He laughs. Chuckles in a rich, deep tone like I've just told him a dirty joke. He's shaking his head when my heart beats mad, and my fingers twitch, ready to slap that wicked smile off his face.
I don't care if it'll get me detained and cause an international incident. If he doesn't stop, it'll be worth it, I swear.
“What's so damned funny?” I say, glaring at him.
“You're so procedural, aren't you? It's like you don't realize you're riding with the second most powerful person in the whole kingdom. Do you really think I can't bypass the usual red tape, love? Get you and dear old dad a private jet back to the States the instant I snap my fingers?”
He holds his hand out and the cabin echoes with a loud snap.
I can't take this anymore. I grab him with both hands, shoving his arm as hard as I can. I keep going, reaching forward, falling into his chest while I try to slap him with both my palms. The momentum from the SUV lurching around a tight turn only helps me topple into him.
I grit my teeth. Prince or not, he's being a royal asshole, and I'm nobody's doormat. Nobody's – not even to the man who has everything.
“Hey, hey! Easy, now,” he says, dangerously cool, getting a hold on me. Calmer than he should be, considering I've just assaulted his majestic, princely ass. “Don't hurt yourself, love.”
I look up, the deep blue gems in his face swallowing me up. That's when I realize he's gotten me under control with no more effort than if he'd picked up a kitten. He's overwhelmed me. Holding both my hands behind my head, sternly but gently, a skill he probably learned overseas in uniform.
“This can't be easy for you,” he whispers. “You've every right to be pissed, to lash out. I get that. I've practically kidnapped you.”
“Yeah, you have,” I say, feeling my muscles go slack. There's something vaguely gratifying about hearing him admit it. “You'd better start talking to me, Your Highness. Told you, I have a plane to catch, and I'm going to scream bloody murder if it leaves without me.”
Folding my arms, I look away from him, settling back in my seat. Everything outside is whipping by us. The SUV is flying through the capital, with men on motorcycles all around us. The royals must have a special pass to drive through the city like a bat out of hell, faster than any emergency vehicle I've ever seen.
“It won't. I'll see that it's personally grounded by my orders. I'll have the fucking captain hold the door open for you, with a pillow, a blanket, and a martini in hand. Or are you more of a wine girl?”
Slowly, I turn to him, disgust twisting my face. He's wearing that smirk again – the one that would almost be sexy if it wasn't for smugness. We must be staring at each other for about three brutal seconds before he winks.
“Hold tight, Erin. We're almost to the castle. Then I'll be more than happy to fill you in on why I'm so eager to sit down with you.”
No. I want to know now. I really do, and that's what I want to tell him, but the huge, imposing vista appearing through the window behind him puts me at a loss for words.
He wasn't joking around when he said castle. It's got to be Lucius, a medieval fort with huge gold capped spires I've only seen in the distance on the edge of the capital when the sun hits it just right.
Suddenly, they're a lot closer. And we're rolling across the literal drawbridge going over the moat, right into something from a fairy tale.
Except I'm not feeling charmed.
More like someone who's been taken captive, against her will, completely at the mercy of this strange, arrogant man for reasons I'm nearly afraid to find out.
The SUV jerks up a winding road past the castle's walls, and then we're next to a huge red door. It's smooth and modern, a more recent addition to the historic structure.
A man comes to Prince Asshole's side, pops the door, and he jumps out. Much to my shock, he rounds his way to my side himself, opening the door for me, reaching out with a hand.
“Come with me, love. You're the one in a hurry, aren't you?”
I jump out and brush past him, refusing his hand. He's right about the rush, but I'll be damned if I'm going to admit it.
I still can't wrap my head around this situation. And that goes double when he leads me into the castle, walking inside it like he owns the place.
Ugh. Technically, he does, and this could be his main home for all I know.
The place looks like a lodge, a luxury hotel, and a museum smashed together in one grand jumble.
Gold chandeliers, masterful paintings of the wilderness, handcrafted furniture in every corner. Classical music pipes through the hallways he leads me down, slowing when I start to lag, waiting for me with just a hint of impatience on his princely face.
We stop and wait for an elevator leading God knows where. My eyes finally aren't on him, but rather, on the huge ram's head protruding from the wall overhead, a long horned animal that's preposterously big, strong, and possibly extinct.
“My great grandfather bagged that one,” he says, catching me looking. “One of the last ones, back when the crown owned every square inch of the mountains for hunting. You know what they say about the horns on those bastards, right?”
I shake my head. The way the smirk on his face tightens up just a little more tells me I probably won't like the answer, but he's going to throw it in my face anyway.
“Ground them up into dust, and they'll make a man crazy. He'll go all night. His dick will grow another inch or two – no bullshit. He'll become the beast, focused on nothing but fighting and fucking.” He pauses, his nostrils flare, and he cocks his head. “Probably all rumors. Probably. It's hard to believe these creatures went extinct a hundred years ago if they were so good at fucking, isn't it?”
Jesus. For the first time since I've gotten here, I feel like I'm about to pass out.
I can't handle this. I wonder what I've done to deserve it, standing here in a castle with this Prince, this infamous playboy. Yes, the man saves my life and possibly dad's one day, and then talks to me about rams fucking the next.
The elevator door opens, and I step inside another hallway with Prince Playboy. He taps his perfectly polished toe the whole way up. I'm too busy grabbing the golden banister around the edges so I don't pass out, feeling the blood drop to my stomach as the elevator carries us up what feels like more than a dozen stories.
I look at him, my eyes burning in disbelief. He looks so good, so ordinary here, in his lair.
He's all suit and tie again. Everything clinging to his strong, thick, angular body so custom and expensive I wouldn't be surprised if his shoelaces cost a thousand dollars.
He stops in front of a door with gold trim, pulls a key from his pocket, and unlocks it. Then we're in a round room flanked with circular windows, a fireplace, and a view that would make heaven itself jealous.
“Take a seat,” he says, moving to a small cabinet in the corner. “Before I offer you a drink, I'd like to come clean. I lied about the flight, love. Don't worry about dear old dad. My men are making sure he's on a jet to Mexico as we speak.”
“Mexico?!” I choke on the word, feeling my chest tightening. “You're kidding me. Please tell me that's what's going on here. This is all some strange, elaborate joke...right?”