Royally Forbidden to the Boss
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Scarlett Clarke
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CHAPTER ONE
PRINCESS EVIANA ADAMOVIÇ had less than a second to register the wave coming at her before it hit. She sucked in a shuddering gasp as chilly rainwater splashed her face and soaked the left side of her body. Brakes screeched as she bit back a curse.
You have got to be kidding me.
Her neighbors waking her up at five o’clock with a very loud argument over someone’s flirty coworker had been the first sign that today wasn’t going to go according to plan. Her early wake-up had been followed by her coffee machine sending a cascade of much-needed caffeine down the front of her cabinet after she’d overfilled it.
And now... Eviana looked down and sighed. She’d picked one of her best suits for today, a couture black blazer and pants with Louboutin pumps. It was now soaked through. A splash of mud on her white blouse added an extra flair to her debacle of a morning.
A car door slammed.
“Are you all right?”
The voice wrapped around her, deep and masculine. She raised her head. And froze.
The man standing in front of her was both unbelievably handsome and incredibly intimidating. Dark red hair combed back from a broad forehead. Strong slashes of cheekbone above a beard cut to precision along an angular jaw. A three-piece suit expertly tailored to follow the broadness of his shoulders and accommodate his impressive height. He stood nearly a foot taller than her.
Deep blue eyes fixed on hers. Something flared, a look of surprise, perhaps, before a shutter dropped over them.
“Yes.” A brisk wind swept down the road and pierced her now sodden coat. “Just...chilly.” She glanced down at her shirt again and grimaced. “And dirty.”
“I apologize. I didn’t realize how deep the puddle was.”
Scottish, judging by rolling rs and melodic cadence of his words. But there was a blunt roughness in his voice that, coupled with the hardness in his face, told her he was in just about as good of a mood as she was.
“It’s...fine.” It wasn’t, but the man had stopped when most would have just kept driving.
“How much do I owe you for the suit?”
“It’ll wash out.” She patted the maroon-colored leather bag she’d thankfully had on her right side. “And I have a change of clothes, too.”
“Can I drive you somewhere?”
Her head shot up in surprise. “Excuse me?”
He gestured to the empty street. “Few taxis at this hour. The bus won’t be by for another twenty minutes.”
“You’re not trying to kidnap me, are you?” she said, only half joking.
He stared at her for a moment. Then one corner of his mouth slowly curved up.
Vau. A different kind of shiver traced its way down her spine. If the man could stir that kind of reaction with just the hint of a smile, what would a real one do?
“No, I’m not trying to kidnap you.”
Don’t even think about it.
But she was. It wasn’t just the man’s good looks, although that certainly didn’t hurt. No, there was something...compelling about him. That bare-bones smile, a distinct contrast to the tension that rolled off his muscular frame, the faint darkness in his eyes.
Cold reality smothered temptation. That and one of the palace’s many rules filtering through her mind:
Princesses do not ride alone in cars with men unless they are related by blood or serving in a security role.
“I appreciate you stopping. And offering a ride. But I’m only a block away from my office. And,” she added with a smile to take any potential sting out of her words, “I would probably give my brother a heart attack if I accepted a ride from a stranger.”
Again that twitch of the lips that made her stomach do a long, slow roll. “Your brother sounds like a smart man.”
“He is.”
Although if Nicholai knew everything she was up to, from the tiny apartment she’d rented to walking to work with only a private bodyguard following nearly a block behind, he wouldn’t have a heart attack. He’d fly to Scotland and drag her back to Kelna without a second thought.
Her mystery man pulled out a black leather wallet. “At least let me give you money for dry cleaning.”
The man was clearly wealthy, from his bespoke suit to the gleaming black Rolls-Royce parked just behind him. But she couldn’t do it. Not when she had a walk-in closet full of clothes back at the palace, dresses and skirts and blouses from designers around the world.
“I really do think the mud will come out.”
He held out a banknote, the value of which made her eyebrows shoot up.
