His Royal Love-Child. Lynn Harris RayeЧитать онлайн книгу.

      CHAPTER ONE

      “WOW. I’LL TAKE the one in the center.”

      Charlotte swung around to face Heather, her employer at Livingston Designs. She’d been putting the finishing touches on the centerpiece for the head table and not paying much attention to Heather’s chatter about her latest date.

      “One in the center of what?” Charlotte glanced down at her handiwork. The dinner tonight was the capstone in a three-day tech conference and Charlotte had—very cleverly, she thought—used company logos and swag to punctuate her designs. Tucked in amongst the profusion of blooms and ribbons, the logos and items were a natural part of the display without being overt.

      It wasn’t as fun as the time she’d designed centerpieces for a romance readers’ luncheon, but it was good. Except Heather wasn’t looking at the displays.

      Charlotte followed her gaze to the group of men who stood in the entrance.

      “The tall, dark and handsome one,” Heather said. “The one who comes with a crown.”

      “A crown?” Charlotte didn’t see anyone special, but then she really didn’t see anybody at all. She’d been wearing her glasses in order to work with the displays. They were for close-up viewing only. She snatched them off and peered at the group.

      Her heart began to thrum a crazy rhythm as the men shifted. One man definitely stood out from the crowd.

      Heather was grinning at her. “Yes, that one. Luca De Santis, the Crown Prince of Iria. The tall, seriously yummy one.”

      Charlotte’s heart did a slow dive into her stomach. After all these years, there he was. The man she’d once loved with all the young passion in her heart. The man she’d thought loved her back equally as much.

      Until the day his father had fired her mother and thrown them out of his life. They’d packed their belongings and fled from Iria like thieves in the night. She’d never heard from Luca again.

      Charlotte licked suddenly dry lips. “Well, that’s all the displays. I think I should get back to the office now.”

      Heather frowned. “Are you well, Charlotte? You look...green.”

      Charlotte put a hand to her head. “Probably just a touch of something. I’ll be fine once I get some fresh air.”

      “Sure, go on. Everything looks great, as always.”

      Charlotte grabbed her purse and coat and made for the entrance. She kept her head down, intent on skirting the group of men. But she couldn’t resist one final glance at the man commanding all the attention in their midst.

      He was more handsome than ever. A man now, not a nineteen-year-old boy. She’d seen his pictures in the tabloids from time to time, but those photos hadn’t prepared her for the sheer gorgeousness of grown-up Luca in real life.

      He turned his head at that precise moment, his gaze sliding across the gathering—and colliding with hers.

      His spectacular green eyes narrowed. He said something to the group, and then he was moving, right toward her.

      Charlotte put her head down and practically ran from the room. She couldn’t face him, couldn’t stand before him and pretend like they were just old friends and nothing had ever happened between them.

      He’d been her first kiss, her first love—and her first lover. They’d had one night together, one gorgeous wonderful night when she’d been starry-eyed and in such deep love. She could still remember how it had felt to be the woman he’d wanted. The amazing, gut churning butterflies as he’d kissed her and told her she was the only one for him.

      From his bedroom window, the Irian night had spilled across the bay like a glittering lace veil. Everything had been perfect. She’d given herself to him, and she’d been certain he felt as she did.

      But then...nothing. Her mother had lost her job the next day and that was it.

      Luca had not fought for her. He had not come for her. He had not defied a soul for her.

      It had taken her a very long time to realize how naïve she’d been. He hadn’t loved her. He was a prince, an entitled being who’d taken her adoration as his due. He’d lied to her and used her and forgotten all about her.

      She’d cried for weeks. Just as her mother had cried over her broken affair with Luca’s father. Charlotte had listened endlessly to her mother’s angry rants about Prince Marco De Santis. He’d dumped her for an heiress, thrown her out of her job as his secretary. Three years of love and devotion, her mother had said repeatedly, tossed on the scrap heap like so much rubbish. Because she was a nobody. Because she had no money for him to marry.

      Men were not to be trusted. Not ever. Charlotte had learned the lesson well.

      She hurried through the lobby as quickly as she could without drawing too much notice. She just needed to reach the street. If she could do that, she could blend into the crowd and disappear.

      She was almost to the door, almost free. Another couple of steps. A uniformed guard stood near the door, talking to a patron.

      And then a voice rang out behind her. “Stop that woman!”

      * * *

      Luca expected obedience. And the guard did precisely as he commanded, though this was not Iria and Luca did not have the power of command over a hotel guard. He grabbed the woman and held her tight while she jerked helplessly against him.

      “Let me go,” she demanded.

      The guard did something—tightened his grip, perhaps—and she gave a little gasp. Luca closed the distance between them and glared at the