A Prince's Ransom: Kidnapped by the Billionaire (2 page)

The sound of the tour guide’s thick accent cut through her thoughts, and she sighed as they all started walking again. Yeah, it was bad idea to wear these shoes today, but… oh well.

“Now, if you will all follow me this way—our next room is simply called the Music Room, as it contains a collection of instruments that were commissioned one hundred and fifty-three years ago by King—oh, excuse me, please everyone get up against the wall and make room!” The tour guide’s voice suddenly went shrill as he ushered everyone up against the wall of portraits.

Unable to see what was going on, Katherine stuck her head further out from the group and looked down the hall. She got an eyeful of a massive, well-suited man who was watching the tour group warily, the tension in his broad body making it obvious that he
really
didn’t like them standing right here. But as he walked, it became obvious what had gotten everyone in a fuss. If she hadn’t just been staring at his portrait, she wouldn’t have recognized him, but Kat almost snorted in delighted amusement that it was Crown Prince Eric walking down the hall beside them.

Alright, maybe this tour wasn’t a complete waste.

Dear God he was tall, though. It would practically take two of her to get to his head, although he wasn’t quite as built as the two bodyguards flanking him. Not that he wasn’t built well, but there was a more elegant strength to his body than out-and-out muscle. His hair was exactly like the portrait, just short enough that that roguish dishevelment didn’t get in his blue eyes, which were actually even more intense than she had thought they would be. He was impossibly good looking, even though he had lifted one eyebrow in mildly derisive disinterest at the line of college students. His expression was otherwise particularly neutral, a skill he had probably picked up to best ignore whatever sort of paparazzi existed in his country.

Kat realized that most of her classmates were staring at Eric the way they would stare at Brad Pitt or Ashton Kutcher back home, and she scoffed again. The hard-sole shoes which were passing in front of her stopped clicking on the polished tile floor. Immediately, Katherine turned back around, and she realized that the Prince was staring directly at her; she didn’t resist the sudden urge to tug at the hem of her tank top, and she tried to straighten herself up a bit. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw the corner of his lips twitch in a smirk.

She would love to kiss those lips, she thought to herself after glancing at them. Despite the fact that he was staring at her almost like she was a troll who had tracked mud into his house, she was pretty sure he was a damn good kisser. Private Prince or not, any guy who looked like him had probably been with more than a few girls in his time. Katherine took a deep breath, and then flashed him a smirk she knew made guys instantly want to grab her—most usually did, if they weren’t standing in a hallway of royal portraits. Very slightly, his eyes narrowed at her.

And then, as quick as the moment had been, he was turning away and continuing with his bodyguards down the hall, soon turning a corner and going out of sight. Katherine stared after him, her heart beating quickly. Everyone around her murmured excitedly that they had actually gotten to see the Prince in person. Tara grabbed her arm, and Kat realized it was to keep from swooning.

“Oh my
god
, I can’t believe we just got to see Prince Eric—and he looked right at you, Katherine! C’mon, you can’t seriously tell me that you would rather be at the hotel sleeping now!” Tara said as she squealed.

Katherine shrugged. “I think I’d still rather be in the hotel—although, I’ll give you this. I would jump his bones if I could and bring him into that bed with me.”

“
Katherine
!”

Dr. Walker had just come through the rooms making sure everyone was settled and knew when they needed to be up in the morning; technically, they were all adults, fully within their rights to do whatever they wanted—or at least that was how Katherine saw it—but they were still the professor’s responsibility. And so the minute the older woman’s sensible shoes moved down the hallway, Katherine shoved away the plush sheets of the bed and leaned over to grab the high heels she’d hidden beneath.

Tara was dressed in her pajamas, glowering at her. “I’m not going to cover for you if she comes back.”

“I don’t care what you do,” Kat retorted, smoothing the short, silver sequined dress over her slender form. “As long as you don’t rat me out if she
doesn’t
come back.”

“Ugh, fine,” Tara sighed in annoyance. “But be careful, alright? I think it’s really stupid to be going out alone this time of night… and I thought you were exhausted, anyway?”

