Kate Walker - Claiming His Princess - Duty at What Cost? / A Throne for the Taking / Princess in the Iron Mask

‘I work for your father.’

Her gorgeous mouth thinned. ‘Two peas in a pod. How cosy.’

‘All that energy you’re burning up is just going to tire you out unnecessarily,’ he offered amiably.

‘You should be glad I’m using it up on pacing,’ she snapped.

Wolfe’s body caught fire at her words. Down, boy . She didn’t mean that was an alternative. It would probably never be an alternative again after today. No, it definitely couldn’t be.

He watched her ponytail trail over the soft skin of her neck before he sat on the edge of the low, plump sofa that was surprisingly modern in a room that dated back centuries. ‘Take your time. I have all night.’

She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up so they swelled just above the opening of her shirt. ‘Well, I don’t. So I’d like you to leave.’

‘I need to ask you a few questions first.’

‘You’re really pushing your luck.’

‘Maybe we should clear the air about that night at Gilles’s wedding.’

‘Us having sex, you mean?’

Her cool indifference again made him wonder just how many other men she had spent the night with, and the fact that he was at all interested only added another layer of heat to his spiralling annoyance. Was she just like his mother, willing to slake her lust whenever the urge arose and with any man handy? The thought made him sick.

‘Yes.’

Her eyebrows rose at his churlish tone and she leant back against the windowsill. ‘What’s to clear up? Have you forgotten how it’s done?’

‘Ava—’

‘Oh, don’t worry, Wolfe. I’m not about to strip off my clothes and ask for a repeat. Unless that’s what you want? Is that why you took the job?’ Her voice dropped, lowering to a sultry purr. ‘Are you going to order me to take my clothes off, Monsieur Wolfe?’

‘I don’t sleep with my clients,’ he informed her sternly, ignoring the lie his body’s response begged him to make of that statement.

She raised a mocking brow. ‘My father will be chuffed to hear that. He’s not into men, as far as I know. Although every family has their secrets.’

Her unexpected humour broke the rising tension between them and Wolfe laughed. ‘Tell me, Princess, what is it about me being your bodyguard that you hate the most if it isn’t our history?’

She threw him a droll look. ‘Do you have a spare year?’

Wolfe took a deep breath and offered up an olive branch. ‘Why don’t we start over?’

‘Pretend we’ve never met?’ she asked, somewhat dubiously.

‘If that works for you.’

She shrugged. ‘As long as you don’t order me around I can do that.’

Could she? He wasn’t sure he could. ‘Good. Take a seat.’ He spoke briskly, indicating the sofa opposite him. ‘I need to ask you some things to help my investigation.’

When she didn’t move Wolfe frowned. Was their ceasefire over so soon?

‘Ava?’

‘You can call me ma’am. And I believe you just issued another order?’

Yes, perhaps he had.

‘So did you,’ he ground out.

‘You didn’t say I couldn’t order you around.’

‘Av—Dammit, you need to cooperate or I can’t do my job.’ His mind conjured up the last time he’d teased her by telling her that he knew how to make her cooperate and he swallowed. Hard.

‘So quit.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’ve given my word to your father and there’s no one else I’d trust with your safety.’

‘What do you care about my safety? We’re strangers.’

Wolfe sucked in a silent breath. Seriously, The woman would try the patience of a saint. Reminding himself to keep control, he settled back more comfortably on the sofa. The cat sleeping in the corner rose and stretched, sniffed him and then crawled onto his lap.

‘Hey, mate.’ He stroked it absently. ‘You look like you’ve seen better days.’

‘He belonged to my mother.’ Her mouth turned down slightly at the corners, indicating that she was still affected by the loss. In some way he envied the fact that she cared.

The cat nudged his hand. ‘I take back what I said,’ he told the cat. ‘You’re in top condition for a man your age.’

He looked up to find Ava watching him. When their gazes collided she flushed, and he wondered what she had been thinking.

‘I think I hate you.’

Well, that was definitive, and unfortunately the feeling wasn’t mutual. ‘I’m not your enemy, Ava,’ he said softly.

The words but someone is lay unspoken between them.

Her shoulders slumped as if she had the weight of the world bearing down on her. ‘Can’t my father answer your questions?’

‘That depends on whether he knows anything about your love-life. From what I saw of the interaction between you two before I would have said you’re not that close.’

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Why do you want to know about my love-life?’

‘Everyone in your sphere will be investigated.’

‘Even you?’

‘I have an alibi for the night Frédéric was killed.’

‘Really?’ She finally sat down and crossed her legs. Slowly. ‘What is it?’

Wolfe regarded her wryly. ‘And I don’t have any motive for wanting to kill you.’

Yet .

She smiled, clearly sensing his frustration. ‘Am I getting to you?’

‘You don’t want to get to me, Princess.’

‘No, I want you to quit.’

‘Get over it.’

Suddenly her gaze turned serious. ‘Are you planning to investigate my artists?’

‘Of course.’

‘Be nice. Some of them are sensitive.’

‘Unlike you?’ It was both a statement and a question.

‘Unlike me.’

He didn’t believe her. Just the fact that she cared about her artists told him more than anything else. And then there was the look of concern that had briefly crossed her face when she’d first walked into the King’s office. She had a heart. She just guarded it well. He could relate to that. He’d put his in a box years ago, and that was exactly where he intended it to stay. It was a timely reminder to keep his head on straight around this woman. She got to him as no one else ever had, and that made her dangerous and him volatile.

‘Who was your last lover?’

She threw him a look.

‘Before that,’ Wolfe said gruffly.

Her eyes widened. ‘You want a list?’

No, he did not want a damned list. ‘Yes.’

She looked as if she was about to tell him to take a hike. ‘A lovely American took my virginity when I was eighteen because he thought it would be fun to bed a European princess. Then I met a novelist who wanted to write the great Parisian novel. We were quite serious—unbeknown to my father—but three years ago I realised that we weren’t after the same thing and we broke up.’

Wolfe could tell that both men had hurt her and he wanted to run them through with a blunt instrument.

‘Did you love him?’ The question was irrelevant and he hoped she wouldn’t pick up on that.

‘How is that relevant?’

Damn . ‘If you’re going to question me at every turn this won’t work.’

‘I already know it won’t.’

‘Ava…’

She huffed out a breath. ‘I thought I did at the time. Now…I’m not so sure.’

He wanted to ask what had happened since to make her question that but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. ‘And since then?’

The look she gave him made his stomach knot.

‘Apart from the Anders football team…’ She recrossed those long legs in the other direction and stared straight at him. ‘You’re the lucky last, Monsieur Wolfe.’

Wolfe sucked in a litre of air at her admission, ignoring her snipe about the football team. How had he so completely misread her? But he’d known, hadn’t he? He’d needed to believe she was as sophisticated and jaded in the art of seduction as he was. It had made it easier to let her go after the night they’d spent together. Made it easier to believe that what was between them was nothing more than mutual biological gratification. Not that it had worked exactly…