The Princess Problem Page 11

  He was profoundly irritated, and the very fact that he felt this way irritated him further. Because it forced him to admit the truth he’d been trying so hard to avoid—his control was beginning to slip.

  The cold shower...the coffee...neither had done a damn thing to snap him back into reality. Sunlight streamed through the bedroom windows. At his feet, the city was waking up beneath a fresh blanket of snow. Morning sparkled like an upturned sugar bowl.

  But Dalton wasn’t ready. Not even close. He was still lost in the opulent darkness of the night before.

  This wasn’t as he’d planned. He’d allowed himself one night, and one night only. One night to get Aurélie out of his system so he could get back to business.

  Of course the fact that she’d indeed been a virgin gave him pause. He should have stopped things the moment she’d confirmed his suspicions in that regard. He couldn’t have, though. Not if his life had depended on it.

  What had he done?

  An aching tightness formed in his chest. He took a deep breath, but the feeling didn’t go away. It lingered, much like the memory of Aurélie’s touch, her taste. The sweetness of her voice in his ear.

  I don’t want it slow. I want you inside me. Now.

  He stared down at the neatly made bed, wondering what it meant. Nothing probably. He was overthinking things, as he’d always been prone to do.

  It was getting late, anyway. The driver was scheduled to pick them up in less than half an hour. Dalton dressed quickly, then strode into the living room in search of Aurélie. He found her perched on one of his kitchen barstools reading yesterday’s New York Times with Jacques sitting regally in her lap. The fact that she was fully dressed wasn’t lost on him. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d hoped to find her in a state of undress until now. Seeing her again, now that he’d been inside her, now that he knew what it was like to have those lithe legs wrapped around him, was like getting punched hard in the solar plexus. He swayed a little and gripped the edge of the countertop before he lost his head and gave in to the impulse to kiss her.

  He thought of his neatly made bed and its damned hospital corners, but still his gaze found its way to Aurélie’s mouth. Her pillowy lips were darker than usual, as red as the deep crimson center of a ruby. Swollen from his lavish attention.

  His cock throbbed to life. Again. “Good morning,” he said coolly.

  “Good morning,” she said, barely looking up from the newspaper.

  The dog, on the other hand, stared straight at him. Dalton could have sworn he saw a trace of mockery in the French bulldog’s big round eyes.

  Dalton suppressed a sigh.

  Jealous of the damned dog? Yet again? Pathetic.

  He was losing it. But he’d be damned if he was going to stand there and pretend nothing had happened between them.

  “Shall we talk about last night?” He crossed his arms, leaned against the counter and waited.

  Jacques sighed and dropped his chin on the countertop as if the sheer weight of his head was more than he could handle. Which wouldn’t have surprised Dalton in the least.

  Aurélie rested one of her elegant hands between the dog’s ears. There was a telltale tremble in her fingertips.

  She devoted too much care to folding her newspaper into a tidy square, took a beat too long to meet his gaze. “If you’d like.”

  She was pretending.

  Dalton wasn’t sure why, but she obviously wanted to act like nothing had changed. When in fact everything had.

  “I enjoyed it.” Don’t touch her. Do not. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “Very much.”

  He could hear the catch in her breath, could see the pink flush rise to her cheeks.

  She kept up her charade, clearing her throat. “As did I, but...”

  He lifted his brows. “But?” he repeated, sounding harsher than he intended.

  The dog rolled its eyes, or maybe that was just Dalton’s imagination.

  Aurélie lifted her chin. “But I don’t think it should happen again.”

  He looked at her, long and hard, as the darkness gathered in him again. Thick and suffocating. And for the first time, he realized it had a name. Regret.

  “I understand.” But he didn’t understand. Not at all.

  He had no business feeling as frustrated as he did. This was for the best. It was precisely what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?

  Yes. Yes, it is.

  He was far from relieved, however. On the contrary, he was furious.

  Aurélie’s gaze flitted to the digital clock display on the microwave. “I suppose you’re off to work now.”

  He would have liked nothing more than to escape to the quiet solitude of his office on the tenth floor of Drake Diamonds. But today of all days, he couldn’t.

  Perfect. Just perfect.

  He shook his head. “No, actually.”

  Aurélie blinked. “No?”

  “No.” Dalton’s cell phone buzzed with an incoming text message. He glanced down at it and cleared the display. “In fact, that’s our ride.”

  “Our ride,” she repeated with a telltale wobble in her voice.

  Dalton nodded, stalked past her and reached for his jacket in the coat closet. He was half tempted to leave her behind. But something told him if he walked out the door, she might not be here when he returned.

  Sure enough, as he pulled his Burberry wool coat from its hanger, he spotted a suitcase tucked away at the back of the closet. His suitcase, he noted wryly.

  He looked pointedly at the bag and then at Aurélie, waiting for her to say something. If she wanted to go, he certainly wouldn’t stop her.

  That’s right. Run away, Aurélie. Run away from me, just like you ran from whatever it is you’re trying to escape in Delamotte.

  He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it coming. Of course she wouldn’t stick around to honor their agreement.

