Page 4 of Palace of Betrayal

“Come on, León, this party is boring. Why don’t we find a couple of girls and take them back to the room for a private party?”

León glanced at his cousin, Alain, who was a year younger than his thirty-four and wondered if the man would ever grow up and become a responsible adult. “I told you, Alain, I’m not interested.”

Alain pouted, his eyes having a glazed look, the pupils almost blowing out the colour of his irises. León knew he’d been on coke or whatever party drug he was into now.

León wasn’t an angel, but drugs were where he drew the line. Sex and booze had been his vices. León had played hard in his youth, although not as hard as the press liked to make out. According to the papers, he only had to hold a door for a woman and she was pregnant.

“You know, cousin, you’re no fun these days. You’re becoming boring.”

In truth, León was bored. Bored with parties, bored with the continued social gatherings and the same faces, the same women throwing themselves at him in the hope he’d suddenly fall in love and marry them.

Then there were the married ones who just wanted to fuck a prince. Little did they know that would never happen, which was why the idea of going undercover made his body hum with excitement. He missed his days in the Special Forces, running missions with his brothers in arms. His time in the military had given him purpose. Coming back to this life and trying to settle into it was more complicated than he’d expected. He felt displaced, unsettled in his own skin. “If I’m so boring, why do you insist on dragging me to parties?”

At one time, Alain had been his best friend, but now they’d changed so much. Or rather he had, and Alain had stayed the same.

“Because the chicks dig it. Not all of us carry the title of Crown Prince.”

More sulky behaviour from his cousin made his head ache. He didn’t have time for this. He should be meeting his contact to begin their façade of being in love. Learning some unknown person was dragging his beloved country into an illegal auction, potentially damaging relations with other countries, had made him seethe with anger. Not forgetting the damage it would do to the economy if tourism died. “Listen, why don’t you borrow the yacht for a few days and have a private party? I hear Porcha is in town with her friends, and I know she loves the yacht.”

Alain’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes, of course.” León just wanted him gone so he could meet this mystery person. He’d intended to come alone, but Alain had cornered him and followed when he found out where he was going.

“Thanks, cousin.”

“My pleasure.”

León watched his cousin walk away and knew the crew of the yacht would hate him for this. He’d need to add a generous bonus to their pay for this excursion. Along with a cleaning crew to get all the drugs and God knew what else from his yacht.

Taking a seat at the bar, he ordered a whiskey neat and watched the door, ignoring the looks of the women around him who were trying to catch his eye. He was to meet his contact here; a woman León had no idea about. They were to pretend to fall in love so he could move her into the apartment within the Palace where he resided. The thought made him roll his eyes at the ridiculousness of the notion.

He had no idea what she looked like, just that she’d know him and make the first move. He assumed she’d be beautiful if she did this femme fatale gig for a living, but beautiful women were ten a penny on this island.

“Is this seat taken? My feet are killing me.”

Hearing the words that were to introduce him to his accomplice in this charade, he turned, a fake smile of seduction on his face. His breath suddenly felt like it was frozen in his chest when he saw her. Air seemed to expand until he could hardly catch his breath, and he had to consciously exhale and respond. “Yes, of course.”

The woman smiled at him, and it was like being sucker-punched in the gut, feelings he’d never experienced before pummelling his mid-section. She was medium height, probably five feet seven in her heels and had curves to die for. This woman wasn’t a stick. She was voluptuous with an ass that made him grit his teeth as she hitched her long dress up so she could take the seat beside him on the bar stools. Her copper-coloured skin was utterly flawless as he gazed at her. The split in the silver dress shimmered and slid off her toned thigh, giving him a glimpse of utter perfection before she chuckled, a low husky sound that made his dick sit up in his dress pants.

Lifting his head, he could see she’d caught him in the act of checking her out, and his head tilted to acknowledge it. Her long, dark hair was thick and waved down her back, giving him an uninterrupted view of the deep V in her dress, which landed just north of modest.

“My name is León.” He offered his hand, which she took, the silky skin of her palm at odds with the slight callouses he could feel on her finger joints. She was used to handling weapons or using weights, he guessed. Which made sense, he had the same ones on his own palm. “And you are?”

“You can call me Bebe.”

León bent his head and dropped a light kiss on her knuckles, the movement taking him that much closer, and he could smell the scent of her perfume. Something spicy and seductive, which made him think of moonlit nights and her spread naked over his bed. He pulled away, dropping her hand, not liking the direction his thoughts were taking.

In the space of minutes, this woman had snared him in her trap with barely a word or action. She was good. Pretending to become enamoured with her would be easy because he could already sense the chemistry between them. He just needed to keep it to acting and not fall for her wicked charms. She was, after all, a professional at this and trained to make men fall for her considerable attributes.

“So, León, what do you like to do for fun?”

León considered her question as he called the bartender over. “Drink?”

Bebe smiled at the bartender, and it made León scowl at the man who was grinning like an idiot at the woman he was seated beside. “Yes, please. I’ll have an old fashioned.”

The bartender disappeared to make the cocktail, and León wondered if he could make the man disappear permanently. Shaking the ridiculous thought away, he tried to focus on the question and get into the role of the lovesick fool he’d be playing for the next however long this took. Glancing at Bebe, he realised that it certainly wouldn’t be a hardship being close to her and having to pretend to be in love.

The woman was stunning, but it was more than that; he could feel it. The pulse in her neck was pounding. His eyes moved up her throat, over her face to her russet brown eyes, and found them almost slumberous with desire. Smokey eye make-up with long dark lashes and full red lips made him jump to very inappropriate places in his mind.