Read Prince's Proposition (The Exiled Royals #3) for Free Online Page B

hand on the back of her neck, pulling her even closer; his other hand drifted lower, to cup one of her breasts.
    No! This wasn’t what they needed, and it went way beyond her “no flirting” rule. This was a few minutes away from full Deco One, naked fun. Paula pulled back and pushed back so that she pressed against the door.
    “Xavier! I can’t.”
    He moved after her, reaching for her as he said, “It’s okay, P. Don’t worry. People won’t talk. Everyone knows we were an item before, and they won’t say it’s some nepotism thing now.”
    “No,” she said, forcing her voice to stay level, even as it threatened to crack and tears filled her eyes. Damn it, he’d made her cry far too much. She was not going to let him see how torn apart he made her feel. “I won’t be shattered by you again. I said ‘no flirting’ and I meant it. I just can’t.”
    “I guess that means no fu--”
    “It means no nothing , Xavier. No flirting, no kissing, no anything . We’re over, and that means in every way.”
    Even though, a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered, we wish it wasn’t. Shut up, she told herself. Even if she’d been as eager for Xavier as he was for her. No meant no.
    Especially because, the voice whispered, she’d been even more eager than he.
     
    ***
     
    She was glad the day after the event was a Saturday. It had been scheduled as a Friday night event, and she needed it to be. Now that Paula was holding down two impossible jobs, keeping the struggling Lillian’s Fund alive and also trying to build Rostov Investments up to compete flawlessly with other major banks.-- most of all The Royal Bank of Ruminea-- she wasn’t sleeping much. Worse, the more she had to study and prepare for meetings or assistant duties, the less sleep she got. But last night?
    Last night, sleep had been impossible. She’d start to nod off and fall into sexually charged dreams, a mix of memory and wishful thinking for what could have happened with Xavier. Most women would kill to be slumbering away, dreaming of Xavier’s talented tongue between their legs.
    But she couldn’t have him—and she didn’t want to want him--so whenever she could catch herself dreaming, she’d shake herself awake. Damn it, she even sat up around three to five a.m., guzzling coffee and staring at one of the never ending infomercial channels and, seriously, who needed twenty-four hour access to ordering ugly purses the size of small suitcases?
    But now she was trying to rouse herself by noon, get a sense of everything back in her head. There wasn’t technically anything on her agenda and, even as muddled as what she had with Xavier was after their fateful limo ride, she was certain he wouldn’t be calling her until Monday.
    She had time off, and that was the most important thing. She decided to use the thirty-six hours she had to patch herself back together, harness her resolve and steel her will until she was like a nun or a nineteenth century school marm.
    At least that had been the plan.
    Once she booted up her computer turned to her favorite home page for the latest news, her heart dropped and nausea roiled through her stomach. This can’t be true. She stared at the screen. But a leopard never changes its spots, especially if that leopard was a swaggering, self-important and business-obsessed prince. Paula’s heart plummeted to her stomach and beat there until she could feel it through her entire body.
    There was just no doubt in her mind that the boldfaced headline was true:
    Rostov Investments Cleans up at Charity Party .
    That bastard!
    Fucking Xavier hadn’t been schmoozing on behalf of Lillian’s Fund , his actual reason for being there. Oh no. The rat had been using those three hours to sweet talk everyone who was anyone in Vegas high society in order to make funds and connections for his own business.
    The article had been barely a level above the usual fluff for The Star or The National Enquirer , but whoever was the