CASSIE WAS HUNCHED over the coffee table in Louis’s living room, a frenetic energy flowing through her fingers and onto the page. The scratch of pencil on paper as soothing as the classical tune she had playing in the background. The tune similar to what had been playing at the Louvre the first time they’d dined together. When he’d had those cute fashion plates brought in for her eyes only.
Had that really only been five weeks ago?
She felt like so much had changed since then. She had changed. Life had changed.
It was half two in the morning. Her witching hour. A time she hadn’t needed. Not since Hugo. But in the past week, she’d found herself getting up again...
He’d said he’d be away for a few days, but it had been almost two weeks since she’d seen him. They’d exchanged messages. Mainly him making sure she was okay and that his team were looking after her. Safe topics.
And what exactly is safe supposed to mean?
She nipped her lip and went back to her drawing. More focused. More frenzied. Even though her hand and back protested. She lost herself in the beauty of what she could create and control. And her creativity was soaring, her designs were taking shape. She was almost ready to share them with Louis, who’d been messaging daily for an update. Which made her think of Hugo again and his parting words, to think about going it alone. That Louis’s eagerness meant the world would be eager too.
But it was still early days. Even with the great strides she’d made to stand apart from her royal identity, standing beside another man was hardly standing alone...but the idea of standing up there without Hugo?
The pencil fell from her grasp and she shivered as she pulled the sleeves of her robe into her hands and curled back into the sofa. She wasn’t cold because she feared going it alone.
She was cold because she didn’t want to think of life without Hugo in it.
And that scared her.
The problem was, she knew it was an act for him. The fake dating, the playing up to the camera. She knew he cared for her as a friend, but the rest—the loving touches, caresses, gestures—they were all part of the act. Though that kiss... Her fingers fluttered to her mouth that burned with the memory of it...her heart fluttering too.
Because her heart had been fooled.
And her heart wanted to carry on being fooled because it had fallen for the man who had cared enough to coax her out. Who had cared enough to save her from herself.
And when he touched her, when he looked at her, when he made her smile and laugh and feel special in all the ways he did, planning days out that meant so much to her...activities that not even her husband or her parents would have thought to do, would have understood her well enough to do...it felt like more. She felt so much more.
And she missed him. God. She missed him.
Waking up each morning knowing he was so far away, that he wouldn’t be calling by that day, or the next... She blew out a breath and stood. Walked to the window and gazed out over the darkened city.
How different it now felt having walked it many times with Hugo. Hugo and his team. But that couldn’t be her life forever. At some point she was going to have to move out, take her own path on her own two feet.
That was the deal. That was what she’d wanted more than anything when she’d first fled the palace. Louis had come to her aid with the apartment, and then Hugo had come to her aid in ways she’d never have had the means or the gumption to pursue. Not in the short term when everything had been so fresh and raw.
She had so much to be grateful for, so why did it feel like something was now missing in her goal for the future?
A gentle knock—knuckles against wood—made her jump. She turned from the glass to squint down the darkened hallway. It came again, slightly louder, but very definite. Someone was at her door. At this time of night?
But who would call now unless it was an emergency, and even then, they’d use the bell or pound a lot harder...? She padded towards it, tightening her robe.
A loud whisper came next. ‘Cassie?’
Hugo!
She raced the final few steps, unbolted the door, and threw it open. Would have thrown herself into his arms too if she hadn’t had the last-minute foresight to realise that would be unwise. Unless she wanted him to know exactly how she felt about him.
‘What are you doing here? I thought you were still in New York.’
‘I was. I just got back.’
‘Like—’ she waved a loose finger and swore her heart was about to soar right up out of her chest ‘—just this minute got back.’
‘Oui.’
‘And you’re knocking on my door because...?’
He raised his arms out like it was obvious and she eyed him up and down. He was a sight for sore eyes. Even in joggers and a training top.
‘Because in the last month we have done many things, apart from the one thing I told you I would do that first morning we had coffee.’
She frowned. ‘Remind me...’
