Chapter One Hundred-Fifty-Eight
Nearly two weeks had passed since Keira's confrontation with Alexei, and she had to admit, grudgingly, that he'd kept his word. The weekend texts had stopped. The middle-of-the-night calls hadn't happened again. When she left the office last Friday evening, he'd actually nodded and said, "Have a great weekend, Warner."
It was... kind of unsettling.
She sat at her desk the following Monday morning, eyeing him through the glass wall of his office. He was on a call, nodding, occasionally making notes. She didn't know if this was going to last.
This new, boundary-respecting Alexei was throwing her off balance. She'd prepared for it to last a day maybe two. She had armed herself with sharp remarks and withering looks. Ready to quit if needed because he couldn't respect her.
Instead, she got... compliance.
"Mark wants to know if Prince Alexei has approved the press release for the Wystovian Trade Summit," Jen from Communications called as she walked past Keira's desk.
"I'll check," Keira said, grateful for the distraction.
She grabbed her tablet and went to Alexei's door, knocking as she entered.
He glanced up, ending his call. "Yes?"
"Mark needs the trade summit release. Did you approve it?"
"It's in your inbox," he replied, his eyes flicking back to his computer. "Sent it ten minutes ago."
"Oh." She hesitated, waiting for him to say something more, to tease her or smirk or make some comment.
He didn't. He just kept working.
"Right. Thanks," she said, turning to leave. This was so strange.
"Keira."
She paused, hand on the doorknob.
"Don't forget about the royal benefit gala on Friday. My father's pet project. Very important. I need you there."
She turned. "Me? Why would I need to attend?"
Alexei looked up, his expression neutral. "I need someone who understands diplomatic etiquette and won't embarrass the royal family."
"You have a list of suitable companions for these things."
"Yes, well." His mouth curved slightly. "Contrary to what you believe, my little black book isn't overflowing with women who understand palace protocol."
Keira crossed her arms. "So, I'm your... what? Stand-in? Because one of your Barbies would cause an international incident, like one of her boobs falling out of her too-tight dress."
His eyes darkened. "You will be my assistant. Attending a formal function. As you've done before."
"Fine." She sighed, already mentally cataloging the few formal dresses she owned. None seemed appropriate for a royal gala. "What time?"
"Eight. Car will pick you up at seven. Wear something... suitable."
She bristled. "I know how to dress myself. I have been doing it since I was two."
"I'm sure you have." His gaze swept over her, a flicker of something in his eyes before it vanished. "I will arrange something to be sent to your place."
"I don't need you picking out clothes for me, Alexei—"
"I will not be picking it out," he interrupted. "I will arrange for it to be done."
By Friday afternoon, the personal stylist that Alexei had arranged indeed came over a selection of dresses, all elegant, all expensive.
She’d been nudged toward a crimson, floor-length gown with a modest neckline but a nearly backless design.
Standing, examining herself in the full-length mirror of her apartment after the stylist had left, she wasn't so sure. "I don't know about this. I mean, it's modest from the front, scandal from behind," she muttered to herself. She was tossing up if she should change when her phone chimed with a text. The car was downstairs.
Shit.
With a final look in the mirror, she grabbed her clutch and headed out. The stylist had the hairdresser sweep her blonde hair into an elegant updo, with a few strategic tendrils framing her face. Diamond studs… on loan, glittered at her ears.
She looked... well, not like herself. She looked like someone who belonged on a prince's arm. The thought made her stomach flip in a way she refused to analyze.
Twenty minutes later the car pulled up in front of an old mansion converted into an event space.
Keira's heart began to race. Cameras flashed outside as guests arrived. This wasn't her usual behind-the-scenes role. Tonight, she'd be visible.
The driver opened her door. She took a deep breath and stepped out, immediately searching the crowd for Alexei.
She spotted him at the top of the entrance stairs, speaking with an older couple. Even from a distance, he commanded attention. His tuxedo was impeccably tailored, his posture regal. He looked every inch the prince he was born to be.
Then he turned and saw her.
Keira watched as his expression shifted. His eyes widened slightly, his lips parting. For a brief moment, Prince Alexei looked genuinely stunned.
She ascended the stairs, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious under his stare. She almost felt like kicking him.
"You're late," he said when she reached him, but there was no bite to his words.
