The Dreaming Of... Collection - Оливия Гейтс Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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      ‘Excuse me?’

      She attempted a shrug that fell short of the mark. ‘One photograph isn’t going to do the job.’

      ‘You forget there was a riot in my kingdom less than twenty-four hours ago. I can’t be seen living it up in Paris, proving my manhood, while my people are suffering. The article will stress heavily that I’m on my way home, possibly with a potential bride in tow. The intention is to take their minds off their anxiety without making it seem like I’ve forgotten about them, is it not?’

      ‘Yes, of course. I’ll take care of it.’

      As she made unnecessary notes in her tablet her mind raced. She could feel the waves of tension coming off his body, and knew Reyes would rather be in Santo Sierra, seeing to his people, than here in Paris vetting potential brides.

      While the thought perplexingly lifted her heart, she couldn’t help but be concerned for him.

      ‘Have you thought about what you’ll do about Mendez?’ she asked.

      His mouth compressed. Wedging his elbow on the armrest, he glanced at her. ‘Once the wedding is done and I’ve elected a new council, I’ll make him a take-it-or-leave-it offer. The time for pandering to his whim is over.’

      She nodded. When he turned to look out of the window, she stared at his profile. The question she’d been avoiding hovered on the tip of her tongue.

      ‘Can I ask you a question?’ she blurted.

      Grey eyes narrowed on her. ‘Go ahead.’

      ‘Why are there no pictures of you taken since your mother died?’

      A chilled look entered his eyes. ‘Because I don’t court publicity. Not like...’ He stopped and exhaled harshly.

      Her heart clenched at the bleakness in his eyes. ‘Like your mother? I know she liked to...that she was a media darling.’

      ‘Less of a darling, more of a whore,’ he countered mercilessly.

      Jasmine flinched. ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘Why? We finally have something in common. Mothers who would’ve been better off remaining childless.’

      ‘I wouldn’t go as far as that. After all, if that had happened, neither you or I would be here.’

      His gaze raked her face, as if he were trying to burrow under her skin, see inside her soul again. ‘And our night in Rio would never have happened,’ he murmured.

      Her breath stalled. ‘No...I guess not.’

      ‘Do you regret that, Jasmine?’ he rasped.

      ‘I like it when you call me Jasmine. Miss Nichols makes me sound like a kindergarten teacher.’

      A low, deep laugh broke from his lips, but he continued to stare at her. Then he lifted his hand and traced a finger down her cheek. ‘You haven’t answered my question, Jasmine.’

      ‘Do I regret Rio?’ The truth wasn’t difficult to admit. But she feared the can of worms she would be opening by admitting it, even to herself. She licked her dry bottom lip. ‘The first part, not at all. It was the most memorable night of my life.’

      His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. ‘And the second part?’ he demanded.

      ‘The second part...very, very much. I would do anything to take it back.’

      He said nothing, but he nodded after several seconds. And she dared to hope that he believed her.

       CHAPTER TWELVE

      THE DINNER JACKET he wore felt tight, restrictive. And someone had turned up the temperature in the private dining room. Or had it been turned down?

       Dios...

      Reyes passed a finger underneath his collar and moved the food around on his plate.

      ‘I would need to fly to Europe at least twice a month. I have a standing appointment for full works at my favourite spa in Switzerland.’ Carefully styled blond hair curtained to one side as the duchess tilted her head. ‘That won’t be a problem, will it?’

      The bread basket. Suddenly, Reyes needed it more than he needed to breathe.

      ‘Reyes...you don’t mind me calling you Reyes, do you? Or do you prefer Rey?’ She smiled.

      Perfect teeth. Perfect hair. Perfect manicure.

      No character-forming scars on her body. As Jasmine had across her palm. Or that thin two-inch scar on her shoulder.

      He growled under his breath. He was sitting opposite a beautiful, poised woman who was warm enough for his people to fall in love with. Visually, the duchess was the antithesis of his mother and Anaïs, and that alone would sway his people, who’d hated Queen Isolde Navarre, towards her.

      And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the reluctant thief with the body that called to his like a siren to a sailor.

      He forced himself to focus on his dinner companion. After another minute, he threw down his napkin, stood and smiled down at the duchess.

      ‘We won’t need to worry about what you’ll call me. After tonight we’ll most likely never meet again.’

      He entered his suite twenty minutes later. It was barely nine o’clock so he knew Jasmine would still be up. He told himself he was searching for her to give her a piece of his mind about how appallingly his evening had gone.

      He had a right to, after all.

      When the living room proved empty, he contemplated leaving the dressing-down till morning. Going to the bar, he poured himself a cognac and walked out onto the penthouse terrace.

      He heard the splash of her swimming before he rounded the corner to where the private pool was located.

      Despite warning himself that he needed to stay away, he couldn’t stop his feet propelling him forward until he was standing on the edge of the aqua-tiled pool, staring at her stunning figure as she swam underwater.

      Her arms and legs kicked in a graceful flow, the sight of her scantily clad figure robbing him of breath and sanity. That feeling of skating on the edge of his control escalated to the point where he was in a foul mood by the time she broke the surface.

      ‘You failed.’ His snarl was deep and ruthless enough to make him inwardly grimace.

      Nevertheless, he felt a measure of cheap satisfaction when she whirled to face him. ‘Actually, I was winning. Twenty laps without stopping is an achievement for me.’

      ‘I don’t mean your swim. I mean you failed with the duchess.’

      A single frown line marred her perfect skin. ‘Okay. I guess that’s why you’re back early? What happened?’

      Her legs continued to swirl lazily underwater as she stared up at him. Reyes’s groin pounded hard as he followed the sexy movement.

      When she raised her eyebrows, he dragged his gaze away, tried to find words to enumerate the duchess’s faults. None came to mind. ‘She lacked the qualities I need.’

      Jasmine’s eyes shadowed. She glanced away, then back at him. ‘You did the kissing test?’ An odd note in her voice made something jerk in his chest. He didn’t have time to examine it because she kicked away from the edge. Her breasts bounced, and he nearly swallowed his tongue as flames spiked into his groin.

      ‘I didn’t need to. I knew she would fail.’

      ‘Wow, you’re psychic now?’ Her tone had returned to normal. She swam towards the steps.

      He followed, mesmerised by the curve of her spine and the roundness of her behind. He watched her rise from the pool and pluck

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