The Billionaire's Secret Princess. CAITLIN CREWS

it without wilting or crying or selling whingeing stories about him to the press.”

      Valentina had returned that smile. “Or the hours and hours of grim palace-vetted prewedding press interviews in the company of a pack of advisers who will censor everything I say and inevitably make me sound like a bit of animated treacle, as out of touch with reality as the average overly sweet dessert.”

      “Speaking of treats, I also have to deal with the board of directors Mr. Casilieris treats like irritating schoolchildren, his packs of furious ex-lovers each with her own vendetta, all his terrified employees who need to be coached through meetings with him and treated for PTSD after, and every last member of his staff in every one of his households, who like me to be the one to ask him the questions they know will set him off on one of his scorch-the-earth rages.” Natalie had moved closer then, and lowered her voice. “I was thinking of quitting, to be honest. Today.”

      “I can’t quit, I’m afraid,” Valentina had said. Regretfully.

      But she’d wished she could. She’d wished she could just...walk away and not have to live up to anyone’s expectations. And not have to marry a man whom she barely knew. And not have to resign herself to a version of the same life so many of her ancestors had lived. Maybe that was where the idea had come from. Blood was blood, after all. And this woman clearly shared her blood. What if...?

      “I have a better idea,” she’d said, and then she’d tossed it out there before she could think better of it. “Let’s switch places. For a month, say. Six weeks at the most. Just for a little break.”

      “That’s crazy,” Natalie said at once, and she was right. Of course she was right.

      “Insane,” Valentina had agreed. “But you might find royal protocol exciting! And I’ve always wanted to do the things everyone else in the world does. Like go to a real job.”

      “People can’t switch places.” Natalie had frowned. “And certainly not with a princess.”

      “You could think about whether or not you really want to quit,” Valentina pointed out, trying to sweeten the deal. “It would be a lovely holiday for you. Where will Achilles Casilieris be in six weeks’ time?”

      “He’s never gone from London for too long,” Natalie had said, as if she was considering it.

      Valentina had smiled. “Then in six weeks we’ll meet in London. We’ll text in the meantime with all the necessary details about our lives, and on the appointed day we’ll just meet up and switch back and no one will ever be the wiser. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

      “It would never work,” Natalie had replied. Which wasn’t exactly a no. “No one will ever believe I’m you.”

      Valentina waved a hand, encompassing the pair of them. “How would anyone know the difference? I can barely tell myself.”

      “People will take one look at me and know I’m not you. You look like a princess.”

      “You, too, can look like a princess,” Valentina assured her. Then smiled. “This princess, anyway. You already do.”

      “You’re elegant. Poised. You’ve had years of training, presumably. How to be a diplomat. How to be polite in every possible situation. Which fork to use at dinner, for God’s sake.”

      “Achilles Casilieris is one of the wealthiest men alive,” Valentina had pointed out. “He dines with as many kings as I do. I suspect that as his personal assistant, Natalie, you have, too. And have likely learned how to navigate the cutlery.”

      “No one will believe it,” Natalie had insisted. But she’d sounded a bit as if she was wavering.

      Valentina tugged off the ring on her left hand and placed it down on the counter between them. It made an audible clink against the marble surface, as well it should, given it was one of the crown jewels of the kingdom of Tissely.

      “Try it on. I dare you. It’s an heirloom from Prince Rodolfo’s extensive treasury of such items, dating back to the dawn of time, more or less.” She smiled. “If it doesn’t fit we’ll never speak of switching places again.”

      But the ring had fit her double as if it had been made especially for her.

      And after that, switching clothes was easy. Valentina found herself in front of the bathroom mirror, dressed like a billionaire’s assistant, when Natalie walked out of the stall behind her in her own shift dress and the heels her favorite shoe designer had made just for her. It was like looking in a mirror, but one that walked and looked unsteady on her feet and was wearing her hair differently.

      Valentina couldn’t tell if she was disconcerted or excited. Both, maybe.

      She’d eyed Natalie. “Will your glasses give me a headache, do you suppose?”

      But Natalie had pulled them from her face and handed them over. “They’re clear glass. I was getting a little too much attention from some of the men Mr. Casilieris works with, and it annoyed him. I didn’t want to lose my job, so I started wearing my hair up and these glasses. It worked like a charm.”

      “I refuse to believe men are so idiotic.”

      Natalie had grinned as Valentina took the glasses and slid them onto her nose. “The men we’re talking about weren’t exactly paying me attention because they found me enthralling. It was a diversionary tactic during negotiations, and yes, you’d be surprised how many men fail to see a woman who looks smart.”

      She’d freed her hair from its utilitarian ponytail and shook it out, then handed the stretchy elastic to Valentina. It took Valentina a moment to re-create the ponytail on her own head, and then it was done.

      And it really was like magic.

      “This is crazy,” Natalie had whispered.

      “We have to switch places now,” Valentina said softly, hearing the rough patch in her own voice. “I’ve always wanted to be...someone else. Someone normal. Just for a little while.”

      And she’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted, hadn’t she?

      “I am distressed, Miss Monette, that I cannot manage to secure your attention for more than a moment or two,” Achilles said then, slamming Valentina back into this car he dominated so easily when all he was doing was sitting there.

      Sitting there, filling up the world without even trying.

      He was devastating. There was no other possible word that could describe him. His black hair was close-cropped to his head, which only served to highlight his strong, intensely masculine features. She’d had hours on the plane to study him as she’d repeatedly failed to do the things he’d expected of her, and she still couldn’t really get her head around why it was that he was so...affecting. He shouldn’t have been. Dark hair. Dark eyes that tended toward gold when his temper washed over him, which he’d so far made no attempt to hide. A strong nose that reminded her of ancient statues she’d seen in famous museums. That lean, hard body of his that wasn’t made of marble or bronze but seemed to suggest both as he used it so effortlessly. A predator packed into a dark suit that seemed molded to him, whispering suggestions of a lethal warrior when all he was doing was taking phone calls with a five-hundred-thousand-dollar watch on one wrist that he didn’t flash about, because he was Achilles Casilieris. He didn’t need flash.

      Achilles was something else.

      It was the power that seemed to emanate from him, even when he was doing nothing but sitting quietly. It was the fierce hit of his intelligence, that brooding, unmistakable cleverness that seemed to wrap around him like a cloud. It was something in the way he looked at her, as if he saw too much and too deeply and no matter that Valentina’s unreadable game face was the envy of Europe. Besides all that, there was something untamed about him. Fierce.

      Something about him left her breathless. Entirely too close to reeling.

      “Do you require a gold star every time you make a statement?” she asked,