  Wasn’t it just yesterday you wanted to send her away?

  Dalton’s jaw hardened. His hand twitched. He should pick up the suitcase and hand it to her. Along with a plane ticket.

  He wasn’t sure why he didn’t.

  If she left, he’d have the Marchand eggs to contend with. Articles about the exhibit were in every newspaper in New York. Banners were up in every showroom in the store. The Marchand eggs could be returned after the exhibit, as planned.

  But what of the secret egg? What of their bargain?

  A day ago he’d been prepared to let it go, to forget he’d ever set eyes on Aurélie and her glittering treasure. Now he refused to make that concession. Not when it wasn’t his call, his choice. He controlled what went on at Drake Diamonds, not an impulsive princess who’d never worked a day in her life.

  Aurélie’s gaze flitted anywhere and everywhere except at the suitcase. She swallowed, and her hand fluttered to her throat.

  Dalton did his best to ignore the flash of heat that rioted through him at the memory of his mouth upon her neck, the wild beat of her pulse beneath his lips.

  “Where are we off to, then?” she asked, like they were a couple about to leave on holiday. Like the suitcase meant something that had no basis in reality.

  Dalton shut the closet door. Out of sight, out of mind.

  “We’re going to the Hamptons.”

  Chapter Eleven

  If Aurélie wasn’t mistaken, Artem did a double take when she entered the Winter Hamptons Equestrian Classic’s massive white tent on Dalton’s arm.

  “Aurélie, what a surprise.” Charming as ever, Artem smiled. Astonishment aside, he seemed genuinely happy to see her. “How nice of you to join our family gathering. Dalton neglected to tell us you were coming along.”

  “Thank you so much for having me.” The words left a bittersweet taste in her mouth.
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br />   Her voice felt raw, rusty. Probably because she and Dalton had only exchanged a handful of words during the tense ride to the Hamptons from the City. She’d sat beside him in the backseat of the town car while he pounded away on his laptop, and she felt it had been the longest three hours of her life.

  She’d been so relieved when they’d pulled up to the show grounds. She couldn’t breathe with Dalton so close, not when every cell in her body was mourning the loss of his touch. She’d needed air. She’d needed space.

  What she most definitely did not need was to be treated like a card-carrying member of the Drake fold.

  Ophelia threw her arms around Aurélie and gave her a tight squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re here. Wait until you see Diana ride. She’s amazing.”

  Tears gathered behind Aurélie’s eyes. She hadn’t realized Artem and Ophelia would be there. Of course they were, though. It was a family event.

  What am I doing here?

  “I can’t wait,” she said, pulling away from Ophelia’s embrace, aware of Dalton’s gaze on her. Too aware.

  This was almost worse than the car ride.

  She glanced around, trying to get her bearings. Being inside the heated tent was like stepping into another world. If a fine layer of snow flurries hadn’t still dusted Dalton’s imposing shoulders, Aurélie might have forgotten they’d just come in from the cold.

  The ground was covered in rich red dirt, a striking contrast to the snow piled outside. A course had been arranged in the large oval in the center of the tent with sets of rails painted stripes of red and white, flanked on either side by lush greenery and bright white flowers. Magnolias. Their sultry perfume hung heavy in the air, an unexpected luxury in the dead of winter.

  Riders in breeches and glossy black boots walked around the outskirts of the arena, weaving between waiters holding silver trays of champagne flutes. An enormous gray horse strutted by, with its mane tightly woven in a braid snaking down its thickly muscled neck, and hooves so shiny Aurélie could see her reflection in them.

  So this is the Hamptons.

  Aurélie had never seen anything quite like it. Not even in Delamotte.

  “It’s something, isn’t it?” Artem said, turning his back on all the opulence. A look Aurélie couldn’t quite decipher passed between him and Dalton. “Diana is an Olympic hopeful, but I’m guessing my brother probably told you all about it.”

  Actually, no. We’re not exactly speaking at the moment.

  She forced her lips into a smile. “I’d love to hear more.”

  Aurélie wasn’t about to admit that the man she’d slept with the night before—the man she thought she might be in love with—hadn’t shared a single personal thing about himself in the entire time she’d known him. She didn’t even want to admit such a thing to herself.

  Fortunately, she’d been a princess all her life. Faking a smile was one of the job requirements.

  That quality should come in handy when you’re married three months from now.

  Her gaze strayed rebelliously to Dalton. It hurt to look at him, to see the anger in his stormy eyes. It hurt even worse when she realized it wasn’t only anger looking back at her, but disappointment as well.

  She couldn’t blame him. Not this time.

  “Here she is now.” Artem waved at a petite young woman making her way toward them.

  She wore immaculate white breeches, a midnight-blue fitted riding jacket and a pair of neat white gloves. An elegant black horse pranced alongside her at the end of a blue lead rope. Drake blue.

  She was definitely the woman from the screensaver on Dalton’s laptop. Same rich auburn hair twisted into a tight chignon. Same perfectly proportioned figure. Same confident smile. Dalton’s sister.

  Aurélie turned toward Dalton.

  He lifted a brow. “Yes?”

