To Kiss a King - NIcole Burnham Page 0,82
inside her new gold heels to release the tension of the last few hours. She couldn't blame herself for being on edge. Tonight's event was the culmination of five years of hard work. Given that investment of time and energy, together with a shortage of sleep this past week while the final preparations were made, she should've expected her nerves might get the better of her. She needed to take a cue from both the bartender and the guests lingering nearby and relax. The best way for her to showcase the refurbished hotel to the potential business clients in attendance would be to visibly enjoy the Grandspire herself—tonight's dinner, the art exhibition, the rooftop fireworks, all of it—and consider it a reward for a job well done. After all, she'd already booked eight major conferences and over two dozen smaller events for the coming months, enough to kick-start the hotel's income stream and gild her resume before she sought her next position.
Invigorated at the thought, she made her way to each of the seating areas in the lounge and introduced herself to those guests she didn't already know before directing them toward the ballroom. One by one, empty glasses filled the bar top as the partygoers progressed to dinner. However, a cluster of people remained near the fireplace, their attention riveted on a male seated in their center. Megan hated to interrupt, but couldn't see past those who were standing to identify the speaker. Only his highly polished shoes were visible between the high heels and wingtips of those surrounding him.
A man making his way toward the stairs glanced toward the fireplace when he thought no one was looking, though his partner, a woman whom Megan recognized as the owner of a major shipping company, stared openly, apparently unconcerned that others would notice her fascination with the conversation taking place.
The knot returned to Megan's stomach, twisting tighter than before. Everyone in attendance tonight was accustomed to the trappings of money and fame. Whoever sat near the fireplace held a special allure, even amongst the social elite, the kind often reserved for royalty. And always reserved for good-looking royalty.
A familiar rumble of laughter cut through the lounge, confirming her fear. Low, sexy, and even more inviting than Megan remembered, if such a thing were possible. Her knees softened and the floor seemed to sway beneath her.
After their last face-to-face meeting, she'd spent weeks trying to contact Stefano, using every means at her disposal, but now she needed nothing more than to escape. Seeing him in the flesh would make her want everything she knew she could never have, and she did not want to want. Especially not him.
Wanting Stefano could mean losing everything.
She took a step backward and started to turn away. She'd ask the bartender to send the group to dinner, then figure out how she could possibly avoid the prince for the rest of the evening so she could keep her attention where it needed to be: on work. Stefano's presence wouldn't distract her unless she let it.
"Megan.” The telecommunications CEO she'd spoken with earlier appeared at her elbow, propelling her back toward the fireplace. "Have you had the opportunity to meet my guest? I didn't wish to say anything until I knew he'd arrived." Mahmoud's voice dropped to a whisper as he added, "You know these types. You cannot always count on them to appear when they say they will."
Before Megan could protest, the group parted in front of her to reveal a broad-shouldered man sitting on the far edge of the cocktail table, his face turned away as he laughed at a comment from a statuesque, cat-eyed brunette wearing the most arresting red gown Megan had ever seen.
Mahmoud cleared his throat. "Prince Stefano, may I present Megan Hallberg, the Grandspire's director of business development? Megan, this is Prince Stefano Barrali of Sarcaccia. His father and I have hosted a number of charity events together over the years, so I wanted Stefano to see the Grandspire's new facilities. I'm certain he'll give King Carlo a favorable report on the hotel's suitability for our future events."
The brunette tried to hide her disappointment at the interruption as Stefano spun around and stood in one easy motion. Megan's mouth went dry as sand. She'd forgotten how tall he was, how fluidly he moved. As Stefano stepped toward her, the memory of their first meeting returned in a rush that threatened to flatten her. He'd moved in that same easy manner when