And she wasn’t.

She wasn’t an idiot, only—-

She chose to be.

Because by now, she realized it was too late.

Grant might have broken her heart, but not all of it.

Some pieces were safe…for the prince to break.


“Please let me go,” she begged the prince half an hour later. She had wondered why he had asked the entire staff to stay out of the living room, and now, with the prince trapping her between the front doors and his sexy, hard body—-

“Prince, p-please.” He was sucking so hard on her neck she was starting to see stars.

The prince stopped what he was doing just long enough to murmur, “Not until I’m finished,” and then he was back at it again.

Fawn tried shoving him off, but it was hard because a part of her was shamefully enjoying the way the prince’s lips were nibbling so expertly on her skin. When it was finally over, and the prince released her from his hold, she ran to the mirror hanging over one of the consoles in the living room—-

Her reflection greeted her, and she let out an appalled gasp. “Prince!” Oh my God, that had to be the biggest and darkest hickey she had ever seen.

The prince came to stand behind her, saying with a lazy smile, “That should keep you from thinking too much about assholes—-”

“Are you serious?” she choked.

“And get you to focus on me.” The prince whirled her around to face him. She still looked too vulnerable, he thought grimly. And worse, she looked too pretty, with her soft, dreamy-looking brown eyes and rosy cheeks.

If Bennett saw her now, who knew if the asshole would suddenly change his mind and want her back?

No fucking way.

He said abruptly, “Don’t meet with Bennett if I’m not with you.”

“But that’s not possible—-”

The prince glared at her.

“—-if I don’t put my mind to it,” she finished. “But since I’ll put my mind to it, it’s d-definitely possible.” Or so she hoped.

The prince allowed himself to relax a little. “Good.” Unable to keep himself from touching her, he reached out to touch his mark on her neck and was satisfied when she shivered at the contact.

“I’m the only one allowed to make you cry,” he murmured.

Fawn made a face.

His lips curved, and he ran his fingers over her furrowed forehead. “You know I’m kidding, parthena mou. I just don’t want to see you hurting over him again. Your tears are wasted on that asshole.”

His concern touched her, and she said unthinkingly, “You’re so swee—-”

The prince’s gaze narrowed.

Drat. No nice words, Fawn, she reprimanded herself. Why do you keep forgetting that?

So what else could she say other than ‘sweet’?

Sweepstakes? Sweeny Todd?

“Sweegre,” she finished.

The prince stared at her.

She smiled brightly. “It means, umm—-”

Well, drat.

What other word could she use to replace ‘sweet’ when he really was nothing but sweet?

She said instead, “Anyway, it’s not English. It’s actually—-”

“Let me guess,” the prince interrupted drily. “German?”

Fawn let her eyes go wide. “How did you know?”

“A lucky guess, considering I’m fluent in German.”

“Ha!” The prince only looked at her, and her smile became uneasy. “Ha?” When the prince only raised a brow at her, obviously not joking, she said weakly, “Hahaha.” Oh my God, lamest laugh ever.

His lips twitched. “Never mind.” The prince pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Just keep speaking your version of German.”

“Hahaha.” The still-lame sound made her cringe inside. Dear God, someone give her short-term amnesia so she could forget the past five minutes.

Pulling away, the prince told her dulcetly, “You won’t forget your promise?”

Deciding to play it safe, she said dutifully, “No, prince.”

“If you need anything, text or call me.”

She almost told him he was being really sweet but caught herself in time. “Yes, prince.”

The prince suddenly frowned. “We should do something about that.”

She frowned back. “Do something about what?”

About the way you’re calling me, he thought. I want to hear you call me Reid—-

But if you tell her that, she’d ask why, and the reason behind it is embarrassing as hell.

I can lie about it.

Can you, really?



He had been talking to himself, and it was all her fault. Her mental condition was obviously contagious.

Fawn blinked when the prince suddenly glared at her. What had she done?

“I think you should go now,” the prince muttered, “before I get more infected.”

As the prince opened the door for her, she protested, “But I’m not sick—-whoa.”

There was a new, red-and-black Mini parked on the driveway, and she couldn’t help shooting the prince a look of surprise. “New?” She was familiar with all of the prince’s cars since Igor sometimes had her assigned at the garage, but she had never seen this one in his stable.

“Yes.” The prince took her hand and led her to the driver’s side. “It’s yours.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

“It’s yours.”

“Uh, no, it’s not.”

He repeated firmly, “It’s yours.”

“Uh, no,” she said just as firmly. “It’s not.”

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