Forbidden Desire (Maid for the Billionaire Prince) (6 page)

I let the sourish nectar flow onto my tongue. I lap it up, tasting it. I have never swallowed his sperm before, and I try it now, refusing to let the precious fluid spill out of my mouth.

“You’re going to kill me,” he repeats breathlessly. “Oh baby, baby – ”

His sperm continues to spurt into my mouth, and I continue to swallow it with relish as it slowly ebbs its flow. I hold his cock in my mouth for a long, long time, reveling in the sticky sweetness of it. I finally remove his glistening rod. It’s gone semi-soft now, but that doesn’t stop him from getting up and flipping me suddenly onto my back.

He straddles me. In the morning light, his hair has lighted up into a blazing golden brown, and his eyes are as green as jewels. He’s overwhelmingly, gloriously beautiful. His full luscious lips part.

“I love you, Liz Turner,” he says.

A sharp pain fleets through my chest. It lingers as a dull ache, and my heart begins to expand and weep with the sudden groundswell of emotion.

Tears spring to my eyes.

“I love you too, Alexander Vassar.”

It’s true. I would love him even if he had been a dirt poor hustler in some seedy joint.

He lowers his mouth to kiss me.

There comes a sharp rap on the door.

We both groan. Not again. The palace is unique in the sense that none of the bedrooms have phones in them.

“Your highness?” Jasper’s measured voice filters through the door. “There’s something you need to see right away.”

7

Alex and I stare at the newspaper and tabloid headlines. These are not only Moldovian newspapers, but French, Spanish, Italian and German ones.

‘REASON FOR KING FELIX’S HEART ATTACK REVEALED.’

Below is a photo of Alex and me arriving at the airport. I’m in my scruffy clothes and my hair is scraggly.

‘MYSTERY WOMAN REASON FOR PRINCE ALEXANDER’S DISAPPEARANCE.’

‘WHY TATIANA OF NUERNBERG GOT DUMPED.’ An inset picture of Tatiana looking disgruntled.

A smaller headline: ‘A palace spokesperson says ‘no comment’.’

I suppose that would be Jasper.

I glance at Alex. “So what do we do?”

He shakes his head. “There’s nothing we can do. If people want to talk, they talk.”

“Is Jasper going to issue any further statements?”

“He’ll see how it plays. Meanwhile, we go about life as normal.”

I’m still shell-shocked by seeing my not-so-flattering pictures splashed all over the newspaper front pages.

“Don’t worry,” Alex says, “you’ll get used to it in time.”

*

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. Alex goes to the hospital as planned. Meanwhile, I’m left with Jasper and the chauffeur to go shopping with.

“Will anyone recognize who I am?” I ask Jasper anxiously as the nondescript black Merc revs up the driveway of the East Wing entrance.

“I have arranged a discreet shopping experience, Ms. Turner. Where we are going to is catered for privacy. No one will recognize you unless you run out in the streets and flag the paparazzi down. Everything your purchase will be on the expense account. You don’t have to swipe any credit cards.”

Jasper opens the back door for me. He does not seem friendlier towards me than before, even though he has seen me almost naked twice. It doesn’t matter. I can’t help it if no one likes me because of who I am.

But I
can
help being affected by it.

I’m about to enter the back passenger seat when Claire comes running down the stairs of the entrance.

“Wait for me!” she calls. “I’m coming along.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the hospital, your highness?” Jasper says with a hint of displeasure. Oh good, so he treats everyone else with disdain.

“They only let a certain amount of people in at one time.” Claire dashes into the backseat with me. “You don’t mind if I tag along, do you?”

“Of course not.” I wonder if I should be calling her ‘your highness’ as well. I also wonder if she would make this entire shopping trip an unpleasant experience. Still, it’s a good chance as any to bond with the younger sister of the love of my life.

Jasper gets into the front passenger seat, muttering something under his breath.

The car drives off.

“So,” Claire says brightly, “tell me what it’s like to be a hotel maid.”

Uh oh.

Well, I have nothing to be ashamed of. At least one royal, her brother, thinks so. So I tell her about my job and what it entails, and how I was trying to make ends meet for college because my mother was made redundant.

“You’ve opted out of college. How cool!”

It isn’t that cool actually.

“I’m just taking a hiatus,” I put in hastily. “I’ll be going back to college.”

When I can
.

“So you toured Indonesia with my brother for a month. Tell me about it.”

She seems quite chatty and inoffensive today, and so I tell her all about our life in the villages – how we helped them erect a communal house, how we paid for a ‘doctor without borders’ to fly in to vaccinate the newborn babies.

“Fascinating,” Claire says with a twist to her mouth to suggest she doesn’t find it fascinating at all. “So how do you feel about my brother?”

I’m taken aback. Wow, this is sudden. I steal a look at Jasper in front, who has been listening to every word with pricked ears, I’m sure.

Again, I have nothing to hide.

“I love him,” I say.

“Do you really?” she says disbelievingly.

“Yes.”

“Is it because he’s who he is?” She raises her eyebrows. Her coloring and looks are exactly like her mother’s. “It’s a valid question and to protect my brother, I have every right to be asking it.”

Boy, she’s being brutally frank.

I say, “I understand. When I first met your brother, I didn’t know who he was.”

“I’ve heard the salacious details.” She flashes an impish smile. “Quite the stud my brother is.”

“I would love Alex even if he were a pauper,” I add.

“Even if he didn’t look the way he does?”

“Yes,” I say in confidence. Of course, Alex’s godlike looks are a major turn-on, but that’s beside the point. I have seen into Alex’s heart and fallen in love with the altruistic and impartial soul that resides within.

“Interesting. That’s what they all say, by the way.” Her expression turns cunning. “Did you know that my brother is quite the player?”

