Jennifer Lewis - Prince of Midtown / Marriage, Manhattan Style

Alarmed, Sebastian glanced at Elizabeth, who stared after her husband with a stunned look on her face.

Sebastian snatched his cup and plate off the counter and hurried to the table. He sat without waiting for an invitation.

His gut twisted when he saw her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Elizabeth, what’s wrong?”

He reached for her hand but she snatched it up and dabbed at her eyes with the napkin. “Nothing! Nothing at all. I’m fine.” A sob belied her words. “Allergies. They’re terrible at this time of year.” She drew in a sharp breath. “How are you, Sebastian?”

“Once I’ve had this coffee, I’ll be okay.” He took a bracing sip. Elizabeth was obviously in distress and it pained him not to be able to help her. “Can I get you something? Some chocolate?”

She laughed. “Chocolate usually does help, doesn’t it?” She glanced toward the door. “But not today. I have to run, I have an appointment.” Hands shaking, she gathered her handbag and a large shopping bag. “I’m sorry I don’t have more time to chat. I’ve—” Her voice caught.

Something was very wrong.

“I understand. Another time.” The platitudes felt hollow and useless, but she clearly didn’t want to talk.

He rose from his chair and kissed her cheek. Cold as ice. “And, Elizabeth, if you ever need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me.”

She nodded and hurried away.

How odd. She and Reed always seemed like the perfect couple. Their wedding had been the social event of the season, the bride radiant, her handsome groom the toast of the city for months. Sebastian had even found himself contemplating the joys of marriage—for a week or two.

Luckily it had worn off.

Five years later and here they were: arguments, tension, tears.

Marriage did not look like fun.

Sebastian brimmed with anticipation as he marched across the tarmac toward the plane. “Tessa!”

At the sound of his voice, she looked up and smiled. “Hello, Sebastian.”

She stood at the bottom of the movable stairs, fiddling with the strap on her bag. The wind molded her thin dress to her body in a way that made his blood pressure jump a notch.

Her legs were endless. Slender and shapely. The kind of legs that could wrap around you and hold you in a vise of pleasure.

Not that he had any intention of seducing his assistant into bed.

Even he had his limits.

At least he thought he did.

“Don’t be nervous. Our pilot is very experienced. Have you met Sven?”

“Yes, he introduced himself. I’m more excited than nervous. I actually love to fly. It’s fun seeing the world from above.”

“I do agree.” A smile settled over his face as he took her elbow and led her up the stairs.

Sebastian refused to discuss work during the flight. He wanted Tessa to relax and enjoy herself. To banish any thoughts that she was bored and ready to “move on.”

Any “moving on” would be accomplished in his comfortably appointed jet. “Champagne?” He lifted a bottle out of the fridge.

Tessa’s eyes widened. “It’s only two o’clock.”

“That means it’s eight in Caspia. They always say to pack and dress for your destination, so why not drink for it, too?”

He popped the cork.

Tessa bit her lip. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

“Exactly. You’d better do as I say.” He handed her the glass. “Here’s to your maiden voyage to Caspia.” He clinked his glass against hers.

Excitement sparkled in her big, green eyes. “I’ve never left the country before.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. I flew around a bit on business for my first job, but mostly to L.A. I’ve never been to Europe.”

“Not even to visit friends?” Sebastian found this hard to believe. He knew quite a few people who went to boarding school with Tessa and they were as likely to be found on the ski slopes of Gstaad or the beaches of Provence as in their Wall Street watering holes.

Tessa put her champagne glass on the table. “I went to St. Peter’s on a scholarship.” She raised her eyes to meet his at the mention of the highbrow prep school. “I’m not really one of them.”

“One of who?”

“You know, the jet set, or whatever you want to call it.”

She looked so anxious that he managed to suppress the smile tugging at his lips. “Um, Tessa, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you’re sitting in a jet right now, waiting to take off.”

She swatted his idea away with a movement of her graceful hands. “You know what I mean. This is part of my job.”

Sebastian slammed his glass down next to hers. “I don’t want to hear anything more about any job. You are vital to the economic growth of the nation of Caspia. You have a career with us.”

He’d make it a personal challenge to make sure she stayed. He did enjoy a challenge. The curse of a competitive nature.

“Buckle up.” Sven’s voice came over the radio. Sebastian watched as Tessa fastened her buckle over her slim hips. Her long fingers were magnificent. He could imagine them dancing over the strings of a Caspian harp.

Or over the muscles of his belly. And lower. Between his thighs…

He shifted in his seat. “Sven, let’s take the temperature down a couple of degrees.”

Tessa looked sideways at him. “Do we have to hold on to our glasses?”

“Can’t hurt.” Sebastian swept hers up and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed for an electric moment. He sipped the dry Blanc de Noirs, but the sparkle of the bubbles only increased an intriguing sense of anticipation that crackled through him.

Tessa peered out the window as the plane lifted over the ocean, her long neck craned forward. “Goodness, New York really is a bunch of islands, isn’t it? Wow, what a beach. The breakers look awesome from up here. And I can see a fishing boat! I never think of people fishing near the city. And look at all those swimming pools on Long Island. Don’t these people know there’s an ocean right there?”

Her eyes shone, dazzled with sights he’d long ceased to notice.

Sebastian laughed.

Caspia with Tessa was going to be fun.

Tessa couldn’t help feeling a little sad as their plane approached their final destination in the dead of night.

All across Europe, towns and cities had glittered amongst vast swathes of dark countryside. Snowcapped mountain ranges shimmered in the faint glow of the moon.

That same moon reflected off calm ocean water as the plane banked on approach to the airport in Caspia. Giddy from champagne and from chatting with Sebastian about everything under the sun, she couldn’t imagine getting any sleep before morning.

The plane landed on the runway with barely a bump. Sebastian peered out the window. “My driver is waiting. We’ll be at the palace in ten minutes.”

The palace.

Tessa’s skin grew tight as terror crept over her.

An actual palace with a real king and queen living in it.

She glanced sideways at Sebastian. He was stretching, which had the unfortunate effect of pulling his black T-shirt tight over the granite-hard expanse of his chest.

She jerked her eyes away. In addition to being a royal prince, he was her boss, for crying out loud.

Her heart hammered as the pilot opened the door and ushered them down the steps. Sebastian gestured for her to go first, so she stepped out into the dark night.

A cool breeze rushed her face, rich with the smell of the sea.

“Home sweet home.” Sebastian drew in a hearty lungful. “I find it harder and harder to leave and each time I return, I’m more grateful than ever.”

“I guess that’s good, since you couldn’t really leave anyway, could you?” How odd to grow up with the obligation of being a monarch some day. To have no choice in who or what you could become.