Ruthless Boss, Royal Mistress

And he’d ruined it—for her and for him. He knew she was hiding her hurt. With one moment of absolute rabid-dog madness he’d severed their connection. Jealousy, he reflected, was an insidious, hideous thing and insecurity utterly destructive.

He hadn’t been fair. He, who prided himself on being just that, on giving people the chance to prove their worth, hadn’t been fair to her at all. Sure, he’d given her chance after chance professionally. But personally? Not one. Just as she’d said.

He’d only been willing to believe the worst— wanting to believe the worst. She’d been right about that too —it was what he’d wanted to see. And why? Because it was a convenient out. He’d allowed the past to blind him. Because he’d felt scared. It had been the most cowardly moment of his life.

Fact was, Princess Elissa Karedes scared him to death. Or, rather, the feelings he had for her did. For those mad moments he’d wanted to believe the worst of her because he didn’t want to let himself be in love with her.

He didn’t want to be hurt.

It was too late—for either of those things.

The hours dragged. He hadn’t gone near her all evening because when he did he didn’t want anyone else around. What was going to happen between them was utterly private. This was her moment in the sun. The party had been such a success and he knew the media coverage would be good—he wasn’t about to blow all her hard work on creating a bigger ripple than the king and the palace maid rumour. And if he got closer than five feet to her right now, there’d be one hell of a scandal.

Seeing her across the room, he knew the effort she’d put in—her integrity was obvious. She glowed with the self-belief, the pride, the dignity in a job well done.

The self-hatred, the humiliation and the hurt in having screwed up something far more important ate into him.

Damn the press. He had to move, had to fight—he knew now it was his life on the line.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LISS worked the party and smiled more than she’d ever smiled in her life. Worked hard to appear happy on the outside when on the inside she was totally torn apart. James had hardly said a word to her all evening.

She’d turned away from him right at the start and he hadn’t been near since.

And she was tired. She didn’t want to see the party through to its final moment—even though she knew it was a success. While one part of her could almost celebrate, the rest of her just wanted to run away and let her broken heart bleed openly. She faced the fact it was going to be at least another couple of hours before that could happen and mentally squared her shoulders. She’d discovered the depth of her own strength this last week. She just hoped she’d never have to use it again. Right now she’d go once more into the social round.

He caught her just as she was about to join another group. Took her elbow and turned her away from the others. Her whole arm sizzled and at his fierce expression her heart broke all over again.

‘I was going to wait until the end of the evening to talk to you.’ He spoke low in her ear. ‘But I find I can’t.

Can we have a quick meeting now?’

She nodded, not wanting to, but not wanting a public scene. She walked with him, down the corridor back to the suite of meeting rooms. He ushered her into one and locked the door behind them. The same damn room as last week. She moved into the middle of it; he followed. She wouldn’t look up at him, not wanting to see the cold condemnation she was sure would be there. What had she done wrong this time?

‘The guy coming out of your room was the dress designer, wasn’t he?’

Her vision splintered. She didn’t want to go over this. Didn’t want him to drag her through the barbs once more. But she nodded, couldn’t trust her voice not to break.

‘I saw him at the photo shoot you had. I figure he’s probably gay.’

‘He’s not gay.’ It was a whisper. She wished she could get some kind of perverse pleasure from telling him that, but all she felt was hurt.

‘No? But he’s not your type anyway, is he?’

She shook her head. He should know that.

‘Am I your type, Liss?’

She froze, knotted her hands together as her skin ran both hot and cold. ‘I don’t want to talk about that…’

The words rushed out, and then she rushed too, pushing past him, wanting to get away.

He grabbed her mid-flight, his fingers clenching on her upper arms as he pulled her towards him. ‘I’m sorry.’ The words flew rough and hard. His hands gripped harder. ‘I’m sorry.’

She stopped, kept her head low. All she could see was the white of his shirt jerking across his chest. His fingers loosened just a little.