Lone Prince by Lilian Monroe
Rowan
The Prince has a nice ass.Yes, I stare at it as he leaves the room. Yes, it feels wrong.
I refuse to feel bad about it.
Letting out a long sigh, I stare at the screen on the wall.
He hated my design. Had comments about every single aspect of it, asking me to make a million little changes and a few thousand major ones. I’ll basically have to go back to the drawing board, even though I’ve spent the better part of a year coming up with this design.
Biting my lip, I glance at my phone.
Gerry: I’m sorry about those texts. I was drinking last night. Call me? I miss you.
My heart sinks. I shouldn’t ignore him, but the last thing I want to do is call Gerry and listen to his excuses about his behavior. We’ve been broken up for six months, and I know he’s been seeing other women. He was very clear when we broke up—my job, or him. I couldn’t have both.
I don’t want to give in to the temptation of calling him. Of sinking into old habits and settling for what’s comfortable. Now that I’m far away from him, I wonder what we really had. Was it just complacency? Comfort? The ease of a long relationship? The promise of stability even if we couldn’t have true love?
He was someone to throw a blanket over my legs when I was cold, but did he ever really make me feel warm?
Gerry doesn’t make my heart thump. He doesn’t make my cheeks burn. He doesn’t fill my dreams with images of his strong body on top of mine.
No, there’s another man who does that now.
I stare at the open doorway before squeezing my eyes shut.
Wrong. Bad. Stop it now, Rowan.
See? Another door the Prince didn’t bother closing. Spoiled, bratty royal. No-good jerk who doesn’t understand common decency. He’s no better than Gerry, and I’m better off on my own.
Focus on work. On my architecture firm. On the projects that will be my legacy. Take care of myself. Rely on no one else. Be a burden to no man or woman or parent. Independence.
So why is my stomach clenching at the thought of the Prince?
Ignoring Gerry’s message, I open up a browser window. I type in the Prince’s name and let my finger hover over the ‘search’ button.
Do I really want to read up on him? I vaguely remember him being in the news a few years ago. His fiancée died, or something, but I was neck-deep in my fledgling business, and my resentfulness toward Nord was at an all-time high.
The place that didn’t want me, or my mother. The land that chewed her up and spat her out.
Yet, here I am. Back for my own round of rejections.
My mouth is dry. My heart thumps uncomfortably. I finally press my thumb on the search button, but the browser goes blank. A gust of wind bangs against the windows, and the reception fizzles out.
Leaning back in my chair, I drop my chin in my chest.
I need to get out of here. The Prince has gotten under my skin, and he’s distracting me from what’s truly important—work. The project. Architecture. Designing beautiful buildings that will stand the test of time. Having a stable income that will ensure I’m never a burden to anyone, ever.
“Excuse me? Miss Reed?” A woman stands at the door dressed in a palace uniform. She has chocolate-colored hair styled in a low bun and wide, brown eyes.
I sit up. “Yes?”
“I’m Vikki. Doctor Williams asked me to come check on you.” She slips inside the door, giving me a kind smile.
“I’m okay. Just doing some work.”
Her eyes move to the screen. A smile spreads across her lips. “Is this the new design? It’s gorgeous.”
“The Prince doesn’t seem to think so,” I reply, failing to keep the bitterness from my voice.
Vikki laughs. “He’s like that. It takes a while to get on his good side, but once you do, he’s very loyal. He’d go to war for the people he loves.”
“The only one he’s loyal to is his dog.” I snort, shaking my head. “I basically have to start over from scratch. I was only here to get a few photos and details from the archives, and now I probably have six months of work to redo.”
Vikki crosses her arms, still staring at the screen. She spins around to look at me, a hopeful smile on her face. “I can show you around if you want. I’ve lived here since I was a little girl. I know every corner of this palace.”
I straighten up. “You’d do that? You don’t have to work?”
