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

Xavier’s mother, Mina, had taught him well.

Queen Mina Rostov had been gifted when it came to training him in Sun Tzu or Machiavelli, about the art of ruling subjects or running a business with an iron fist. However, she hadn’t been the soft and comforting mother he wished he’d had. He’d never learned about relationships from her or how to support someone else. Maybe if she’d been like an actual mother…

Maybe working with Paula wouldn’t be the closest he was getting to being near her. Xavier realized he was basically blackmailing her over a charity. And using her desperation to his advantage but, damn it, he ached for her. This
had
to be a step toward helping them reconcile.

So he had his assistant call her assistant and change their meeting place.

Making sure they worked out of his penthouse was a step toward that reconciliation. Besides he preferred to work in his own environment, where he could control things.

Xavier wasn’t obvious about his set up, at least he didn’t think he was. His penthouse was one of the most luxurious at the Bellagio. It had a massive dining room table, which was sufficient for setting out his laptop and even a spare in case Paula needed it, as well as the mounds of investment portfolios and stock information that he’d accrued.

There’d been an offer on the table from Xi Huang, one of the top bankers in China, to work on a merger between the two companies. He wasn’t ready for that since his biggest goal was to stand on his own. When his bank and investment firm surpassed the influence and power of The Royal Bank of Ruminea, Xavier wanted to be the sole person responsible for it. He wanted to be able to rub his mother and his father’s faces in it.

Still, maybe there were aspects of Xi Huang’s offer that could be worked over for their mutual benefits, some deals that could be engaged in at a smaller level.

Paula had always had the best nose for combing through the fine print, ferreting out the key details, and finding the loopholes or places for wiggle room that he’d missed. He was counting on her to help him with that for their first night together.

If there was a way to exploit Huang’s offer and company holdings for his own gain, then by God, Xavier Rostov was going to find it. After all, tonight would be straight forward, with a simple agenda. One, keep building his company’s momentum by any means necessary and two, charm P by making remember exactly why she fell in love with him.

He wasn’t worried about either item.

All he needed was a cool, level head.

Unexpectedly, his plan went out the window when he opened the door for his once-and-future chief operations officer.

To describe her as
gorgeous
was too small a word. Xavier stood there, unable to do anything but stare at her.

Currently, she was wearing a black pencil skirt that hugged her curvy hips in all the best ways, an almost sheer red silk blouse that dipped a bit low over her cleavage, and a beautiful statement necklace with a massive blue stone that highlighted the unearthly yet compelling blue of her eyes.

Her make-up was slightly dulled after eight hours of work already, but her lips were as pouty and promising as ever, and his cock jerked thinking of how amazing they would have felt wrapped around his shaft. His mouth grew dry.

Who was he kidding?

It took everything he had in him---and, yes, the endless lessons of his mother were a huge part of that---not to get to his knees in front of her and beg her without a shred of dignity to take him back.

She was ethereally lovely and everything he’d been missing in his life for the last three years.

Unfortunately, Paula was also glaring at him like she’d rather be in a burning building instead of passing through his foyer.
Perfect.
He hated feeling like if she had a choice between sitting with him and stepping in dog crap that Paula would probably embrace the crap.

Can you stare at me with more disdain?

“Thank you for meeting me here. I figured there would be more room, and it would be more comfortable, P.”

“It’s Paula. Let’s try and keep it professional and push pet names to the wayside, shall we?” she said, moving to the dining room and sitting down at the table. “Besides, you have a point. My office is modest at best. But you could host two state dinners side by side in here or possibly some Olympic races.”

“Why be modest?” he asked, trying to meet her disdain with a smile. He stretched out his arms. “You never know when you’re going to need the room. For a dinner, or a race.”

“Or maybe you just want to have someone over?” she asked, her eyes narrowed. .

Xavier shook his head as he sat down next to her. “That’s not what I mean at all. I use this for business. I…there hasn’t been anyone since you.”

Paula clenched her fists at her sides and said nothing. Then she bent over the contract that Huang’s secretary had faxed to Xavier, and began reading it. Detached. Business-like. Completely inured to his charm. “Are you really thinking about a merger?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “P—Paula, I was trying to make a point.”

“You were. And it was about us as a couple which is such ancient history that it’s carbon dated,” she said, lifting her chin to glare at him. “Like I said, as much as
Lillian’s Fund
means to me, if you try and flirt or rekindle the old romance while I’m here, I can’t stay. This is not a love connection. This is business. You, of all people, know the difference.”

“I guess so,” he said stiffly, wishing there was any other way to appeal to her. But when Paula was all business, facts and figures were her only interest. “Fine. I need you to tell me what I
can
sign with Huang that will create better access to Asian markets. After all, it’s almost seven a.m. in China, and the markets will be opening soon.”

“Yeah, this I remember,” Paula said, her voice thick with emotions.

If only Xavier could tell which emotions they were.

***

When the clock neared 8:30 p.m., Paula set the contracts down and stood up. “Well. That does it for tonight.”

