Prince's Son Of Scandal. Dani Collins

moved beyond her. The next thing she knew, he had her off the dance floor, through a small break in the crowd and into an alcove hidden by the giant fronds of a potted plant.

      She wasn’t given time to decide whether she’d been too quick to agree. His arm tightened across the small of her back, pulling her in, arching her against the layers of his tuxedo. He was steely beneath his civilized covering. He knew what he wanted. His hot mouth covered hers without hesitation.

      For a second, she was terrified. Not of him, but of how she would react. Would she panic?

      Then her senses took in the way his mouth fit against hers, moving to part her lips, questing for her response. Something primitive moved in her, shaking her foundations, waking the woman she might have been if her life had been different, drawing her beyond old traumas into a place she barely understood.

      Pleasure flooded her, making her stiffen, wary of such a strong reaction, but primal need quickly took over. Her brain might not be able to process what was going on, but her body knew how to respond.

      Rather than put the brakes on, her hands went behind his neck. She found herself running her fingers into his short hair, shaping the back of his head as she drew herself up, parting her lips so he could plunder at will.

      His arms tightened around her and she thought he made a growling noise. It should have scared her. Male aggression, especially the sexual kind, was something she’d taken pains to avoid.

      Strangely, with excitement pulsing through her, she found herself thrilled by his response. She kissed him back with abandon, just as if she knew what she was doing.

      Something flashed behind her closed eyes and he abruptly lifted his head.

      “That was a camera,” he muttered, fingers digging in near her tailbone as he pressed her close enough to feel the thick shape straining the front of his trousers. “Let’s find some privacy.”

      Her analytical mind urged caution, but her old self, her true self, trusted her instincts. She released a breathy, “Let’s.”

       CHAPTER TWO

      HE DIPPED HIS head to lightly scrape his teeth against her neck, urging against her ear, “You leave first. I’ll follow you upstairs.”

      She gasped, mind going blank before a million thoughts rushed in.

      “You have a room here? In the hotel?” What had she thought when he had said privacy? Was the idea of being alone with him intriguing or alarming?

      “The penthouse, yes.”

      “Is it safe?”

      “Of course.” Good gracious he was handsome, even when he frowned. His features weren’t too refined. There was just enough toughness in the intensity of his gaze, just enough stubbornness in the square of his jaw to make him look stern and rugged.

      As he read her hesitation, his hand cupped the side of her head while his gaze flicked with irritation at the noise around them. “I want you to myself.”

      Empathy panged within her. She knew the wear and tear that being in the spotlight took on a person. She instantly wanted to give him the break he needed. He was a sophisticated man. She had nothing to fear from him physically, but was compelled to say, “I have guards. For a reason.”

      She was using her sister’s tonight, both to give her own a much-deserved night off as well as to maintain the illusion she was her twin. She should tell him who she was.

      “The room is completely secure. More secure than here,” he added, mouth twisting in dismay at their having been photographed. He led her back to their table. “I won’t keep you waiting long.”

      Voices of caution crowded into her head, but when would she have a free pass like this again? When would she meet a man who made her feel anything like this? It wasn’t just physical, although that part was so heady she felt drunk, but there was a rarity, too. There were other men in the world who were a safe bet, men vetted by her brothers, but when would she feel this pull? This compulsion to know more about this man?

      Before she talked herself out of it, she let her finger press up for the penthouse. It wasn’t that she didn’t have misgivings, or that she ignored them, she overcame them. It was different. It was another small triumph that had her stepping lightly off the elevator onto thickly carpeted floor.

      It was easy to spot the Prince’s room. Two guards were stationed outside the door. Her own accompanied her as she approached them.

      “Mademoiselle Sauveterre,” one greeted with a respectful nod. “We were notified to expect you.” He stepped inside and invited her guard to sweep the rooms.

      Both men behaved with the utmost professionalism, not betraying a hint of judgment about what they must know was a preliminary for seduction.

      A smile touched her mouth as she thought about how her brothers would blow their tops if they knew where she was right now, even though they had both been on the Prince’s side of this equation hundreds of times, the hypocrites.

      Then she was left alone and she took in the elegant shades of ivory and sage green on the walls and the furnishings. A glass of watered-down Scotch had been abandoned on an end table, ice long melted. She sniffed, then dared a sip, thought about looking at the view, then decided to leave the drapes closed.

      The double doors to the bedroom stood open. She stared at the bed, taking another quick sip of liquid courage just as the main door opened. His star power impacted her anew, making her heart skip.

      “You made yourself comfortable. Good.”

      “This is yours.” She tilted the glass, then set it aside, instantly wishing she’d kept it to keep her hands busy.

      “I’ll make you a fresh one. Or, how about champagne?” He moved to the bar. As he peeled the foil from a bottle, the crinkle seemed overly loud.

      This was the moment she should have admitted she was Trella.

      A very real fear sat within that admission—that he would develop his own misgivings. He would either want explanations she didn’t care to give, or he might jump to conclusions that made him averse to being with her. In no scenario did she imagine this exciting, lighthearted atmosphere would continue.

      “You’re nervous,” he noted as he popped the cork.

      “You’re observant,” she said, compelled to at least confess, “I don’t do this.”

      It was true no matter which twin she represented. Gili running away for a weekend with a prince was as out of character as her being here with this one.

      “I already guessed that.” He set two glasses as he poured, canting his head to eye her. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

      She choked. “No.”

      True again for both twins, but she had to look away, mind skipping off the dark memory like a stone off the water’s surface.

      No, that was another reason she was here. Being alone with a man was another snapped link in the chain that bound her to the past. She was really, really proud of herself right now. Even though her proffered excuse of “I’m just out of my comfort zone” was the understatement of the year.

      He brought the glasses across the room to her and offered her one. “Saluti.”

      “Salud.”

      They sipped, gazes locked, unspoken expectations hovering between them. Her throat grew abraded by the bubbles.

      “What if I change my mind about being here?” she asked in a soft rasp.

      “Then I will be disappointed.” His intent expression didn’t change.

      “Angry?”

      “Disappointed. Very disappointed, bella.” His gaze acted