Seduced by the Spare Heir

Serafia sighed and returned the suit to the armoire. When she shut the door, she slumped against it in a posture of defeat. Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “We leave for Alma in two days and we have so much to cover. At this rate, we’re never going to get it all done. You hired me, Gabriel. Why are you fighting me on every little thing?”

He didn’t think he was fighting her on everything. The watch issue was nonnegotiable, but they’d gotten that unpleasantness out of the way. The clothing was just a hard pill for him to swallow. “I’m not intentionally trying to make your job more difficult. It just seems to be a gift I have.”

Serafia rolled her eyes. “So it seems. Admittedly, you appear to enjoy getting me all spun up. I’ve seen you smile through my irritation.”

Gabriel had to admit that was true. There was something about the flush of irritation that made Serafia even that much more beautiful, if it was possible. In his mind, he imagined the same would hold true when she was screaming out in passion, clawing at the sheets. The woman who had sashayed down the runway all those years ago had nothing on the vision in his mind as he thought of her at night.

And he had. Since the night on the patio, he’d lain alone in bed every night thinking about her. He hadn’t intended to. Serafia was a fantasy from his younger years; the image of her in a bikini was the background of his first computer. It had been a long time since he’d had a crush on Serafia, and yet those desires had rushed back at the first sight of her.

It was probably his family-imposed curfew. The day his brother abdicated, he was practically dragged from his penthouse to the family compound. He’d gone weeks with no clubs, no bars, no socializing with friends at parties. His every move was watched and that meant he was on the verge of his longest dry spell since he broke the seal on his manhood.

It didn’t really matter, though, at least where Serafia was concerned. He could’ve bedded a woman this morning and he would still want her the way he always had wanted her.

“Yes,” he admitted at last. “I get pleasure from watching you spin.”

“Why? Are you a sadist?”

Gabriel smiled wide and took a few steps closer to her. “Not at all. It might be cliché to say it, but, Serafia, you are even more beautiful when you’re angry.”

* * *

Serafia rejected the flicker of disbelief in the back of her mind and silenced the denial on her lips. As her therapist had trained her, she identified the negative thoughts and reframed them. She was a healthy, attractive woman. Gabriel found her eye-catching and it wasn’t her place to question his opinion of her. “Thank you,” she said. “But please don’t spend the rest of our time together trying to annoy me. You might find I’m more attractive, but it’s emotionally exhausting.”

Gabriel took another step toward her, closing in on her personal space. With her back pressed against the oak armoire, she had no place to go or escape. A part of her didn’t really want to escape, anyway. Not when he looked at her like that.

His dark green eyes pinned her in place, and her breath froze in her lungs. He wasn’t just trying to flatter her with his words. He did want her. It was very obvious. But it wasn’t going to happen for an abundance of reasons that started with his being the future king and ended with his being a notorious playboy. Even dismissing everything in between, it was a bad idea. Serafia had no interest in kings or playboys.

“Well, I’ll do my best, but I do so enjoy the flush of rose across your cheeks and the sparkle of emotion in your dark eyes. My gaze is drawn to the tension along the line of your graceful neck and the rise and fall of your breasts as you breathe harder.” He took another step closer. Now he could touch her if he chose. “If you don’t want me to make you angry anymore, I could think of another way to get the same reaction that would be more...pleasurable for us both.”

Serafia couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped her lips at his bold words. For a moment, she wanted to reach out for him and pull him hard against her. Every nerve in her body was buzzing from his closeness to her. She could feel the heat of his body radiating through the thin silk of her blouse. Her skin flushed and tightened in response.

One palm reached out and made contact with the polished oak at her back. He leaned in and his cologne—one of the few things she hadn’t changed—teased at her nose with sandalwood and leather. The combination was intoxicating and dangerous. She could feel herself slipping into an abyss she had no business in. She needed to stop this before it went too far. Serafia was first and foremost a professional.