Page 7 of Some Like It Scandalous (Going Royal #2)

She cut him off. “If by pressing you mean annoying, invasive, and stretching the boundaries of credulity, then you would be absolutely correct. Goodbye, Your Highness.” She shut the phone off and set it down on the seat next to her.

It rang again. The number identified Tower One and she looked at Kyle.

“Will you get in trouble if I ignore it?”

“No, ma’am.” One corner of his mouth quirked, but she didn’t know him well enough to identify it as a real smile or not.

She declined the call.

It rang again. She hit the ignore button again.

She repeated the process four more times before they arrived at the tower and drove down into a parking garage.

A private gate rolled open and the standing security waved them through.

The shadowy garage blocked out the morning brightness and she pushed up her sunglasses with reluctance.

She preferred the shield they provided, but she could hardly get away with them indoors.

They parked next to a bank of elevators and two more plainclothes security guards stood at either end. Uneasiness spread through her. When she arrived at the Petersburg Tower the day before, she’d passed through a relatively normal level of security scrutiny, but this seemed over the top.

Kyle exited first, then opened her door.

“Is something else going on?” She stepped out and frowned. Even in the deep recess of the parking garage, the men ranged out around her and she had only a few feet to cross into the waiting elevator.

“Nothing to worry about, Miss Novak.” Kyle gave her a polite, if encouraging, smile and gestured to the elevator.

He held her file box in one hand and she returned his phone to him before she picked up her laptop bag.

Inside, he inserted a key and pressed a button and the doors closed and they swooped upward.

At the top, the doors opened onto a cream-colored hallway.

No security guards in sight.

Kyle braced the doors to let her exit. He led her down the hall to the only door and knocked.

It swung inward and the Grand Duke Armand Dagmar waited—dressed in a blue button-down sans jacket and tie.

Unlike the day before, his tidy hair fell in a sway toward his eyes.

Her fingers itched to comb it back where it belonged.

His tight expression eased when he looked at her, then he reached out to take the case from Kyle.

“Thank you, Johnson.”

“Of course, sir.”

Belatedly she realized Kyle’s job was over. He would leave her alone with the prince.

Oddly disappointed, she summoned a smile. “Thank you, Kyle.”

“My pleasure, Miss Novak. When you’re ready to go, just ring down and we’ll have your car ready.” That sounded odd, particularly since her car remained parked in the garage at her house, but she let it go.

Her gaze collided with Armand’s and they stood there, silently, until the elevator closed behind Kyle.

“Come in…please?” He seemed to tack that word on as an afterthought.

She stepped around him and into…his apartment.

The gorgeous suite couldn’t be anything else—from the sunken living room and ninety-inch flat-screen television to the bank of windows offering an even better view of the city than his office possessed.

She hadn’t realized he actually lived in the tower—but the European aristocrat must need someplace to call home.

“May I take your jacket?” His hands touched her shoulders lightly and she forced herself not to flinch.

“No. You may not.” Forging ahead, she walked over to a table set up in the corner and set her bags down. Stripping off her own jacket, she hung it on the back of a chair, then went to work setting up her files.

“Anna…”

“I am here to do my job, Your Highness. If you don’t want to work, I can ring down for Kyle and leave.” Her voice didn’t quiver once.

“Anna.” He scowled, irritation darkening his tone. He hated to repeat himself. Charlie was never calm or collected. He laughed out loud, he argued with fervor, made love with vigor, and even yelled when the occasion warranted it.

Dammit, he’s not Charlie and he never was.

“Don’t you dare Anna me. Sources close to the prince? The only source close enough to you to spout that line of drivel is Rick and he was never an ass hat and never ratted out your secrets. So who the else do you suppose is to blame?”

Okay, so much for calm.

ARMAND

He deserved the fiery lash of her temper. He’d expected it from the moment she walked in—but no, a cold, detached zombie breezed into his apartment, leaving an icy chill in her wake. “You just assume I called and put the press up to that?”

“Didn’t you?” she fired back, the heat in her glare scorching him despite the distance between them. “Or do you think your curtsying secretary did it? Oh, I know, the hot dog vendor on the corner recognized me from our college days and put one and two together to come up with sixty-nine.”

The tension fisting around his gut since he woke that morning eased. His Anna still lurked beneath the rigid surface, boiling like a volcano threatening eruption. “ No one in my office would have released your name.”

