I thought about what Pierre had said about Prince Elias and then about Prince Elias’s own words at the pub. He’d deduced me to a nobody without a second thought. I glanced at the party in the next villa and wondered if attending was a mistake. Surely, the people over there were all aristocrats of some sort. Despite my accomplishments, to them, I was just the lowly girl who took them alcohol and provided fresh towels. It didn’t matter that my father was powerful or that I had a degree from a prestigious university under my belt. It didn’t matter that I was living in London, or that I’d built a well-respected event-planning company. None of it mattered because ultimately, to Prince Elias, I would always be a peasant.
Chapter 8
I took my time undressing and re-dressing and then cursed all of it when I realized I needed help zipping up my dress. It would have been fine, had it not been for the fact that cellphone reception was nonexistent out here and I wouldn’t be able to get ahold of Pierre unless I walked over to the party. Overall, the dress looked good on me though. The fabric hugged my curves and the bust was cut low up top. Once it was zipped up, it would definitely give the illusion of my breasts being larger than they were. I still wasn’t sure if I was going to wear the wig or not. My natural dark brown hair was down to my waist and I wasn’t sure how I’d pile it all under a short bob wig.
The sound of the front door slamming made me jump in place. Since he didn’t arrive earlier, I figured Prince Elias had changed his mind and wouldn’t be coming. I looked at my exposed back again. Maybe one of the guards could help me with this. When I opened my door, I saw Prince Elias standing in the entrance, a garment bag hanging over his right arm as he looked at the photographs of my family on the wall. We hadn’t been here as a family in years, but the memories remained. I took a second to look at him as he admired the photographs. If I was being honest with myself, had it not been for the fact that he’d been a complete jerk to me, I would have probably been drooling over him the entire time. He was the kind of man that was exactly everyone’s type. Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair that he seemed to just let do its own thing, and its own thing was a perpetual state of sex hair. His lips were full, his teeth were blindingly white and straight, and his eyes were the darkest shade of green. His jaw was square and gave him an appearance of a man that was always serious. He was absolutely every bit of the prince I’d always dreamed would whisk me away.
Except, in reality, he was everything I’d always told myself I would never fall for, because in spite of all of his good looks, he was downright mean. And if there was one thing I didn’t like, it was mean people. I didn’t care that Pierre had a different experience with him. I didn’t care that the very first time I met him, he was completely dreamy and kind and treated me like I was special in his bed.
“Don’t you have a party to get to?” I asked and bit my bottom lip as he turned to face me, those dark eyes drinking me in slowly.
“It looks good on you.”
“Thanks.” It wasn’t like I’d been expecting him to give me a great compliment, but it looks good on you in that tone was the equivalent to you should change.
“It looks like you had a nice upbringing,” he said.
“I can’t complain.”
“Monsieur Bouchard’s daughter.” He said it casually, but I could tell he was ticked by it from the way his expression was set.
“That’s me.”
“You don’t sound as thrilled as I imagined someone in your position to be.”
“That’s funny coming from you.”
“What does that mean?” He tilted his face to study me.
“I thought endless jewels and the respect of everyone in most nations would mean you’d be happy.”
“I don’t have the respect of everyone in my nation, let alone others.” He shot me a pointed look.
“You’re mistaking my father’s beliefs for mine. Besides, I don’t think we should have this conversation.” I walked over to him. His eyes widened a fraction as I stood in front of him and turned, glancing up at him over my shoulder. “Can you zip me up?”
His eyes met mine and held as he tossed the garment bag onto the nearest couch and brought his hands to my lower back, where the zipper was. I wanted to turn away, especially when I felt his fingers on my back, but I couldn’t bring myself to break the spell he seemed to be casting. He tugged on the zipper and slowly brought it up. I gasped as he reached the top and ran a finger over my back, then held my breath as his expression darkened. He was finished zipping me, but hadn’t lowered his hands. There was a loud knock on the front door, followed by the door opening quickly. I stepped away, forcing Prince Elias’s hands to drop between us; his gaze was still sharp on mine.