Prince's Proposition (The Exiled Royals #3) (2 page)

There was a small, overpriced boutique coffee shop by the main offices for
Lillian’s Fund
. Xavier spent the next three days going in there for lunch on the off chance that Paula grabbed her meals there as well.

He certainly wasn’t going there for the coffee. The ambiance was nice enough, but the food was only fair and the prices were outrageous. Five dollars for twenty ounces of plain black coffee.

As a businessman, he had to admire the mark up, however.

By the third day, he was convinced that he’d figured wrong and that this was a place that Paula wasn’t going to be frequenting. Thirty minutes into chewing on a soggy egg salad sandwich, he started to gather his trash and promised to himself that he was too busy and his time was too valuable to stake out coffee shops like a love struck teenager. Of course, that was the moment when Paula eased through the front door, its shrill chime almost transforming by her very presence into a sweet ring.

She was dressed in a business suit that was a bit lower cut than was truly professional and her long waves of blonde hair were drawn up into a tight bun. Her blouse was a deep sapphire that matched brilliantly with her eyes. Even her three inch pumps added to her overall gorgeous look and, frankly, after so long without her or
any
female company for that matter, Xavier could already feel blood pumping south. His trousers were growing rapidly too tight, and he remembered exactly why he’d fallen for her.

There were few women on Earth as sexy as Paula Reynolds.

He stayed hunched down in his seat until she had her completed order in her hands. Then he made eye-contact with her and smiled. It was noon at one of the most popular coffee shops in the neighborhood, and there was literally nowhere else to sit. She couldn’t even try and bluster her way to a stranger’s table. If she wanted to sit and eat out during her lunch hour, Paula was going to have to take the seat next to him. He waved her over.

“Paula, come sit. We should catch up.”

She glared at him, sending him a heated look that told him that if looks could kill, he’d be a pile of ash by now. But he knew he’d won after Paula realized there were no other places to sit. She bit her lower lip, and her shoulders hunched. He could reader her thoughts--either she eat outside in the heat, or take her food back to eat at her desk, or she could eat next to him if she wanted to get a break from her office for the day.

Even then, he wasn’t sure she’d take the gamble.

Xavier sat up taller when she slid in across from him. He pushed a stack of napkins to her and offered her a smile. “Well! Fancy meeting you here.”

“I doubt this is an accidental meeting.”

She rolled her eyes even as she bit into her tuna salad. Paula had always favored such flavors. It had been the bane of his existence back in Ruminea. Lunch time working with her had always been tinged with the noxious smell of fish and onions. As much as he missed her, he didn’t miss her culinary tastes.

He brought a hand to his chest and kept his eyes wide and innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did you dig for information from Melissa?”

“I didn’t get anything out of her. She’s like Fort Knox when it comes to you, and so is Raymond. I would think my own cousin could help me with things, but he refused to even talk about you.”

“So you staked out my office and picked the most likely place for me to be eating. There are probably laws against that.”

“Or I just love a cup of coffee that costs more than a gallon of gas,” he said, sipping on his overpriced drink. “Besides, you have to admit that I’ve saved you from no-table Hell.”

“Truly, you are the King of Kings,” she quipped, her blue eyes sparkling just a bit with her mirth. “Okay, so I admit this doesn’t completely suck.”

“And you know what they say about damning with faint praise.”

“I’m not doing that,” she added. “I expected this to be more awkward.”

“I can work on that,” he deadpanned. “I was serious at the race. I do miss you, P.”

Paula’s expression soured as she dug into her tuna with more gusto. Small flecks of tuna and crumbs fell to her tray. “Then now you know how it feels. I spent most of our nominal relationship missing you. Eventually, though?”

“What?” he asked, is voice low and quiet. Xavier wasn’t sure he’d like where her train of thought was headed.

She narrowed those gorgeous sapphire eyes back at him. “Eventually you get used to being alone. You get used to the empty bed and the broken promises you never believe were going to come true. I got used to it, and then I
hated
myself for being so complacent. So if you miss me, then you know how I felt that whole time.”

Xavier sat more stiffly but wasn’t deterred. He’d always been determined. He wouldn’t have been able to save the Royal Bank from Uncle Gustav’s incompetent hands if he weren’t. He wasn’t about to turn tail and run just because Paula was being harsh and, frankly, unfair. It was easy to dismiss a relationship when you only focused on the bad times and the pain, but that wasn’t the only characteristic of the life they’d shared.

