The blush deepened, the simple reaction making Philippe shift in his seat as desire streaked through him. “I did,” she said, glancing away. “But I only completed one year.”
Intrigued, he leaned forward. “What happened?”
“Life,” she said flatly, her gaze on him once more. “The reality is you can’t always have everything you want. But since you’re a prince, maybe you wouldn’t understand that.”
She was going on the defensive, a tactic he was very familiar with. “Actually,” he murmured. “I do.” All too well.
Her mouth twisted cynically. “It’s hard to imagine what dreams you’ve had to sacrifice.”
“I’m sure it is.”
She took a sip of wine, met his gaze over the rim of her glass. “So tell me.”
“Tell you—?”
“What dream did you sacrifice, Prince Philippe?”
Philippe leaned back in his seat. This conversation had just become a great deal more interesting. And dangerous. “I asked you,” he reminded her, “to call me Philippe.”
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