Crown Prince's Bought Bride. Maya Blake

volatility to urge her to avoid direct eye contact. To take herself out of his magnetising orbit before she was swallowed up in his vortex.

      And yet she couldn’t make her feet move. In fact she was fairly sure her lungs had stopped working too, now she was witnessing the way he moved. Like a jungle cat on the prowl... Each step a symphony of grace and symmetry and power.

      Utterly absorbing.

      Infinitely hypnotic.

      She was unashamedly gawking when his eyes locked on her. For a fistful of heartbeats he stared.

      Hard. Intense. Ice-hot.

      Then with long strides he zeroed in on her. His scent invaded her senses as powerfully as the man himself. He smelled of ice and earth, elemental to the core and so utterly unique she could have stood there breathing him in for an eternity, her sore ribs be damned.

      ‘Where is he?’ he breathed, and the sound was electrifying enough to send skitters of stinging awareness over her skin.

      Whether by some silent command, or simply because everyone in the room knew they were in the presence of greatness, the volume of the music had dropped. That was the reason she heard him and knew that his voice was deep and accented, resulting in sensually wrapped words that triggered a yearning to hear him speak again just for the hell of it.

      Maddie knew that would never happen. When this man spoke it was for immediate and masterful effect, no extraneous words necessary.

      Seconds passed. His nostrils flared slightly. She realised she hadn’t answered.

      ‘I...’ She swallowed hard. ‘Where is...? Who do you mean?’

      ‘The man you’re here with. Jules—’

      ‘What are you doing here?’

      The snapped question from Jules held anger, panic and defiance, slicing through Maddie’s comprehension that the stranger—whoever he was—knew her, knew she was with Jules.

      He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he studied Jules from head to toe, causing him to fidget and adjust his ruffled clothes.

      ‘What did you think would happen when you refused to answer your summons?’ he asked icily. ‘Did you think your activities would be allowed to continue unchecked?’

      Jules opened his mouth, but the other man stopped him with a wave of his elegant hand that would have been poetic had it not been filled with foreboding.

      ‘I will not have this conversation with you here, while you’re in this state. Come to my hotel tomorrow morning. We will have breakfast together.’

      Each statement was a stern directive, permitting neither disagreement nor disobedience.

      It rubbed Jules the wrong way. His chin jutted out. ‘Pas possible. I have plans in the morning.’

      Low thunder rumbled across the stranger’s face. ‘According to your assistant, the only thing you have scheduled is sleeping off your hangover. You will be present, in my suite, at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Is that understood?’

      They faced off for less than ten seconds, but it felt like an hour.

      Jules’s abrupt nod bordered on the insolent, but at the piercing, relentless regard directed towards him his head dropped the way a dog’s might when confronted with its disobedience by its master.

      The older man stared down at him for another long stretch before his eyes slid sideways to the usually raucous group Jules partied with, who were now respectfully, watchfully silent.

      Then his gaze switched to Maddie. He took his time scrutinising her, from the loose knot of her thick hair to the painted toes peeping through her stilettoes.

      Every inch of bare skin his gaze touched—and unfortunately there was a lot of it—blazed with an alien, thrilling fire, even the tips of her fingers. She wanted to recoil. Retreat. But there was something weirdly hypnotic about his eyes on her that held her in place, made her struggle to catch even a shallow breath.

      Jules followed his line of sight and his eyes widened a touch when he spotted Maddie. Clearly he’d forgotten she existed. He hastily rearranged his expression and reached for her arm. ‘Viens, mon amour, let’s go home.’

      Maddie stiffened, suppressing another wince.

      Even with her limited French, she understood the endearment. In all the time they’d been playing pretence Jules had never called her that. Nor had he invited her to his place. Their routine once they left a club or restaurant and the paparazzi lost interest was for one of his bodyguards to put her in a taxi.

      Before she could respond, the stranger shook his head.

      ‘It’s 2:00 a.m. You’ve partied enough for one night. Go home. I’ll see to it that Miss Myers makes it to wherever she’s going safely.’

      Jules’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘You’re assuming she isn’t going back to my place. You’re assuming she’s not my live-in girlfriend.’

      ‘Is she?’ Without waiting for an answer he turned sharply to her, silver eyes pinning her to the spot. ‘Are you?’

      The two words were bullet-sharp.

      ‘That’s not the point,’ Jules interjected aggressively.

      ‘Either she is or she isn’t. Answer the question,’ he demanded, without taking his eyes off her.

      Very much aware that she had no clue what was going on, Maddie went with the truth. ‘No, we’re not living together.’

      Jules’s jaw clenched, but she shrugged it off. If he wanted to give the impression that they were more serious he should have told her. She was uncomfortable enough about the subterfuge as it was.

      ‘Your driver will take you to your hotel, Jules,’ the stranger said, glancing pointedly at the hand Jules had on her arm.

      Jules muttered a very rude, very French curse. One he intended the man to hear. One that produced a flash of anger in his silver eyes before his expression was ruthlessly blanked.

      Without warning Jules yanked her close, cupped the back of her head before slamming his mouth down on hers.

      The kiss was over in seconds, but the shocking violation kept Maddie frozen for longer. Stunned, and more than a little incensed, she watched Jules leave without a backward glance, strongly resisting the urge to swipe her hand across her mouth.

      She knew he’d kissed her for effect, to annoy the domineering man standing before her, whose gaze was now a darker silver as it swept over cheeks gone pale before returning to her mouth. And she knew, despite the burning urge to rub off the last trace of that kiss, it would be a dead giveaway that might cost her a lot in the long run.

      So she raised her chin, met eyes that blazed with a fierce light she couldn’t fathom.

      ‘Come,’ he said abruptly. Then, like Jules, he turned and walked out.

      Maddie shook her head once to clear it. When nothing altered the sensation of having just experienced a furious electric storm, she stumbled back on shaky legs to her seat.

      She had no intention of following that arrogant, dangerously compelling man anywhere. The only place she was headed was home, to the flat she shared with her father. To the safety and discomfort of her single bed.

      Excited chatter and camera phones aimed her way hastened her movements. She still had no clear idea what had transpired a few minutes ago, but she wasn’t sticking around to be the cynosure of all eyes.

      She’d have enough to deal with come morning anyway. For one, she had to ensure her father got through another day without succumbing to the addiction that had decimated not just his life but the relatively carefree family life she’d taken for granted.

      She pushed harrowing thoughts of her father’s addiction and her mother’s desertion aside, stood up—and was met with