“This isn’t a spy movie, Tara, it’s just study abroad for a few weeks. I’ll be fine. I have my phone, I have my pepper spray, and at my height, I’m in a really good position to get a knee to the groin.”

“That is so not encouraging.”

Katherine stuck her tongue at her friend, draping her purse strap over her shoulder before pulling on a jacket; it had been a bit chilly when they had landed, so it was probably going to be a lot colder now.

“Do you even know what club you’re going to?”

“Yeah, I looked up clubs while we were at dinner while everyone else was gushing about getting a look at Prince Eric.” She rolled her eyes dismissively.

“Is gushing over meeting him such a bad thing? Better than sneaking out to go to some club?” Tara asked, grabbing a pillow and setting it on her lap so she could rest her elbows on it.

“No, but it’s certainly a
boring
thing. For all I know, I might never be in Europe again. I want to enjoy it while I’m here. And enjoyment, for me, does not come from national landmarks and endless museums.”

Tara rolled her eyes, then turned over to put her head on the pillows. “Fine, whatever. Be careful, don’t stay out until dawn, good night.”

Katherine chuckled. “Night, Mom.” She headed toward the door, pulling out her key as she stuck her head out to look around the hallway. The coast was clear, so it ought to be an easy, straight shot downstairs and out the door. The hotel staff wouldn’t care if she left anyway.

“Don’t call me that.”

Without answering, she shut the door and locked it before stuffing her key into a zippered pocket on her coat; it would be really, really bad if she lost that. She would be careful with her stuff. She had some euros she’d had exchanged back at home, which would hopefully buy her a coat check if there was one, but she had no idea if there’d be one. She had no idea if European clubs worked the same way as American ones, but at least she didn’t need a fake ID card to get into these. Katherine had wanted Tara to come with her, but if she was really too much of a chicken to come and actually have genuine, non-academic fun with her, so be it. She’d been having fun by herself most of her life.

It was easy to get to the elevator and make her way down to the hotel lobby; the lift only stopped once for a well-dressed older couple who looked her over skeptically, probably well aware that she was American. It probably radiated off of her, but she just flashed them a smile and strode confidently out of the hotel. She fished the directions to the club out of her purse, shivering a bit when the chilly wind outside assaulted the bare skin of her legs.

This wasn’t the only club she planned to go to while in the country—no, she would go out to a different one every night if she could manage it—but Tara was right that she was feeling the jetlag and the earlier tour of the palace. Kat picked the closest club that still looked like it would be a lot of fun, glad that she wouldn’t have to catch a cab and try to pronounce some weird street name. This club was just three blocks away—close enough to walk.

Katherine rounded a corner and saw a line that was just starting to wrap around the far edge of the building; with a smirk, she shrugged off her jacket and caught it on one finger over her shoulder, lightly pulling down the top of her dress and running her fingers through her hair. She glanced along the first few people waiting in line, and her smile broadened when she saw an attractive guy three or four places back. She bit her lip while she approached, stopping just in front of him and staring at the rest of the line.

“Geez, I’d heard this place was popular… I’ll never be able to get in with all of this, though…” She pouted and sighed, dropping her hand from her shoulder and letting the edge of her coat drag along the sidewalk.

She’d gotten his attention with her silver sequined dress, so that he was off the wall and leaning on one of the posts of the velvet rope before she’d even finished talking. His friends had noticed her too, and were checking her out and muttering to each other.

“Ah, is this your first time in the city, mademoiselle?” the guy asked in English with a lopsided grin and a heavy French accent.

She looked over at him, surprised. “Oh! Yeah, I just got here today. I’ve heard this is a great club and I really wanted to give it a try, but I guess I was too late. I’ll have to try another day.” Kat sighed dramatically at him, fluttering her eyelashes, then started to turn around and leave.

“Ah, ah, not so fast—I can get you in, I’m sure no one will mind another lovely girl joining us?” He glanced at the guys behind him.

