“What are you doing here, Donatello?”
He took a sip of wine and even behind the dark sunglasses he was wearing, I could tell his eyes were filled with amusement. The bastard didn’t answer right away and given I was furiouswith him, I raked my gaze down his chest to the swim trunks he had on.
Was the man trying to draw attention? First, you could tell he was from the United States because he was wearing board shorts. Second, the damn things matched his open shirt, in a festive yet garish tropical design.
Even so, he was far too handsome, my pussy throbbing instantly.
With the sunlight cast across his body, I vaguely noticed a partial tattoo near his knee. Since I’d never seen him in shorts, I was more than curious. I’d be damned if I didn’t almost ask him to show me the rest.
I knew enough about the man that if I did, he would definitely show me every inch, even if that meant exposing himself.
At the same time when I shifted in the chair, a series of ghost sensations crisscrossed my bottom where he’d spanked me. The round of discipline hadn’t been brutal enough for the pain to be real, but I had a sense he was thinking about that very moment right now.
Maybe it was because he wore an evil smirk that I longed to wipe off.
“Well,” he said while looking over at me. “It would seem when a Prince family member runs away without telling anyone where she is going, a sudden crisis is created in the kingdom. They sent me to find you.”
How in the hell had he managed to do so? I was both angry and impressed.
“I’m an adult and can take a vacation any time I want.” In making the blanket statement, it was as if he was going to getup and fly out on the next plane. I knew better. The man was a tenacious bulldog with a penchant for danger and a love of beating people who didn’t cooperate.
His behavior inside the club had been the last straw.
However, his dominant actions had also provided me with fodder for my fantasies.
“Is that what you’re doing, Emmeline? Is this merely an unplanned vacation? A quiet few days on a festive beach? Or did you prepare your escape months if not years ago, squirreling money away, selecting safe alternatives that would last possibly months at a time? How about the weapons you’re carrying? I’m impressed you were able to use the commercial airlines without being flagged. But then again, I guess when you’re Interpol hunting a serial killer, anything is possible. Right?”
I resisted opening my mouth in shock. Thankfully, with the cute waiter’s return, asking my unwanted guest what he’d like to drink, I had the opportunity to rein in my anger and recover from the surprise.
With the task completed, I’d be damned if Donatello didn’t strip off the garish shirt, providing me with a far too delicious view of his naked torso. And holy mother of God, the man was built. After all the years I’d known him, you’d think I’d caught him with at least his shirt off.
Not once.
Not even when he’d been invited to one of the family barbeques. While not held often and mostly when I was much younger, they always involved a pool. No matter the temperature outside, Donatello had remained on duty. The most he’d done was remove his jacket and loosen his tie.
When I’d teased him once upon a time, he’d told me he was a consummate professional. Right then and there, I’d longed to rip off the tailored shirt, exposing the goodies underneath.
Now he was using his sculpted physique to torment me. Punishment for skipping town.
“I never knew you had a dramatic streak in you, Donatello. You should try writing thriller novels. And that’s Ms. Prince to you. From where I’m sitting, it seems you’re working for my brother.” When he dared reach for my wine again, I snagged it away, holding it close.
He merely lifted his sunglasses while turning his head, taking his time to lower his gaze all the way to my toes. This time, his nostrils flared as he did. Was he undressing me with his eyes? Granted, that wouldn’t take much since I’d purchased one of those tiny Brazilian bikinis once I’d arrived, but he was a soldier in my brother’s army, the action considered forbidden.
Why was my mouth watering?
And how in God’s name had he managed to uncover part of my secret identity? One I’d take months to keep perfect? How much had he discovered about my alternative personality?
“Please,Ms. Prince. Even though a little witch, you weren’t that difficult to figure out. At least for a man like me.” His drink arrived and words of pleasantry were exchanged while I remained in a vacuum.
“Go on,” I said sharply, resisting chastising him for calling me a witch. If I was a good one, he wouldn’t be sitting here. Maybe that was my problem. I needed to be abadlittle witch instead.
He took not just one but two swallows of his drink before continuing. “Inspector Ambrosia Sauvignon.” He waited for my reaction, even tilting his head slightly.
You bet I was shocked. “Quite a name.” I’d been proud of myself for thinking of it at the time.
“Yes, clever for those who don’t know you. Ambrosia, the single dessert you cannot stand, something you called a fluffy mistake. And sauvignon for the wine you also wouldn’t be caught dead drinking. And I quote.”
“Alright, Mr. Smarty Pants. What else do you think you know?” The smirk on his face indicated he was enjoying the hell out of himself.