Maybe she was losing her mind. Maybe she’d fallen asleep sketching, and this was some weird, Hugo-starved dream.
‘A run! It’s your witching hour. And I could hear you moving about in there, so I figured, why not?’
Her face broke into a grin. ‘You’re serious?’
‘I’ve dressed for the occasion, haven’t I? You, however...’ His eyes dipped, dipped and heated, and heaven help her, she felt the flush creeping up her chest as he cleared his throat and clapped his hands together. ‘Right! I’ll give you five minutes to get changed because that gown isn’t conducive to any form of exercise.’
‘Are you—’
‘Shoo-shoo!’ He took her by the shoulders and turned her around. ‘I’ll be right here when you’re ready.’
And then he closed the door on her, and she was alone once more. Only this time he was on the other side of it, and she was laughing and shaking and completely abuzz with him.
Hugo was here and he was taking her running.
At two-thirty in the morning!
Was there anything this man wouldn’t do for her?
He won’t love you, so don’t be getting any funny ideas!
She dismissed the sarcastic retort—hell, what did she care? Her parents hadn’t loved her. Georges certainly hadn’t loved her. What was another man to add to the list?
But Hugo was different and therein lay the problem.
He was worth loving.
And, breathe.
Watching Cassie run was extraordinary.
Or was it the act of running with her that was extraordinary? Because Hugo didn’t feel tired. He felt fired up. Exhilarated.
He hadn’t slept since the previous night in New York and, granted, it was only nine in the evening stateside. She was the one who should be tired.
But then he’d barely slept the last two weeks away. His sleep was disturbed, and he’d found himself back on the sleepwalk train. Troubled by his own unease. The past and the present colliding. Worry over how he’d left things. Worry over the future. Over what he wanted. What he didn’t want. Worry that her ex would cross the line. That another hack of a journalist would. There was the slightest niggle that one would uncover his past too, and the idea that his tainted past could ruin her...he couldn’t bear that.
It didn’t matter that she’d shown how strong she was either, he’d still worried.
So, the second he’d heard her footfall on the other side of the wall, he’d been racking his brain for an excuse to see her. To see for himself that she was okay because the reports from his team simply wouldn’t do.
Running and her witching hour had been a spark of desperate inspiration.
But now they were out in the cool night air, he was loving every second.
All the more so, because she was.
Her entire body encased in black Lycra, she was a powerhouse. A petite, lithe powerhouse. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, her face half hidden by a cap, but her eyes shone out, glittering into the night as she turned to him and grinned.
‘This is immense!’
They were crossing the Pont Neuf, the Seine flowing black beneath them, the starry sky above, and if he had to choose a perfect moment in his life, he might have chosen this one. ‘I’m not going to lie. It is surprisingly awesome.’
She laughed. The sound giddy and light and nowhere near as breathless as it should be. ‘Epic!’
‘But you know we do need to turn back if you want to avoid the early-morning risers?’
‘I know.’ She gave him what could only be described as a cheeky look. ‘You want to race?’
‘Back to the hotel? It’s almost five kilometres!’
‘And?’ She broke stride to give him a light elbow. ‘You chicken?’
‘Am I chicken?’
She nodded, eyes goading him beneath the rim of her cap.
‘You’re on!’
And like that, they were off. Any thought of gifting her a head start forgotten as he realised this woman didn’t need it. What was she powered by? Moonlight? The reflective details on her kit taunting him further as they flashed him all the way.
By the time they reached their hotel, he swore he’d got a PB along with a rather unpleasant stitch. He cursed as he came to a halt in the outer courtyard, clutched his side as he struggled to suck in a breath. ‘You’re dangerous!’
‘You can’t come to an abrupt stop, it’s not good for your heart.’ She pulled on his arm, her eyes dazzling in the warm glow of the hotel’s lighting. ‘We’ll take the stairs up. You can jog it off.’
He stared up at her. ‘Jog it off?’
She nodded. ‘Yup.’
‘Did you just “yup” me?’