  “Are you going to tell your sister who I am?” she whispered.

  Dalton frowned and muttered under his breath, “No. The fewer people who know, the better. Artem and Ophelia are involved with the business, so it makes sense for them to know. Let’s leave Diana out of it.”

  “Good. I agree.” They agreed on something. Miracles never ceased. “How are you going to explain my presence?”

  “I’ll introduce you as my friend, Aurélie.” His friend. He looked down at her, and she saw too much on his face then—the fury and the heat still simmering between them. “She won’t have any idea who you are. I doubt she’s picked up a tabloid in years. Diana’s life revolves around horses twenty-four seven.”

  “I see. So you typically bring dates to her horse shows, then?” Her face went hot with the effort it took not to sound like a jealous mistress, even though that was precisely what she was at the moment.

  Pull yourself together.

  Dalton’s gaze strayed to her lips and lingered there. Long enough for Aurélie to grow breathless before he looked away without answering her question.

  Diana greeted Artem with a warm embrace, gave Ophelia’s tiny baby bump a gentle pat, then turned her attention to Dalton.

  “Hi there, big brother. Thanks for tearing yourself away from the office to come see me jump.” She threw her arms around him, all the while glancing curiously at Aurélie.

  “Diana, this is Aurélie.” Dalton’s arm slid around Aurélie’s waist, and she was immediately too aware of his palm resting against the curve of her hip. She fought the overwhelming impulse to melt into him.

  Pathetic.

  Dalton, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease. Impassive even. But when he looked down at her, she saw a spark of triumph in his gaze. He knew. He knew. He was all too aware he could drive her mad with the simplest touch, and he intended to use it to his full advantage.

  “Aurélie, this is my sister, Diana Drake.” His hand moved lower, his fingertips sweeping ever so lightly against her bottom.

  “I’m delighted to meet you, Diana.” She extended a hand and did her best to ignore her thumping heart and the way her skin suddenly felt too tight, like it could barely contain the riot of sensations skittering through her.

  She wanted to strangle him.

  Right after she kissed him again.

  “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” Diana ignored Aurélie’s outstretched hand and pulled her into an enthusiastic embrace instead. The horse stood beside her, perfectly still other than the flicking of its glossy black tail.

  “Diana,” Dalton said, his voice tinged with warning.

  “Ignore him,” Diana whispered in Aurélie’s ear. “He’s all bark and no bite, in case you haven’t noticed. Besides, I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. I haven’t met one of Dalton’s girlfriends since...”

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Dalton pried the two of them apart.

  Artem and Ophelia stood by, watching with amused interest.

  Since when? Since whom?

  Aurélie glanced at the suddenly firm set of Dalton’s jaw and the flat, humorless line of his mouth. He steadfastly refused to look at her. Maybe she was just imagining the tension in the lines around his eyes. Then again, maybe not.

  “We should take our seats. Surely you have last-minute things to attend to,” he said, sounding more detached and robotic than Aurélie had ever heard him before.

  Nope. Definitely not imagining things.

  “Actually, Diamond and I are just about ready.” Diana rested a hand on the horse’s broad back.

  Diamond’s hide twitched and he stamped one hoof in greeting. His mane was braided into a graceful plait, and he’d been brushed and groomed to such an extent that he looked like a darkly elegant mirror.

  “Your horse’s name is Diamond? That certainly seems appropriate,” Aurélie said.

  “He’s perfect. In showjumping a rider is only as good as her horse.” Diana grinned.
“Dalton bought him for me, actually. He had Diamond shipped over for me all the way from Europe.”

  “Did he?” She didn’t quite know what to make of this news. The man was full of surprises.

  “We can discuss something else now.” The mysterious man in question cleared his throat.

  Diana shot Aurélie a wink. “Excellent. Aurélie, why don’t you tell me how you met my brother?”

  Artem let out a hearty laugh.

  “That wasn’t what I had in mind,” Dalton said flatly.

  “Fine. Keep me guessing. I should probably get Diamond warmed up, anyway.” Diana reached for Aurélie again and gave her another tight hug. “Thank you for coming. It was really a treat to meet you.”

  Aurélie wasn’t accustomed to being embraced like that, especially since her mom had died. It caught her off guard.

  And most of all, it made her realize what all she’d be leaving behind when she finally forced herself to leave New York. Not only Dalton, but a family. His family.

  She’d miss seeing him like this.

  She’d miss him.

  “Good luck,” she said, her breath growing shallower by the minute.

  Then Diana was gone, and Artem was saying something. Aurélie wasn’t sure what. A distant ringing had begun in her ears, and she had trouble hearing anything else.

  What had she done?

  She glanced at Dalton, at the planes of his handsome face and the dark layer of stubble on his jaw. But it was impossible for her to look at him without touching him, without wishing he would touch her in return. And she’d made it abundantly clear to him that was something she no longer wanted.

  Now he would barely even look at her.

  This is your doing. You did this.

  She swallowed around the lump in her throat. How had she messed things up so badly? She’d been acting out of self-preservation, but suddenly she wanted to tell Dalton the truth. All of it.