King's Price. Jackie Ashenden

      LEON KING WAS a Grade A bastard.

      The day after I’d met him in the nightclub and he’d forced me to dance he sent me a schedule of the dates he’d be taking me on, with times, not to mention the name of the wedding planner who’d be handling the wedding itself. There were dates attached to that too—he wanted the marriage to happen as soon as possible while at the same time generating the maximum amount of publicity.

      Four weeks was enough time apparently.

      And he hadn’t only sent the schedule to me; he’d sent it to my father as well. So now Dad knew that not only had I met with Leon King without telling him, I’d tipped Leon off about me being Clara’s stand-in.

      Yet that wasn’t the worst part.

      The worst part was the link Leon had included with the schedule. A link that went to a page on some awful gossip website where there was a terrible write-up about Leon King’s new ‘love’. A photo accompanied it. A photo of him holding me on the dance floor just before he’d walked away.

      I’d tried very hard to forget about the moment he’d held me close, his predator’s eyes watching me all the while. And I still didn’t know what had happened to me in that second. Why I’d let those big, warm hands of his rest on my hips and that tall, muscled body get close to mine.

      It had been like I’d gone deaf, the beat of the music fading away, the crowds disappearing, everything lost in the dark gold of his eyes.

      I’d just...forgotten I could move.

      I’d forgotten I could breathe.

      His nearness had been electric, my skin prickling all over, a strange restlessness coiling deep inside me, a heat that seemed to pool right down between my thighs.

      It was as if he’d hypnotised me.

      I didn’t know what it was in the end that made him walk away, but I was glad of it. Even more glad to get out of that damn club as quickly as I could.

      What would you have done if he hadn’t let you go?

      Nothing, of course. All that physical reaction was simply oestrogen reacting to testosterone, or pheromones or adrenaline, take your pick. None of that meant anything, and I should know since I still had the scars to prove it.

      Anyway, the upshot was Dad not being pleased and I had to endure a speech down the phone about how irresponsible I’d been and how I’d put the whole plan at risk. I decided not to bother telling him I’d been trying to get Leon to drop the marriage thing to save us both, listening to him in silence instead then disconnecting the call without a word.