had to be.
Chapter Two
Philippe slid his hand from Ella’s with a faint, knowing smile, and she realized she’d been standing there clutching at him like a complete dolt. Clearing her throat, she nodded toward the exit. “I have a limousine waiting.”
“Excellent. You travel in style.”
“As I am sure you do, Prince Philippe.”
His smile deepened, revealing a dimple. “Of course.” He followed her to the limo, and Ella’s gaze was helplessly drawn to his lithe yet powerful figure, encased in what had to be a very expensive suit.
“What about your men—” She gestured to the security detail waiting behind them.
“They can take a separate car. They are only for high-profile functions—” His smile twisted slightly. “—and of course my image.”
The one thing she really hated, she thought as she climbed into the limo, a man obsessed with his image. And yet there had been something rather self-deprecating about Philippe’s remark…almost as if he’d been making fun of himself. She didn’t understand it, and didn’t want to.
Philippe slid into the limo next to her, and despite the acres of leather, his thigh nudged hers. Awareness flared again.
“Pardon,” Philippe murmured, his eyes glinting mischievously. Ella flushed. Did he realize how he affected her? Or did he just assume he affected everyone, that women fluttered around him like moths to a flame?
It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let it, she was a professional. Clearing her throat again, she turned to the prince. “We have a suite reserved for you at the Mandarin. I’ll take you there now, and then Mr. Bryant will meet you for dinner in the restaurant at eight.”
“Excellent. Thank you for being so efficient.” Philippe smiled at her again, and Ella gritted her teeth.
Stop being so charming
. “I’ve heard the restaurant has a wonderful view of Central Park.”
“Yes—”
“This is my first time in New York, you know.”
Ella said nothing. But in truth, she was shocked. She would have expected a player like the prince to have visited every major city in the world, or close to it. “First time to the United States, actually,” Philippe said, sounding wry.
“I hope you enjoy your visit,” Ella answered, her voice stilted and stiff. She could not talk naturally to this man. He reminded her too much of her own past, of the terrible mistakes she’d made.
“I’m sure I will. I hope I have time to see the sights.”
“Of course.” Though that would be Chase’s job, not hers, she thought with relief. Still she figured she needed to make some conversation. “What are you hoping to see in particular?”
“The Pierpont Morgan Library interests me.”
“It does?” Ella blurted. Not what she would have expected from the Playboy Prince.
His eyebrow quirked upward. “Surprised?”
“A little,” she confessed. “It’s not usually one of the top ten tourist attractions.”
“Have you been there?”
“Ye-es,” she confessed reluctantly. The library was one of her favorite places in the city. She went there when she needed a sanctuary.
“Perhaps you could show it to me,” Philippe suggested, and Ella didn’t hear any flirtation in his voice, just sincerity. She didn’t know how to respond, so she just nodded toward the window.
“The traffic’s not too bad.”
Neither of them spoke again during the rest of the ride. As Ella climbed out of the limo at the Mandarin, her phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from Chase.
Can’t make dinner. Take my place
.
Chapter Three
Ella grimaced at her reflection. The black silk cocktail dress was simple and elegant, but she couldn’t help wondering if it looked like she was trying too hard. Like she wanted to impress the prince, which of course she didn’t.
He’d been surprisingly amenable to the change in dinner plans. “Mr. Bryant is a busy man,” he’d said, a teasing lilt to his voice, and Ella had bristled.
“I’m afraid it’s an emergency,”
Chapter Two
Philippe slid his hand from Ella’s with a faint, knowing smile, and she realized she’d been standing there clutching at him like a complete dolt. Clearing her throat, she nodded toward the exit. “I have a limousine waiting.”
“Excellent. You travel in style.”
“As I am sure you do, Prince Philippe.”
His smile deepened, revealing a dimple. “Of course.” He followed her to the limo, and Ella’s gaze was helplessly drawn to his lithe yet powerful figure, encased in what had to be a very expensive suit.
“What about your men—” She gestured to the security detail waiting behind them.
“They can take a separate car. They are only for high-profile functions—” His smile twisted slightly. “—and of course my image.”
The one thing she really hated, she thought as she climbed into the limo, a man obsessed with his image. And yet there had been something rather self-deprecating about Philippe’s remark…almost as if he’d been making fun of himself. She didn’t understand it, and didn’t want to.
Philippe slid into the limo next to her, and despite the acres of leather, his thigh nudged hers. Awareness flared again.
“Pardon,” Philippe murmured, his eyes glinting mischievously. Ella flushed. Did he realize how he affected her? Or did he just assume he affected everyone, that women fluttered around him like moths to a flame?
It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let it, she was a professional. Clearing her throat again, she turned to the prince. “We have a suite reserved for you at the Mandarin. I’ll take you there now, and then Mr. Bryant will meet you for dinner in the restaurant at eight.”
“Excellent. Thank you for being so efficient.” Philippe smiled at her again, and Ella gritted her teeth.
Stop being so charming
. “I’ve heard the restaurant has a wonderful view of Central Park.”
“Yes—”
“This is my first time in New York, you know.”
Ella said nothing. But in truth, she was shocked. She would have expected a player like the prince to have visited every major city in the world, or close to it. “First time to the United States, actually,” Philippe said, sounding wry.
“I hope you enjoy your visit,” Ella answered, her voice stilted and stiff. She could not talk naturally to this man. He reminded her too much of her own past, of the terrible mistakes she’d made.
“I’m sure I will. I hope I have time to see the sights.”
“Of course.” Though that would be Chase’s job, not hers, she thought with relief. Still she figured she needed to make some conversation. “What are you hoping to see in particular?”
“The Pierpont Morgan Library interests me.”
“It does?” Ella blurted. Not what she would have expected from the Playboy Prince.
His eyebrow quirked upward. “Surprised?”
“A little,” she confessed. “It’s not usually one of the top ten tourist attractions.”
“Have you been there?”
“Ye-es,” she confessed reluctantly. The library was one of her favorite places in the city. She went there when she needed a sanctuary.
“Perhaps you could show it to me,” Philippe suggested, and Ella didn’t hear any flirtation in his voice, just sincerity. She didn’t know how to respond, so she just nodded toward the window.
“The traffic’s not too bad.”
Neither of them spoke again during the rest of the ride. As Ella climbed out of the limo at the Mandarin, her phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from Chase.
Can’t make dinner. Take my place
.
Chapter Three
Ella grimaced at her reflection. The black silk cocktail dress was simple and elegant, but she couldn’t help wondering if it looked like she was trying too hard. Like she wanted to impress the prince, which of course she didn’t.
He’d been surprisingly amenable to the change in dinner plans. “Mr. Bryant is a busy man,” he’d said, a teasing lilt to his voice, and Ella had bristled.
“I’m afraid it’s an emergency,”
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