Reaching out, he stroked the back of her cheek, relieved that, this time, she let him get that close. “But it wasn’t all bad. You have to remember our first New Year’s Eve together? I took you to my private wing of the palace.”

Paula smiled and it was genuine, all those shining white teeth glinting back at him. “The roses and the champagne, the private dinner of the best steak in the country. I remember. It was magical, and it was one of the few nights we ever shared where you had your phone off and would look me directly in the eyes,” Paula sighed and leaned back from him.

Xavier almost hissed as she pulled away. Even this simple touch reminded him of how it had hurt to lose her. Now that he had her near, he’d be damned if he’d lose her again. “I could do that again. Many times. You know, I wasn’t kidding at the run. I need you, Paula. It hasn’t been right since you left.”

Paula shook her head and balled up the wax paper that had been wrapped around her sandwich. “You mean that
Rostov Investments
isn’t running smoothly without me as your right hand. Be honest, you want your best partner and chief operating officer at your side, and you don’t want a girlfriend. You don’t need one. You’re in love with yourself—and money. You know, we couldn’t do anything without you checking in to see how the Yen was doing, or whether the market was bullish or not.” She frowned, and the way she pinned him with those pretty eyes almost hurt as much as the way she’d pulled away. “You know what your most enthusiastic dinner conversation was? Assuming you were home for dinner, that is?”

He shook his head. He knew what she was going to say. He didn’t want to hear it, or the derision in her voice.

But she forged ahead, looking at her palm as if she held her cell. “‘OH! The markets are already open in the Far East!’” She snorted. “As if you weren’t watching the clock anyway, and just waiting for the moment you could escape from me and go back to your true love.” She scowled.

“It’s not my true love! But the rest of the world doesn’t stop moving just because I went home for the night. There really is a next deal to be done. Always. And if I miss an opportunity, it could mean millions. Billions, even.” He’d forgotten how annoying she could be, how tenacious. It was what made Paula incredible at her job but it also made her impossible to live with most days. She was like a terrier gone to ground--she never
anything
go. Instead, she’d dig out every accounting error or search to the ends of the Earth for the perfect donor, but her ability not to give up also meant she didn’t forgive. Not if she felt you’d wronged her.

And he’d wronged her in more ways than anyone else. He didn’t even have to question it.

But it didn’t mean he had to accept it. Not in this case. He could be just as tenacious. “Look. I need you. And yes, Rostov
Investments
could seriously use your business acumen if we’re ever going to be as big a contender as The Royal Bank of Ruminea, but--”

She laughed long and hard and then stood up. “I left banking for good three years ago. I’m not coming back. I love
Lillian’s Fund
, and I love working for a noble cause. I don’t need banks anymore and, Xavier, I definitely don’t need you.”

With that, he watched her storm out of his life for a second time. Except this time, she left her trash behind for him to clean up.

“We have a big problem, boss,” Elena said. Paula had always been pleased with the young Latina. She’d been a great addition to their team since joining them straight out of business school at The University of Southern California, but right now, her big, brown eyes appeared to be…watering.
Shit. Is Elena crying?
Paula had to check to make sure. Elena was as thick-skinned as an alligator, and a brilliant and skilled business leader in her own right.

Why?

“Elena! Is something wrong? You looked like someone
died
.”

“No one died,” she said, but her look was still ominous as she handed Paula the thick folder.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the RSVP records for our next set of big fundraising events. I was double checking numbers, especially since the masquerade ball is only a few weeks away. I wanted to make sure we had the right amount of appetizers and enough wine ordered.”

Paula frowned. That was the problem? Hardly something to cry about. She flipped open the folder looked over the spreadsheets before her.

No, that couldn’t be right. “Did these get entered wrong? Did you check?”

Elena nodded and blinked. “I wish they were wrong. But according to the tally for the masquerade, we’ve only sold about fifty percent of the tickets. And it’s planned for the end of this month!”

“That’s barely ten thousand dollars above our own basic expenses!” And, it would put them far behind in their goal of a hundred thousand dollars for the year. Paula swallowed, and it felt like her throat was filled with shards of glass. “Damn it!”