“No one would release my name—genius. So you call a celebrity gossip station, feed them some cock-and-bull story about romantic reunion to do what?” She stormed toward him, her scent wrapping around him.

“Did you have some scandal to clean up? Your brother take up racing again? One too many parties with the sheiks in the Mediterranean? That model Nikole not doing it for you anymore? Or maybe you just wanted to put me in my place?”

“You have never been in your place.” He dipped his chin down, capturing her gaze and staring into those gorgeous eyes.

It didn’t matter that they burned with dislike and threatened to roast him on a spit.

Her nearness relaxed the fear squeezing his heart since the news broke.

Summoning her so peremptorily to his office hadn’t been about feeding her to the wolves, but a rash desire to see her again.

The type of impulse he’d not allowed himself since she walked away from him.

“Why, Ch—” She coughed, seemed to catch herself and let out a long breath. “Who, then, Your Highness? Who would do that?”

“No.” Armand shook his head slowly. Her anger—her righteous rage—flooded color into her cheeks. The ice thawed.

That took her aback. “I’m sorry, what?”

“No. Not ‘Your Highness.’ You want to ask me questions and speak to me like that, then you use my name.” He pivoted and walked over to the coffee service the housekeeper set out. “Coffee, before we begin?”

She said nothing.

He allowed her to digest the comment.

“Your Highness?”

And got heartburn for his trouble. “Yes, Miss Novak?”

“I think you owe me an explanation.” The censure in her words overrode the mild tone.

Do I really? Or do you simply want one? He studied her over the mug of coffee, taking his time to sip. She was here. She was safe. He could afford to let this play out. “I think you owe me the courtesy of addressing me by my name.”

“Courtesy?” The three syllables climbed one-half note each. The color of her lips seemed to darken against the rosy complexion and her eyes sparked. If she hadn’t forced her hair to tame with some straightening iron, she’d be the image of a fiery Celtic goddess.

He couldn’t help the grin the mental image produced. “Yes, a politeness shown to strangers and friends alike—” he walked toward her as he spoke, setting the coffee cup down on the table. To his immense pleasure, she didn’t back away, “—and I want you to remember just how well we know each other.”

Her kissable lips pursed and he leaned in, the sweet scent of her shampoo and soap arousing far sweeter memories—but a hand slapped against his chest. He froze.

She touched him. Palm flat against his shirt.

Her fingers seemed to burn right through the fabric, imprinting on his skin.

His heart slammed against his ribs, as eager as a dog on a chain to leap free.

“You’re an ass.” She gave him a shove, but it did little other than to push herself back a few inches. She started to circle him and he caught her arm, missing the feeling of her hand on his chest already.

“Say my name, Anna.” He spun her around—boxed her against the table, planting his body close enough that his thighs brushed hers and her chest pushed up against his with every breath.

This close, she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

Without the heels, she stood six inches shorter than he, but even in them she was not a match for his height.

“Stop it.” The order bounced off his temper—he ignored it.

He allowed himself the singular pleasure of running a finger down her cheek.

She didn’t flinch, but her swift inhale of breath gave him enormous satisfaction.

She wasn’t as immune—or as over him—as she pretended.

“Sweet Anna, you can tell me whatever you want—order me around, fight with me, get angry, yell— whatever you want. When you call my name. Until then…”

It killed him—absolutely killed him—but he leaned close, her body pressed fully up to his.

Her lips parted and the pupils of her eyes dilated.

He traced his knuckles down her spine and along the curve of her hip, then reached past her to press the button on the intercom. “Gentlemen, we’re ready for you now.”

Stepping away, he reclaimed his coffee cup and walked to the head of the table. The front door of the penthouse opened, his security admitting Richard and three others from the legal team to help them work through the papers.

He spared a sidelong look at Anna. She struggled to resume her icy reserve, but it was too late.

The passion they shared still flamed beneath the surface. Richard blocked his view when he paused to give her a quick half hug. Jealousy dug its claws into his spine, saved only by her less than lukewarm response to the awkward contact.

“If you will all take your seats.” He leaned back in the chair, determined to see this farce through. “Miss Novak needs to be brought up to speed.”

She chose the chair farthest away from him, but he contented himself with watching her—for now. His phone buzzed as Richard opened with a quick sketch of the Dagmar Foundation. The message was from his head of security.

They already had a threat.

Dammit.