‘YOU WERE RIGHT to end your engagement,’ Nathaniel Giroud murmured, nodding lazily at the dance floor where Prince Helios and his bride were dancing together, clearly enjoying themselves. ‘Helios would have made you unhappy.’
Princess Catalina Fernandez took a long drink of her champagne. There was the faintest tremor in her hand. ‘How can you be so sure?’
‘No chemistry.’ He paused before adding, ‘Not like the chemistry between you and I.’
Her heart-shaped chin pointed forward and she pushed her chair back from the table they were sitting alone at, the motion sending a small waft of her sultry scent into his path.
He longed to smell every part of her.
‘We cannot have this conversation,’ she said quietly. ‘What you are implying is impossible.’
He rested a hand on hers before she could get to her feet. ‘Why is it impossible?’
‘You know why.’ She slid her hand away and met his gaze. ‘I must save myself for my husband. My purity is my gift for him.’
‘A gift?’ The concept was so ludicrous he almost laughed but this was no laughing matter. He thought of Catalina’s brother, heir to the throne of Monte Cleure, sleeping his way around Europe without an ounce of penitence, allowing himself—and being allowed by their father—all the hedonistic delights he would deny his own sister on account of nothing more than the fact she had been born a woman.
Now she’d been dumped by Helios, whatever the sanitised whitewash of the official press release might have said, the rumours suggested she was promised to an aging Swedish duke. Nathaniel had no qualms about seducing her. Catalina wanted him. He knew it. And she knew it too.
‘So you are nothing but a possession?’
Confusion flittered in her dark eyes.
‘Is that what you’re saying?’ he pressed. ‘That you don’t have autonomy over your own body? Are you nothing but a vessel for the next generation?’
‘It isn’t like that. I am a princess. This is my life. It’s what I was born to be.’
‘You are also a woman.’
Her delicate throat moved.
He leaned a little closer, brushing his arm against hers, moving in for the kill.
Princess Catalina was a breed apart from all women. That she had class and poise went without saying but she was also incredibly beautiful too. And she carried herself with such stillness. Looking at her was like gazing at a portrait come to life. Tall and raven-haired with sultry eyes like melted chocolate, she had skin that seemed never to have sat in the sun, like clear, flawless alabaster. Today she was dressed beautifully in a knee-length peach dress that emphasised her full breasts and tiny waist without showing an inch of unnecessary flesh. Her hair had been piled into a wide, round bun on the top of her head, the effect of it all bringing to mind sixties glamour. It was a look only she could pull off.
She was a woman without flaws.
But, of course, every person in the world had flaws, and he itched to discover what hers could be.
The rumours that her father, the King of Monte Cleure, was planning to snub Helios’s wedding had proven true. With Catalina’s brother now having disappeared with his latest pneumatically enhanced girlfriend, Nathaniel knew this would be his one and only shot with her.
‘Your first time should be special. It should be with a man who will worship you and take care of you, not some cold-blooded aristocrat doing his duty.’
‘I’m an aristocrat,’ she said, the same quiver he could feel in her delectable body so close to his own echoing in her voice.
‘Ah, but you’re different—beneath your icy exterior runs blood of lava.’
Spotting the Swedish duke making his way to their table, Nathaniel stood up.
Catalina stared at him, obviously confused by his abruptness.
‘Your rumoured fiancé is heading our way. I suspect he’s going to ask you to dance.’
Her gaze flitted to the aging duke.
‘He’s not my fiancé.’ She gave a long exhale. ‘Not yet.’
‘Then there is nothing to stop you dancing with me.’ He extended his hand to her, palm up.
Now her throat moved in an obvious swallow. ‘My brother told me to stay away from you.’
He’d just bet he had. ‘Do you always do what your brother tells you?’
‘Yes.’
He raised a brow and murmured, ‘And do you always want to do as you’re told?’
There was the slightest shake of her head.
The duke was only paces away from their table.
Suddenly, her hand shot out to take Nathaniel’s and in one graceful movement, she rose to her feet.
Her eyes darted to the dance floor as if she were searching for someone, before she looked at him and said, ‘One dance.’
He bowed his head. ‘If you insist.’
Her lips twitched. ‘It has to be just one dance. I have to think of my reputation. There are spies everywhere.’