Well, I’ve Googled him a bit and he had been linked to a lot of supermodel types in the past.

“No, I didn’t,” I say. But that was the past, right? That was before he met me.

Right?

“Women throw themselves at him all the time. It’s obvious why. He’s got quite the roving eye. He may be with you now, but what’s to stop him from checking other girls out in the future? After all, he was with Tatiana until he met you.”

I’ve really never thought of Alex that way. In fact, it never even crossed my mind. He was with Tatiana? Really?

“Yeah, it has happened,” Claire says, smiling slyly. “Did he tell you that he loved you? He told Tatiana the exact same thing, and you can see how that went. I’m telling you all this for your own good, by the way. My brother can’t make a commitment, and you don’t want to be in a family who thinks you ought to be put back in your rightful place, do you now?”

An acute discomfort prickles the back of my neck.

No, no, she’s lying. You have to trust Alex.

And yet, when I recall all the Google articles and images of Alex with other women, a sliver of doubt crosses my mind. Alex the player. That was my initial impression, and dare I say – prejudice.

My voice quavers as I say, “What do all of you have against me? I have done nothing except stand by your brother when he needed me.”

“I have nothing against you personally, although I can’t speak for my mother.” Claire curls a finger around her hair. “You’re just not the type we would want for my brother’s girlfriend. What would the press say? A prince dating a hotel maid so that the palace can save on toilet cleaning?”

Now, that’s really vulgar and low. I physically wince. Claire has a cruel streak in her, I realize that now.

I was going to say that I am not going to remain a hotel maid forever, when it hits me again – what’s wrong with a prince being with a hotel maid? This isn’t the medieval ages. Heck, it isn’t even the middle of the twentieth century where there was an actual division of classes and races. The world has changed a lot, even if some of its citizens haven’t been dragged along for the ride.

“There’s nothing wrong in Alex dating me,” I say.

“If you seriously think that, you’ve got a rude shock coming. Anyway, we have reached Rue Chabon. We have a lot of shopping to do.”

Despite Claire rattling my confidence, I must admit to being impressed by Rue Chabon. This is apparently the Magnificent Mile of Moldovia. Its sidewalks team with fashionable shoppers in sunhats and pastel sundresses, and the storefronts are decorated with gorgeous clothes, purses, hats and accessories. All the designers are here – Gucci, Dolce and Gabbana, Chanel, Bottega Venetta, and even the newer ones like Zac Posen and Zubair Murad. Here and there, sidewalk cafes intersperse the designer stores. The whole place has the ambience of a French Riviera.

The Merc does not stop at any of these stores. Instead, the chauffeur drives us into the underground car park of a lovely little boutique hotel on Rue Chabon itself called ‘La Palais’.

“I thought we were going shopping,” I say.

“We are,” Claire replies.

The Merc lets us alight at a pair of elevators where a woman in a two-piece suit awaits us.

“Good morning, your highness,” the woman says. She has large gold hoop earrings and her copper hair is neatly done up in a stylish chignon. Her makeup is impeccable in the way of cosmetic salesgirls.

“Good morning, Eva. Eva, this is Elizabeth. She’s going to need a lot of help. Elizabeth, this is my personal shopper, Eva.”

Personal shopper? I’ve only heard of those, though I’ve never had a personal shopper in my entire life (and never dreamed I would need one). And a personal shopper who waits for us at a hotel? This has got to be a first. And yes, I get the dig Claire made at me – loud and clear.

“Right this way, Miss.”

If Eva knows who I am, she makes no indication of it.

Claire turns to Jasper. “She’ll be all right with me. You stay down here. I’ll call you when we’re finished.”

Jasper glowers, but does not take a step towards the open elevator doors. Even he has to reckon with the orders of a princess. His baleful eyes lock with mine as the elevator doors ping shut.

We zoom up to the top floor. When the doors slide open, we step out to a plush, quiet corridor. Eva leads us to a large area called ‘The Horizon Club’.

The moment I enter it, I’m floored.

The whole room is not only filled with the usual hotel club sofas and armchairs and piped instrumental music but there are racks and racks of hanging clothes, just like in a store. Half mannequins sporting gorgeous daywear and nightwear rub shoulders with smartly dressed live shop girls. All the big labels are there in bold letters on top of the racks – Versace, Dior, Chanel, Givenchy.

And the shoes . . . pairs and pairs in all colors stacked up on boxes. I recognize their labels: Jimmy Choo, Stuart Weitzman, Manolo Blahnik. There are jackets and dresses and silk pajamas and frilly nightgowns and suits and brassieres and piles of soft lacy panties on tables.

I don’t know where to turn.

Against one wall is a smorgasbord of pastries, breads, cheeses, platters of bacon, creamed eggs and tomatoes. There are jars of orange juice and milk next to bowls of cereal and butter curls on a bed of ice.

Is all that food for just the two of us, or is everyone invited as well?

“Oh goody, breakfast!” Claire makes a beeline for the pastries. She crams one delicate creampuff into her mouth. “They never serve us stuff like this at boarding school.”

The women are all smiling patiently. No one else seems to be eating, although a couple of the girls dart longing glances at the spread.

“I, uh, just ate,” I say, feeling self-conscious. I can never eat when there are that many eyes upon me.

“Suit yourself.” Claire forks several pieces of bacon on a plate and flings herself into an armchair. Then she leans over to me. “Say, you don’t mind if I put anything I like on Alex’s tab, do you? You needn’t tell him. It will just be between you and me.”

Oh, is it what this is about? I recall the conversation at the dinner table and her mother not giving her clothing allowance.

So she’s using me.

“I don’t think that’s right,” I reply.

“Oh come on, don’t be a fuddy duddy. You’d want at least
one
person in the family to be on your side.” She smiles innocently as she forks a rasher of bacon into her mouth.