“Exactly what I was thinking. Worst, the ball has been our most popular fundraiser so far. The rest of the events are only at about twenty-five or thirty percent reservations. It’s not going well. We need more of a draw.”

Paula shook her head. “There has to be someone we can get.”

“The problem is that we’re the new kid on the block. The other charities already have the big celebrities. And unless we can match them with a big name star…we’re screwed.” Elena dropped into the chair on the other side of Paula’s desk.

“But…I don’t have any connections to anyone in the entertainment industry. Not in Vegas. Do you?” Paula frowned and rubbed her forehead.

“Well…there is one person I can think of,” Elena said.

Paula had a sinking feeling she knew exactly to whom her assistant was referring. “Uh…no.”

“I know, but that’s what draws the crowds willing to pay beaucoup bucks for a plate of dried-out, overcooked chicken, and a spoonful of rice pilaf, Boss. If we want headlines, publicity—funding!—we need him.”

“What about Raymond? He’s a royal.” Paula knew she was grabbing at straws, but the alternative was unthinkable.  “At one time, yes, that would have worked. But since he’s settled down with Melissa, the tabloids never cover him. He’s about as interesting as…well, we are. But Xavier’s bad boy reputation sells papers, magazines…and it will sell tickets for the ball.”

Paula set her head in her hands. She knew Elena was right. Xavier’s appearance at the Masquerade would bring in rubber-neckers and celebrity seekers alike. But it would also mean she’d have to deal with him. “There has to be another way, someone else.”

She didn’t want Lillian’s Fund to fail, but she couldn’t work side by side with Xavier again. It had shredded her heart to bits.

She looked up at Elena. “Seriously. I’d rather sell my soul to the devil before I had to deal with Xavier.”

“Maybe, but I’m pretty sure the devil isn’t interested in attending a charity event.” Elena fixed her with a stubborn stare.

Paula shuffled the papers on her desk up and shoved them back into the folder. “I’ll think about it.  There has to be someone we can hire, or someone with a heart who is willing to help out a good cause.”

Elena nodded. “There is. Xavier did bring a lot of added attention to our 5k.”

Paula felt a headache coming on.  She’d find another way.
Any
way that didn’t rely on Xavier Rostov. “I’ll make some calls. I’ll find somebody,” she said with as much confidence as she could. Savvy and smart, Elena saw right through her ruse. “If getting Xavier to work with us is a way to save this charity, then you have to do it.”

Paula sighed and as Elena left her office, she wondered if summoning the devil was difficult as it sounded, even here in Vegas. His schedule was probably freer than Xavier’s, and he’d probably be a less unpleasant choice. He might steal her soul, but at least he wouldn’t pulverize her heart.

***

“Are you sure? Don’t you think that David Copperfield might be interested? It’s a great cause! He comes for an hour, makes a lot of stuff disappear, and then we can really help the women and their families suffering through chemo and mastectomies,” Paula fumbled, wishing all the while her voice was steadier than it actually was.

She’d come to the end of her Rolodex. But still, she and hadn’t found one celebrity in this star-studded town to be her knight in shining armor or her saving grace. Most of them had been booked years in advance. On top of that, Lillian’s
Fund
was still too new to interest them. They wanted their “charitable” appearances to result in huge publicity, and Lillian’s Fund couldn’t deliver.

She was well and truly screwed.

“Oh, I understand, but if Ms.
Zabriskie does have a cancellation…
in case something happens, then she’s more than welcome to work with us. No, I understand…Europe, right,” she said, trying to sound upbeat even if she felt like she was drowning at sea in the middle of a typhoon. “Great, well thank you for your time and----”

She tried not to take it personally that they’d already hung up on her before she could finish her sentence, but it stung. Everything stung. It was like working back in New York all over again.

Why was it she could kick ass with private finance or banking, but she could never bring in enough donors on her own for charity work? Granted, since 2008 the economy everywhere had been awful and there just wasn’t the federal or private funding for non-profits that there used to be, but so many still thrived.

But if they didn’t have a massive turn around in their organization, then
Lillian’s Fund
was going to be run out of business, no questions asked, within the year.

And she’d tried every other name in Vegas and every other contact she’d collected in her eight years of working since she’d graduated from college.

