The Prince's Fake Fiancée. Leah Ashton

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СКАЧАТЬ was scrambling for a reason to get out of this. ‘And this fiancée would be me. Jasmine Gallagher, right? No fake name?’

      Marko nodded. The press would be onto this—as with Felicity, it would’ve been too high risk to create a false identity, with the consequences of being found out catastrophic. So, it was the relationship that was fake, nothing more.

      ‘So—assuming everyone does believe that I am princess material, it’ll mean that my friends and family will think I’ve been hiding this from them for six months.’

      ‘You can say it was at my request,’ he said. ‘They’ll understand.’

      ‘But that would be a lie,’ Jasmine said. ‘I would be lying, not only to everyone in Vela Ada, but to everyone I know.’

      ‘Yes,’ Marko agreed. ‘Unfortunately that would be the case.’

      Jasmine gave a little huff of frustration. ‘That’s not a small thing.’

      ‘It’s not,’ he acknowledged. ‘But for me, for the King, and for Vela Ada, the benefits far outweigh a small untruth.’

      Jasmine raised an eyebrow. ‘And for me?’

      ‘You get to be a princess for a while?’ he said, a little hopefully.

      ‘Try again,’ she said, crossing her arms.

      ‘I’ll triple the fee I’m paying you for protection services.’

      He watched as her mouth dropped open.

      But quick as a flash her lips were arranged in a straight line again. ‘I’d argue that doing this could be detrimental to my business.’

      ‘Yet you’ve been seeing me for six months with no impact on the quality of services you provide.’

      Again, Jasmine raised an eyebrow. ‘Ha-ha,’ she said, as flat as a pancake.

      ‘I have contacts,’ Marko said—more seriously now. ‘Through the military, and through diplomatic relationships. I promise you that your company will have more work at the end of this, not less.’

      She nodded. ‘But what about me, personally? I love what I do, not just managing my company. Who will want a princess as their bodyguard?’

      ‘Well,’ he said practically, ‘in three months’ time, you won’t be a princess. And three months after that, everyone would’ve forgotten who you are.’

      ‘Ouch,’ she said.

      He shrugged. ‘It’s true. And to help that along, I’ll make sure to date someone famous on the rebound. Draw the attention away from you.’

      Her expression was sceptical. ‘So you’ll enter into another fake relationship after this one?’

      Marko grinned. ‘No. I’ll just ask a good friend of mine who I date occasionally if she’d mind being photographed with me. She has a film out later this year, so I’m sure she won’t mind. It’s never been her that’s been concerned about discretion.’

      ‘You casually date a movie star?’ But she held up her hand before he could respond. ‘No, wait. Of course you do. You’re a prince. Royalty. Celebrities. They go together. Can’t you see that I don’t fit into your world?’

      ‘Right now, all that I really care about is if you’ll fit into this dress.’

      Jasmine’s gaze dropped to the dress he still held.

      Long moments passed as he watched Jasmine make her decision—and for the first time he seriously considered what he’d do if she said no.

      And honestly, why wouldn’t she say no? All of her concerns were valid, except, of course, her belief that a relationship between them was unbelievable.

      He’d thought her pretty before, during the briefing. He found her even more attractive now—in the soft, warm lamplight. She was right—she probably wasn’t exactly his type, in that she was more quietly pretty. Not like Felicity, who everyone noticed the moment she stepped into a room. But Jasmine...he liked how she looked at him so directly, and he really liked how she’d challenged him during the briefing, and how she’d questioned him now. She treated him like an equal—exactly as she should, but how so very few people did. It was, again, one of the many things about his royal title that sat so uncomfortably on his shoulders. He wasn’t special simply due to the fortune of his birth. He didn’t ask, or expect, to be treated differently from anybody else.

      ‘Yes,’ Jasmine said, suddenly. ‘I’ll do it.’

      Marko’s gaze caught hers as he exhaled in relief. ‘Hvala...thank you,’ he said. ‘You have no idea how much this means to me.’

      She smiled, and he saw understanding in those lovely hazel eyes. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I think I do.’

       Chapter Three

      THE DRESS DIDN’T FIT.

      Well, more accurately, it didn’t fit yet.

      Jas sat on the closed lid of the toilet within her—literally—palatial bathroom, having quickly moved her belongings from her previous smaller room into Felicity’s suite.

      On her lap was the dress, and in her hands—her nail scissors.

      It was sacrilege, really, to be hacking away at the lining of a clearly obscenely expensive dress, but she had no other option. Two stylists—for her hair and make-up—were arriving any minute, so she needed to make this dress fit now.

      It did occur to her that palaces probably had things like royal tailors, or assistants who could dash into the town to buy her more event-appropriate underwear (she wore a well-worn nude strapless bra that was usually beneath nothing more glamorous than a vest top and a pair of cotton knickers printed with purple violets) but she hadn’t thought to ask the Prince—no, Marko—about them before he’d left the suite looking all relieved and gorgeous.

      And so she carefully cut through the figure-hugging dark emerald lining that had been designed to fit a figure with far slimmer hips than hers.

      Lining removed, she tried the dress on again.

      This time—it made it over her hips. The waist, thank God, fitted perfectly, and the bodice...well...nothing that a few tissues shoved inside her bra wouldn’t fix.

      Jas straightened her shoulders as she twisted and turned in front of the mirror. It was, honestly, the most beautiful thing she’d ever worn. Its skirt—thankfully made up of enough layers that the lack of lining seemed to make no difference—made lovely swishing sounds as she moved, the silk unbelievably luxurious against her skin. And the gold—and she was pretty sure it was actually gold—belt glittered underneath the bathroom lights.

      She nodded at herself in the mirror. Done. Now, shoes.

      She gathered up the heavy fabric of the skirt and headed into the bedroom. On the bureau near the door was a white box labelled with a high-end shoe brand, and inside was a stunning pair СКАЧАТЬ