“Showing you around is the perfect excuse not to do it.” Vikki winks. “Come on. What would you like to see first?”
I bite my lip. “The library, I think. I’d like to look at the archives.”
Vikki jerks her head to the door. “It’s just down the hall.”
As we start walking, Vikki tells me about every king and queen with portraits hanging on the walls. She tells me when each rug was bought, and who designed the dozens of chandeliers that throw the whole palace into a soft, glowing light.
We get to a tall, hardwood door with intricate inset panels, and Vikki gives me a bright smile. “I love this room.” She pushes the door open, and I gasp.
Gorgeous.
Floor-to-ceiling books. Plush sofas. Massive windows. I walk over to the window, staring out at the white countryside.
“It’s gorgeous in summertime,” Vikki says, standing beside me. We look out at the white expanse. “Teeming with life.”
“It’s beautiful now, too.” My voice is soft.
“Wild and unforgiving. Makes me appreciate being inside these walls and not out there.” She smiles. “Have you seen the visitor’s cottage?” She points across the barren snow-covered meadow to a tiny lodge in the distance. “It used to be the main residence before the palace was built. If you want to see true heritage and history, that’s the place to do it. They say the old kings used to hold court there. The ceiling is still stained black from soot above the old hearth. Every time I go there, I get chills.”
My eyes widen. “No one told me about that. It wasn’t in the brief. I love old buildings.”
Vikki’s face breaks into a smile. “I’ll take you, but we might have to wait for the storm to pass. They say it’ll only get worse. We’ve had a bit of respite today, but it’ll be whiteout conditions within a couple of hours out there. Be the same for the next week or so. It’s not safe to go that far.”
Vikki laughs when I pout. She jerks her head to a door at the far end of the room. “Come on. I’ll show you the archives instead.”
She leads me through the door and into an intimate, dim space. It smells like old books, and I immediately feel at home. One wall is covered in bookshelves, while the other has a row of filing cabinets. Vikki points to an old, clunky computer on the desk to our right.
“The password is password123. You can log in and view the digitized archives or search for what you need.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very secure password.” I grin.
Vikki laughs. “The last person who was in here was a historian from Cambridge University about fifteen years ago. We’re not hiding anything. Nobody really cares about this place outside of Nord.” She gives my arm a quick squeeze. “I’d better get back to work. If you’re not in the dining room by seven, I’ll have them send your dinner here.”
“Thank you.” I give my new friend a soft smile, glad to have found someone who seems nice, for once. She hasn’t once made me feel like an unwelcome outsider with silly ideas about the palace redesign. Vikki walks out of the archive room, and I do a slow turn, inhaling deeply.
Then, I get to work. The archives are a treasure trove of information that I could have used for my preliminary designs. I look through old plans and read about the history of the place, from its first construction a few hundred years ago to the various restorations that have happened since.
Before I know it, my back aches and it’s dark out. A knock sounds on the door, followed by a butler with a tray laden full of food. I thank him and inhale my dinner, turning once again to the old book I’d been reading.
Books are a time warp. I don’t know how much time passes when I jerk upright at the sound of a deep, masculine voice. “They told me I would find you here.” The Prince looks at me through hooded eyes. He stretches his arms over his head as he leans against the doorway.
My eyes drift down to a little strip of exposed skin at his hips. Yum.
Then, the Prince reaches for my dinner tray, grabbing an untouched bread roll and tearing a piece off. “Have you found what you’re looking for?”
“More.” I can’t help smiling. I know I should keep my distance. I know he’s dangerous. Spoiled. Royal. But this room fills me with a deep well of excitement. I have ideas. A thousand of them, springing up from somewhere deep. Instead of the glass turrets, I want to restore the old wings that extended in a big U-shape and recreate the original courtyard that existed here a century ago.
But when I open my mouth to tell the Prince, I see his hard eyes. His sharp, angular face. His mistrust. The words die on my lips. I gulp, watching him swallow the last of my dinner roll. “I was going to eat that.”
