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“They will not be able to make the gift for my mother’s birthday.”
Her smile was pure saccharine. “Stop at Wal-Mart before you fly home.”
“I know you find this amusing, Maria, but it’s deadly serious. March the seventh will be an important day. My father has declared it a national holiday.”
Again, that glittery smile. She had her composure back—but not for long.
“There will be a ball attended by dignitaries from around the world.”
“Yes, well if you can’t find anything you like at Wal-Mart—”
“My parents have chosen you to execute the commission.”
Her jaw dropped. She was speechless. Twice in one evening.
He had the feeling it was some kind of record.
“Me?”
“You.” His mouth twisted. “You see, despite what I told you that night, I never mentioned your little game to either the king or the queen. I didn’t have to. My father had chosen the French jewelers. He preferred their submission.”
Maria swallowed hard. She wanted to shriek with delight but she’d be damned if she gave him that.
“How—how nice. To be second-best.”
“Please. Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” Why mention that the queen had preferred her design all along? “We both know that this is the chance of a lifetime for a woman like you.”
Her cheeks flushed again. “What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
“Why, only that your name, your career will be made when word gets out, Maria. What else could it possibly mean?”
She was sure that hadn’t been his meaning but why argue about it? The fact was, he had it right. Orders would double. They’d triple! Tiffany would give her a window display; so would Barney’s. Vogue, Vanity Fair, Allure, Elle, Marie Claire… every fashion magazine in the world would camp on her doorstep and the noxious pseudo-Frenchman would be on his knees, begging her to design for L’Orangerie.
If only the court hadn’t sent the prince to give her the news.
“They sent me,” Alex said, as if he’d read her mind, “because they wanted to be sure you understood the full importance of this commission.”
“You mean,” Maria countered sweetly, “because the king thought your illustrious royal presence would impress me.” He grinned. Her gaze on him narrowed. “Too bad your father doesn’t know you as well as I do.”
All at once, Alex was weary of the game. Why in hell had he ever thought he needed to settle scores? He was not a man who enjoyed revenge; God knew there was plenty of opportunity for it in business but he had always seen vengeance-seeking as a low sport. And payback against a woman, even one who really needed to be taught a lesson, suddenly held no appeal.
“What’s your answer?” he said brusquely. He pushed back his sleeve, shot an impatient glance at his watch. “My pilot is standing by. Weather permitting, I want to fly home tonight.”
Maria chewed on her lip. God, the man was arrogant. If only she could tell him what he could do with his offer, but he was right. This would jump-start her career. Nothing she could ever do would match its importance. She had to say ‘yes’, but surely there was a way to do it so she could regain her authority.
“Very well,” she said. “I’ll accept the commission.”
He nodded and reached into the inside breast pocket of his leather jacket.
“Good. I have some papers here …”
“There are certain conditions to be met,” she said as she took the documents from him.
His dark eyebrows rose. “There are, indeed. Dates of approval. A date of completion. An agreement as to what you may and may not discuss with the media—”
“One,” Maria said, “I work alone. If I need an assistant, that person will be of my choosing.”
“I don’t think you understand. This agreement concerns the demands of the—”
“Two, I’ll need some new equipment.” She smiled thinly. “Aristo’s cost. Not mine.”
Alex’s mouth flattened. “You’re fortunate to be getting this commission, Ms. Santos. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that.”
“Three. I do not work well with anyone watching over my shoulder. In other words, I’ll be happy to show my work, as it progresses, to the king and queen at their request—but no one else.”
The muscle in Alex’s jaw jumped to attention. “Is that last directed at me?”
“Four,” Maria said, raising her hand and ticking the point off on her finger, but he had stopped listening.
Who did she think she was, this snippet of a female? He was not of the old school; nobody had to bow to him or bend a knee in a deep curtsy, well, except, of course, on formal occasions of the court, but he was entitled to the respect he had been born to as a prince, the respect he had won as a man—
“If all those conditions are agreeable, I’ll sign your document.”
Alex didn’t answer. He stood watching her from dark, unreadable eyes and felt the tension inside him growing.
He had left Aristo knowing he had to deal with Maria Santos and keep his composure. Nothing more.
Then another thought had come to him. He would bed her again. Right here. Tonight. It was he who would do the seducing this time, if not with his body then with the commission she’d so willingly sold her soul to get. He’d strip her naked, touch her everywhere, kneel between her thighs and take her again and again and again, until she was out of his system.
A moment ago, he’d come full circle. Told himself that plan was crazy. It was not him. Taking a woman out of revenge was beneath him. It was, he’d told himself, enough that she’d know she was getting the commission only because the true winner of the competition was out of the picture.
There’d been that instant of pleasure.
Then she’d taken that instant and crushed it.
Who did she think she was, to make demands of him? Of the royal court? Did she think she had the right to treat him as if he were an errand boy?
“Are you listening to me, Your Highness?”
Alex looked at her. Her eyes glittered with contempt; her very posture confirmed it. Oh yes. She saw him as an errand boy. Not her mark this time. The court’s errand boy.
“I take it you heard my last stipulation,” she said. “I will not deal with you after tonight. Is that clear?”
He could feel his body humming with anger. He wanted to haul her into his arms and shake her. Humiliate her. Conquer her. Strip her of that ridiculous pair of sweats, bare her to his eyes, his hands, his mouth…
He took a step forward. Something of what he felt must have shown in his face because she paled and took a step back. That’s right, he thought coldly. Be afraid of me, Maria. Be afraid of what I’m going to do …
The phone rang. She grabbed it as if it were a lifeline.
“Hello?” She listened, then cleared her throat. “Yes, sí, I know. Yes, I know that, too. I’m sorry you had to wait for my call.” Her eyes swept to Alex; she turned her back as if that would give her the privacy she needed. “Could we discuss this another time?” she said in a low voice.