‘I guess I did.’
He shook his head, hands on knees. ‘Who are you and what have you done with my Cassie?’
‘I’ve got claws now, remember?’
She perfected her cat pose, claws and all, before spinning on her heel and jogging inside, ponytail swinging.
‘I’ve created a monster,’ he murmured, pushing up to standing with a laugh. ‘Never mind a cat.’
Not that he was complaining. Not in the slightest. He followed her on through to the lobby and to the stairwell. There was one thing to be said for jogging up the stairs behind her, he had the most amazing view of her in Lycra. And, Dieu, that did not help. Not one bit. It stopped him thinking about his stitch though.
Probably because his blood was rushing elsewhere.
Two weeks apart was supposed to have dulled this.
Made it go away.
Made it containable.
All it had done was made it explosive.
And if he didn’t get out of her orbit like now, he was going to do something profoundly stupid, the kind of stupid his father had cautioned him against, the kind of stupid that had made him run two weeks ago...
‘Drink?’
‘Huh?’
She had her hand on the door to Louis’s apartment. ‘I make a mean post-workout smoothie?’
The last thing you need is a smoothie...
Though he found himself saying, ‘Sure.’
He followed her in and she stripped off her jacket. Underneath she wore nothing but an exercise bra with her leggings. Gulp. She pulled her cap off and tossed it aside, her ponytail swinging free down her back as she set about mixing stuff together in a blender. ‘Water?’
‘Please.’
At least it was supposed to have been a please. Instead, it sounded like someone was strangling a cat and the look she sent him as she pulled open the fridge said she thought so too.
She tossed him a bottle, which by some miracle he managed to catch, and he twisted off the cap, took a long slug. Wiped his mouth. ‘Cheers.’
She set the blender going and the noise was about as loud as his pulse in his ears. She set two tumblers on the side with straws and drummed her nails while she waited for the blender to finish.
Was she as edgy as him? She wasn’t looking at him and the way those nails were working against Louis’s psychedelic marble, the way every exposed muscle of her torso looked clenched... Dieu, he wanted her.
Wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting anything in his life. More than he’d wanted the family firm in his twenties. More than he’d wanted to make his first million. More than he wanted to taste the ice cream on her lips a fortnight ago. And that kiss...
The blender finished its incessant thrum, and she let out a sudden breath, her head snapping up. She’d been lost in her thoughts, too. Had she gone to the same place? Unlikely, but the slash of heat still in her cheeks, across her collarbone...
She reached for the jug and poured the luminescent liquid into the awaiting glasses.
‘It tastes better than it looks, I promise.’
She stepped up to him, glasses in hand and as her eyes lifted to his, the world stilled.
Because he knew in that moment that nothing could taste better than her.
That he wanted to taste nothing but her.
And that he needed to get the hell away from her.
Now.
‘I’m sorry, Cassie, this was a bad idea.’
‘The drink?’
But he was already turning away and walking, and she was right on his tail. Drinks forgotten on the side as she grabbed his arm to pull him back. ‘Did I do something wrong?’
‘No, no, of course not. You could never do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I just...’ He turned to face her and she was so close, her body virtually pressed up against him, and they were so hot and sweaty from their run. Everything was in some heightened overdrive. Now wasn’t the time to make any crazy decisions or cross any rational lines when there was no press corps to excuse it.
‘Then what is it?’
She reached up. Her palm soft against his cheek. Her brow furrowed with concern. But there was something else in her green eyes. Something so akin to the fire in his gut, and hell, he wanted to act on it.
He cursed under his breath, and her luscious mouth quirked to one side. ‘You do have a filthy mouth at times, Hugo.’
‘If you could read my mind, you’d say I had a filthy one of those too.’
Her eyes flared, the fire he had glimpsed turning into a full-on blaze. ‘What are you saying?’
‘What do you think I’m saying?’
Her delicate throat bobbed, her eyes raking over his face as her fingers trembled against his cheek. ‘Don’t tease me.’
