Prince of Midtown / Marriage, Manhattan Style. Jennifer Lewis
sitting in a jet right now, waiting to take off.”
She swatted his idea away with a movement of her graceful hands. “You know what I mean. This is part of my job.”
Sebastian slammed his glass down next to hers. “I don’t want to hear anything more about any job. You are vital to the economic growth of the nation of Caspia. You have a career with us.”
He’d make it a personal challenge to make sure she stayed. He did enjoy a challenge. The curse of a competitive nature.
“Buckle up.” Sven’s voice came over the radio. Sebastian watched as Tessa fastened her buckle over her slim hips. Her long fingers were magnificent. He could imagine them dancing over the strings of a Caspian harp.
Or over the muscles of his belly. And lower. Between his thighs…
He shifted in his seat. “Sven, let’s take the temperature down a couple of degrees.”
Tessa looked sideways at him. “Do we have to hold on to our glasses?”
“Can’t hurt.” Sebastian swept hers up and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed for an electric moment. He sipped the dry Blanc de Noirs, but the sparkle of the bubbles only increased an intriguing sense of anticipation that crackled through him.
Tessa peered out the window as the plane lifted over the ocean, her long neck craned forward. “Goodness, New York really is a bunch of islands, isn’t it? Wow, what a beach. The breakers look awesome from up here. And I can see a fishing boat! I never think of people fishing near the city. And look at all those swimming pools on Long Island. Don’t these people know there’s an ocean right there?”
Her eyes shone, dazzled with sights he’d long ceased to notice.
Sebastian laughed.
Caspia with Tessa was going to be fun.
Tessa couldn’t help feeling a little sad as their plane approached their final destination in the dead of night.
All across Europe, towns and cities had glittered amongst vast swathes of dark countryside. Snowcapped mountain ranges shimmered in the faint glow of the moon.
That same moon reflected off calm ocean water as the plane banked on approach to the airport in Caspia. Giddy from champagne and from chatting with Sebastian about everything under the sun, she couldn’t imagine getting any sleep before morning.
The plane landed on the runway with barely a bump. Sebastian peered out the window. “My driver is waiting. We’ll be at the palace in ten minutes.”
The palace.
Tessa’s skin grew tight as terror crept over her.
An actual palace with a real king and queen living in it.
She glanced sideways at Sebastian. He was stretching, which had the unfortunate effect of pulling his black T-shirt tight over the granite-hard expanse of his chest.
She jerked her eyes away. In addition to being a royal prince, he was her boss, for crying out loud.
Her heart hammered as the pilot opened the door and ushered them down the steps. Sebastian gestured for her to go first, so she stepped out into the dark night.
A cool breeze rushed her face, rich with the smell of the sea.
“Home sweet home.” Sebastian drew in a hearty lungful. “I find it harder and harder to leave and each time I return, I’m more grateful than ever.”
“I guess that’s good, since you couldn’t really leave anyway, could you?” How odd to grow up with the obligation of being a monarch some day. To have no choice in who or what you could become.
“No one truly leaves Caspia. Even when you depart, you’ll always carry a piece of her with you.”
His voice echoed with such gravitas that she glanced back to see if he was joking.
Apparently not.
He stared straight ahead, his strong features highlighted in the airport floodlights. “Dmitri!” He waved at the uniformed chauffeur standing in front of a long, black limousine. “I’d like you to meet Tessa, my righthand woman.”
Dmitri nodded. Sebastian’s odd introduction gave her a little surge of pride. She wouldn’t mind being the right hand on so sturdy and capable a body.
The limo drove them swiftly to the palace, where people materialized out of the darkness to carry their bags.
A lamp-lit passage led to a cool atrium with a trickling fountain. Two young men rushed forward to ply them with damp towels and glasses of cool water.
Flustered, Tessa watched Sebastian as he wiped his face vigorously with the towel. She didn’t want to smear the plush, white cotton with her makeup so she used it to pat her neck.
The water had a deliciously sweet taste, and she finished the whole glass in one draft. As soon as she was done, a man with a jug refilled it.
“Thanks,” she murmured, before sipping again.
So this is what it was like to be waited on hand and foot. Kind of weird, but she could see how you’d get used to it. She tried hard not to giggle.
Just nerves.
“I’ll walk Tessa to her room,” Sebastian declared. Her skin tingled as he slipped his warm, strong arm inside hers in a proprietary gesture that made her blush.
It was all so strange. Mosaics glittered under her feet. Stone pillars flanked the wide hallway. They walked through the silent palace, the darkness of night softened only by light from wall sconces.
At the end of another long hallway, Sebastian led her through an open pair of double doors into the most glorious room she’d ever seen.
A vast bed filled the center of the huge chamber. Silk curtains billowed from a central point in the ceiling and cascaded down to form a luxurious canopy. The bed itself was lush with patterned pillows and soft-looking covers.
If there were a pea under that mattress, it wouldn’t bother her one bit.
“I hope you’ll be comfortable. You can ring this bell if you need anything.” He pointed to a tiny golden bell, resting on a magnificent gold-inlaid dressing table. “Or call me on my cell.” He yawned. “I need some shut-eye.”
He closed the door behind him as he left.
In a panic, Tessa realized she didn’t have her bag. She rushed to the door, then the open closet caught her eye.
Her clothes hung inside it.
She inhaled, and walked over. Yes, they were really her clothes, with her unpacked duffel bag placed neatly on the floor of the closet.
She swallowed and lifted her nightgown from a hanger. She’d splurged on a gauzy white cotton gown, trimmed with lace, that seemed appropriate for sleeping in a palace.
In front of the magnificent silk-draped bed, however, her nightgown looked more suitable for a milkmaid.
She changed, washed her face at the polished brass basin in the bathroom and brushed out her hair.
She stood for a moment at one of the long windows, holding the heavy drape back. Pale moonlight poured onto the floor at her feet, making the mosaic sparkle.
She climbed onto the cloudlike softness of the high bed, under the layered canopy.
She really should call Patrick in New York. She’d promised to let him know she arrived safely. He’d insisted on knowing every detail of her itinerary so he could get in touch with her at any time.
He was just like that. Caring.
But surely he wouldn’t mind if she called first thing in the morning?
It was nearly nine when Tessa finally awoke and peered at her watch in the curtained gloom. She could hear noise outside the