Page 124
No more kid gloves. No more avoidance. No more failing to confront the elephant in the room.
Melody had brought this on herself with her escalating rudeness towards him over the past four years.
Tonight, she needed to learn the lesson he had learned during the intervening years, that her hurt feelings were not a good enough excuse to disrespect him and, more importantly, his office and his country, in front of their guests, the international community and the world’s press.
No one—not even that upstart Carter—was going to stop Rene from getting that damn elephant off his chest once and for all.
One thing was for sure. Melody Taylor would not be able to ignore him—or give him the side-eye—a moment longer once this never-ending event was finally over… In ten seconds and counting.
* * *
‘Three! Two! One… Happy New Year, everyone!’
Mel clapped as the crowd erupted around her—relief flowing through her.
If only Isabelle had known how much spending the night in Gaultiere Castle would cost her. But the hours she had been forced to spend in Rene’s home were nearly over.
Thanks to her carefully planned late arrival and all the demands on the Prince’s time at an event like this, she had only had to spend five minutes by his side—which had kept the emotions he stirred under strict control.
Now all she had to do was make a swift and dignified exit.
The Castle’s guest manager had assigned her a suite for the night in the East Wing, but she had no intention of waking up here tomorrow—the risk of seeing Rene again far too great. So she had arranged for an all-terrain vehicle to be made available to her in the Castle’s garage. The five-hour drive through the mountains at night could be perilous, especially at this time of year, but the weather forecast was favourable, and the route had been clear when she and the rest of Isabelle’s staff had arrived this afternoon.
All she had to do now was change out of the ball gown and flee. No one would even know she had left ahead of schedule until she got back to Androvia.
She edged her way through the packed crowd of revellers, who were busy planting impromptu kisses on each other. But before she got more than a couple of steps a soft tug on her elbow found her pulled against the chest of Eli Carter.
‘Happy New Year, Ms Taylor,’ he murmured in his deep American accent.
She pressed her palms against a solid wall of muscle to resist falling any further into his arms as the crowd surged around them.
Carter had been charming up to now, his interest in her flattering, and it had helped take her mind off her tumultuous reaction to being in Rene’s home for the first time. But the hotel magnate’s closeness now felt a lot more forward.
‘How about a kiss to celebrate the New Year?’ Carter said, the arrogant amusement in his gaze almost as disconcerting as the abrupt switch from charming to flirtatious.
Tall, dark and hot, with an ego the size of the Castle itself, Eli Carter clearly had seducing women as one of his superpowers. And while he hadn’t been remotely pushy up to now, she knew a womaniser when she saw one.
Thanks so much, Rene Gaultiere.
She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was a cynical edge to Carter’s interest in her—which had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with Rene—because he’d asked her a lot of probing questions about Saltzaland’s Prince during their discussion. But while she had very personal reasons for avoiding Rene, she had sensed Carter had reasons of his own for disliking the Prince.
She’d deflected Carter’s questions easily enough, because the last person she wanted to talk about, let alone think about, was the man she had been determined to avoid all evening. And luckily, she was not the same naïve, insecure eighteen-year-old who’d once fallen for Rene’s charms. But she didn’t have time to deal with Carter now.
‘Nice try, Carter, but I’ll pass,’ she said, forced to lean close to him as the noise levels in the ballroom reached deafening.
‘Shame,’ he shouted back, although he didn’t look particularly crestfallen, increasing her suspicions that he’d had a hidden agenda tonight she wanted no part of.
But just as he let her elbow go, the crowd parted behind him—and Rene appeared from nowhere.
Mel’s heartbeat rammed her ribs—and plunged between her thighs.
The black tuxedo he wore was perfectly fitted to his tall, muscular physique, the shimmering lights from the antique chandelier above their heads casting his handsome face into stark relief.
She hated herself for noticing how magnificent he looked. But, to her surprise, instead of saying something cutting or, worse, dismissive, Rene grabbed the billionaire’s shoulder and yanked him away from her.
‘Touch her again, Carter, and you’ll regret it,’ he announced, the low-grade fury shocking Mel, but not as much as the spurt of awareness. Or the horrifying shot of arousal as his broad shoulders flexed under the expertly tailored tux.
