Lone Prince by Lilian Monroe
Wolfe
Rowan walksinto the office looking like a red-haired goddess. My stomach clenches, but I hide it behind a scowl. It isn’t fair for someone to be that pretty. Even the way she walks is delicate. Entrancing. She closes the door gently, staring up at me through long lashes.
She doesn’t curtsy, choosing instead to jut her chin out at me.
Damn, it’s hard not to smile.
“Thank you for bringing the satellite phone to my room.”
I nod. “Did you speak to Mrs. Reed?”
“I did.” Her eyes shine, deep blue and full of life. She doesn’t look down at the ground when she faces me. Looks me straight in the face.
I jerk my head to the wall, where a screen has been set up. “Walk me through your design. I have comments.”
“Would it kill you to say please?”
“Probably.” I grin.
She rolls her eyes, stomping toward the desk. I love the way her cheeks get pink when she’s angry. How she tries to look mad, all clenched fists and gritted teeth.
It’s cute.
I could have fun torturing her. Show her just how little she understands about this place. Let her know that I rule this particular corner of the kingdom, no matter who commissioned her to do this redesign. Then, I’ll send her home and enjoy the sight of her ass as she walks away.
Choosing an armchair beside the desk, I sit back and lift my eyes to the screen. I wave a hand. “You may begin.”
“Gee, thanks.” She huffs, and my smile widens. Her glare cuts to me. “Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
The redness on her cheeks deepens and spreads. Would she blush if I kissed her? Touched her? Would she scream my name if I made her come? Would she hate me even more if I made her feel good?
Rowan doesn’t answer my question. The keyboard clacks as she types, and I see a 3D image of the proposed palace design on the screen. Rowan stands, taking a deep breath. She moves to the screen and turns to face me.
“The new design will retain the historic features of the palace while taking advantage of twenty-first century technology. We could create the first true eco-palace in one of the harshest environments on earth.”
I tilt my head, watching the way her breath catches when she meets my eye. She feels it too, the energy between us. Rowan squares her shoulders and walks back to the computer, flicking to another image.
“Every aspect of the new castle will be designed to trap heat in winter and keep the palace temperate in summer. I believe the Summer Palace can be utilized year-round, not only during the short summer months. With tripled-glazed eco-glass and cutting edge insulation materials, we can make this a truly iconic destination.”
“A destination for who?”
Rowan stares at me, opening and closing her mouth. “I, uh…for you. And your family.”
“This palace was the birthplace of the nation,” I say, staring at the gleaming new design on the screen. “It means a lot to the citizens of Nord.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” I arch an eyebrow. Turning back to the screen, I frown. “You got rid of the turrets.” I nod to the edges of the image, where the two tall turrets that frame the palace have been replaced with round glasshouses.
Rowan nods. “Those two faces receive the most sun in winter months. We can capture it and use the concrete floor as a heat sink. It’ll be more thermally efficient.”
“Those turrets were the scene of epic battles in Nord in the eighteenth century. They’re important.”
I like watching Rowan squirm. What I’d like even more is to watch her squirm underneath me as an orgasm rips through her body. Her face could be just like it is now, with eyes flashing and lips parted.
I blink the image away. Not now. I can’t think of that. I shouldn’t think of that.
No matter how pretty she looks when she’s angry, I can tell she doesn’t get it. Nord. Me. This palace. She doesn’t understand where she is. She doesn’t know Nord’s history.
She’s the wrong person to redesign it.
It doesn’t matter that her grandmother has lived here her whole life. It doesn’t matter that Nordish blood flows in Rowan’s veins. She’s an outsider.
But damn, she looks good standing in front of me. Rowan tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t know about those battles.”
“What do you know about this place?”
Her cheeks turn pink, and I like the fire burning in her eyes. A little too much, maybe. My body seems to be forgetting that she doesn’t belong here and that her design is all wrong.
Clearing my throat, I stand up and walk to the corner of the room to fix myself a cup of coffee at the kitchenette. I’m half-hard, and I need to get a grip.
She’s not here for my amusement, and I’m not here to fuck the first available woman who walks through the door. I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all. It shouldn’t turn me on to see her mad, and I definitely shouldn’t be imagining her in a multitude of compromising positions.
Most of all, I shouldn’t feel this burning heat in my chest when I look at her fancy palace design that happens to be totally wrong. Why does it frustrate me so much that she doesn’t see how little she understands about this place?
I want her to get it. I want her to redesign this place in a way that honors our past. That takes us to the future without erasing our history.
I want her to understand me.
Frowning, I shake my head. I don’t give a shit if she gets me or not. She’s not here to be with me.
I’m damaged. I’m a ticking time bomb. A black hole, who can’t help but suck in all the light and life around me into my void. Isn’t that what happened to Abby? Through my status as a prince, I lifted her up to fame, then watched her slip through my fingers.
Someone like Rowan? Soft and graceful, delicate and fragile?
She doesn’t belong here. It’s obvious from her clothes and her designs and her attitude.
But when I turn around to see her sitting down in the desk chair behind the computer, I can’t help but enjoy the anger shooting from her eyes. She looks good when she’s mad.
