Tempting the Crown (The Crown 1)

My thoughts were interrupted when a green light flashed on the wall. Did that mean I was supposed to go through the door? I waited until finally it seemed ludicrous to stand in the hall any longer.

I took one last deep breath and twisted the knob in my palm. With a gentle push, the door swung open.

I expected a room. Maybe something with red velvety drapes and blue elephant paintings like in the Moulin Rouge. But there was nothing exotic or seductive about what was on the other side. The door was an exit to the back of the parking lot. I was met with dim street lights.

A long black car was parked a few feet in front of me. A driver stood, holding the rear door.

“Mademoiselle,” he greeted me quietly.

I stepped forward.

“This way.”

I eyed him. There was nothing distinguishable about his face. Brown hair. Brown eyes. A round chin. He wore a cap. Was I doing this? Getting into a car behind The Titan?

“His Majesty waits,” he urged me.

“Yes, I know.” I stopped just shy of the door and glanced inside.

From where I stood I could see his arm. I followed the lines of a crisp white shirt to the cuff at his wrist. I couldn’t make out the letters monogrammed on his cufflinks. His watch caught the small bit of light coming off the building. He had large hands. I also noticed his legs were long and muscular in a pair of fitted dark pants.

He strummed his fingers. He was waiting.

“Mademoiselle,” the driver urged.

“Right. Yes.”

I ducked, climbing into the backseat. The door closed behind me. And I came face to face with His Royal Highness.

5

Damon

I had waited longer than I should have. I checked my watch again. I had paid out the highest tender of my life. I wasn’t leaving here without her. I reminded myself she wasn’t a regular tally. There had never been another woman like her at The Titan before. I wouldn’t have paid half a million otherwise.

Georgan closed the car door as she slid into the leather seat next to me. Finally.

“Good evening.”

“Hi.” Her voice was soft, filling the silent recesses of the backseat.

Fuck. Her lips were even more edible up close. Her cheeks were bright. I knew she wasn’t drunk. It was against the rules. She was either nervous or excited. I considered there was nothing wrong with a combination.

The car lurched forward.

“Where are we going?” she eked. She watched the club fade out of view as Georgan drove toward the coastal highway.

“Does our night extend by the minutes you kept me waiting?”

“Excuse me?” I watched the curve of her neck as she swallowed.

“You’re American?” I questioned. Most of them were. They kept the pipeline running.

“Is that a problem?”

The car careened as we exited, tipping her off balance. She leaned into me, her hair brushing against my shoulder as she pushed away to right her body.

“A defensive American.” I rubbed my chin with my thumb. “Tell me your name.”