“Take it.”
Her eyes narrowed at the insistence in his tone. She’d been spoiled the last two months, living her life on her own terms. Having someone tell her what to do to rankled.
“How about you offer me a tenth of that for coffee and a pastry?”
“Are you always this stubborn?”
“Yes.” She cocked her head to one side. “Are you?”
His fingers tightened on the banknote. Then, slowly, he tucked it back into his wallet.
“Yes.”
The resignation in his tone tugged at her.
“Here.”
He held out a much more reasonable amount, although still double what she had suggested. Eviana started to reach for it, then stopped as an idea flared. It was a ridiculous idea. But as she stared at her handsome stranger, longing wound its way through her veins.
Could he hear her heart pounding as the idea sank its roots deeper? See the pulse pounding in her throat? She’d invited plenty of men to join her for coffee before—parliamentarians, ambassadors, visiting dignitaries, wealthy businessmen.
But they’d all known who she was. Never had she invited a man for personal reasons for...well, anything.
A princess is never bold.
Except she wasn’t a princess. Not right now. She was just Ana Barros, intern for a boutique public relations firm in Edinburgh. Princess Eviana wouldn’t have been able to invite a random stranger to coffee.
But Ana could.
Her heart galloped in her chest. “I’ll accept it on one condition.”
One eyebrow arched up. “Oh?”
“You let me buy you coffee.”
His lips parted as a V appeared between his brows. “What?”
She nodded her head toward the row of buildings that lined the street with what she hoped was a casual gesture. The windows of one glowed with yellow light, beckoning early morning commuters and random passersby to stop.
“Braw Roasterie. They make the best cortados.”
“I stick to black coffee.”
“They make that, too.”
“Why?”
She bit back a grin. Beneath his grumpy tone, she sensed that Mr. Rolls-Royce was flustered.
“You look like you could use it. That and five minutes of sitting with nothing to do.”
His lips parted slightly before he looked over his shoulder at the coffee shop. For one moment, she thought he was actually going to say yes.
Then he glanced down at his watch. “I should get going.”
Disappointment lanced through her. He struck her as the kind of man who kept a rigorous schedule, one that didn’t allow for situations like splashing chilly puddle water on a pedestrian. She wanted to push, to encourage him to break free for just a few minutes.
But she wasn’t going to be that person, wasn’t going to push. She knew all too well how it felt to be pushed. Besieged. Cornered.
“All right. Thanks again for stopping.”
She started walking.
“Wait.” She turned back just in time to see him hold up the money. “You forgot something.”
A princess exhibits gratitude and grace at all times.
She grinned at him. “I said I’d only accept it on one condition. So no, I didn’t.”
The surprise on his face almost made getting drenched worth it. She gave him a friendly wave and kept walking.
Helena, the head of the palace’s public relations department, would have had steam coming out of her ears if she’d witnessed Eviana decline a gift. A thought that added an extra bounce to Eviana’s step as she moved down the sidewalk.
It felt good, so good, to just...be. To talk with a stranger without monitoring every word that passed her lips. To tease, invite, converse without wondering if Helena or one of the public relations minions was going to show up outside her door later and provide her with a detailed list of what she’d done wrong. Even if the man behind her had refused her invitation, just the fact that she had been able to invite someone to coffee without worrying about photos being taken and splashed across social media was a win.
Not to mention, she thought with a small smile, getting to talk with a very handsome man for a few minutes. No expectations, no pretenses.
She almost glanced over her shoulder. One last look.
And then decided not to. She could have done without mud and rainwater. But her interaction with the Scottish stranger had been a pleasant anomaly in the midst of a chaotic morning. One that had made her feel both normal and more like...like a woman, she decided with a satisfied smile. Something made all the more precious with the few weeks she had left before returning to her former life.
Perhaps, she thought as she opened the door to Braw Roasterie and inhaled the rich scent of roasted coffee beans, her morning had turned out just right.