But then his furious glare landed on her. ‘We’re leaving.’
Melody had brought this on herself with her escalating rudeness towards him over the past four years.
Tonight, she needed to learn the lesson he had learned during the intervening years, that her hurt feelings were not a good enough excuse to disrespect him and, more importantly, his office and his country, in front of their guests, the international community and the world’s press.
No one—not even that upstart Carter—was going to stop Rene from getting that damn elephant off his chest once and for all.
One thing was for sure. Melody Taylor would not be able to ignore him—or give him the side-eye—a moment longer once this never-ending event was finally over… In ten seconds and counting.
* * *
‘Three! Two! One… Happy New Year, everyone!’
Mel clapped as the crowd erupted around her—relief flowing through her.
If only Isabelle had known how much spending the night in Gaultiere Castle would cost her. But the hours she had been forced to spend in Rene’s home were nearly over.
Thanks to her carefully planned late arrival and all the demands on the Prince’s time at an event like this, she had only had to spend five minutes by his side—which had kept the emotions he stirred under strict control.
Now all she had to do was make a swift and dignified exit.
The Castle’s guest manager had assigned her a suite for the night in the East Wing, but she had no intention of waking up here tomorrow—the risk of seeing Rene again far too great. So she had arranged for an all-terrain vehicle to be made available to her in the Castle’s garage. The five-hour drive through the mountains at night could be perilous, especially at this time of year, but the weather forecast was favourable, and the route had been clear when she and the rest of Isabelle’s staff had arrived this afternoon.
All she had to do now was change out of the ball gown and flee. No one would even know she had left ahead of schedule until she got back to Androvia.
She edged her way through the packed crowd of revellers, who were busy planting impromptu kisses on each other. But before she got more than a couple of steps a soft tug on her elbow found her pulled against the chest of Eli Carter.
‘Happy New Year, Ms Taylor,’ he murmured in his deep American accent.
She pressed her palms against a solid wall of muscle to resist falling any further into his arms as the crowd surged around them.
Carter had been charming up to now, his interest in her flattering, and it had helped take her mind off her tumultuous reaction to being in Rene’s home for the first time. But the hotel magnate’s closeness now felt a lot more forward.
‘How about a kiss to celebrate the New Year?’ Carter said, the arrogant amusement in his gaze almost as disconcerting as the abrupt switch from charming to flirtatious.
Tall, dark and hot, with an ego the size of the Castle itself, Eli Carter clearly had seducing women as one of his superpowers. And while he hadn’t been remotely pushy up to now, she knew a womaniser when she saw one.
Thanks so much, Rene Gaultiere.
She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was a cynical edge to Carter’s interest in her—which had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with Rene—because he’d asked her a lot of probing questions about Saltzaland’s Prince during their discussion. But while she had very personal reasons for avoiding Rene, she had sensed Carter had reasons of his own for disliking the Prince.
She’d deflected Carter’s questions easily enough, because the last person she wanted to talk about, let alone think about, was the man she had been determined to avoid all evening. And luckily, she was not the same naïve, insecure eighteen-year-old who’d once fallen for Rene’s charms. But she didn’t have time to deal with Carter now.
‘Nice try, Carter, but I’ll pass,’ she said, forced to lean close to him as the noise levels in the ballroom reached deafening.
‘Shame,’ he shouted back, although he didn’t look particularly crestfallen, increasing her suspicions that he’d had a hidden agenda tonight she wanted no part of.
But just as he let her elbow go, the crowd parted behind him—and Rene appeared from nowhere.
Mel’s heartbeat rammed her ribs—and plunged between her thighs.
The black tuxedo he wore was perfectly fitted to his tall, muscular physique, the shimmering lights from the antique chandelier above their heads casting his handsome face into stark relief.
She hated herself for noticing how magnificent he looked. But, to her surprise, instead of saying something cutting or, worse, dismissive, Rene grabbed the billionaire’s shoulder and yanked him away from her.
‘Touch her again, Carter, and you’ll regret it,’ he announced, the low-grade fury shocking Mel, but not as much as the spurt of awareness. Or the horrifying shot of arousal as his broad shoulders flexed under the expertly tailored tux.
But then his furious glare landed on her. ‘We’re leaving.’
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