Alex had moved with her; his eyes, fixed on her, still held that dangerous glitter. Didn’t he understand she needed privacy? Who did he think she was talking to? Joaquin, probably. That almost made her laugh. The voice whining in her ear was her mother’s.
And hearing from Luz was the last thing she needed right now.
She turned again, desperately wishing this were a cordless phone so she could walk further away. Her mother was telling her about her cousin Angela—snide, holier-than-thou Angela—and her latest promotion at the insurance company. Maria had only to ask, Luz was saying, as she did every few weeks, and Angela would get her a job interview.
“Let me tell you my wonderful news,” she said quickly, breaking into her mother’s endless praise for Angela. “That commission? The one to design the birthday jewels for Queen Tia of Aristo? Well, I’ve landed it.”
She waited, although she really didn’t know what she was waiting for. She knew better than to think her mother would shriek with joy and say, I’m so proud of you, mia bella, or even, That’s wonderful news. But she didn’t really expect Luz to say, “You?” as if such a thing were impossible.
“You lost the competition. You were not good enough to win it.”
Maria winced. “Yes. Well—well, things changed. There was a problem with the winner and so—”
“Ah.” Her mother’s sigh spoke volumes. “Well, no matter how you came by it, it is an opportunity. Be sure you do nothing to ruin it.”
Maria felt like weeping, which was ridiculous. Why should tonight be different than the past twenty-eight years?
What made it even worse was that Alex had not taken his eyes from her. It was infuriating. His Royal Highness was a Royal Boor when it came to manners. Didn’t he know enough to walk away when someone was having a private conversation?
“One of the things your cousin Angela has always done is to make the most of her chances.”
“Yes. I know.” Maria cleared her throat. “It’s late. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Another deep sigh came over the phone. “God willing I will be here tomorrow. And please, Maria, do not waste time telling me the doctors say my health is excellent. What do doctors know?”
There was no point in answering. That road, well-traveled over the decades, led nowhere.
“Good night,” Maria said, “I love—”
Too late. Luz had already disconnected. Maria put down the phone and swallowed hard. The Prince of Arrogance hadn’t moved; he was still standing right next to her. She drew a long breath, let it out as slowly as she could, then turned to face him.
“Wasn’t he interested in your charming declaration of affection?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your lover. Joaquin. I had the impression he ended the call rather abruptly. Didn’t your news please him?”
“That wasn’t—” She bit her lip. Would having a lover, however imaginary, offer her some protection? She needed protection; every instinct told her that. “That wasn’t polite,” she said. “Listening to my conversation.”
He smiled thinly. “And you, Ms. Santos, are the expert on etiquette, are you not?” The smile vanished; he shoved a gold pen at her. “Sign the contract.”
Why did that sound so ominous? “I insist you meet my conditions before I—”
Suddenly, his hands were on her, cupping her shoulders, lifting her to her toes.
“You’re lucky to be getting this commission,” he said coldly. “We both know that. You’re desperate for money—please, don’t waste my time denying it. And you need the prestige that comes with creating a necklace for a queen.” His tone hardened. “Sign the contract, Maria.”
Her lip trembled. She looked away from him and, for a heartbeat, he hated himself.
Was he really reduced to this? Bullying a woman on the skids? A woman whose lover had obviously not said a word to congratulate her on winning this commission?
And why should he give a damn? Maria Santos was nothing to him.
“Sign the papers,” he growled.
She picked up the pen, smoothed out the documents, laid them on the table and scribbled her name where he indicated. He felt a surge of heat sweep through him. But he said nothing, simply took the papers, folded them and tucked them back in his pocket.
“As for conditions… there are others besides the ones I mentioned. There are my conditions,” he said in a softly ominous tone. “And you will meet them.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. She felt her pulse begin to race. Whatever he was about to say was going to turn her world upside down; she could sense it.
“One,” he said, still in that soft voice, “you shall have the studio of your dreams—but on Aristo, not here.”
“Are you insane? I have no intention of—”
“I assume your passport is in order.”
“Of course, but—”
“You will leave with me, tonight.”
“You cannot do this to—”
He bent to her and kissed her. Kissed her as if she belonged to him, his tongue in her mouth, his hands cupping her bottom, lifting her to him, into him, into the heavy thrust of his erection.
“And,” he said thickly, when he finally raised his head, “you will warm my bed until you finish the job.”
“No!” She shook her head as if to emphasize her refusal. “No,” she said again, her voice high and wild, “I’ll never—”
“You will, or I’ll do what I should have done when you left my bed the first time. I’ll tell the queen about our little adventure. I’ll tell her you’re not worthy of designing her gift or of working in proximity to her. And then you can stay in this loft and forever live with the knowledge that you failed at the one thing that could have changed your life.”
Maria wanted to weep but she knew damned well her tears would have made him not just the victor but the conqueror. Instead, she forced herself to meet his gaze without flinching.
“Is this how you get your women, Your Highness? Through blackmail?”
His eyes flashed a warning. She tried to pull away but his mouth swooped down to hers; his hands swept into her hair, holding her captive to his merciless kiss until, at last, a sweet moan whispered from her throat.
Despite her fury and her hatred, it was happening again.
The hot spiral of desire she’d felt that night all those weeks ago. The sudden swift race of her heart. All those amazing, incredible feelings she’d never known before were sweeping her away.
She was dizzy in his arms, dizzy from the taste of him, the scent, the feel of his hand, now in her hair, his fingers cupping her scalp. He gathered her even closer. The hard press of his arousal dug into her belly.
Oh God. She wanted him, wanted him, wanted him…
Maria wound her arms around Alex’s neck and kissed him back.
