Royal Baby, Forbidden Marriage
'How much?'
Phoebe Wells stared blankly at the man slouched in a chair across from her. He gazed back with a sensual smile and heavy-lidded eyes, his sable hair rumpled, the top two buttons of his shirt undone to reveal a smooth expanse of golden skin.
'How much?' she repeated. The question made no sense. How much what? Her fingers tightened reflexively around the strap of her bag and she tried not to fidget. She'd been hustled here by two government agents, and it had taken all her self-control not to ask if she was being arrested. Actually, it had taken all her self-control not to scream.
They'd given her no answers, not even a look, as they ushered her into one of the palace's empty reception rooms to wait for twenty panic-laden minutes before this man— Leo Christensen, Anders's cousin—had made his lazy entrance. And now he was asking her how much, and she had no idea what any of it meant.
She wished Anders were here; she wished he hadn't left her to suffer the scorn of his damnable cousin, the man who now uncoiled himself from the chair and rose to stand in front of her with an easy, lethal grace. She wished, she realised wit ... read full excerpt from: Royal Baby, Forbidden Marriage ebook