The Prince grins. “Oops.” He crosses the room in four long steps, sitting down in a plush armchair that faces me. With his head propped in his hand, he looks at me just like he did in the security lodge when I first woke up.
Like he wants to eat me and kill me and fuck me, and he’s just trying to decide which one to choose.
My heart hammers and I do my best to swallow past the mass in my throat. “Can I help you with something?”
“I’ve organized for the plane to take you to Stirling to see your grandmother as soon as it’s safe to fly,” he says without preamble. “It might be a couple of days, though. Maybe a week or so. They don’t know how long the storm will last.”
I gape at him. Jaw on the floor. Catching flies, my mouth is so wide. “You…You did?”
“Is it so surprising that I’d do something nice for you?” His brow arches.
“Um, yes.” I frown, leaning back in my chair. I cross my arms. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. You’re right. Your grandmother’s health isn’t a bargaining chip, and I apologize for implying it was before.”
I stare at him for a beat. “You apologize? As in, you’re sorry?”
“Yes.” He dips his chin, eyes still on mine.
“I was right, and you were wrong. That’s what you’re saying?”
“Careful,” he growls, still grinning. “But yes. You were right. I was wrong.”
“Did you bump your head? This doesn’t sound like you.”
The Prince chuckles. It’s a warm sound that sends little thrills rushing down my spine. More. I want him to laugh all the time. I want him to smile wide and show me he’s really human.
But his chuckle fades, and the Prince shakes his head. “You really have no desire to show deference, do you?”
“Is that what you’re into? Chicks who show deference?” I wiggle my eyebrows when I repeat his words. I’m not even sure what the innuendo means, but the Prince’s eyes flash. Heat whips around my core, blazing all the way down through my thighs. My cheeks warm, but I force myself not to look away.
His jaw tenses, but it’s the only evidence that he’s anything but relaxed. Staring at his fingernails, he shrugs. “I happen to like women who can hold their own.”
Eyes flick to me. His meaning is clear.
He likes women like me.
My brain blares on high alert.
No. No, no, no.Danger. Wild, savage beast ahead. Run. Fast. Now.
My body, on the other hand, is currently melting into a sopping wet puddle, enjoying every lick of the Prince’s gaze as it travels up and down my body.
He pushes himself off the armchair, taking slow, measured steps toward me. I inhale, fighting to stay alert as his scent floods my nostrils.
God, he smells good. Like really good. Good enough that anytime he’s near, every sense tunes in to him. Every cell in my body sings with pure delight, wanting to melt into his arms and inhale him forever.
He puts both hands on the arms of my swivel chair, caging me in. His face hovers in front of mine and for a long, long moment, I think he might kiss me.
Those lips on mine. His hot mouth tasting me. Taking me. Owning me.
Yes, I want that. I want it so, so bad. I didn’t even know what want felt like until I could feel his hot breath on my neck.
The Prince’s lips drift over my cheek, close enough that I can feel the soft curve of them. It sends fire tumbling through my veins and I squeeze my thighs together. Everything is needy. Everything wants him.
Then, a whisper. “If you were planning on wearing those lacy black panties for anyone, just make sure it’s for me.”
He pulls away, a cocky smirk tugging his lips.
My face is on fire. “You looked through my underwear?”
“I happened upon them while I was looking for your identification,” the Prince responds, touching his finger to my cheek. His thumb drifts over my chin as he tilts my head up to look at him.
Why does he have to be so big? So strong? So freaking beautiful?
“Good night, Rowan.” The Prince says my name in a way that makes everything too sensitive. My clothing prickles against my skin. My underwear rubs every sensitive part of me. A stray piece of hair tickles my neck.
Again. I want it again. Say my name, please. Whisper it like it means something to you.
I blink my eyes closed, taking a moment to contain myself.
The Prince drops my chin and walks out without looking back.
