually,” he murmured. “I do.” All too well.

Her mouth twisted cynically. “It’s hard to imagine what dreams you’ve had to sacrifice.”

“I’m sure it is.”

She took a sip of wine, met his gaze over the rim of her glass. “So tell me.”

“Tell you—?”

“What dream did you sacrifice, Prince Philippe?”

Philippe leaned back in his seat. This conversation had just become a great deal more interesting. And dangerous. “I asked you,” he reminded her, “to call me Philippe.”

Chapter Five

She was flirting with danger, Ella knew. With disaster. Why had she asked Philippe such a provocative question? She didn’t want to get personal with the prince. She didn’t want to
know
him. She just wanted to do her job and do it well, as she always did. It was what gave her a sense of both purpose and happiness, and the last thing she needed was Prince Philippe upsetting both of those.

The trouble was, the man kept confounding her. On the one hand, he’d as good as admitted everything the tabloids said about him was true. Yet on the other…he didn’t seem like a playboy. A player. Or was she just being naïve, because part of her didn’t want him to be that man?

“My dream… Well,” Philippe said, setting down his glass, “it was never my wish to be the heir to the throne of Montvidant.”

“But you must have known—”

“No. My older sister, Christina, was to be queen. In Montvidant the firstborn, no matter what the gender, inherits.”

“Very forward thinking of your country.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “But my sister abdicated three years ago so she could pursue a career in physics.”

“Physics?” She didn’t remember reading that in the tabloids. In fact, now that she thought about it, she didn’t recall reading anything about Montvidant before Prince Philippe had strode onto the scene, being photographed in all of Europe’s hot spots with a gorgeous woman on either arm.

“She took a First in physics at Cambridge. She wanted to pursue research, and with my mother’s health beginning to fail, her royal duties would have had to come first. So she abdicated, making me the heir apparent.”

“And how did you feel about that?” Ella asked, despite her earlier resolution not to get more personal with the prince.

Philippe shrugged. “I agreed.” Which didn’t tell her very much. He smiled, leaned forward. “Now, on to more important questions. Will you go to the Morgan Library with me tomorrow, Ella?”

Ella tried to ignore the flush of warmth caused by the sound of her name on his lips—and the fact that the prospect of going to the library with him held far too much seductive appeal. “I’m sure Mr. Bryant will want to meet with you—”

“And I with him. But I also want to sightsee…with you.”

Ella’s heart took a free fall to her toes. Philippe’s blue-gray gaze was intent on her, and she could not look away. “Why with me?” she asked after a moment, her voice little more than a whisper.

“The easy answer is that you’re the only person I know in this city,” Philippe replied, his gaze still steady on her. “But the real answer? I want to spend more time with you.”

Ella had no response. Her heart hammered and her throat dried up and still she couldn’t look away from the prince’s mesmerizing eyes.

“And what about you, Ella?” he asked, his voice low, his accent faint but audible. “Do you want to spend more time with me?”

Chapter Six

Ella swallowed, stared. Said nothing.
Do you want to spend more time with me?
It was such an open, honest question, and he’d said it with such sincerity. It discomfited her, made her want to answer just as honestly. She was intrigued by this man. Intrigued and interested.

But she couldn’t answer that question honestly. She couldn’t answer at all, because this was getting too dangerous. She didn’t flirt, or have casual dates or even relationships. She worked. It was the only thing that was safe, with guaranteed success.

Ella cleared her throat. “I think we should keep this professional.”

Philippe smiled faintly. “What’s not professional about you showing me around the city?”

Now she blushed. Had she misunderstood him completely? “I mean… Mr. Bryant will want to meet with you…”

“Even so, I’m quite sure there will be time to see a few sights.”

“Well, yes—”

“And I’d like to see them with you. Aren’t you supposed to be keeping me happy?” His eyes glinted knowingly, and Ella felt a futile flare of anger. He was practically blackmailing her. How could she say no, when so much rested on this bid? She couldn’t let Chase down, not after all the chances he’d given her. And the truth was, annoyingly, she didn’t want to say no.

“We’ll see,” she said finally, and Philippe smiled in what could only be called triumph. He knew he’d won.

Was he just toying with her, Ella wondered. A girl in every port? What else could it be?

“It’s getting late,” he said, taking his napkin from his lap and tossing it on the table. “Let me escort you downstairs and find you a taxi.”

“It’s not necessary,” Ella said quickly. “I live close enough to walk.”

“Then I’ll walk you to your door,” Philippe said, and Ella couldn’t help but think she’d asked for that one.

They didn’t talk as they left the restaurant and entered the elevator—after Philippe had paid the bill, despite the fact that Ella knew Chase had intended to host the royal. They soared down thirty-five floors, alone in the small space, the tension suddenly seeming to coil and stretch between them. Ella snuck a glance at Philippe, taking in the hard line of his jaw, the vivid blue of his eyes. His hair was the color of sunlight on oak.

Outside, the air was cold and crisp, and Columbus Circle had emptied out except for a few taxis streaking by in a yellow blur. Philippe turned to her with a smile.

“Which way?”

“North.” They started walking up Broadway. “Don’t you need your security?” Ella asked. “I didn’t think royalty could just walk around unescorted.”

“It’s a risk I like to take once in a while,” Philippe said with a shrug. “Before my sister abdicated, I went around as I pleased. It’s been hard to let that go.”

“I’m sure,” Ella murmured. She’d assumed the prince was pampered, that he wore his privilege with lazy entitlement. Now she wondered. They walked in silence for a few more minutes and then Ella stopped in front of the respectable walk-up she called home. “This is it.” She turned to him with an awkward smile, her heart pounding although she refused to wonder why.

