The Prince's Waitress Wife. Sarah Morgan

      The crowd erupted into ecstatic cheers at the decisive England victory, and he rose to his feet, abruptly terminating Saskia’s attempts to converse with him.

      Responsibility pressing in on him, he strolled over to his Head of Security. ‘Anything?’

      ‘No, sir,’ Emilio admitted reluctantly. ‘She’s vanished.’

      ‘You found out her name?’

      ‘Holly, sir. Holly Phillips. She’s a waitress with the contract catering company.’

      ‘Address?’

      ‘I already sent a team to her home, sir. She isn’t there.’

      ‘But I’m sure the photographers are,’ Cas said grimly, and Emilio nodded.

      ‘Two rows of them, waiting to interview her. Prince and waitress—it’s going to be tomorrow’s headlines. You want her to have protection?’

      ‘A woman who chooses to kiss me in full view of television cameras and paparazzi doesn’t need my protection.’ Casper spoke in a flat, toneless voice. ‘She knew exactly what she was doing. And now she’s lying low because being unavailable will make it look as though she has something to hide. And having something to hide will make her story more valuable.’

      She’d used him.

      Casper gave a twisted smile. And he’d used her, too, hadn’t he?

      Emilio frowned. ‘You think she did it to make money, sir?’

      ‘Of course.’ She’d actually had the temerity to thank him for what he’d given her! At the time he’d wondered what she meant, but now it was blindingly obvious.

      He’d given her media opportunities in abundance.

      He searched inside himself for a feeling of disgust or disillusionment. Surely he should feel something? Apparently she’d considered the loss of her virginity to be a reasonable price to pay for her moment of fame and fortune and that attitude deserved at least a feeling of mild disappointment on his part.

      But disillusionment, disgust and disappointment all required expectations and, when it came to women, he had none.

      Emilio was watching him. ‘You don’t want us to find her, Your Highness?’

      Ruthlessly pushing aside thoughts of her soft mouth and delicious curves, Casper glanced back towards the pitch where the crowd was going wild. ‘I think we can be sure that when she’s ready she’ll turn up. At this precise moment she’s lying low, laughing to herself and counting her money.’