“Does it?” Xavier barked back. “I don’t think you remember my schedule as well as you say. I have a lot more to do. The market opened a few hours ago, and I can work till midnight before I’m back up at five a.m. We have easily four more hours to go.”

“You have four more hours. I’m done.” She shook her head and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Paula needed something to do with her hands, anything to help her deal with the nervous energy building through her. The memories of incredibly, inhumanly long hours were always on her mind. The image of Xavier crouched over a desk into the wee hours of the morning, the light playing over the hollows of his high cheek bones, was like a taunt. To have him so close to her and down the hall in his office, but never come closer to her, never
truly
be with her…

A woman could only deal with a cold, empty bed for so long.

She returned to their makeshift desk. “Anyway,” she said, “You also promised me that you’d help me with all the needs of
Lillian’s Fund
. Tonight? Tonight’s a cocktail party reception down at
Quake
, the bar near
The Hard Rock
. We have some interested investors scheduled to be there from nine to midnight. We even have one of the local favorite lounge acts doing some Sinatra and Billie Holiday ‘40s covers. It should be a great time, and you promised to come and be our star.”

“And I still have a mound of work to do,” he said, pursing his lips tightly, and Paula wondered if he’d believe her if she insisted he was a pouter. She’d never brought it up with him before but the great and respected exiled prince was nothing more than whiner sometimes.

“I’m the one helping you find the loopholes. You want them, you come with me now. Besides, are you really going to tell Raymond and Melissa that you let their charity down already?
Tsk-tsk
.”

“You play dirty, woman.”

“Indeed I do. Now march, and get ready to party. We schmooze in twenty minutes.”

He eyed her but slipped off to his room to change into a better networking outfit. Or at least a less wrinkled shirt.

Paula had already changed at work.

Damn, actually before we slip out, I need to attend to one more private matter…

Slipping down the hall, Paula found a bathroom and took care of her needs. The club was new and supposed to be top of the line, but she didn’t want to set herself up for a situation later in the night to be dying in a long line.

As she passed Xavier’s bedroom, she couldn’t help seeing inside. Xavier hadn’t shut the door all the way, and she caught sight of him as he was slipping on a fresh undershirt. It was a white tank top that fit tightly over his defined muscles, and when he reached up to start buttoning his emerald green silk shirt, Paula could see every muscle in his shoulders flex as he moved.

No. I’m not attracted to him anymore, she told herself. Still, her mouth had dried at the sight and now, licking her lips, she hurried back down the hall to the entry room. There was no way she could get him to stay professional and refrain from attempts at reconciliation or flirting if he caught her skulking in a dark hallway and scoping out his muscles. No way at all.

Of course, it’s almost a crime
not
to look at a man with a body that hot.

Sighing, she grabbed another drink of water and guzzled it down. It was going to be a long night.

He blanched when he saw the damn sign posted at the entry to
Quake
---“A Night with Prince Xavier Rostov.” Rounding on Paula, he wanted to shout out his frustrations. This was a clear set up if ever he’d seen one.

Xavier had been in on this with her for a week. They hadn’t been able to meet up in person to discuss business until then, but it had been only seven days. Now she was trading on his name so gauchely that he was pissed. It was beneath him to be exhibited quite so blatantly and if were for anyone else but Paula, he’d have left right then.

And Xavier knew that he meant it was for
Paula
. As pleasant and kind as Melissa was to him when he visited with Raymond, and as much as he cared about his cousin, there was still no one he’d be embarrassed for except for Paula.

Damn it. If this was what he had to do to get her back and working with him, then he was going to try his hardest. He didn’t have to like it, but still, she could have gone about it in a smoother, less ham-fisted way.

He gestured to the sign. “Seriously? Are you kidding me?”

“Well, we already had this mixer set up, but once we knew you were our headliner, well, we rush ordered some of the extra printing. I thought the sign was fun,” she sniffed and didn’t seem a bit contrite.

He frowned back at her as they moved through the smiling crowd. He actually recognized more than a few faces in the crowd. Some were famous high rollers in this town and Xavier had to keep himself from whistling. He’d been in Vegas for almost six months and knew them when he saw them.

Some were also captains of industry, and the backbone of this town, city council types who had as much money as they did influence inside the city limits. This was getting more interesting by the minute, Xavier thought. These were contacts he could use.

Hell, if he charmed one whale away from an extra night at the table and invested that two or three million she was dumping at craps in
Rostov Investment
instead, then that could go a long way into helping his company claw its way past The Royal Bank of Ruminea.

“Still,” he said, trying to pay attention to the woman who’d set this all up. If Paula noticed his wandering eye too early, then she might be annoyed. He intended to schmooze and schmooze hard, but not the way she wanted. This was a veritable gold mine for finding new funding partners for himself. That goal was first and foremost on his mind. “You know, maybe you have to approach the charity angle the exact same way you would a business.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. They glinted like deadly blue flames. “Are you saying I’m a hack?”

“No,” he said, keeping his tone low and calm. “However, I knew your style back at RBR. You never would have gone in for banners from Etsy.”

