Chapter 3 Three

"So," Ethan Hayes said as he helped me out of his car, "are you going to invite me in for coffee?"

It was almost midnight and, to be honest, I was glad our Friday night "date" was finally over. My plain apartment building had never looked so good.

"Coffee?" I raised a brow. "Unless you like pain or plan to stay up all night for some reason, coffee is the last thing you should drink this late."

Bright light spilled across the parking lot, so I could see the funny look of confusion on Ethan's pretty-boy face.

"Um, then how about tea?" he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the lobby.

I yanked away from him, skipping the polite stuff. "I hate tea. Look, Ethan-"

"Juice, then? Soda? Water?"

"I know coffee means sex, so cut the crap." I sighed and decided to pull out the big guns. "You're a nice guy so I'll be honest. I don't know what Maria told you but... my ex runs with the Russian mob. He thinks he still owns me somehow, which is why the last guy who took me out..." I stopped and put on a scared look. "Well, let's just say the poor man blinks once for yes and twice for no these days."

Ethan fixed his collar, his big puppy eyes wide. "I, uh, see. Well, I'll be on my way and I, um, hope you have a nice life. I mean, night. Bye, Paula."

He scrambled back to his Mercedes, tripped and fell, cursing out loud.

"Are you okay?" I called, holding back a laugh.

"I'm fine!" he yelled, getting up and jumping into his car. Seconds later the tires screeched as he got the hell out of there.

"Pussy," I muttered, turning and walking into the building.

They usually were. It didn't matter if it was the Russian mob, the Italian mafia or a Mexican cartel. The end of my story was always the same. My dates ran faster than a sprinter on steroids from my made-up dangerous ex.

My phone rang once I was in the elevator. I thought about ignoring it until it was clear Maria was not going to stop.

"If it isn't Miss Matchmaker herself," I said cheerfully.

"Did you tell Ethan the mob story?" Maria shouted in my ear. "The poor guy just threatened to kill me. At midnight, no less! How did you make someone as quiet as Ethan turn scary?"

"It's not my fault he's a gullible idiot. Sadly, all the guys you try to set me up with barely have two brain cells to rub together."

"All the men I send your way are smart, make good money and look pretty good," Maria said with a sigh. "Don't you want to be happy, Paula?"

I felt a quick flash of anger and pushed it down. Maria Mehta was my best and most trusted friend in the world. We had known each other since we were six, but now that we were twenty-four, I sometimes wondered what my life would have been like without her sticking her nose in my private stuff. Like my love life. Married to her high school sweetheart and an old friend of ours, Juan Bennett, Maria had decided to set me up with every single guy in Florida.

"You know I do," I said seriously, stepping out of the elevator and walking to my apartment door. "I want what my parents have. But not now. You know about my plan."

I could picture Maria rolling her almond-shaped hazel eyes as she snorted. "Oh right. The Plan. Get a good job. Get your own house. Blow your nose and take a dump every two days. Get married at thirty. Did I miss something?"

I laughed, unlocking my door and pushing it open. "You're ridiculous but yeah, you get the idea. I'll meet the guy of my dreams when I'm good and ready and not before." Envelopes were scattered in the entrance, clearly pushed under the door. My brow wrinkled. "Damn it, I told this man not to push things under my door. That's why mailboxes were invented."

"The super?" I had totally forgotten Maria was still on the phone. "You're still fighting with the old guy?"

I picked up the stack of letters and put them on my coffee table. "We're not fighting," I lied. Edgar Fenwick, the building's superintendent, and I had a short history of clashing. He was nosy and I was apparently rude. "He does things on purpose to annoy me. That's it."

"Get over it. The guy is like ninety. So Juan has this coworker that I-"

"No way," I cut in, shutting that down fast. "No more. Ethan was the last straw."

"What was so wrong with Ethan?"

I chewed my lower lip. Good question. What was so wrong with Ethan? He was smart and didn't think the Rosetta stone was a piece of jewelry. As an accountant, he was good with numbers yet didn't brag about it. He wasn't the hottest guy but then again, I wasn't shallow. Anymore. Still, he had a nice face and white teeth and maybe if he hadn't asked for coffee, I would have thought about going out with him again.

Who was I kidding?

"He didn't excite me," I admitted, picking up a thin envelope I knew held my electricity bill. I was no longer a naive teenager who believed in true love and boys like Carlos Orlov, but surely a man had to at least make my heart race and lower parts throb.

A long silence came from the other end of the phone before Maria said carefully, "I didn't know that was what you were looking for."

"I'm not looking for excitement," I stressed, throwing the envelope back down and picking up another. "Jeez, Maria, this isn't When Harry Met Sally."

"And we're back to Miss Cynical. I wondered when she'd show up again." She paused. "Well, Juan has this friend who's been in prison. Tax evasion, but that's still exciting, right?"

"Not that kind of excitement. I'm not interested in Wesley Snipes." I turned the cream-colored envelope over without thinking and nearly bit my tongue. "Crap."

"What? What is it?"

Looking back at me was the Orlov royal seal, a red circle with the black outline of a fox in the middle. Just that picture brought back the memory of the first and only time I had ever set foot in Ruslavia, ever set foot in the royal palace.

It had happened years ago yet it felt like only a day had passed since I had my first and only orgasm at the hands of my crush's uncle. Feeling the shame again, I remembered how I had made some weak excuse about being called to join my parents in Corfu for Christmas. My friends, Carlos included, had taken me to the airport and I hadn't been to Ruslavia since, even though I had gotten plenty of invites.

Just the idea of seeing Alejandro again made me sick. Something more had happened that night, something I didn't want to think about too hard. He had ruined me for other men.

The sad thing was that while it was a strong sexual wake-up for me, it was nothing more than a sleepy roll in the dark with a warm body for him. Desperate to feel wanted, I had thrown myself at Alejandro and didn't even get the luck of being able to say I had no idea who he was.

Carlos had talked about his uncle thousands of times before so I knew he had been twenty-six when he gave me the best sex of my life. Carlos's father, the current king, was twenty years older than Alejandro and had pretty much raised him after their father, the old king, died.

Eight years older than me, Alejandro should have known better. How could I ever look Carlos in the eye knowing I had slept with his uncle? It was wrong, which was why I hadn't seen my friend in almost six years.

What does he want? I thought, holding the envelope away from me like it was a disease. Despite the distance and years, Carlos and I were still friends and I knew I could call him whenever. I knew Carlos's father was alive and well, even remarried, so Carlos wasn't in line for the throne anytime soon. Whatever was in the envelope was so important that he couldn't just pick up the phone and call me.

Maybe it's him.

"Paula? You there?"

"Can I call you back, Maria?" I asked in a rushed voice, and without waiting I hung up. Taking a deep breath, I tore the envelope open. And laughed.

Carlos Orlov III was getting married to Elena Sokolova in a month's time. Two first-class plane tickets came with my invitation.