There wasn’t any choice, which meant she was practically crawling over broken glass and back to Xavier Rostov, the one man on Earth she didn’t want to be indebted to. But this wasn’t about her. She had to think of the greater good, and the women who were sick suffering from cancer. If being a supplicant at Xavier’s altar could help save them then, yes, Paula would do it.

How could she not?

Part of her had been desperately praying that his voicemail would at least pick up. The last thing she needed after such a horrible day was to bargain with him directly. There was something safer and less humiliating about asking via a message. But that was not to be. The irony gods were having a full out field day with her.

Xavier answered on the second ring. As always his silky smooth voice made heat flare through her stomach and her heart start pounding. “Well, well, P, this is certainly a pleasant surprise,” he said, and he reminded her of a cat thrilled with itself for finally having torn a mouse to shreds after hunting it for days. “I was hoping you’d call. Ready to come to work for
Rostov Investments
?”

“No, actually, I need you.”

“Can you say that again?” he purred.

“Are you really going to make me do that,” she asked. “You know what I said.”

“I need to hear it again, especially after you’ve been so cold, Paula. What do you need?”

She sighed and would have hung up right there if she didn’t have breast cancer victims to think about. “Okay, I’m being honest.
Lillian’s Fund
is in trouble. We’re not netting the numbers we need for our big fundraisers, especially our masquerade ball, and we need someone who can draw a crowd. Someone like—“Paula grit her teeth—“You.”

“If it were someone
like
me, you’d be on the phone with them, Bright Eyes. Admit it. You need me, one Xavier Rostov, Prince of Ruminea.” He sounded cheerfully enthusiastic, and her heated stomach clenched. She could just hear his ego inflating.

“
Exiled
prince,” she answered, knowing even that wouldn’t stop his head from swelling. “Yes, we need you. If we don’t get your cooperation, then
Lillian’s Fund
won’t last the fiscal year. Would you do it?” She took a deep breath and reminded herself of the women who needed this charity to survive. “
Please
?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Ah, and there’s the famous selflessness. Paula rolled her eyes. “How about this? Your soul gets scrubbed clean? A good karmic balance? Maybe just helping out women and families who need it? Isn’t that enough, Xavier?”

“It’s nice, but…no.” He sounded as calm as if he were choosing whether or not to add fries to his meal.

Paula tried to display the same demeanor, even though her fist was clenched so hard around her phone, her fingers hurt. “The love and ever present devotion of your cousin and cousin-in-law, then? Raymond founded this foundation—you owe it to him!”

“Hmm. True. No.” She could picture him casually cleaning his nails or flicking lint from his sleeve. At the very least, he was leaning back in his chair and grinning with that ‘I win!’ grin, and her heart fell.

“What, then?”

“I need something else to sweeten the pot. If I work with you on charity events, then you are going to work with me as my COO when you can for
Rostov Investments
.”

Bastard. “I have a charity to run.”

“Then we do it as partners. I’ll be your P.R. ace-in-the-hole for all events for the next six months, no questions asked, and you use that keen analytical mind of yours to help me finally dig it into my family and get
Rostov
to supplant The Royal Bank of Ruminea.”

“But what if it takes too much time away from
Lillian’s Fund
?” She sighed.

“It won’t. I understand that’s your main responsibility and why you’re doing all of this.”

“I don’t know.” It was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. It had taken her forever to get her life and her heart back in working order after she’d left Xavier. She didn’t want to break it, all over again. It hurt too much.

“Well… I don’t have time to do it, then,” he said, his voice firm. She’d heard that tone in a hundred different negotiations with him during their career together. It was the first time he’d tried to use that tone to brook things with her. “You take or leave my terms. Either you become my partner at
Rostov
or you lose
Lillian’s Fund
completely. Which will it be?”

Anger burned through her and settled in her stomach, where it smoldered and seethed. “I hate you for this,” she snapped.

Undaunted, he laughed. “No you don’t. I’ll be over to your office by five-thirty tomorrow. It’s a good thing I’m already used to nineteen hour days.”

Paula thought fast. It took two to negotiate, and she could make deals, too. “Fine, but
no
flirting. This is strictly business, Xavier. Trust me. If I had any other way to get around this problem, I would have. This is
not
a way for you to get in closer to me, not ever.”

He chuckled, and the sound was as inviting as it had ever been. Goosebumps swept over her body. “We’ll see about that, P, won’t we?”