“Would you really not mind? I don’t want to cut or anything if someone’s against it, but I just love dancing…” The guys’ eyes all simultaneously dropped to her hips when she shifted on her high heels slightly, and then grinned, nodding their approval. She beamed at them. “Oh, that’s fantastic! Thank you so much.” Ducking beneath the velvet rope as the first guy lifted it for her, she smiled at him and let her arm brush his.

It took maybe ten minutes of flirting for them to get to the front of the line. By then, one of them had his arm around her shoulder and another was standing close enough to rub his crotch against her ass. She smiled up at the bouncer and made a few comments about how she just loved margaritas, and they were inside a few minutes later. She stopped off at the coat check first, stuffing the rest of her cash, her phone, and the retrieval number into her bra before heading up a flight of stairs to the club itself.

It was loud and dark as she’d expected, everything cloaked in a shade of dark blue with intermittent blinding white lights that cross back and forth over the dancers. Plush, semi-circle booths lined the walls, darkened and illuminated only by small candles beneath tinted cups. A second floor overhead housed the DJ booth.

Yeah, this would do nicely.

Katherine ditched the guys she’d come in with, saying she needed to head to the ladies’ room, then made her way to the bar. There were some perks to being so tiny, she thought as she managed to wedge herself under the arms of the people trying to get the bartenders’ attention. Once she made it to the counter, it didn’t hurt to have several Euros already in sight to get the attention of the closest one. Katherine did love margaritas, that part had been true, and she bit her lower lip excitedly while her drink was being made, scoping out the rest of the people around the bar.

Her brow furrowed as she did, though. There were the usual suspects up there—groups of girls sipping drinks and checking out the dance floor, and several couples making out against the banisters where they figured no one would really notice or care. But Katherine’s attention was focused on a distinct, tall, black-haired man… that couldn’t be who she thought it was.

Seriously, what were the chances that he would be in this club, tonight, where she could see him?

The bartender was trying to get her attention, to give her the drink she’d ordered. She thanked him, then ducked back out from beneath the people crowding the bar. Chances were she was wrong and it was just some other guy who had the same build and haircut, but she had to make sure. She had no idea what she would do if she were
right
, but she would worry about in the highly unlikely case that she was.

Luckily, the stairs were easy enough to find once she made it to the edge of the room, and she sipped her drink as she climbed. From a better vantage point, she could see the group of guys who had helped her get in, most of them trying to cheer up the first one she had targeted, and she smirked a little bit to herself. Sorry, but pretty girls weren’t always the nicest.

Making it to the second floor, she pushed her way through the people nearby, even as one of the guys nearest tried to grab her and start grinding against her. She pushed away immediately, not having the patience for some drunk ass, and made for the edge of the balcony.

She continued toward where she’d seen the man who looked like the Prince; it’d been pretty much right above the bar, so that at least gave her a frame of reference. There was no sign of any bodyguards that she could tell, but really obvious bodyguards would have drawn more unwanted attention, not less. She raked her hand through her hair as she peeked around the banister in front of her, wedged between it and the asses of several girls who hadn’t noticed her. They had noticed someone, though, she knew the movements of flirting very well.

There was another girl on the far side of the pillar. She was laughing loudly over the music and twirling some of her strawberry-blond hair—obviously fake, her roots were practically black—around the tip of one finger. Her hot pink dress was at least two sizes too small and her butt was threatening to burst through the seams. The laughter, though, wasn’t fooling anyone; the guy she was with hadn’t said anything funny, she could tell that immediately. This girl had had a few too many drinks.

Pursing her lips and unable to get a good look at the guy, she sauntered forward, pulling herself out from where she’d been wedged, and pointedly pushing around the hot pink dress.

“Oh, sorry about that, hun, too many dancing bodies around here…” she deflected with a smile, although she wasn’t looking at the other girl.

No, she was looking at Eric. Prince-frikken-Eric. Unmistakably Prince Eric. Those icy blue eyes that were absolutely bored and fed up with the present company, the chiseled features that ought to be airbrushed on a billboard promising flawless skin or teeth or something. He would fit both of those bills really well, even if she hadn’t actually seen him smile yet. He stared at her in return, recognizing her from earlier that day. Whether or not he was here by himself, his cover had definitely been blown.