flashed in her eyes.
‘You’ve heard of me, then.’
‘Yes, in the bathroom just now.’ Lina bit her lip, looking both guilty and amused. ‘Two women were talking about you.’
‘Were they?’ Rico arched an eyebrow. ‘Women’s gossip in a bathroom—I can imagine what they said, and I assure you, it’s all true.’
Her eyes rounded. ‘All of it?’
Rico didn’t even hesitate. ‘All of it,’ he drawled, and Lina let out a hiccupping laugh. She had, he noticed, already finished her second glass of champagne.
‘They said you were cold. A heart of ice...’
‘Pejorative, but essentially true.’
‘Oh?’ Lina tilted her head, her eyes sparkling, a small smile curving her lush mouth. ‘How are you so cold, then?’
Rico took a sip of champagne, considering. ‘I’m matter-of-fact,’ he stated, deciding as always that bold honesty was by far the best policy. ‘I don’t dress up what is essentially a physical and very satisfying transaction.’ He met her curious and impish gaze with a direct challenge in his own eyes, and he watched with pleasure as colour flared in her cheeks and her lips parted soundlessly.
‘Do you mean...?’ she began, and Rico cut her off.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do mean.’
She shook her head slowly, her pupils dilated, her cheeks still wonderfully pink. ‘They said something else in the bathroom.’
‘Did they?’ Although he affected a bored drawl he realised he was interested. He wanted to know what Lina had heard, what preconceptions she might have of him.
‘They said...they said...’ She licked her lips, making his libido take a little leap. ‘They said you were fabulous at sex.’ She let out a little laugh, seeming almost incredulous that she’d admitted such a thing. Rico’s mouth curved into a wicked smile.
‘Also true.’
She laughed again, shaking her head, seeming embarrassed, almost shy. Was it an act, a rather obvious and unneeded attempt to snag his interest? A woman didn’t pour herself into a sexy dress and try to gate-crash the party of the year without having some brash confidence and bold hopes.
‘So?’ Rico demanded in a low, sensual voice. He was tired of chitchat, of waiting. ‘Shall we go upstairs?’
‘Upstairs...’
‘To my suite. A bottle of champagne is waiting.’ It always was.
‘I... I don’t...’
Annoyance flickered through him. He didn’t have time for this. Rico stretched out one hand and slid his fingers through hers, enjoying the shower of sparks that fired through him at that slight touch. He’d made the right choice, he was sure of it. ‘Well?’ he murmured. ‘Are you coming...or not?’
HALINA COULDN’T THINK. From the moment Rico Falcone had rescued her from the box-ticking bouncer, she’d been ensnared. Bound body and mind by the sensual charisma of the man standing in front of her, so arrogant and self-assured and so very, very attractive.
She had limited experience of the opposite sex, and she had no experience whatsoever of the kind of man who stood in front of her now, one dark slash of an eyebrow arched, his mobile mouth curved into a smile of supreme self-confidence, his body radiating pure, muscular, sensual power.
‘Are you coming with me?’ he asked, and there was a note of challenge in his voice, as well as a hint of impatience. Halina hesitated. She shouldn’t go with him, of course, this man whom she knew, from both gossip and his own gorgeous mouth, was a cold womaniser. A man who was fabulous at sex.
Not that she had any intention of having sex with him, of course. Her virginity was a point of honour, as well as a prized asset. As a princess of a desert kingdom, her chastity was of utmost importance. She’d never even touched a man before tonight.
But why did this have to be about sex? All she wanted was to drink champagne, perhaps even be kissed...
It was hard to resist such a beguiling invitation. And he was quite the most perfect specimen of a man she’d ever seen—dark hair cut close, silvery grey eyes that flashed like sunlight on metal as he remained with his hand outstretched, fingertips gliding along hers, his tall and powerfully built body encased in a top-end tuxedo, the crisp white shirt and black fitted jacket the perfect foil for his dark hair and grey eyes, his swarthy skin.
From the corner of her eye Halina saw the two women she’d glimpsed in the bathroom shooting her speculative and frankly envious glances. No matter what they’d said to each other, they wanted this man...this man who, improbably, impossibly, seemed to want her.
‘Yes,’ she said, flinging the word out the way a knight would fling down a gauntlet. It felt like a challenge, a dare, completely reckless but also brave. ‘Yes, I will.’
‘Excellent.’ His fingers tightened on hers, causing a fizz of fireworks to go off in her belly. She was already feeling light-headed from two glasses of hastily drunk champagne, imbibed to steel her nerves. Now she felt utterly overwhelmed by the sheer, lunatic magic of the situation—she, the innocent Princess in her ivory tower being lured upstairs by the most magnetically sexual man in the world, never mind this room. And he wanted her.
Taking a deep breath, Halina followed Rico down the hall, away from the party, determined not to panic or even doubt herself. A little bit of flirting, another glass of champagne, maybe a kiss...and then she’d leave. Of course she would. And she wouldn’t think about her mother, or Abdul, the sleepy bodyguard, and certainly not her father the Sultan who would be both furious and heartbroken to know she’d dared to go this far, never mind what she might get up to once they were in Rico’s suite.
One night. One adventure. That was all she wanted, all she was asking for. Surely it wasn’t too much?
Rico stabbed the button for the lifts and the doors whooshed open. Still holding her by the hand, he drew her inside, then the doors closed and they were alone, soaring upwards.
‘So what made you decide to crash the party tonight?’ he asked in a lazy voice. Halina tried not to blush. So it had been obvious that she hadn’t had an invitation.
‘An impulse decision.’
‘Some of the best decisions are borne from impulse.’
‘Are yours?’ she asked. She was so nervous and hyper-aware of him that she wondered if he could see the hectic, urgent thud of her heart from beneath her dress. She resisted the urge to wipe her damp palms down its sides.
‘My impulses are borne of instinct,’ Rico answered. ‘So they’re always right.’
She laughed, incredulous and a little bit amused by his arrogance, despite her nerves. ‘Is there anything you’re insecure about?’
Something dark flashed across his face, so quickly that Halina almost missed it. She couldn’t decipher what it was. Then his expression evened out and he smiled, his lips curving, showing a flash of very white, very straight teeth. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘There isn’t.’
The doors opened straight into the penthouse suite of the hotel, the one her mother had demanded but which the concierge had regretfully informed her was already booked. What kind of man was Rico Falcone, that the hotel had turned away even a queen?
‘So, where’s this wonderful champagne?’ Halina asked as she stepped into the suite, her heels clicking the black marble floor. The space stretched on into the darkness, the only light coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Rico threw her a darkly amused