Prince of Midtown / Marriage, Manhattan Style: Prince of Midtown. Jennifer Lewis

grasp. Cool air assaulted his palm.

      She turned and strode away, her slim body held stiff. “I don’t want anything.”

      “I do.”

      The words fell from his lips before he’d formulated the thoughts to go along with them.

      It pained him to see her pacing the floor like a nervous colt, ready to gallop off to disaster.

      She belonged here, with him.

      His own conviction surprised him. Was some primal masculine jealousy aroused by the thought of her with another man?

      Possibly.

      She bent over a box filled with hanging files. Her back strained under the weight as she tried to lift it.

      “Put that down.” He marched over, hefted the box off the floor and shoved it against the wall. The exertion felt good. Then he heaved another into position next to it. He glanced at Tessa. “I don’t want you injuring yourself.”

      A brow shot up and her green eyes flashed. “I may be skinny, but I’m strong.”

      She picked up a box, dumped it next to his, then dusted her hands and placed them on her hips. Which had the unfortunate effect of drawing his attention to the hourglass waist hidden inside her simple gray dress.

      Desire heated his blood.

      “You know you’re only making it more impossible for me to let you go.” He smiled.

      She flashed back a defiant grin. Then it faded. “I can’t stay.”

      Her pulse fluttered at her neck and he resisted a sudden, fierce urge to press his lips to the quivering, warm skin.

      “I’m afraid I can’t let you go.”

      She let out a sharp laugh. “You can’t let me? Off with her head? Those days are over, even if you are a prince.”

      He laughed. “A beheading does sound counterproductive. But I do insist you give the ancient, sovereign nation of Caspia at least the customary two weeks’ notice.” A plan blossomed in his mind. “You must come to Caspia with me. Immediately.”

      “Oh.”

      A tiny fire lit inside her eyes. Good.

      “I need you to arrange an immediate meeting of the principals of Caspia Designs. The chief executives of each of the subsidiary brands must be there, no matter what it takes to bring them.”

      He watched for her reaction. The prospect of cajoling pleasure-seeking European plutocrats into attending to actual business might make some people quit on the spot.

      But not Tessa. A glow of appreciation filled him as she simply nodded.

      “To be honest, when I took the job, I hoped it would involve some travel. I’d be glad to come to Caspia before I go.”

      Had he truly never taken her to Caspia before? Surely he’d remember the vision of all that golden hair being tossed by the sea breeze. He’d grown to think of travel as a tiresome necessity. He clapped his hands together. “We’ll fly tomorrow in my private plane. Arrange for a 2:00 p.m. departure.”

      Energy surged through him as his plan took shape. This trip would take Tessa’s mind off that divorce-mongering cad who wanted to steal her away from him.

      Not that his interest in her was personal, of course. He took both business and pleasure very seriously, which meant keeping them strictly separate.

      But the charms of Caspia—combined with some judicious charm on his part—would soon make Tessa realize she’d been crazy to ever think of leaving.

      Two

      Relief surged through Sebastian as he grasped his old friend’s hand in a warm handshake. Reed Wellington was the kind of man you wanted on your side in a crisis. His clear blue eyes never reflected a hint of worry.

      “Sebastian, I’m sorry I couldn’t make the snowboarding trip to Kilimanjaro, but Elizabeth thought it sounded, well, crazy.”

      Sebastian laughed. “I guess that’s the problem with being married. You wind up stuck with someone who truly cares about you.”

      “Yes. And you have to stop hurling yourself off mountaintops.” His eyes crinkled into a smile. “When are you going to get married, eh?”

      “Never. Or when I meet the right woman. Whichever comes first.” He got this question a lot.

      “No one can accuse you of not trying your best to bed every eligible woman in the world.”

      “Just doing my royal duty.”

      “Seriously, isn’t there a lot of pressure on you to sire the next heir to the throne of Caspia?”

      “I try not to think about that. Besides, we Caspians often live to be over a hundred and my father’s barely sixty.”

      “All that goats’ milk yogurt, huh?”

      “Food of the gods.”

      They shared a chuckle but Sebastian couldn’t help thinking Reed’s laugh was a little too hearty. Forced, even. And what was it with married people trying to shove eternal bondage down your throat?

      “You’re here about Caspia Designs?” Reed gestured for him to sit in the leather chair opposite the wide walnut desk. The room was decorated like the headquarters of an eighteenth-century shipping magnate.

      Sebastian eased himself into the chair. “I am. I’m in dire need of your business expertise. I’m afraid the company is in worse financial shape than I’d suspected.”

      Reed’s expression changed to one of concern. “How so?”

      “Until I took over the reins a year ago, Caspia Designs was overseen by Deon Maridis, an old and close friend of my father’s. He’s a good man, but the company’s profits went into a slow slide under his watch.”

      Sebastian fought an urge to loosen his collar. “Last year the company actually lost money.”

      “What?” Reed sat up. “I confess luxury brands are not my area of expertise, and I can imagine the company is mature and not growing much, but Caspia Designs owns some of the most renowned luxury brands in the world. Aria cars, Bugaretti Jewels, LeVerge Champagne, Carriage Leathers…Why, I bought my wife one of their bags last Christmas and it nearly bankrupted me.” He laughed for a second, then frowned. “How can they be losing money?”

      Sebastian leaned forward. “Our brands have been known as the best of the best since the 1920s when the company went public, but many of them have barely changed since. Production methods are outdated and inefficient, and there’s been little effort to attract new customers. There are now a host of luxury jewelers, vintners and the like, and most of them have better distribution and marketing than the ones owned by Caspia Designs. I want to shake up the companies and get them operating like a real business. I also plan to market the goods to a younger audience.”

      “Sounds as if you need to do some rebranding. Like Burberry and Mini Cooper.”

      “Exactly.”

      Reed tilted his head and smiled. “Sort of like you’ve been doing with Caspia.”

      Sebastian couldn’t help a swell of pride. “It’s true. Ten years ago, Caspia had virtually no foreign investors, no tourism, little business beyond those that had existed for hundreds of years.”

      Reed raised an eyebrow. “Now you have hotels and luxury boutiques and restaurants for tourists to spend their money in. And you accomplished it almost singlehandedly over the last ten years.”

      “My assistant, Tessa, must get some of the credit.” Her green eyes flashed in his mind. “She’s an organizational genius.”

      “You’re lucky to have her.”

      “Don’t