One dance was good enough for him. Not giving her time to change her mind, Nathaniel led her to the dance floor, leaving the duke staring at their retreating backs with a scratch of his balding head.
When he found a spot for them, he kept her hand entwined in his, pulled her close and snaked his free arm around her waist, resting his hand above the lining of her dress so it lay against her bare back. Her skin had the texture of creamy silk.
She fitted into his arms perfectly.
The added height from her heels meant her head rested perfectly in the crook of his neck. He could smell the expensive scent of her shampoo, mingling so deliciously with the sultry perfume that drove his senses wild.
He pressed himself a little closer, close enough that she would be able to feel his racing heart.
‘Relax,’ he murmured, stroking her rigid back. ‘I don’t bite.’
But I think I want you to...
During Catalina’s short courtship to Helios and their even shorter engagement, they had danced together many times. She had never felt anything like this. Her heart had never beaten so fast that she could feel it clamouring against her ribs.
The heat that had steadily built in her most intimate area that day under Nathaniel’s relentless attention spread through her pores, a tingling desire that thrilled and terrified her in equal measure.
She’d seen desire for herself when she’d been an impressionable fifteen-year-old. The beauty of the moment had eventually counteracted the horror of who she had found in desire’s throes, awakening something inside her; a yearning...a wish...
Oh, how she had hoped she would feel it with Helios but the chemistry between them had been non-existent. The chemistry between herself and the duke was even less.
The skin on her back whirred under Nathaniel’s touch. She could feel every bump of his hand, the pads of his fingers. That yearning...that wish...heavens, she was feeling it.
But all too soon their one dance was over.
Catalina took a deep breath and made to step away but his hold tightened.
‘I am staying in the palace tonight in the same wing as you,’ he said quietly, the words whispering against the sensitive lobe of her ear.
‘How...?’ It was a fight to breathe, let alone talk. ‘How do you know which wing I’m in?’
‘Because I made it my business to know.’ He inhaled deeply and she knew it was her scent he breathed in so greedily.
He kept his hold on her hand as he stepped back and gazed down at her.
At thirty-five Nathaniel’s face was a craggy cast of crinkles and lines, his impossibly tall body hard and rangy, testament to a man who enjoyed a varied outdoor life. His nose was strong and bumpy, his eyes that always seemed to spark with amusement were a pale green and he had a generous mouth that smiled often to create a dimple in his left cheek. Topping it all off was short brown hair that seemed to fight any attempt to be neat.
He had a magnetism which she had felt from their first introduction all those years ago.
He was the only man she had ever wondered about...
‘At one o’clock I will come to your door.’ He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. ‘I know your companion has the adjoining room so I will not knock. I will be there but I will leave our fate in your hands. If you don’t open the door I will go back to my room and you can pretend I was never there. But before you make the decision of whether or not to open it, ask yourself this—when was the last time you did something solely for yourself that wasn’t bound up in duty? You’re a princess, Catalina, but tonight I can teach you how to be a woman too.’
And with those words, he let go of her hand, bowed, and left the dance floor.
Three weeks later.
The stick with the pink line stared at Princess Catalina Fernandez mockingly.
Merry Christmas, Catalina. Here’s your surprise present.
All the poise she had spent twenty-five years perfecting had gone. All she felt now was a rabid terror eating her from the inside out.
Two blissful minutes when Nathaniel had entered her for the first time without protection before he’d withdrawn and sheathed himself. Two minutes of madness.
What was she going to do?
The nausea swelled up again and she retched, but her stomach was now so empty all that came out was bile. She didn’t know if it was the terror causing it or the new hormones taking over her body.
She brushed her teeth for the third time that morning but could still taste the acid on her tongue. She patted her face dry and stared at her reflection, trying desperately to force a smile to her pale face. In six hours she would sit down with her family for their Christmas feast. Aunts, uncles, cousins; those who worked at the palace and those that didn’t. They would all be there.
She breathed deeply, the exhalation coming out in ragged movements from lungs that seemed to have closed in shock.
A knock on her bedroom door brought her to her senses.
That would be Marion, her cousin and chief companion. Marion had brought Catalina’s breakfast to her earlier—the tray still remained untouched—and now would be ready to draw her bath.
