do, but I’ve had no problem managing it until I met you.” She smiled crookedly. “You still make that sound like a problem.”
“It is. I pride myself on my self-control but you have challenged it, and challenged me, at every turn. But I’m glad. It’s made me realize just how strong my feelings are for you.” He drew a rough breath, his expression darkening all over again. “My God, how dare Pierre talk to you that way? I nearly thrashed him! I still want to go after him, teach him a thing or two.”
He did sound angry, crazy angry, which was so not Zale Patek, King of Cool. “But what about tonight’s ball? I need something to wear.”
“We’ll get that one altered,” he said. “I know a Raguvian designer who puts Anton Pierre to shame.”
“You think she can fix it?”
“Not just fix. Eva will improve the design.” He looked at her, shook his head. “She’ll take what I think is a rather boring dress and will make it extraordinary. You are an extraordinary woman and deserve no less.”
Her heart skipped.
He’d just called her extraordinary. The words her father had used for her late mother. The words she’d always wanted to hear. “Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking.
He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. His head dipped and his mouth covered hers, lips traveling slowly, leisurely over hers, drawing a hot, hungry response.
Hannah gloried in his warmth, and slipped her hands up his broad chest to wrap her arms around his neck.
His hands moved to her hips and he molded her against him. He was hard and hungry for her but after another long, melting kiss he pushed her gently away. “If I don’t make some calls now, and track Eva down, you won’t have a dress to wear tonight.”
She gave him a naughty smile. “That’s okay. I’ll go naked.”
“The hell you will,” he said on a growl.
Hannah laughed as he swatted her backside and was still smiling after he left and she threw herself onto her bed.
She stretched happily, recalling how Zale had swept into the dressing room and ordered Pierre out. It was like a scene from a movie. Zale Patek, rushing in on his white stallion to save the lady in distress.
Hannah’s smile faded as she thought of Lady Andrea. Poor Andrea. Hannah wasn’t sure that Andrea deserved to be fired. Monsieur Pierre was intimidating. No one knew how to handle him … well, no one but Zale. Hannah decided she’d talk to Zale and ask him to hire Andrea back.
Hannah was still lounging on the bed when her phone in the nightstand drawer buzzed with an incoming message.
Hannah knew it was from Emmeline. She could feel it in her bones. And this time she didn’t want to know what Emmeline had to say.
A minute passed. And then another. Finally, reluctantly, Hannah retrieved the phone and opened it.
It was from Emmeline. The text was brief.
I’m not coming to Raguva. The wedding is off. Once you leave I’ll break the news to Zale. Text me when you’re gone. Sorry.
Hannah blinked, read it again and when the words were the same, she felt everything tilt and slide, crashing into disaster. It had all been for naught.
Emmeline wasn’t going to marry Zale. Zale would be embarrassed and angry beyond measure.
She read the message again. And then again. But each time it was the same.
Emmeline wasn’t coming. She wouldn’t be marrying Zale after all. And Hannah had to go.
Little spots danced before Hannah’s eyes. She had to go. Had to leave.
A knock sounded on the bedroom door. “Your Highness?” It was Celine. “Can I come in?”
Hannah couldn’t speak. Breathe, breathe, she told herself, air bottled in her lungs.
“Your Highness?”
Tears filled Hannah’s eyes. It had happened. She had to leave. But she couldn’t go tonight, not hours before the ball. She couldn’t humiliate Zale like that. No, she’d go in the morning, first thing tomorrow.
“Yes,” she called out at last, her voice faint, strangled. “Please, come in, Celine.”
Celine opened the door and saw Hannah sitting on the bed wiping away tears. “Is everything all right, Your Highness?”
“Everything’s great.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE ball was less than three hours away, and Hannah was getting a Swedish massage on a special table in her dressing room. The lights were dimmed, candles burned and soft instrumental music played. It was supposed to be a treat, something Zale had arranged for her, but Hannah was too keyed-up to enjoy it.
“Take a nice slow, deep breath,” the masseuse