Read The Playboy Prince for Free Online

have to deal with. Just the thought that she might have let something slip made her heart lurch. She lived for her job; that had been her choice. She couldn’t risk living for anything else, opening herself up to heartache—
    As if he could sense her thought process, Philippe opened his eyes, stretching luxuriously, and cocked an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”
    Ella hurriedly slipped on her dress. “I need to go home and change, get ready for work.”
    Philippe propped himself on one elbow. “I thought your job for the moment was taking care of me.”
    She made a face. “Consider yourself well taken care of.”
    “Oh, I’m not sure about that.” Lazily Philippe reached for her. “Come back to bed, Ella. Everything else can wait.” He pulled her onto the bed, dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder as his hands roamed temptingly over her body.
    And she was tempted. So, so tempted to crawl right back into bed with him and forget everything else. Forget even her heart, which was already in danger of breaking.
    With effort she pulled away and stood up. “I can’t, Philippe. I have to work. My job is very important to me. And in any case, we’ve had our one day. Our one night.” She struggled with the zip of her dress, her hands shaking, and Philippe came out of the bed, gloriously naked, to help her zip it up.
    “Is that what you think?” he asked softly, his breath feathering the nape of her neck. “That this is over?”
    She closed her eyes against the sting of tears. “Isn’t it?”
    Philippe didn’t respond, which was answer enough. Of course it was over. Of course they weren’t going anywhere. He was a playboy, he was a prince, and she was just a secretary who had been stupid enough to have her heart broken a second time by a man who didn’t think she could ever fit into his life.
    Swallowing, Ella stepped away. “I’ll see you tonight,” she whispered. “At the ball.”
    “Come with me,” he said urgently. “As my—”
    “No, Philippe.” She shook her head, her composure so close to cracking. “I’ll see you there, but that’s all.”
    And without another word, not trusting herself to speak, she left.

Chapter Eighteen
    Philippe gazed at himself in the mirror and frowned. He wore a white tie and tails for the Bryant Ball, with the royal red sash across his chest. The Montvidant insignia weighed on him heavily this evening after he’d spent a wretched day alone wandering through the city and thinking about Ella.
    She’d been right to end it. Logically he knew that. Agreed with her. Their relationship—the few days of it they’d had—couldn’t go anywhere. He was heir to his country’s throne, and his mother expected him to marry a woman who would make a suitable queen…not a no-name secretary from Connecticut.
    More importantly, he was quite sure Ella didn’t want the kind of life he could offer. The kind of life duty required him to live. Of course he’d drop the playboy antics once he was married, but his life would always be in the spotlight. Would always be about image and what people thought of him and his country. From what he knew of Ella and her history with the jerk who had used her, she would despise that kind of life.
    And yet
… whispered a voice—treacherous, desperate and yet hopeful—inside him. And yet, what if she didn’t? What if they shared something special enough to make everything else unimportant, or at least manageable? Was he willing to throw away what he’d found with Ella simply because logic told him it was sensible?
    When was love ever sensible?
    Did he love Ella?
    Philippe spun away from his reflection. The Bryant Ball was his last opportunity to talk to her. Convince her— Of what?
    That he loved her. Or at least, that he thought he could love her, if a handful of days wasn’t enough time to be sure. But he knew the strength of his feelings, knew he wasn’t ready to give this up. Give her up.
    And he didn’t think she wanted to give him up,