Royal Families Vs. Historicals. Rebecca Winters

herself. Events like this, when her presence was advertised ahead of time, were always particularly rabid attention-wise. Maurice wore special sunglasses to deal with the glare off the flashbulbs it was so bad.

      Maurice was reading something on his phone when she came out the door. He tucked it away promptly, but took it out again when they were in the elevator, since they were alone.

      “Je m’excuse,” he said. “It’s a report about some photos that have surfaced. I’m sending instructions to question their authenticity.”

      She dismissed his concern with a flick of her brows. “Of me with the prince?”

      “It says ‘prince,’ yes, but—”

      “I don’t care,” she insisted, even though she cared a great deal.

      The elevator stopped, the doors opened and some models joined them. One was beyond thrilled to be sharing an elevator with One of The Sauveterre Twins. Maurice put his phone away and remained alert while Angelique exchanged a few remarks with the strangers and consented to a selfie.

      Moments later, the doors opened onto the ballroom floor. The paparazzi went mad as soon as they saw she had arrived.

      Maurice guided Angelique down the narrow pathway toward the VIP entrance where greeters would be waiting to check off her name on a tablet and handlers would hand her a swag bag that she invariably gave to her mother.

      As she approached, a man in a tuxedo turned to look at her.

      Kasim.

      * * *

      He was asking if she’d already entered the ballroom when the madness behind him made him turn.

      She was stunning. Like an ethereal creature surrounded by fireflies as a million flashbulbs went off behind her.

      Even more riveting than her beauty, however, was the way her composed features softened with surprise, then dawned into warm recognition. Her eyes sparkled and a joyous glow suffused her. Her breasts rose as he moved toward her.

      He caught his own breath. Him. The man who had decided this affair was too inconsequential to mention to his father, merely stating he had, indeed, resolved the situation with Sadiq’s “friend.” While he’d been so far away from her, he’d been able to convince himself their time together had been merely a pleasant diversion.

      Nevertheless, he’d found himself bulldozing his way through his meetings, working late to negotiate agreements and pushing hard for resolution, a mental clock urging him to leave on time to be here with her. He had worked nonstop on the plane, barely sparing a moment to put on his tuxedo before finalizing a few last details over the phone in his car, arriving at the perfect moment to watch her emerge from the gauntlet.

      Bulbs were still flashing as she unconsciously posed, awaiting his approach with that beautiful, reverent look on her face. He wondered what his looked like. Irritated and possessive, he imagined, since he wanted to steal her away from this madhouse. Now.

      Mindful of her flawless appearance, he held back on crushing her even though he ached to feel her against him. Instead, he took her hand and detoured past her lips to press a light kiss to her cheekbone.

      Her lashes fluttered closed and she breathed, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

      He almost didn’t hear her, but the blush that stained her cheeks told him she’d said it and was adorably self-conscious for having revealed herself like that.

      “Are you?” He straightened to bask in her look of adoration. “Because I think we’ve been found out.”

      Behind her, the paparazzi had moved to completely block the passage. They had become a wall of strobing light and a din of clicks and whirs and shouts of her name.

      “Is there anyone else here?” Angelique blinked her green, green eyes, mouth quirking with irony. “I only see you.”

      “You’re stealing my lines.” Stealing something else if he wasn’t very careful. “Let’s get this evening over with so I can have you to myself.”

      * * *

      They created a huge stir and for once she didn’t care. She was proud, so delighted and proud, to stand beside this man. He was here. It wasn’t the most important occasion of her life, but it was important to her that he had made an effort.

      He wanted to be with her.

      Although, that could change if the attention didn’t lighten up. Kasim might not be as infamous as she was, but with those features, the camera had to love him. His air of detachment meant eyes followed him with a yearning for scraps of his notice.

      “You weren’t exaggerating about the attention,” he said when she returned to her seat after her presentation and he rose to help her with her chair.

      “No,” she agreed, then had to tease, “Scared?”

      “Pah!” he dismissed.

      They were an “it” couple before the final speeches had wrapped. “Kasimelique,” one of her colleagues teased her in a whisper as the trays of champagne began circulating and the networking portion of the evening began.

      “I’m so glad to have that over with,” Angelique said to Kasim once they had the first rush of introductions over with and were able to move into a quieter corner for a moment alone. “Did I sound all right when I was onstage?”

      “Perfect. You weren’t nervous, were you? You didn’t look it.”

      “I told you, my trick is to pretend I’m Trella. Do you know that man?” She tried not to sound so keyed up as she flicked her glance to the right, but this crush of people was wearing on her. “The blond one with the sash,” she clarified.

      The stranger was tall and quite handsome with a regal bearing. He wore the red satin as a bold streak across his chest beneath his jacket.

      “He keeps looking this way. Maybe he’s related to a client, but I can’t place him. I’m going to be so embarrassed if he comes over and I don’t know his name.” The Champagne probably wasn’t a good idea, but she took a sip anyway. This was still her first glass.

      “I don’t know who he is, but I recognize the look.” Kasim seemed to stand taller and more alert. He took a half step closer to her.

      “What do you mean? Like, Nordic heritage? Or do you mean you know the sash?” She lowered her glass, smile fading as she read the suspicion in the way he looked down his nose at her.

      “I mean possessive. He’s resentful of my place beside you. Jealous.”

      “Are you serious?” She tried a laugh, but realized very quickly that Kasim was more than serious. He was trying to see inside her head.

      “Kasim.” She was deeply offended. “I swear to you, I don’t know him.” But she could see the reel of her online exploits playing behind his eyes.

      “Believe what you want,” she said frostily. Don’t you dare, she silently railed, heart clutched in a vise. He didn’t trust her? After all they’d shared?

      Well, honestly, what had they shared? A weekend of sex and not even some long-distance afterplay via text.

      She looked at him with new eyes, thinking of how much she had anticipated his meeting her here, but now she had to wonder if she wasn’t simply a convenient booty call. It was so lowering, she had to remind herself to breathe.

      “Excuse me.” He walked away into the throng, leaving her staring at his disappearing back, confounded and trying not to panic. That was it? He had just broken off their affair because a stranger looked at her in a way he didn’t like?

      Before she could fully absorb that and succumb to fury or despondency or both, the stark white of a truly beautiful tuxedo parked itself before her. It was cut by the slash of red and there was a star-shaped pin at his shoulder with a shield inside it.

      The man