She couldn’t confide in her. Marion had a sly side that Catalina had never warmed to. When she’d come of age and had been permitted to appoint her own ‘companions’, a House of Fernandez euphemism for personal staff, she’d been obligated to take Marion on. In a palace full of servants, personal staff always came from family, and Marion’s mother was sister to Catalina’s father.
She counted to five in her head and composed herself. Not with a single whisper of body language would she show that anything was amiss.
Stepping back into her room, she called out ‘Come in,’ and sat down at her dresser.
Except it wasn’t Marion who opened the door. It was her brother, Dominic.
There was nothing festive about the look on his face.
‘So...’ he said silkily, closing the door behind him. ‘It’s true. You’re pregnant.’
Thank goodness she was already seated or her shaky legs would have given way.
When the test had shown itself positive only half an hour ago she had known she wouldn’t be able to keep this a secret for long but she’d hoped for a few days’ grace.
She clamped her lips together and nodded. There was no point in lying. And little point in wondering how he knew. Privacy was an alien concept when it came to the female members of the House of Fernandez. Not trusting Marion, Catalina had been forced to take Aliana, a second cousin and one of her newer companions, into her confidence and had sent her out to get a pregnancy test. Aliana, barely eighteen, had left the palace on the pretext of some last minute Christmas shopping, promising to keep it a secret.
But nothing in the palace remained a secret for long. To keep one required a mental strength most people didn’t have, not when the King and his heir had a palace full of spies and the power to use the knowledge they gained to their advantage.
Catalina had kept her one true and most precious secret by never telling a soul.
Dominic took in her appearance with a critical sneer, then, without any warning, whipped his hand through the air and slapped her cheek. Hard. ‘Merry Christmas.’
Catalina didn’t allow herself to react, nor did she place a hand to her stinging flesh. Any response would give him what he wanted.
He loved nothing more than making her cry. He fed off it.
She hadn’t cried in front of him since their mother’s funeral seven years ago.
Suddenly she wished, with a desperation she hadn’t felt since the funeral that her mother were there. Just so she would be able to hold her and receive her words of comfort. How she missed her soft voice and gentle smile.
She even wished Isabella were there but her younger sister had escaped the House of Fernandez’s Christmas festivities to spend the period with her husband’s family.
‘Who’s the father?’
She pressed her lips together.
‘A virgin conception? How fitting.’ His mouth curved into another hateful sneer. ‘Nathaniel Giroud?’
Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop the little tremor that raced through her at the mention of Nathaniel’s name.
‘It is him.’
Such was the fury that spread across her brother’s face Catalina braced herself for another strike.
Instead, Dominic stooped down, close enough for her to smell his rancid breath. ‘You disgusting slut.’
She didn’t react. She wouldn’t react. It would only make matters worse. She didn’t even flinch when his spittle flew into her face.
‘Bad enough Helios dumped you, a pure-blood royal princess, for a commoner and that the whole world knows it, whatever the press release we issued might have said, but for you to then open your legs for that piece of scum...?’ Malice shone on his face. ‘You realise Johann was preparing to ask Father for your hand in marriage? That’s another prospect ruined.’
Bile crept up her throat, threatening to choke her.
‘You’re ruined; you know that? Johann won’t want you now you’re second-hand goods.’
She couldn’t breathe.
‘Giroud won’t want you either,’ Dominic jeered. ‘He screwed you to get one up on me. You were nothing but a game to him and an easy lay. I told you to stay away from him and now you must pay the price.’
He stared down at her, his face twisted in an ugly contortion. ‘Father will wish to speak to you. He will decide what needs to be done and what the consequences are to be.’
He made to leave then paused, turning back around to slap her other cheek. ‘That’s for disobeying me when I told you to stay away from Nathaniel Giroud.’
Straightening his tie, he left the room.
Alone, Catalina closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath.
The screams in her head rang out.
Placing a protective hand to her stomach, she forced herself to look in her dressing-table mirror. Bright red finger marks marred both her cheeks.
There was no way to fix the damage before Marion came to her rooms. All the same, she applied foundation with shaking hands, hoping to tone down the worst of it.
Breathe, Catalina, breathe.
When Nathaniel had left her room that morning three weeks ago, she had felt an inexplicable wrench to see the door close behind him.
She hadn’t heard from him since and she hadn’t expected to. They had both known it could only ever be for one night.