Philippe smiled and lifted his hand. Ella held her breath. He brushed his finger through a tendril of hair that had escaped from her chignon. Her breath came out in a rush. “Philippe—”

“Snowflake,” he said, still smiling. He pointed upward. “It’s snowing.”

Ella felt her cheeks heat. She’d thought he was going to kiss her. And she wouldn’t have resisted.

Philippe dropped his hand. “Goodbye, Ella,” he said, and walked away into the night.

Chapter Seven

Ella stared at the text from Chase in disbelief.
Still tied up today
. Please entertain the prince.

Meeting the man at the airport was one thing, having dinner another. And now the prospect of spending a whole day in Prince Philippe’s company was—

Far too appealing.

With a grimace Ella tossed the phone onto her bed and finished doing her makeup. She’d agonized over what to wear, wanting to strike a professional tone without being too fussy or stiff. In the end she’d chosen a knee-length black skirt, matching boots and a turtleneck sweater of soft cream-colored cashmere. She kept her hair up in a neat chignon, and after grabbing her wool trench coat, she headed outside to meet the prince.

He was waiting in the lobby when she arrived, sitting on one of the leather sofas and reading the newspaper. As soon as Ella came through the doors he rose, tossing the paper aside and smiling.

“Ella.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Bryant is still occupied this morning,” Ella said stiffly. “So if you’d like, we can go right to the library.”

“That sounds perfect.” His smile gleamed as he took her arm and led her out of the hotel; Ella was too surprised to resist. “I’ve never been so glad to be pushed aside.”

“Mr. Bryant isn’t pushing you aside,” Ella protested, even though it seemed even to her like that was exactly what Chase was doing.

Philippe held up one hand. “Relax, Ella, I was joking. I’m sure whatever is keeping Chase Bryant from meeting with me is extremely important. I’m just happy to spend the day with you.”

Ella shook her head, too bewildered to dissemble. “Why?” she whispered.

“Why not?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. Of course he would answer that way. Why not, indeed. One woman was as good as another—

“Stop,” Philippe said gently and she yanked her gaze up to his own knowing one.

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking I am the playboy of the tabloids and gossip magazines.”

“But you are,” she answered reasonably, “aren’t you?”

His mouth twisted. “Why don’t you just try to get to know me, for this one day? Not the prince, but the man.”

Not the prince
, but the man. The words nearly caused Ella to shiver. Dare she do such a thing? It was only one day. How dangerous could it be?

Smiling, Philippe tucked her arm more firmly in his as they headed down Broadway. Ella felt sparks ignite all along her arm, and then deep in her belly as that simple touch caused desire to flame inside her.

It could be very dangerous indeed.

Chapter Eight

Philippe watched a tendril of Ella’s auburn hair slip from her oh-so-neat chignon as she bent over one of the illuminated manuscripts in the Morgan Library, and he felt a shaft of desire blaze right through him. She was so lovely, so refreshingly honest and open, her gray-green eyes hiding nothing. She was also incredibly suspicious of his playboy reputation, but he thought she was beginning to thaw, just a little.

One day, he told himself. One day to enjoy himself, to be the man he wanted to be, the man he truly was. Not the reckless playboy who sold newspapers and was responsible for bringing tourism to his country.

Ella glanced up, her eyes widening.

“What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”

“You sighed.”

“Did I?” He was amazed at how attuned she was to him…and he to her, right from the beginning. “I was just looking at this Mozart composition.”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” She moved to join him at another glassed-in display cabinet. “I love this place.”

“Do you?” He wasn’t surprised, just pleased.

She nodded. “I love feeing like I’m a part of so much history.”

“I know what you mean.” It was how he felt about his own country, part of the reason he hadn’t protested his sister’s abdication. When you realized that you were part of something much greater than yourself, it made any personal concerns seem petty.

“And the rooms…” She glanced up at the frescoed, vaulted ceiling. “It’s as if I’m stepping into another world. But I suppose you’re used to places like this.”

“I suppose I would be, if I’d grown up in a palace.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You didn’t?”

“I grew up in our country house in the mountains. Admittedly it was a very nice home, but it wasn’t palatial. The palace in Montvidant is kept for state ceremonies and occasions.”

She stared at him, and he could almost see the gears in her mind turning. Another assumption destroyed…or so he hoped.

“And where do you live now?” she asked as they moved toward another display case, this one housing a Gutenberg Bible.

“I have a flat in Montvidant’s capital city, Amarne.”

“But when you’re king? You’ll live in the palace then, right?”

He shrugged. “My mother spends most of her time in our mountain home, but she does reside in the palace when she has to come to Amarne for state functions. So yes, I will live in the palace on occasion.”

“Are you looking forward to that?” Ella asked, and before he could censure himself, Philippe answered honestly.

“Not really.”

She cocked her head, her eyes dark with sympathy. “Why not?”

“Because I never wanted to be king. But I accept my duty.” He smiled, knowing he’d said too much and wanting to lighten the moment. “Have you seen enough? Because I’d like to treat you to lunch.”

“Um…sure,” she said, her voice a little breathless, and Philippe reached for her hand, threading her fingers through his. He felt a pull deep inside him at the slide of her soft skin against his, and he watched her pupils dilate. She was as attracted as he was. The question remained, however…would they do anything about it?

Philippe knew what he intended the answer to be.

Chapter Nine

She was enjoying herself too much, Ella knew. Letting down her guard, relaxing, laughing. After visiting the library, Philippe had taken her to an elegant and extremely exclusive restaurant—just a handful of tables and chairs off Madison Avenue.