Maisey Yates - Rising Stars

The ruthless playboy prince, show mercy? No way. If he knew about Lilley’s father, about her cousin, he’d fire her. Or worse.

“Lilley,” he mused aloud in the silent office. He tilted his head, and his eyes suddenly gleamed in the small circle of lamplight. “What is your last name?”

“Smith,” she said honestly, then hid a smile. No help for him there.

“And what are you doing in my office, Miss Smith?”

The scent of him, sandalwood and musk and soap and something more—something uniquely him —washed over her. She gave an involuntary shiver. “Returning, um, files.”

“You know my files go to Mrs. Rutherford.”

“Yes,” she admitted unhappily.

He moved closer. She could practically feel the warmth of his body through his crisp black tuxedo jacket. “Tell me why you’re really here.”

She swallowed, looking down at the expensive carpet beneath her old, scuffed jogging shoes. “I just wanted to work for a few hours in peace and quiet. Without anyone bothering me.”

“On a Saturday night?” he said coldly. “You were searching my office. Going through my files.”

She looked up. “No!”

Prince Alessandro folded his arms. His dark eyes were hard, his expression like chiseled stone.

“I was hiding,” she said in a voice almost too soft to hear.

“Hiding?” His voice was silky. “Hiding from what?”

Against her will, the truth was ripped out of her. “From you.”

His dark eyes sharpened. He leaned forward. “Tell me why.”

Lilley could barely even breathe, much less think, with Prince Alessandro Caetani so close to her.

The soft golden glow of the lamp, the darkening twilight outside the windows filled the enormous, high-ceilinged office with deepening shadows. “I was crying,” she whispered over the lump in her throat. “I couldn’t stay at home, I’m days behind on my work, and I didn’t want you to see me because I was crying!”

Struggling not to cry, Lilley looked away. If she wept in front of her powerful boss, her humiliation would be complete. He would fire her—whether for skulking in his office, for crying in such an unprofessional way, or for being so behind on her work, it hardly mattered. She would lose the last thing she valued. The perfect finale to the second-worst day of her life.

“Ah,” he said softly, looking down at her. “At last, I understand.”

Her shoulders sagged. He was going to tell her to gather her things and get out of his building.

The prince’s gaze was full of darkness, an ocean at midnight, deep enough to drown in. “You were in love with him?”

“What?” Lilley blinked. “Who?”

The corners of his sensual mouth curved upward. “The man.”

“What makes you think I was crying over a man?”

“Why else would a woman weep?”

She laughed, but the sound was almost like a sob. “Everything has gone wrong today. I thought I might be happier if I lost some weight. I tried to go for a jog. Big mistake.” She looked down at her old running shoes, at her baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants. “My roommate thought I’d left for work. When I came back to the apartment I found her with my boyfriend. In bed.”

Alessandro cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Lilley looked up at him, shocked by his unexpected sympathy. Then her lips parted. Sparks spread from his touch, zinging from her earlobes to her scalp, down her neck and spine, causing heat to whirl like lightning across her skin. Her breasts felt strangely heavy, her nipples tightening beneath her workout bra.

His eyes narrowed in surprise. “But you’re beautiful.”

Beautiful? It was like a slap in the face. She ripped away. “Don’t.”

He frowned. “Don’t what?”

His cruelty took her breath away. She blinked fast, glaring up at him. “I know I’m not beautiful. And it’s fine. I know I’m not smart either, and I can live with that. But for you to stand there and taunt me like that …” She gripped her hands into fists. “It’s not just patronizing , it’s heartless!”

Alessandro looked down at her gravely, not saying a word. And Lilley sucked in her breath, realizing she’d just told off her boss.

She clasped her hands together. “I’m fired, right?” When he didn’t reply, a shudder of grief went through her. Her hands shook as she picked up a file from the floor and reached for the metal cart. “I’ll finish my work,” she said miserably, “then collect my things.”

He grabbed her arm, stopping her. “So a compliment is a taunt?” Staring down at her, he shook his head. “You’re a strange girl, Lilley Smith.”

The way Prince Alessandro was looking at her, for an instant she’d almost thought—but no. Strange was a code word for helpless failure . She said over the lump in her throat, “So my father has always told me.”

“You’re not fired.”

She looked up at him with the first glimmer of hope. “I’m not?”

Leaning forward, he took the file from her hand and set it on top of the metal cart. “I have a different sort of penalty in mind.”

“The guillotine?” she said weakly. “The electric chair?”

“You’ll come with me to the ball tonight.”

Her lips fell open. “W-what?”

His dark eyes were as warm as molten chocolate and hot as embers of fire. “I want you to be my date.”

Lilley stared at him, her eyes wide, her heart pounding. Had she fallen into some strange dream? Prince Alessandro could have the most beautiful women on earth—and he’d already had quite a few of them, according to the celebrity tabloids. Frowning, she turned around to make sure he wasn’t talking to some movie star or lingerie model behind her.

“Well, cara? ” he said huskily. “What do you say?”

Lilley turned back. She felt dizzy from his attention, half-drunk beneath the intensity of his dark gaze. She said slowly, “I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand?”

Lilley cleared her throat. “I don’t get the joke.”

“I never joke.”

“You don’t? Too bad. I joke all the time,” she said. “Usually by accident.”

He didn’t even smile. He just looked down at her, his face unmovable and oh, so handsome.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“But—it’s the Preziosi di Caetani ball,” she stammered. “The biggest charity event of the summer. The mayor will be there. The governor. The paparazzi.”

“So?”

“So you could have any woman you want.”

“And I want you.”

His four simple words made Lilley’s heart twist in her chest. She clasped her trembling hands together. “But you have a girlfriend. I’ve read—”

His expression hardened. “No.”

“But Olivia Bianchi—”

“No,” he said tersely.

Biting her lip, Lilley looked up at him. He wasn’t telling her the whole truth. And the waves of danger emanating off his body nearly scorched her. If he found out who Lilley really was, she would lose her job—or possibly get dragged into court on charges of corporate espionage. Every instinct of self-preservation told her one thing: Run.

“Sorry,” she said. “No.”

His eyes widened. She’d clearly shocked him. “Why?”

She bit her lip. “My work—”

“Give me a real reason,” he bit out.

A real reason? How about the fact that she was the daughter of a man he hated, and the cousin of another man he hated even more? Or the biggest reason of all: his strength, power and masculine beauty terrified her, making her heart pound and her body break out in a hot sweat? No man had ever had this effect on her, ever, and she didn’t know what to do. Except run.