But she’d been aware of him for years.
Friends with the Kalliakis Princes, if not Catalina’s own brother, Nathaniel had often attended the same functions she’d been at; a tall magnetic figure her eyes had always been drawn to. She’d experienced a little pull in the pit of her stomach whenever she’d met his eye and experienced an even greater tug whenever they’d greeted each other with the kiss on both cheeks that everyone used. But she had never allowed herself to think anything about it. They were part of the same social network but they were not friends. Male friends were not permitted for a princess from the House of Fernandez.
Until Helios’s wedding, when Nathaniel had taken it upon himself to act as her guardian angel on the day that should have been her wedding, she had never exchanged more than pleasantries with him.
He was intensely private, so she knew little about him other than that his parents had died in an accident when he was very young—she didn’t know the details—and that he’d been raised by an uncle and had attended the same boarding school as Dominic and the Kalliakis Princes. He owned a string of hotels and business developments, along with the Club Giroud, a private members club for the most affluent, which had made him one of France’s richest men and a self-made billionaire before he’d turned thirty. Gregarious and charming, he was a notorious womaniser and hell-raiser, someone who enjoyed the lifestyle his wealth brought to its fullest extent.
But he’d shown a different side to her that day. He’d seen that she was vulnerable and had made it his mission to get her through the wedding with a smile on her face. Whether his motive from the outset had been to bed her, she didn’t care. She’d wanted him too. For the one and only time in her life she’d thrown caution to the wind and embraced a side she’d spent a lifetime suppressing.
Even if she hadn’t been a princess and he a commoner whom her brother detested, she would never have expected more than one night. Commitment was an alien concept to him.
But she hadn’t been able to get him from her mind. Every time she closed her eyes she could see him. She could taste him. She could feel his skin under her fingers. In the privacy of her bed she would relive their night together, playing it over like a movie in her head. Every touch. Every caress.
She had assumed the next time she would see him would be at some function or other. She had assumed he would greet her with the usual kiss and that maybe his hand would press into her side a little longer than normal, a subtle acknowledgement of their time together. She had assumed she would hug their secret to herself for the rest of her life.
Since she could remember, it had been made plain her virginity was sacred, something to be saved for her wedding day. For twenty-five years she had accepted this.
She was a princess. She had a life of wealth and privilege. She was a representative of the House of Fernandez, expected to marry into a family that would strengthen her own family’s cultural links and power. She was expected to behave with decorum and propriety at all times and not once had she failed in this. She had never whispered a word of complaint that her brother was allowed to do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted and neither had she complained that free spirit Isabella’s bratty behaviour was indulged by their brother and father alike.
Dominic had never raised a finger to Isabella.
Not once in her life had Catalina ever done anything that wasn’t for the good of the House of Fernandez. Not once.
And then she had.
She had cast aside duty for one forbidden night.
And now she would be punished for that moment of blissful madness for the rest of her life.
What she didn’t know and couldn’t begin to predict was what that punishment would entail.
* * *
Christmas was the one time of year Nathaniel detested. All that fake bonhomie, the commercialisation, the forced proximity with so-called loved ones. All of it.
It brought home as nothing else did that the three people Nathaniel had loved with all his heart were gone, had been dead now for twenty-eight years. On Christmas morning, the time traditionally spent opening presents and leaving a trail of discarded wrapping paper everywhere, the loss felt as fresh as it had the first morning he’d woken without them.
This year he’d made the decision to spend the period in Monte Cleure rather than in any of his other homes. Other than the fact it was the site of his most current development, Monte Cleure had a relatively temperate winter climate, situated as it was on France’s southern border with Spain, meaning there was little to no chance of snow.
He’d avoided snow for twenty-eight years.
The only sign of festivity in his apartment was the empty bottle of Scotch on the floor by the sofa, which was where he found himself when he was rudely awakened early on Boxing Day morning by the shrill tone of the intercom.
He sat bolt upright, clutching his pounding head and cursing himself for not making it to his bed. If he hadn’t given his household staff four days off each to spend the holidays with their families, he would let one of them deal with the caller.
Stumbling to his feet, he punched the intercom.
‘Yes?’ he growled. He’d left instructions with the concierge that he was not to be disturbed until tomorrow when the madness of Christmas was over.
