The Prince and the PA. Maisey Yates

you be dancing away with your new fiancée?” She tried not to say the last word like it was poison in her mouth. But it was, and she didn’t think she was all that successful in pretending otherwise.

      “Evangelina had to go attend to some issues,” he said.

      “What issues?”

      “I don’t know, I didn’t ask.”

      “You don’t particularly sound like you care.”

      “I don’t,” he said. “You know I don’t.” And that right there was the thing that sucked worst of all. Bastian didn’t love Eva. He didn’t even like her. He didn’t know her. He was marrying her only because the alliance would benefit his country.

      If he’d loved her, well, then Karen could have maybe dealt with it. You couldn’t fight love, and all that. But to see a man like Bastian—a man she knew had so much passion simmering beneath the surface, bound up by honor and duty just waiting to be unleashed—waste it all on convenience…it was unendurable.

      “Well, perhaps you should start caring. Misplacing one’s fiancée could be termed careless.”

      He shrugged. “That is true. A mislaid princess could become problematic.”

      “No comment on the possible double entendre there.”

      Bastian chuckled and a warm feeling spread through her chest. He had a way of making her feel so good just for being herself. They had clicked immediately and easily, from the first day she’d taken the position as his assistant.

      “I’ve never mislaid a princess in my life,” he said, taking a step toward her, the glimmer of humor in his dark eyes devastating to her remaining composure.

      And if that hadn’t done it, the sight of him, the proximity, would have. He was just so…perfect. Everything a man should be. Tall, broad shouldered, elegant in his custom-made tux that concealed a lot of hard-packed, well defined muscle. Bastian worked out shirtless and in dark pants that rode low on his lean hips and showed off all kinds of interesting lines and acres of golden, gorgeous skin.

      Not that she dwelled on that. Except she did. She totally did. All the time.

      “I would bet you’ve never mislaid anyone,” she said, horrified by the sudden change in her tone. The drop in pitch, the bit of huskiness. She sounded turned on. That happened when she was around Bastian. She got all Jessica Rabbit if she wasn’t careful. Though, much like her breasts, he rarely seemed to notice.

      “The complaint is usually with my means of ending relationships rather than my bedside manner, I admit.”

      “Well, that’s one perk to getting married, isn’t it? You don’t have to worry about dating politics.”

      “It’s true,” he said, leaning against the wall, his eyes focused on a spot somewhere past her head.

      “You sound about as thrilled as you did the last time I had to schedule you an appointment with the dentist.”

      “Marriage is a bit like that.”

      “Best to be numb before the drilling?” He shot her a bland look. “Sorry.”

      “You have the numb part right,” he said.

      She swallowed hard, her throat aching. It was almost worse that he was unhappy. No, it was way worse that he wasn’t happy. “Being single isn’t that great. Actually, it’s really not great at all. No one to take you to dinner. No one to kiss you good-night. And you have to go on first dates. First dates are awkward. No one likes first dates.”

      “And I will never have another one again.”

      “You don’t sound as thrilled as you should.”

      “How long has it been since you went on a first date, Karen? You’re always working, it seems like you never do much in the way of socalizing.”

      Karen bit her lip. She really didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t been on a date since before she’d stepped onto Komenian soil.

      “It’s been a while.”

      “So maybe they aren’t as bad as you think.”

      “I doubt it.”

      “We could test the theory.”

      “I’m sorry?”

      Bastian turned his focus to her, dark eyes burning into hers. “We could test the theory. How would you like to be my last first date?”