“It was from Vistaprint.”

“Wherever,” he conceded as they walked up to the bar. He ordered them both martinis with extra olives and bit back his frustration when she shook her head at the bartender and corrected him. Since when was his tough as nails COO into Cosmos? That seemed beneath her. She’d never been a typical “girl drink” consumer before.

“My point is,” he said, “Is that you’d never get a sign at all. It would be obvious from the invite, and you wouldn’t have created needless and, frankly,
tacky
banners. So why do you work differently when the business is a non-profit? They deserve sophistication too, don’t you think?”

“Of course, I think that.”

“Then the banners have to go. I think you might have separated the business of a charity in your mind at least a little from a bank, and they still need money to run. They still rely on business deals with the powerful. They deserve more than Etsy.”

“Again, it’s Vistaprint,” she snapped. “Aren’t you going to wine and dine our donors, anyway?”

“I’m just saying that there might be holes and bad patterns in your presentation,” he said, reaching out and to stroke her cheek. It was gratifying to see her gulp, to notice the hint of red coloring her cheeks. “You’re amazing and cunning, P. I think you need to add that edge to your work here too, treat everything as if you were back in Ruminea.”

“I…I’ll try.” She pushed his hand away like it was a fly. “Just--go get them, Xavier. The crowd’s been waiting for you.” She stepping back and gave him a quick smiled. “Besides,
some
people might find your personality charming.”

He grinned in return. “Bright eyes, everyone does. It’s my secret weapon.”

***

“So you see,” Xavier continued, leaning in a bit closer than was polite toward Sylvia McCorkle. “I think that the opportunities for wealth and capital growth when you give to
Rostov Investments
are innumerable. We’re a small investment and loan outfit compared to others, I’m aware and, yes, it’s true we’re not looking for full-out mergers or partnerships. But we do need and want angel investors. That’s what’s really helping drive us---that chance to take other, silent partners with us to the top. Giving enough to own even just three to five percent of the company can have amazing payback as our projections for the year play out.”

Sylvia eyed him and sipped on her third class of Chardonnay. The woman was sixty, had aged badly in the harsh Vegas sun, sounded like Kathleen Turner after sucking on a car tail pipe for a day. Still, Ms. McCorkle had also been married to one of the financiers for the Palms and, in a later marriage, the Venetian.  With someone like her in his corner, Xavier could leverage for many things.

And he intended to.

“I thought this was a fundraiser in honor of
Lillian’s Fund
,” she said, finishing off her glass. “I’m always interested in investments. I have more than my dear Bernie’s estate left after he died to invest in a million things, even idiot ideas like
Siegfried and Roy: Reborn
. Honestly, though, I came here because the charity means a lot to me. I’ve regularly donated here.”

“You have?” he asked, wishing that Paula had given him a portfolio or run down of their biggest donors so far.

“Yes, and I thought you knew that. My sister, Sarah, God bless, passed on six years ago. She had a double mastectomy in 2005, but surgery didn’t stop it from coming back. I came to this particular event to meet you, because I’ve met Raymond and I was interested in seeing if that charm holds across the whole family.”

“Does it?”

“I think you’re pushy, but this is Vegas, so a better question to ask is who isn’t?” she said, sighing. “I think that you do have interesting ideas as far as your investment firm,” Sylvia added, slipping him her business card. “Call me and I’ll set up a meeting with you in a better venue. You’re charming enough to keep me interested, but I have to say that I’m disappointed as well.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” she replied. “This charity means everything to me. They helped put a smile on the face of so many women who were like Sarah but didn’t have her resources. I admire your work effort, young prince, but you have treated the reason you’re actually here as an afterthought and that’s sad indeed,” Sylvia finished before slipping off in the direction of the powder room.

Xavier groaned inwardly and finished his martini finally. He’d been here an hour, talking up at least three potential donors for
Rostov Investments
. Despite her frustration and condemnations, Sylvia McCorkle was the first fish to bite. Still, he had two more hours and that was enough time to make the most of this cocktail party. But her words stung. They reflected too much what he knew Paula would say to him if she figured out that maybe promoting
Lillian’s Fund
wasn’t his true mission tonight.

Okay, not maybe.

Definitely
.

He was serving his own interests, and Xavier knew it. Of course, his mother, Queen Mina, would tell him that looking out for himself and for the interests of the Rostov line were the only things that mattered. It was his upbringing after all, especially since he was an only child.

He looked across the crowded bar to see Paula working her own portion of the patrons.

Xavier nodded at Paula. She rewarded him with her blinding smile, an expression he hadn’t seen from her in years--long, long before she officially left him. Things had been bad for a while.

He was so lost in her eyes and her open trust that he almost stumbled. He caught himself, forced a smile to his lips and tipped his now-empty glass toward her as a mini-salute.

There was the city comptroller on the far side of the bar. He’d go chat Ronald Bloom up, and this time focus more on
Lillian’s Fund
. He wasn’t going to let Paula down.

He just wanted to make sure he got a little for himself in the process. That wasn’t so wrong, was it?