Page 3 of Some Like It Scandalous
“I’d prefer to stand.” Her lungs burned with every deep inhale. Her temper unraveled further at his too-calm gaze. She hated it when he tried to “handle” her.
“Sit. Down.” The quiet command just pissed her off more and she grabbed her laptop bag, shoving the folders inside—ignoring him completely. It was a mistake to think she could do this—a mistake to believe that a decade could mute the betrayal.
“My apologies, Your Highness.” Heat flooded her face. Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth. “I do not think this going to work out.” And it made her sick to think she wouldn’t be a part of the solution so many young men and women needed to achieve their educational dreams. Better to let someone else handle the royal arrogance and demand.
“Miss Novak…please…” He sighed.
She made it three steps.
“Stay. Please.”
Keep walking.But she didn’t. The quiet words took all the fire out of her sails.
She looked back. He stood, his hands in the pockets, but the neutrality in his expression evaporated. The quiet request accompanied by the all too familiar hopeful smile twisted the dagger in her heart.
“Go to hell, Charlie.” The venom in the words startled her. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked furiously to keep them at bay. “I came here to do business, not to be interrogated like some supplicant to your throne. You could have sent someone else, but you made me come here as if I would bend one damn knee to you.”
A knock at the door interrupted any response he might have made. She started forward and a man in a black-on-black suit that screamed security glanced in. “Forgive the interruption, Your Highness. We wanted to make sure everything was all right.” The guard didn’t look at the prince, though, his steely expression rested on her.
“We are having a mild disagreement, Nelson. Thank you, that will be all.” The dismissal satisfied the guard and after one last hard look at her, he closed the door again.
Security had to be standing right outside the door—how else could they have heard her?
Would they keep her from leaving?
“Anna. Five minutes. Please.” His voice wrapped lovingly around her name, a sensuous caress, and she halted, closing her eyes. The third please doused the flames of irritation.
Five minutes.
“Fine.” She turned and set her bag down on the floor again. Glancing at her watch, she fought to remain impassive. The hellshe would cry in front of him, no matter how raw and battered her heart. “You have five minutes.”
He stood next to the chair he’d sat in and didn’t try to approach her. Honestly, he didn’t have to. She couldn’t look away. “I have read your résumé and your letters of recommendation. I know why others believe you to be so qualified. But the success of this enterprise is extremely important to my cousin. Thus, it is important to me. You know she was in the foster care system—she benefited from scholarship programs—and she desperately wants to help others like herself.”
Deeper emotion clouded those words—pride and regret. The latter sank a hook into her heart. “She explained. She’s an amazing woman.”
For the first time since she’d walked into the room, the prince smiled—truly smiled—and the warmth in it kindled heat in her belly. “She is. My only regret is the family did not know about her before the last several months. She holds no grudge against us, though I do. She believes you are a fantastic asset—her exact word was ‘perfect.’”
His giving voice to someone else’s compliment shouldn’t have filled her with such an irrational sense of joy, but the swell of it punctured the outrage that fueled her earlier flight. “Mrs. Voldakov and I spent several hours chatting about her hopes for the project. I agree with her sentiment. It’s a worthy cause and it provides a much-needed boost for those who might have to forgo further education because of financial hardship. I am intimately acquainted with the struggles of low-income families and those struggles are only magnified for foster children who lack the basic support structure for success.”
If not for her own scholarships, she would likely be working in the same diner as her mother or the mechanic shop with her father. One of six children, Anna knew her parents’ resourceshad been stretched to the breaking point. She’d saved her family money and still managed to chase her dreams.
Well, some of them…
“You worked hard for your scholarships. You pushed away personal commitments to achieve the grades you needed…” The prince stepped toward her.
“Thank you.” All the moisture in her mouth dried up. “I had support. This scholarship—the foundation it can become—can provide that support to so many others. I know what it means to need.”
Thankfully, he redirected and stopped at the edge of his desk and put a hand on the wooden edge. “You weren’t recruited for this position. You applied. Why leave the organization you worked for to come to this one?”
The question puzzled her. Directors of large corporations moved around frequently. “It’s an excellent opportunity.”
“It is hours of intensive labor, compliance restrictions, and paperwork. Your previous project, Hart’s House, provided support for abuse victims, educational and relocation opportunities, and you opened over fifty different establishments in major cities across the United States in the last five years—doubling not only their available working capital, but also the number of help hot spots.” The full weight of his gaze rested on her, as though he evaluated her every reaction and she fought against fidgeting.
“You managed a brilliant opportunity—so, why give that up to take on a relatively small scholarship with years of work in front of it?” He held her gaze captive. The masculine intensity of him dominated the room. He’d done his homework—because not all of the information he recited had been in her résumé.
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Why give up one lofty, worthwhile project for another? She’d struggled with the decision for a month after submitting her application.“Hart House doesn’t need me to succeed anymore. We have a fantastic array of directors, city managers and political support. My assistant director handled most of the day-to-day operations and she can and will manage it beautifully. I’m not averse to hard work and this scholarship program—the whole basis of the foundation—needs people who believe in the system of success it can provide. Who know it can be more than just a dream or a fairytale.”
“Of course.” He sounded…disappointed. He released her gaze and looked down at his desk. “You want to it to be real. Real work. Real commitment. Real results.”
