Her wrist burned where he touched her, sending sparks up her arm and down the length of her body. “What—what did you call me?”
He abruptly dropped her wrist. “What is your name?”
It took her a minute to remember. “L-Lilley,” she managed. “From the file room.”
Prince Alessandro’s eyes narrowed. He walked around her, slowly looking her up and down. Her cheeks went hot. Compared to his gorgeous perfection in his sleek, sophisticated tuxedo, she knew she was frumpy and frightful in her sweatshirt and gray baggy sweatpants. “And what are you doing here, Lilley from the file room? Alone in my office on a Saturday night?”
She licked her dry lips, trying to calm her shaking knees. “I was … was …” What had she been doing, anyway? Where was she? Who was she? “I was just … um …” Her eyes fell on the file cart. “Working?”
He followed her gaze, then lifted a dark eyebrow. “Why are you not at the Preziosi ball?”
“I … I lost my date,” she whispered.
“Funny.” His sensual mouth curved in a humorless smile. “That seems to be going around.”
The sexy, deep, accented timbre of his voice moved over her like a spell. She couldn’t move or look away from his masculine beauty as he towered over her, strong, powerful and wide-shouldered, with thighs like tree trunks.
Thighs? Who said anything about his thighs?
Ever since Jeremy had arranged her file-room job, Lilley had done her best to make sure her billionaire boss never noticed her. And now, beneath the prince’s black, hypnotic gaze, she found herself suddenly wanting to blurt out why. She wasn’t very good at telling lies, not even white ones. The hot, searing depths in Prince Alessandro’s dark eyes whispered that she could tell him anything, anything at all, and he would understand. He would forgive and show mercy.
But she’d been around powerful men before. She recognized the intensity of his gaze for what it actually was: an emotional shakedown.
The ruthless playboy prince, show mercy? No way. If he knew about Lilley’s father, about her cousin, he’d fire her. Or worse.
“Lilley,” he mused aloud in the silent office. He tilted his head, and his eyes suddenly gleamed in the small circle of lamplight. “What is your last name?”
“Smith,” she said honestly, then hid a smile. No help for him there.
“And what are you doing in my office, Miss Smith?”
The scent of him, sandalwood and musk and soap and something more—something uniquely him—washed over her. She gave an involuntary shiver. “Returning, um, files.”
“You know my files go to Mrs. Rutherford.”
“Yes,” she admitted unhappily.
He moved closer. She could practically feel the warmth of his body through his crisp black tuxedo jacket. “Tell me why you’re really here.”
She swallowed, looking down at the expensive carpet beneath her old, scuffed jogging shoes. “I just wanted to work for a few hours in peace and quiet. Without anyone bothering me.”
“On a Saturday night?” he said coldly. “You were searching my office. Going through my files.”
She looked up. “No!”
Prince Alessandro folded his arms. His dark eyes were hard, his expression like chiseled stone.
“I was hiding,” she said in a voice almost too soft to hear.
“Hiding?” His voice was silky. “Hiding from what?”
Against her will, the truth was ripped out of her. “From you.”
His dark eyes sharpened. He leaned forward. “Tell me why.”
Lilley could barely even breathe, much less think, with Prince Alessandro Caetani so close to her.
The soft golden glow of the lamp, the darkening twilight outside the windows filled the enormous, high-ceilinged office with deepening shadows. “I was crying,” she whispered over the lump in her throat. “I couldn’t stay at home, I’m days behind on my work, and I didn’t want you to see me because I was crying!”
Struggling not to cry, Lilley looked away. If she wept in front of her powerful boss, her humiliation would be complete. He would fire her—whether for skulking in his office, for crying in such an unprofessional way, or for being so behind on her work, it hardly mattered. She would lose the last thing she valued. The perfect finale to the second-worst day of her life.
“Ah,” he said softly, looking down at her. “At last, I understand.”
Her shoulders sagged. He was going to tell her to gather her things and get out of his building.
The prince’s gaze was full of darkness, an ocean at midnight, deep enough to drown in. “You were in love with him?”
“What?” Lilley blinked. “Who?”
The corners of his sensual mouth curved upward. “The man.”
“What makes you think I was crying over a man?”
“Why else would a woman weep?”
She laughed, but the sound was almost like a sob. “Everything has gone wrong today. I thought I might be happier if I lost some weight. I tried to go for a jog. Big mistake.” She looked down at her old running shoes, at her baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants. “My roommate thought I’d left for work. When I came back to the apartment I found her with my boyfriend. In bed.”
Alessandro cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
Lilley looked up at him, shocked by his unexpected sympathy. Then her lips parted. Sparks spread from his touch, zinging from her earlobes to her scalp, down her neck and spine, causing heat to whirl like lightning across her skin. Her breasts felt strangely heavy, her nipples tightening beneath her workout bra.
His eyes narrowed in surprise. “But you’re beautiful.”
Beautiful? It was like a slap in the face. She ripped away. “Don’t.”
He frowned. “Don’t what?”
His cruelty took her breath away. She blinked fast, glaring up at him. “I know I’m not beautiful. And it’s fine. I know I’m not smart either, and I can live with that. But for you to stand there and taunt me like that …” She gripped her hands into fists. “It’s not just patronizing, it’s heartless!”
Alessandro looked down at her gravely, not saying a word. And Lilley sucked in her breath, realizing she’d just told off her boss.
She clasped her hands together. “I’m fired, right?” When he didn’t reply, a shudder of grief went through her. Her hands shook as she picked up a file from the floor and reached for the metal cart. “I’ll finish my work,” she said miserably, “then collect my things.”
He grabbed her arm, stopping her. “So a compliment is a taunt?” Staring down at her, he shook his head. “You’re a strange girl, Lilley Smith.”
The way Prince Alessandro was looking at her, for an instant she’d almost thought—but no. Strange was a code word for helpless failure. She said over the lump in her throat, “So my father has always told me.”
“You’re not fired.”
She looked up at him with the first glimmer of hope. “I’m not?”
Leaning forward, he took the file from her hand and set it on top of the metal cart. “I have a different sort of penalty in mind.”
“The guillotine?” she said weakly.