Her Christmas Prince. Catherine Mann

he repeated, feeling as though his feet had been swept out from under him.

      “Yes, sir. I believe she left something for you, though, with Delores. Shall I get her for you?”

      “Yes, thank you. Have her bring it to my office, if you would, please.”

      “Yes, Your Highness.”

      The maid rushed around him and out of the room. Nicolas trailed behind at a much slower pace, taking a back stairwell to the first floor and heading for his private office. Ten minutes later, Delores arrived. She had a stack of folders in her arms.

      “Miss Sanchez left these for you, sir,” she said, handing them across the desk to him.

      He thanked her, waiting until the servant had gone before opening the note on top of the pile. Alandra’s letter was oddly lacking in emotion, simply explaining that she couldn’t stay any longer, regardless of the requirements of her contract, now that she knew he was engaged to be married and those pictures had become public. The files, he discovered, held pages upon pages about the Dream a Little Dream Foundation.

      He should have expected that she wouldn’t want to leave unless she was sure all of the project details were in his hands, and that the establishment of the organization would move forward as planned.

      The problem was, he hadn’t expected her to leave at all. Not without talking with him, letting him explain.

      He should have told her about Lisette in the beginning. Should have let her know that it was an arrangement made by his parents and not necessarily his choice. That even though he was betrothed to the princess, they had never been physically involved.

      Lisette and his mother would be delighted to learn of Alandra’s departure. Without her presence in Glendovia, the scandal of their affair would die a quick death, and life as they knew it could move on, including plans for his upcoming wedding.

      He only wished he felt the same. Instead, he found himself wanting to charge down the hall and be driven to the airport, follow Alandra all the way back to Texas.

      If only she’d given him a chance to explain.

      With a sigh of regret, he crumpled her note.

      It was better this way, he told himself as he left his office and strolled slowly to his rooms on the second floor. Now that Alandra was gone, things could return to normal. He could get back to the matters at hand without being preoccupied with thoughts of making love to her just one more time. Yes, it was better this way. Better for everyone.

       Thirteen

      The noise from the back of the room buzzed in Alandra’s ears. She really didn’t want to do this.

      After arriving home from Glendovia in the middle of the night—Christmas night, no less—she’d done her best to get her life back on track. News of her affair with Nicolas had yet to trickle back to the States. But if anyone in her immediate circle had heard about the affair they’d wisely chosen to ignore the gossip.

      Everyone except her sister. Elena had waited until they’d gotten home from the airport to say anything, but she’d known instinctively that something had sent Alandra running back to Texas.

      The minute they were alone, Alandra had broken down and told her sister everything, pouring her heart out about the situation and how she’d unwisely fallen in love with a man she could never have. And as always, her sister had understood. She’d listened and offered appropriate responses at appropriate times, but never acted as though she thought Alandra had been a fool to get involved with Nicolas in the first place.

      Elena was also the one who’d encouraged her most strongly to throw herself back into her work, when Alandra had wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and hide under the covers for the next month or two.

      Which was how she’d ended up backstage at the Gabriel’s Crossing Country Club. Long before she’d left for Glendovia, she had not only helped finalize the evening’s New Year’s Eve bachelorette auction, but she’d somehow allowed herself to be roped into being one of the bachelorettes, as well, and now they were holding her to her promise.

      The event was in full swing. Six other women had already pranced down the runway to a smattering of applause and generous, good-hearted bidding by the interested bachelors in the audience. Two more ladies were set to take their walks, and then she would be next.

      She swallowed hard, taking deep breaths to keep from drowning in panic. This wasn’t her idea of a good time. She far preferred to remain behind the scenes at these events. Being the center of attention—especially with all of the publicity that had surrounded her lately—made her knees shake and her teeth rattle.

      One bachelorette down, one to go.

      “Alandra,” a woman who was helping out backstage called in a loud whisper. “Get ready, you’re next.”

      Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

      For a brief second, she wondered how far she would be able to run in four-inch heels. She probably wouldn’t get far, but it was still worth a try.

      Inhaling deeply and praying she wouldn’t trip over the hem of her gown, she started slowly down the makeshift runway to the sound of scattered clapping and the voice of the master of ceremonies, who extolled her many feminine virtues and outlined the details of the date she’d agreed upon beforehand.

      She felt like an animal at a zoo, on display for the whole world to gawk at and appraise. And as she neared the end of the runway, her stomach plunged when she realized that not a single bid had been called out yet.

      Oh, Lord, please let the floor open up and swallow me whole, she thought.

      At the end of the runway, she stopped and posed, more from embarrassment than any wish to act like a supermodel. Except for the MC asking if there were any bids, any bids at all, the room had fallen into utter silence. The scandals, it seemed, hadn’t quite died down, after all.

      Alandra blinked, feeling the stares of a hundred people boring into her like laser beams. She was just about to turn in disgrace and walk back to the curtain when a voice rang out from the rear of the room.

      “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

      Her heart stopped, and she strained to see who had made such an outrageously extreme offer. The rest of the crowd did the same, twisting in their seats for a glimpse of the mystery bidder.

      Elated, the MC quickly declared Alandra “sold!” to the gentleman at the rear of the room. At that announcement, the bidder started forward.

      As the bachelor walked toward her, he moved into better light, and Alandra’s heart stopped again, but for a much different reason this time.

      Nicolas, in all his royal finery, stepped through the crowd. A couple of hulking, black-suited bodyguards trailed behind, making his presence stand out all the more.

      She opened her mouth to breathe his name, but no sound emerged.

      At the end of the raised walkway, Nicolas stopped to gaze up at her. He stretched out a hand, his face showing nothing as he reached toward her.

      “May I?” he asked in that rich, deep voice that sent shivers down her spine.

      Without conscious thought, she put her hand in his and let him lift her bodily from the runway, then lead her back through the crowded room to the rear of the building. She let him take her away from her own event, away from the gawking stares and curious onlookers, to the limousine that waited just outside, on the paved country club driveway.

      Nicolas handed her inside and climbed in behind her, allowing the driver to close the door. A second later, she heard the driver’s door slam shut, but the partition was up, and she knew that for all intents and purposes, she and Nicolas were alone.

      “What are