Prince of Montéz, Pregnant Mistress. Sabrina Philips

him to notice that first. She remembered the owner of the London City Gallery getting to the same question at her second interview—remembered how, after all the years of hard work, she had finally felt able to answer it with confidence and integrity. So why did she feel so ashamed when he asked?

      ‘No, I didn’t complete it.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘And it was a mistake not to. But for two years afterwards I worked a full-time job, and painted and studied in every spare moment I had. The Cambridge Institute then accepted me on their diploma in conservation based on my aptitude and commitment.’

      ‘So why didn’t you finish it?’ Leon flicked her portfolio shut without looking at another page. ‘Did you fall in love with a university professor and drop out in a fit of unrequited love?’

      ‘I don’t think that’s relevant, do you?’

      Leon saw a flash of something in her eyes which told him he had hit a raw nerve. He was tempted to probe deeper, but at the same time the thought of her having past lovers, let alone hearing about them, irritated him. Which was preposterous, because the women he slept with always matched him in experience.

      He looked her straight in the eye. ‘Actually, I happen to think the way someone behaves in personal relationships is indicative of the way they are likely to behave as an employee.’

      Suddenly, the penny dropped in Cally’s mind. So that was what London had been about. She felt herself grow even hotter beneath the fabric of her dark jacket as she realised what that meant. It had all been an underhand investigation into whether he considered her fit for the job, and she could only imagine what his conclusion had been!

      Wasn’t it just typical that the one night she had acted completely out of character was the one night that, unbeknown to her, she’d needed to be herself most of all? But what gave him the right to make such a judgement based on her behaviour, anyway? Just because he was a prince didn’t give him permission to play at being some moral magistrate!

      She challenged him right back with her gaze. ‘Then you don’t want to know what your behaviour indicates about you, Your Highness.’

      ‘Since you are the one who wants to work on my paintings, my behaviour is irrelevant.Yours, on the other hand…’

      ‘So why bother bringing me here if I’ve already failed your pathetic little personality test?’

      His voice was slow and deliberate, ‘Because, chérie, although you showed that your word cannot be trusted and that you are only interested in these paintings because you think they will bring you renown…’ He paused, as if to revel in her horror. ‘After extensive research into your abilities over the past week I happen to believe you are the best person for the job.’