My Royal Sin. Riley PineЧитать онлайн книгу.
I’d make with any other clients—without him ever laying a hand on me. I swallow tears and extend a hand. “I’m Ruby.” I give him my fake name from the brothel, and he hesitates, my wig in one hand, his collar in the other. “Shaking hands doesn’t violate any rules, does it?”
The corner of his mouth quirks into something almost like a grin. Almost.
For a moment I’m tempted to tell him the truth. I am Evangeline Vernazza. Surely he would recognize my father’s surname. But no. Prince Benedict and I are more similar than he thinks. I know family disgrace as much as he does. I am not a budding artist, daughter of a respected name anymore. I am Ruby, the newest escort from The Jewel Box, the most prized brothel in Europe.
He drops the wig to the floor and takes my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ruby.”
I smile enough for the both of us. “Your Highness, I’d say you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Benedict
I HAVE NEVER laid eyes on this woman in my life, so why does a strange recognition thrum through me? Ruby’s golden hair tumbles over her narrow shoulders, loose curls that skim the swell of her breasts as they rise and fall. Her unease is palpable, a problem when my own instincts are hardwired to provide comfort. I flick my gaze to the wall where a discreet intercom system blends into the sumptuous red-and-gold wallpaper. Never once have I summoned for the help of those who wait around the clock for my beck and call. But this woman is causing me to break all of my rules.
I cross the room, press and hold the small button. “X, I have need of you.”
“Very good, sir.” My bodyguard’s response is cool, clipped and unsurprised. He had guarded my brother Nikolai for years but asked to be reassigned to me after my brother’s engagement to his matchmaker, Kate. The request came as a surprise. X joked that he had grown tired of being surrounded by all the newlywed romanticism. If that’s true, he came to the right place in heading up my security detail.
At least, until tonight.
He appears a moment later, seemingly conjured from thin air. His suit is impeccably tailored, his implacable features revealing no shred of shock to find a seminarian alone with a scantily clad lady of the night. Nor does his mouth so much as quirk at my next order.
“This is Miss Ruby. Please escort her to the gardener’s cottage within the maze and see to it the quarters are well provisioned. It should go without saying that I expect a high degree of discretion.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” He is the consummate professional. No hint of incredulity. No second glance at the young woman’s thigh-high boots.
“Spare no expense on food, beverage, clothing. Her wish is your command.” I offer no further explanation. None is required. Being a prince of the blood means never having to give a reason.
“Understood.”
He turns and offers his arm. “Miss Ruby.”
Her hand trembles as she accepts his gallant gesture.
“But what about my things at my...workplace?” she asks. “I don’t have much,” she admits, and I wince at the thought—at the excess in which I was brought up—and suddenly I want to give this stranger everything she lacks.
“I see.” X’s steely eyes hold a hint of a twinkle. “Well, it just so happens that Monique Mantissa is an old friend.”
She gapes. “The designer Mantissa?”
He inclines his head. “I believe her fashion line is rather popular.”
Ruby’s laugh deepens, a husky melody that makes my skin sing. “Um, if by popular you mean appreciated by those who shop at Versace, Chanel or Prada. You know Monique Mantissa. She is rock-star famous. Her shoes are... There are no words.” Her eyes take on a glow that I’ve seen only in nuns after a rapturous spiritual revelation.
The fact X knows such a person is of no surprise. He worked for years as my brother’s personal bodyguard before his abrupt reassignment after Nikolai’s nuptials. That reminds me.
“Also there is to be no mention of this arrangement to my brother or the king,” I command.
“Not a word. Perhaps it would ease your mind to know your father has decided to expand his current travel to fly to New York for a United Nations summit, and Nikolai and Kate left for the Hawaiian Islands on honeymoon this morning.”
“I see.” If a man deserves happiness, it is my elder brother, who finally found true love in a most unlikely place, with the matchmaker assigned to find him a wife. I do not resent his position. His future crown has never been my ambition.
And yet...
And yet nothing.
I swallow hard, refusing to allow any of my true dreams to float to the surface.
“It appears that you have the run of the place. Will you need anything else, Highness?”
“That will be all,” I snap, my tone gruffer than intended. “Wait. Take my Black Amex for the shopping spree. And, Miss Ruby, I shall see you in my bedchamber tomorrow evening when the sunset fades from the evening sky.”
Her expression loses some of its innocent pleasure. After the sound of their footsteps fade, I return to my room, guilt eating at my stomach.
They don’t exactly teach “Obliterating Sexual Urges 101” in the seminary. I am a man with a man’s needs. But I’m also a prince, a second son, who has a duty. I can’t let Father down. Especially when my face is the one that looks nothing like his. I was raised surrounded by the whispers that my mother, the queen, rest her immortal soul, grew lonely during a long absence from my father twenty-eight years ago and took comfort in the arms of the Captain of the Guard. A man some might say is my true father, except to voice such a claim in public would invite charges of treason.
But my blood runs with hidden lust, and in my heart I know that is my legacy. Born in sin, forged by an act of fornication. Father has never acted on these rumors, but he has always kept me at a kingly distance, his touch always a little cold, a little distant. To admit me a bastard would be to admit himself a cuckold.
So I am allowed the titles, the acceptance, the palace life.
Now it is time to pay the piper.
I fall to the unforgiving floor. “Oh, Lord, please grant me the strength to face this challenge.”
Ruby
A knock sounds on the cottage door promptly at eight in the morning. I lie in the unfamiliar bed, blinking away the best night of sleep I’ve had in ages. I burrow further into my pillow, hoping I imagined the sound, and let out a blissful sigh.
I think I want to marry this pillow.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.
This time it is loud and unmistakably real. I rise from the bed and wrap the sheet around my naked frame. I know it will not be Benedict. He said my days were my own. He will not require my...services until nightfall. Whoever dares to wake me at such an hour is not worth the time it would take to get dressed.
“I’m up. I’m up,” I groan as I unlock the door only to find a young man dressed in what I assume is the attire of a palace servant—a black double-breasted tuxedo coat and tails, a vest and white bow tie. Wow. I wonder what they’re required to sleep in if this is day wear.
“Miss Ruby,” the man says, wheeling in a silver cart with covered plates on top of it. “X has requested you eat and dress so that you are ready to meet him at the palace gates at nine. A groundskeeper will pick you up in a golf cart just outside the maze in fifty-five minutes to bring you to the car.”
After being told I was free to do as I choose,