‘Me? Tease you? When you’re the one standing before me in nothing more than a bra and skintight pants?’ His voice was raw—raw with a need that had been building for weeks! And Dieu, he wasn’t a monk!
Two weeks without sight of her in the flesh! Oh, he’d seen plenty in the press. Plenty enough to tease him and drive him half mad. Plenty of dated coy shots with the Prince too. And he wasn’t a jealous man. He wasn’t.
‘Then why aren’t you kissing me?’
‘Because I don’t believe in taking what I want without express permission.’
‘I am granting you permission, Hugo. Right here...’ She pressed her body up against him, hooked her hands around his neck. ‘Right now.’
And then she kissed him, and this time, he quit thinking. He quit every sense that wasn’t all about her and took all that she was offering because consequences were tomorrow’s concern.
Or today’s, depending on how one looked at it.
Only he wasn’t looking, he was living in the moment and loving every second.
Cassie was no virgin.
The Prince may have gone elsewhere for fun but he’d done his ‘duty’ by her. And that was just it. He’d always made it feel like a duty. Like it was all about producing an heir and never about desire. Never about lust. Fire. This!
And Cassie was on fire. Her entire body combusting with an explosive passion that she couldn’t contain. She’d known her feelings for Hugo were growing out of her control but this...this raging heat in her bloodstream, this tension coiling through her body, this liquid heat pooling in her abdomen... She was kind of...scared.
‘Hugo,’ she panted, clawing at his chest through his T-shirt as she tore her mouth from his so that she could stare up at him, wide-eyed and dazed.
‘Yes?’
‘This is...’
‘Crazy. Insane. Ill-advised.’
She gave a choked laugh. ‘Yes!’
‘You want me to stop, because I will.’
‘No! Hell no.’
‘Dieu Merci!’
She tugged him back to her kiss, marvelling at the way their mouths fit so perfectly together. The way his tongue teased and tangled with her own. Georges had never kissed her like this. With such passion, such intensity. Like he wanted all of her and more.
He walked her back into some hard surface, and she felt it rock. Heard something fragile rattle and he flicked a hand out to catch whatever it was without breaking tempo or the exploration of his kiss.
‘Though we should take this to the bedroom before something hits the deck that shouldn’t...’
She nodded and twisted in his arms, leading him down the corridor and into her room without pausing to turn on the lights. She was in too much of a hurry. Too scared that to pause would snuff out whatever this was building between them because this was what she had read about in books.
This was what she had seen on the TV.
This was what she had started to think was the stuff of make-believe...but was it possible that it was real after all?
Real and she could have it. With Hugo.
He spun her into his arms and she tore his T-shirt over his head before his mouth claimed hers once more. To be able to touch the body she had seen that first night, the broad shoulders, the chiselled pecs, the hard ridge of every ab...
She sighed into his mouth and he nipped her lip. ‘Did you just sigh at me?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Sighing after sex is okay, but before?’
‘I’m sorry, but your body is wholly satisfying.’
‘I’ll show you satisfying.’
And with that, he threw her back on the bed and stalked towards her.
‘Wait!’ She thrust out a hand and he paused, his cocked brow just visible in the light being cast from the outer hall.
‘I’m all—’ she wriggled against the sheets ‘—sweaty.’
‘Believe me, you’re going to be more sweaty by the time I’m finished with you, mon petit chaton.’
She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to thank the heavens for bringing her this man, because Georges would never have stood for ‘sweaty her’. He’d have marched her to the shower, but Hugo, he was her real prince.
‘In that case...’ She relaxed, ran her teeth over her bottom lip as she thought of all that lay ahead. ‘Come get me.’
Come get me? Have you heard yourself? And what about after, when he has your heart too? Because there can be no coming back from this!
The bed shifted with Hugo’s weight and then he was beside her, his eyes level with hers, his hand in her hair and all her worries evaporated in the heat of his kiss.
Because everything felt right. So right and perfect.
Because Hugo made her feel just right and perfect just the way she was.