Page 11 of Prince She Shouldn’t Crave (Royal House of Halrovia #2)

Gabe sucked in the cool morning air as his run ended.

It was just past six thirty and he’d been surprised at how successful Lena’s suggestion had been.

Many of the highest profile participants at various mental health charities had joined him.

It was a slower run than normal, along the banks of the magnificent Lake Morenburg in Lauritania’s capital.

They’d jogged the paved paths around the lake, followed by security at a discreet distance and some press, taking the time to talk about youth mental health and strategies for improving it.

He’d missed Lena this morning, her constant presence.

After a few photographs at the beginning she’d gone back to the residence they were staying in.

Waiting for their inevitable arrival for a breakfast that had been arranged to continue talks in a casual environment.

Gabe hoped to make a difference. Even with all his privileges, he had some knowledge of what despair felt like.

When no one could understand why he fell behind at school.

Not listening to him when he said something was wrong, believing it was lack of effort rather than a true inability.

It was only when he began to find sport that he’d come into his own, recognising there was something he was good at and he wasn’t a complete failure.

His sports teacher had also listened, suspecting the dyslexia that had finally been diagnosed.

The group jogged up the winding private path to King Rafe’s home outside the palace.

A perfect place to escape. It wasn’t the first time Gabe had stayed here, and it was always on offer for him should he want to get away.

That didn’t seem enough any more. Whilst living at the palace in his own wing back home was a convenience, his time on this trip had led him to conclude he needed more.

A place of his own, not something owned by the family.

As he climbed the stairs to a particularly beautiful terrace overlooking the lake, Gabe made up his mind.

He’d set his private secretary on the path of locating a home to purchase for himself.

Whilst he was going to be King one long-off day, he was tired of having others trying to control him.

Striking out on his own hadn’t seemed necessary before.

Now, it was somehow vital. Gabe reached the top of the stairs, where the view was most breathtaking.

He wanted a place like this, with privacy and solitude.

One he could staff himself, make his own choices.

Lena.

Thoughts of her came to him unbidden. He’d arrived at the expansive, tiled terrace where she was waiting, as if for him alone.

What a ridiculous thought. Of course she was waiting for him.

He was her employer. She was there with his private secretary, to greet the guests, which she did with charm.

Gracious as always, eliciting smiles. Yet this morning, she looked different, in a way that unbalanced him.

He’d only ever really seen her in muted colours.

Blacks, dark blues, making it easy for her to melt into the background.

She always looked striking. However, this was something else.

Not a suit, but a dress in an ochre yellow, with white flowers and burgundy accents.

The colour made her golden skin glow as if lit up by sunshine.

But it wasn’t simply the colour that attracted him.

It was the style. The dress wrapped round her body.

The skirt grazing her calves with a flirty frill.

The fabric skimming her curves, her body.

Silky and light, fluttering in the breeze.

A gust blew, hitching the front of the skirt, flicking it back.

Lena smoothed it down though he knew that another gust, a little stronger, might expose a hint of her thigh.

Gabe was transfixed, he couldn’t take his eyes from her, trying to catch a mere glimpse of her skin like some errant teenager.

He moved from her long, lithe legs but it was almost worse, his gaze snagging on the top, the way it settled between her breasts in a vee.

Wrapped round her torso, tied at the waist in a bow.

He couldn’t get out of his head that she was wrapped up as if some kind of gift, just for him. For his pleasure. What he wouldn’t give to reach out, tug the bow at her waist. Undo her. Unravel them both.

It was impossible. He was a prince, with expectations to marry a princess. She was his employee. Yet all he could think of was the need coursing through him. A relentless drumbeat of desire.

Why her, out of all the women he’d spent time with?

Lena turned, and looked at him, her lips the same burgundy as the flower details of her dress.

Another gust and her ebony hair whipped about her face.

He held his breath as the corner of the skirt flicked, and for a fleeting moment he caught it, a slice of smooth, golden thigh.

A powerful spike of lust struck him. He craved to—

‘Your Highness?’

Lena’s words dragged him out of his reverie as she walked towards him. How hadn’t he noticed the sway to her gait? How her hips moved in such a hypnotic kind of rhythm? What would the press say if they could see him now?

Proper prince indeed.

‘Has it been a successful meeting so far?’

‘Yes. Thank you for the excellent suggestion.’

A hint of pink feathered her cheeks. He’d come to relish that colour. It was a beautiful look on her.

‘I thought I might mingle. Take more photographs.’

He noticed some other men in the group admiring her.

He didn’t know why he was possessed with the desire to hide her away from their gazes.

It was ridiculous. She was a grown woman who could look after herself.

There was no need for him to be her champion in some misplaced chivalry, and yet the clawing sensation remained.

He ignored it. Yet he couldn’t get over the sensation that if he didn’t do something , she’d be stolen away from him, when he had no claim on her at all.

‘Whatever you need to do.’

She nodded. Her attention already on others in the group, no doubt thinking of who to approach first. These were all high-profile members of the business community.

Anyone here could see her competence and professionalism, like Lise and Rafe yesterday.

She made to leave, walk away from him. He was overcome by the desire to make her stay.

‘Lena.’

‘Yes, sir?’

Say my name. It was unfeasible. Yet he didn’t know why he so badly wanted to hear it. Like it was some inevitability.

‘If anyone offers you employment, tell me. I was serious yesterday at the palace.’

Her eyes opened wide. ‘I—I…of course. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. I’ve only just begun.’

He nodded as she walked to a group, and they shuffled together as she held up her phone. Smiled for her. He marvelled at her openness, how she brought out the best in people.

How, in many ways, he felt as though he’d only just begun, himself.

It was clear that the breakfast was a success.

When Lena had mentioned the plan, Prince Gabriel’s private secretary had immediately jumped on the idea.

She liked that she could contribute in a way that was more than photographs and some words on a social media site.

She was beginning to feel as if she was part of a little team.

She took some more pictures, trying to ignore the prickling of awareness of her employer’s presence.

She’d only ever seen him in a suit and he’d joked he might wear one running, yet today he was in workout gear.

It was just a T-shirt, shorts, trainers.

Yet she was drawn to keep looking at him.

The way that T-shirt moulded his body. Showing his biceps.

His broad shoulders. The shorts, not tight, but still framing his backside.

The sheen of perspiration on his skin. Had she not been used to keeping a tight rein on her emotions she might have swooned.

There was a reason he’d hit the ‘hottest men in Europe’ lists more than once, though they’d always noted how remote he seemed, which tended to be a factor running against him most of the time.

Right now, he topped every one of her personal lists.

Professional, considerate, attentive, caring, handsome.

So handsome. He laughed at something someone said, and all of him lit up.

How could anyone call him cold? Surely others could see what she could?

Yet she needed to stop looking. It had become like some obsession.

Instead of constantly tracking him whilst he ate or talked to his guests, she checked media alerts on her phone.

Cold No More: Crown Prince Melts Hearts as He Bonds with Toddler Godson

The headlines looked positive. Talk of his diplomacy.

Applauding him showing his softer side. She was particularly proud of her photograph.

Gabe, with a soft expression on his face.

A warm smile, pointing out things in the book.

Carl, looking on, his back to the camera.

His parents out of focus in the background, but you could still tell there was an indulgent kind of expression on their blurred faces.

A slide of warmth slipped through her veins. She was glad she’d been able to show how genuine it was, because it hadn’t been an act, it had been real. Authentic. A tender moment that more people needed to see he was capable of.