The Prince's Cinderella Bride. Christine Rimmer

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СКАЧАТЬ a headache lately. Why wouldn’t you just...?” She stopped, closed her eyes and let out a whimper of utter embarrassment. “Okay, this ridiculousness is stopping now. Sorry to bother you. Sorry for everything. ’Night.” She disconnected the call, dropped the phone on the nightstand and then grabbed her pillow and plunked it down hard on top of her face.

      For several seconds she lay there in the dark, pressing the pillow down on her nose and mouth as hard as she could. But it was all just more ridiculousness and eventually she gave up, tossed the pillow aside and pushed back the covers.

      If she couldn’t sleep, maybe she could work. Not pages, no. Not tonight. But she did need to get going on a marketing program. She could look around online, see what resources were generally available. She needed to find a website designer. And maybe enroll in a few online classes. Things such as how to make the most of social media and how to create an effective PR plan. When the first book in her trilogy came out, she needed to be ready to promote herself and the books, and do it effectively. Gone were the days when an author could sit around and wait for her publisher to set up a few book signings.

      Her phone rang as she was reaching for her robe.

      Her heart lurched and then began thudding hard and deep in her chest. Sweat bloomed between her breasts, under her arms and on her upper lip. She craned her head toward the nightstand to see the display.

      Max.

      She dropped the robe and grabbed for the phone. “Uh, hello?”

      “Gerta says you’re no longer working for Rule and Sydney.” His voice was careful, measured. Withdrawn. Still, that voice had the power to make her breath come uneven, to make her thudding heart pound even harder. “And I understand you’ve moved out of the palace.”

      “Yes. That’s right. I’m not at the palace anymore. And Max, really, I’m sorry about—”

      “I don’t want your apologies.”

      “Um. Well, all right. I’m okay with that.”

      “You’re okay.” His tone was too calm. Calm and yet somehow edged in darkness.

      “That’s what I said, yes.”

      “You’re okay and you’re no longer a nanny working for my family. No longer at the palace.”

      Anger rose up in her. Defensive anger. She reined it in and tried to speak reasonably. “Look, I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I shouldn’t have called you tonight. It was wrong of me to do that and I—”

      “Not so.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “You were very right to call me tonight.”

      “I—”

      “But you were wrong to run off without a single word to me.”

      “Max, I did not ‘run off.’ I moved. I certainly have a right to move without checking with you first.”

      He was silent.

      “Max?” She was sure he’d hung up on her.

      “Where are you?” Low. Soft. But not in any way tender.

      “I don’t—”

      “An address. Give me your address.”

      “Max, I—”

      “I must tell you, I could have your address so easily without asking you. Gerta would give it to me. I could get it from Rule. And there are other ways. There are men my family hires to find out whatever we need to know about anyone with whom we associate.”

      “Max, what are you doing? I really don’t like this. Is that a threat?”

      “No threat. Only an explanation. I can find out whatever I want to know about you. But I would never do that. I care for you. I respect your rights and your privacy. So please. Give me your address or hang up the phone and never call me again.”

      “Max, this isn’t like you. Ultimatums have never been your style.”

      “My style, as you put it, is not serving me well with you. Make a choice. Do it now.” There was nothing gentle in that voice. He didn’t grant her so much as a hint of the compassionate, patient Max she’d always known.

      Obviously, her sweet and tender prince was being a complete jerk and she needed to hang up and forget about him. Let it be and let him go. Move on. It was only what she’d repeatedly told him she wanted.

      He spoke again. “Lani. Choose.”

      She gave him the address.

      Chapter Four

      Max was furious.

      He’d been furious for a couple of days now. Ever since Gerta had told him that Lani was no longer Trev and Ellie’s nanny, that she’d found an apartment and moved into it.

      He left the palace by a side door and walked down Cap Royale under the pale sliver of a new moon. It took him eight minutes to reach her street and a minute more to get to her door.

      The old villa was locked up at that hour of the night. But she was waiting in the vestibule, as he’d told her to be.

      Their gazes locked through the etched glass at the top of the door. She opened it. He went in. She wore yoga pants and a big sweatshirt that made her look small and vulnerable, her hair curling on her shoulders, a little wild, as though she hadn’t been able to stop herself from raking her fingers through it.

      “This way,” she said in a hushed voice, and turned for the stairs.

      He caught her arm before she could escape him.

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