‘Monsieur Giroud, His Highness Prince Dominic from the House of Fernandez is here to see you.’
‘What does he want?’
The concierge’s voice dropped to a scared murmur. ‘It is not my place to ask.’ Nathaniel might be the boss and owner of the entire building, but Dominic was heir to the throne of the entire country.
Nathaniel left unsaid his thought that the Prince might not be such a self-satisfied moron if people asked questions of him.
‘Send him up.’
While he waited for the elevator to bring Dominic to him, he staggered to the kitchen and downed a pint of water.
Whatever the Prince wanted could not be good.
A loud rap on the door announced his arrival.
Nathaniel pulled the door open. The burly figure of the heir to the Monte Cleure throne strode in, followed closely by a bodyguard.
‘What can I do for you, Dominic?’ he asked, deliberately not using his title. Then, also deliberately, he turned his back and walked through to the living area. ‘Here to celebrate some festive cheer with me?’
When there was no answer, he said, ‘Can I offer you a drink?’
‘From the look and smell of you, you’ve already had enough to drink,’ Dominic sneered. He had the air of a junior silverback making a show of asserting its dominance. If his head didn’t hurt so much, Nathaniel would find it amusing.
‘If I’d known you were coming I would have showered. So, drink?’
‘I’m not here for a social visit.’
‘I didn’t imagine you were. However, I am of the opinion that even the most boring business conversation can be sweetened with a pot of fresh Columbian coffee.’ It could only help his pounding head.
‘I’m not here for a business meeting either.’
‘Then why don’t you tell me what’s so urgent you turn up unannounced at my home demanding an audience.’
‘Your home?’
‘Bought and paid for. The title deeds to the Ravensberg building are held with my lawyer if you wish to see them?’ Nathaniel hadn’t rented since the first apartment he’d had when he’d been seventeen and his landlord had dragged his heels over fixing the broken heating system during a particularly cold spell.
He liked to be master of his own destiny, reliant only on himself. All his properties, business and personal alike—and he had so many he’d lost count—were solely his. He didn’t owe a cent to any person, bank or organisation. His business was his and his alone. No one could take it away from him. Bricks and mortar he could count on; permanent fixtures in a fragile world full of horrors.
‘Title deeds are only worth something if you own the land the property is built upon. Take your development here in my country for example.’
‘For sure,’ he agreed amiably. He knew it infuriated Dominic that his father had overridden his objections and granted Nathaniel all the necessary permissions. ‘But I think you will need to use a different example with which to make your point. I always purchase the land itself for any development I undertake.’
Nathaniel was over halfway through the construction of a hotel and business complex that would be Monte Cleure’s highest landmark. It was his most ambitious project to date, a skyscraper of magnificence and beauty. Architect Monthly magazine had declared it a potential contender for Building of the Decade.
So far he had invested one hundred million euros in the development and fully expected to spend the same amount again by the time the project was complete.
‘Now why don’t we stop all this pussy-footing around and you tell me why you’re here, and then I can go back to bed?’
‘My sister.’
‘Which one?’ he asked with a nonchalant shrug, although his head immediately began to whirl.
Dominic swelled up like an overinflated balloon, and his eyes grew cruel and dark. ‘Catalina.’
Nathaniel made sure to keep his features neutral.
He hadn’t breathed a word about his night with the Princess. Not to anyone. He didn’t for a moment think Catalina would have spoken of it either, not when she had her virginal reputation to protect. From the moment she’d admitted him into her room she’d made it clear it was something that could never be spoken of or alluded to.
It had been the perfect one-night stand, one in which there would never be any danger of the woman waking in the morning and dropping casual hints about getting together another time.
He’d left Catalina’s room as the sun had risen, both of them knowing their goodbye kiss would be their last.
What they’d shared had been one incredible night that could never be repeated.
Dominic had to be here on a fishing expedition. His spies had probably reported that Nathaniel and Catalina had danced together at Helios’s wedding.
He hadn’t seen her since. She hadn’t attended Helios and Amy’s Coronation last week. A few discreet enquires had determined that she’d had a stomach bug...
Something cold snaked up his spine.
He leaned back in his chair and inhaled. ‘What about her?’
Dominic’s eyes glittered with malice. ‘She’s pregnant.’