The Duke's Boardroom Affair / Convenient Marriage, Inconvenient Husband: The Duke's Boardroom Affair. Michelle Celmer

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      “I have to get an early start in the morning.”

      Her smug smile grew, as though she was feeding off his discomfort. To make matters worse, before he could take the bill from the waiter, she snatched it up. “My treat, remember?”

      There didn’t seem much point in arguing. And since it was only drinks, he would let her have her way this once.

      She paid in cash, leaving a generous tip considering they hadn’t even eaten, then they rose from their chairs and walked in silence to the door. The car was already waiting for them out front.

      “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

      “You don’t want a ride?”

      She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

      “It’s quite chilly.”

      “I’m just a few blocks from here. I could use the fresh air.”

      “I’ll walk you,” he said, because God forbid she would also accuse him of not being a gentleman.

      “No, I’m fine,” she said, with a smile. “But I appreciate the offer.”

      There was something very different about her tonight. He’d never seen her so relaxed. So pleasant and…happy.

      At his expense, no doubt.

      “See you tomorrow at the office.” She turned to walk away, but made it only a step or two before she stopped and turned back. “By the way, have you decided what to do?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Your family? Not pursuing me. Will you listen to them?”

      Good question. And despite all the hemming and hawing and claims that no one could tell him who he could or couldn’t see, he had an obligation to the family. Ultimately, there was really only one clear-cut answer.

      He shrugged. “I don’t really have much choice.”

      “Well, in that case…”

      Another one of those grins curled her mouth. Playful, bordering on devious, and he had the distinct impression that she was up to no good.

      She stepped closer, closing the gap between them, then reached up with one hand and gripped his tie. She gave it a firm tug, and he had no choice but to lean over—it was that or asphyxiation. And when he did, she rose up on her toes and kissed him. A tender, teasing brush of her lips against his own.

      Before he could react, before he could cup the back of her head and draw her in for more, it was over. She had already let go of his tie and backed away. His lips burned with the need to kiss her again. His hands ached to touch her.

      He wanted her.

      “What was that for?” he asked.

      She shrugged, as though she accosted men on the street on a regular basis. “Just thought you should know what you’re missing.”

      Victoria knew that kissing Charles was a really bad idea, but he had looked so adorably bewildered by their conversation in the restaurant, so hopelessly confused, she hadn’t been able to resist. She thought it would be fun to mess with his head, knock him a little further off base. But what she hadn’t counted on, what she hadn’t anticipated, was the way it would make her feel.

      She’d kissed her share of men before, but she felt as though, for the first time in her life, she had really kissed a man. It was as if a switch in her brain had been flipped and everything in her being was saying, He’s the one.

      Which was as ridiculous as it was disturbing.

      Yet her legs were so wobbly and her head so dizzy that once she’d rounded the corner and was out of sight, she collapsed on a bench to collect herself.

      What was wrong with her? It was just a kiss. And barely even that. So why the weak knees? The frantically beating heart and breathless feeling? Why the tingling burn in her breasts and between her thighs?

      Maybe that was just the effect he had on females, something chemical, or physiological. Maybe that was why he dated so many women. They genuinely couldn’t resist him.

      That was probably it, she assured herself. Pheromones or hormones or something. And the effect was bound to wear off. Eventually she would even grow immune to it altogether.

      She just hoped to God that he hadn’t noticed. That before she let go he hadn’t felt her hands shaking, that he hadn’t seen her pulse throbbing at the base of her throat or the heat burning her cheeks. That he hadn’t heard the waver in her voice before she turned and walked away. If he knew what he did to her, he could potentially make her life—the next few weeks, anyway—a living hell.

      When she felt steady enough, she walked the two blocks to her flat. She unlocked the outer door and headed up the stairs to the third floor. The building was clean and well tended, but the flat itself was only a fraction the size of her suite at the family estate.

      She stepped inside and tossed her keys and purse on the table by the door. It would be roomier once she emptied all of the boxes still sitting packed in every room. But her heart just wasn’t in it. It didn’t feel like home.

      The light on her answering machine was flashing furiously. She checked the caller ID and saw that every one that day was from her father. He was probably eager to talk to her about the royal family, tell her more lies to cover his own mistakes.

      Well, she wasn’t ready to talk to him. The sting of his betrayal was too fresh. She would end up saying something she would later regret.

      She erased the messages without listening to them and turned off the ringer on her phone. At times like this she wished she had a best girlfriend to confide in. Even a casual friend. Only now, with her career in the toilet, was she beginning to realize what she’d missed out on when she made the decision to devote herself entirely to her career. For the first time in her life she truly felt alone. And when she thought of her father’s betrayal, the feeling intensified, sitting like a stone in her belly.

      All those years of dedication and hard work, and what had it gotten her? Thanks to her father, she had lost nearly everything.

      But was it fair to blame it all on him? Didn’t she shoulder at least a little bit of the blame? Had she allowed it to happen by not questioning his handling of the finances? By not checking the books for herself?

      By trusting him?

      But what reason had he given her not to?

      She shook her head and rubbed at the ache starting in her temples. Self-pity would get her nowhere. She needed to get over it, pick up the pieces, and get on with her life. And the first thing on her agenda: finding Charles a new assistant and finding herself a new job. Despite their desire to keep her in their employment, she would never feel comfortable working for the royal family. She couldn’t shake the idea that their job offer had nothing to do with skill, that they had hired her out of pity.

      She would never feel as though she truly fit in.

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