"The ride here took longer than expected," she replied, smoothing down the crimson fabric of her dress.
His eyes followed the movement of her hands. "It was worth the wait."
Heat crept up her neck. "Don't start."
"I'm merely stating a fact." His voice had dropped lower. "You clean up well, Warner."
"So do you," she admitted, because it would be absurd to pretend otherwise. He looked absolutely devastating in formal wear.
A photographer approached, camera raised. "Your Highness? A photo for the society pages?"
Alexei hesitated, then offered his arm to Keira. "Shall we?"
She stiffened but placed her hand on his arm, very aware of the firm muscle beneath the fabric of his jacket. They turned toward the camera, and Keira forced her face into what she hoped was a pleasant expression.
"Smile," the photographer instructed.
She did, through gritted teeth. "Move your hand or I break it," she whispered, her smile never faltering as Alexei's palm settled against her lower back, dangerously close to territory it had no business exploring.
He leaned in, as if sharing an intimate moment, his breath warm against her ear. "Put your claws away for one night and have fun."
The camera flashed, capturing whatever expression crossed her face at his words.
"Thank you, Your Highness," the photographer said, bowing slightly before he turned to move on.
Keira caught the photographer's arm. "If you add any comments to your photos, can you let it be known I'm Prince Alexei's assistant, not his date."
The guy looked surprised. "Sure, no problem," he said, jotting that down in his notepad.
Alexei shook his head at her before guiding her inside, his hand still resting on her back. "Ready to dazzle some diplomats?"
"I didn't realize that was in my job description."
"Consider it an expansion of your portfolio." His smile was all charm and danger. "Don't worry. Just stay close and follow my lead."
"Because that's worked out so well in the past," she muttered, but allowed him to guide her into the ballroom.
The next two hours were a blur of introductions, small talk, and smiling non-stop. Keira's face hurt from the effort, but she had to admit Alexei was in his element. He moved through the crowd with effortless grace, remembering names, asking after families, discussing business and diplomatic relations with genuine interest.
This was the Alexei she didn't always see, the one who took his role seriously and understood the responsibility that came with his title.
"Impressed?" he murmured as they moved away from a conversation with the Wystovian Minister of Trade.
"Surprised," she corrected. "I half expected you to get bored and start texting under the table."
He chuckled. "I save that for when you aren't with me."
The orchestra began a new piece, something classical and elegant. Alexei turned to her, extending his hand. "Dance with me."
It wasn't a request.
"Is that an order, Your Highness?"
"Would you obey... if it was?"
"Not a chance."
His smile widened. "Then consider it a suggestion strongly backed by social expectation and diplomatic necessity."
Keira sighed and placed her hand in his. "Fine. But I'm leading."
"In your dreams, Warner." He guided her to the dance floor, where other couples were already moving to the music.
His hand settled on her waist, the other holding hers aloft. Keira reluctantly placed her free hand on his shoulder, trying to ignore the warmth of his body so close to hers.
"Relax," he murmured. "You look like you're being led to execution."
"I'm not much of a dancer."
"And you wanted to lead? Just follow me," he said, beginning to move. "See? Not so difficult."
To her surprise, Keira found herself relaxing into the rhythm. Alexei was a skilled dancer, leading with confidence as their bodies moved together.
"Was dancing part of your royal training?" she asked.
"Royal education does include the finer arts." His voice was low, "Dancing, fencing, riding... all the skills of a proper prince."
"And breaking women's hearts all over the world? Was that on the curriculum?"
He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "This is why I have you around, to remind me of my humanity."
"Is that what I do?"
His expression softened, just slightly. "Among other things."
The music shifted, becoming slower. Around them, couples drew closer. Without thinking, Keira's body responded, her steps bringing her nearer to Alexei. His hand slid lower on her bare back, settling just above the curve of her ass.
Heat bloomed where he touched her, spreading through her body. She looked up, intending to tell him to move his hand, but the words died in her throat.
His eyes had darkened, pupils dilated. His gaze locked with hers, intense and searching. For a moment, the crowded ballroom faded away, leaving only the two of them, moving together in a dance. The air between them crackled with electricity.
Then she felt it… the unmistakable hardness pressing against her hip as their bodies brushed together. Alexei was aroused. Because of her?