Rowan lifts her eyes to mine. “Can you elaborate? Tell me what would be more appropriate?” She tilts her head. “Your Highness.” She says my title like an insult, and I can’t quite hide my grin. I stir some sugar into my coffee, listening to the soft clink of the spoon against my mug.
“The glass houses on either end. They look great in a field of grass and flowers like that image you’ve rendered, but what about the winter? What about right now?”
“Well, that’s the beauty of them. It’s new technology that is thermally—”
“Step away from the eco-aspects for a moment. The turrets mean something to the people of Nord. There are school tours that take children through them and teach them of the battles that occurred there. Destroying them would erase that. It’s not right.”
Rowan chews on the inside of her lip. Her freckles look brighter than they did when I found her in the snow, and I catch myself studying each individual one. I shift my gaze back to the screen, taking a sip. “Show me more. What’s going on inside the palace in this design?”
Rowan takes a deep breath. “Well, one of the reasons for my site visit was to get a feel for the current state of the castle. I want to retain as many original features as possible. For example, the flooring—”
“I hate the floors. And they aren’t original, by the way. They were replaced when I was a kid.”
Her lips snap shut. I’m starting to love that glare.
Rowan folds her hand in her lap, taking a deep, cleansing breath. Her chest rises and falls, my eyes lingering on the swell of her breasts. My body feels tight and hot and a little too big for this room. I haven’t felt this on edge in years, but I can’t quite stop myself from staring. From wanting more.
Is it because she’s an outsider that I want her so much? Because she seems familiar and exotic, all at once?
It’s the beast inside me waking up. Opening its eyes and seeing its next meal.
I bet Rowan Reed tastes as sweet as she looks.
Rowan gulps, her graceful throat clenching and releasing. I follow every micro movement of her body, studying her as if she were the most curious creature I’ve ever seen.
She’s not afraid of me, for one. The Wolfe of Nord. The man who lost everything, whose heart died with his fiancée.
I know what the papers say about me. They say I’ve turned cold. That Abby’s death broke me.
And Rowan should be scared.
But she doesn’t tremble before me—except when she trembles from rage. I love how she doesn’t try to hide her emotions. She wears them like a badge of honor all over her face and body, letting me see just what an effect I have on her.
And she doesn’t curtsy for me. Doesn’t bow her head in deference. Doesn’t use my title, except to mock me.
I should have her arrested, or at the very least sent away.
But I’m a man, and I’m weak—and she amuses me.
“Highness,” she says, keeping most of the bite out of her tone this time. “With all due respect, you are not the one who commissioned me for this project. Her Majesty the Queen—”
“My sister will listen to what I say. She trusts my judgement, and she loves this palace for what it represents in Nord. Have you shown her this design?”
Rowan sucks in a breath, glaring at me. “I was given a brief, proposed a concept, and initial approvals were granted.”
“Well, they’re un-granted.”
Her lips mash together. “What would you prefer for the interior? The brief I received was to retain as many of the original features as possible. If that has changed, I’ll have to revisit my entire design.”
“Stone floors are cold in winter,” I say. “And they’re not original.”
“We can install under-floor heating. Why do you want to get rid of the floors if you want to keep everything else?” Rowan tilts her head, daring me to engage. “Even if they aren’t original, aren’t they part of the history of the place? Showing the palace’s evolution?”
Touché.
I grin. She huffs.
I wouldn’t be such an ass if she didn’t make it so much fun.
Waving my hand at the screen, I take my seat again. We go through the preliminary design from start to finish, and by the end, I don’t know what to think. She’s designed a castle that might be at home in California, or on an island in the Caribbean. It’s all about capturing light and having a jewel in the valley, and not about honoring the history of this kingdom.
This is Nord. We’re dancing on the edge of the arctic. She doesn’t seem to understand the elements. The harshness of the landscape. How tenuous our relationship with life is without the strong, thick walls around us.
Typical southerner. No wonder she almost died of hypothermia on her first day here. I’m surprised she has Nordish ancestry at all.
Rowan lets out a sigh, glancing my way. “Once I get pictures and details from around the castle and get some of the original survey plans from the archives in the library, I’ll be able to implement the changes you’ve asked for.”
I nod, unsure if the archives will do anything to make her see this place for what it is. “Maybe you should spend some time here. Try to understand Nord. Come back in summer and see the difference in the landscape, spend some time with the locals. Hear their stories. You’d learn more from that than any book.”
“I’ll start with the archives,” Rowan answers with an edge in her voice. A ding sounds from her pocket, and Rowan’s eyebrows jump. She pulls out her phone. “Reception is back.”
“It’ll be spotty for the next few days,” I say. “You can use the satellite phone whenever you need.”
Rowan glances at me, surprised. As if she expects me to be cruel.
Hell, maybe she’s right. I’m not exactly kind.
She gives me a soft smile, dipping her chin to her chest. Heat rips right through my chest at the sight of it, and I feel like I don’t deserve her smiles. I don’t deserve her softness. Her deference. I’ve treated Rowan like a silly little girl since she got here, shot down her work, and tried my best to ignore the fact that she makes my body burn up.
Yet here she is, smiling at me. Grateful that I’m letting her use a phone. Showing me a chink in her armor I know I’ll only want to exploit.
She should keep her guard up around me. It would be better for both of us.
