The Prince and the PA. Maisey Yates
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fight love, and all that. But to see a man like Bastian—a man she knew had so much passion simmering beneath the surface, bound up by honor and duty just waiting to be unleashed—waste it all on convenience…it was unendurable.
“Well, perhaps you should start caring. Misplacing one’s fiancée could be termed careless.”
He shrugged. “That is true. A mislaid princess could become problematic.”
“No comment on the possible double entendre there.”
Bastian chuckled and a warm feeling spread through her chest. He had a way of making her feel so good just for being herself. They had clicked immediately and easily, from the first day she’d taken the position as his assistant.
“I’ve never mislaid a princess in my life,” he said, taking a step toward her, the glimmer of humor in his dark eyes devastating to her remaining composure.
And if that hadn’t done it, the sight of him, the proximity, would have. He was just so…perfect. Everything a man should be. Tall, broad shouldered, elegant in his custom-made tux that concealed a lot of hard-packed, well defined muscle. Bastian worked out shirtless and in dark pants that rode low on his lean hips and showed off all kinds of interesting lines and acres of golden, gorgeous skin.
Not that she dwelled on that. Except she did. She totally did. All the time.
“I would bet you’ve never mislaid anyone,” she said, horrified by the sudden change in her tone. The drop in pitch, the bit of huskiness. She sounded turned on. That happened when she was around Bastian. She got all Jessica Rabbit if she wasn’t careful. Though, much like her breasts, he rarely seemed to notice.
“The complaint is usually with my means of ending relationships rather than my bedside manner, I admit.”
“Well, that’s one perk to getting married, isn’t it? You don’t have to worry about dating politics.”
“It’s true,” he said, leaning against the wall, his eyes focused on a spot somewhere past her head.
“You sound about as thrilled as you did the last time I had to schedule you an appointment with the dentist.”
“Marriage is a bit like that.”
“Best to be numb before the drilling?” He shot her a bland look. “Sorry.”
“You have the numb part right,” he said.
She swallowed hard, her throat aching. It was almost worse that he was unhappy. No, it was way worse that he wasn’t happy. “Being single isn’t that great. Actually, it’s really not great at all. No one to take you to dinner. No one to kiss you good-night. And you have to go on first dates. First dates are awkward. No one likes first dates.”
“And I will never have another one again.”
“You don’t sound as thrilled as you should.”
“How long has it been since you went on a first date, Karen? You’re always working, it seems like you never do much in the way of socalizing.”
Karen bit her lip. She really didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t been on a date since before she’d stepped onto Komenian soil.
“It’s been a while.”
“So maybe they aren’t as bad as you think.”
“I doubt it.”
“We could test the theory.”
“I’m sorry?”
Bastian turned his focus to her, dark eyes burning into hers. “We could test the theory. How would you like to be my last first date?”
Bastian hadn’t intended to ask Karen on a date. It was a stupid idea. Likely the worst he’d ever had. And considering he’d once freed all of the lobsters from the tank in the palace kitchen as a child—during a ball—that was saying something.
But when he’d seen her standing there, looking lost and alone, his control had slipped. She was so soft. Touchable. Kissable. She was so very kissable. And she always had been, from the moment he’d met her. He’d had to tell himself that she was ten years too young for him, that she was in his employ and therefore off-limits. And that both of those problems were magnified by the fact that, were he to make a move on her, the only possible result was that the relationship would end.
She wasn’t royal. Their alliance would add nothing to Komenia, would not advance the country’s position on the world stage. He needed the alliance with Kyonos. It was the only way to make sure his father’s vision for the future of his country was carried out. His father’s dream had been to gain an unshakable military alliance with the island nation. To be able to make the most of both countries’ superior naval defenses and technology. It had been his father’s life’s work.
But it had been Bastian who had figured out the perfect way to accomplish it. To ensure the bond between the nations was unshakable. By marrying Kyonos’s princess.
And that meant, no matter how much he ached when he looked at Karen, there could be no future for them.
So he’d ignored the tug, the violent physical tug, he felt for her, compliments of her beauty, her auburn hair, her creamy skin and lush figure, not to mention his response to her laugh, her wicked humor and her quick wit.
Yes, he ignored all of that. Usually.
But as the union with Evangelina had grown closer to being finalized, it had become much more difficult. Because he was having to face the fact that there would never be a time with Karen. That he would never kiss her. Never touch her. Never share a dinner with her where she wasn’t acting as his damn PA.
But they could have tonight. They would do dinner tonight.
The rest would have to go untasted. There was no other choice.
The thought made his stomach tighten painfully.
“So…this date,” she said slowly. “Dutch? Or are you paying?”
“I’m paying,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers, on the glimmer of mischief there.
“Well, then, how can I resist?”
That was the question he was asking himself. How could he resist? A chance to pretend, for a moment, that he had his most cherished fantasy in his grasp. It would be an illusion. Like trying to take hold of a vapor. But he would try anyway. Would take that moment of near possession over having never come close to it at all.
He’d nearly kissed her once. The night of his father’s death. Ironic, because that was the night he’d accepted the necessity of putting all of his personal desires aside for the sake of his country. His father had done it, had given all, to lead. How could he do less?
“You can’t,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “Give me one last thrill before I give everything up for God and country.”
“If dinner with me is a thrill, then I suppose I have to oblige you. We did already eat, though. Before the ball. And it’s nearly midnight.”
“Don’t be so practical, Karen. Have a sense of adventure.”
“It’s my job to be practical,” she said. “To keep your life organized and your feet on the ground.”
“Do me a favor,” he said. “Tonight, try not to be so sensible.”
She sucked her full lower lip between her teeth and gnawed it for a moment. The action sent a streak of heat down to his groin. Like an undiluted shot of alcohol rushing straight to his head.
“I’ll do my best.”
And the minute he said that, he knew he was lost. Because if Karen let go, if she stopped being