To Steal a Prince (23 page)

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I kiss him again, just to make sure. I don’t let him go until the orchestra starts warming up again.

Damon holds out a hand as the music starts. “Would you favor me with another dance?”

“You’re a prince. Aren’t you supposed to mingle?”

“I’ll make an exception.”

Nothing would make me happier than to dance with him all night.

“Give me one second.” I search for the rose under the fold of my gown. “Here we are.”

“You brought it here?” Damon touches a petal.

“I’d never leave it.”

“May I?” Carefully, Damon pins the rose to my breast. “There. Now it’s where it belongs.”

And so am I. Taking his hand, I stand as close to him as possible. Putting our masks back over our eyes, we begin.

“Can I ask you a question?”

The prince nods.

“How did you know it was me? I thought Clara Dubois was bullshitting brilliantly.”

“Oh, the patter was perfect. Next time though, you’ll have to work on the accent.”

I sigh. “I should have known.”

“Do you even know what a Belgian accent sounds like?”

“I could have made it up.”

Damon laughs. “I might not have been able to keep a straight face.” Holding me firmly, he guides us into a quieter space on the floor. “By the way, was that Gabe who cut in on me?”

“It was.”

“Then I’m in his debt.”

Can he be serious? “You bought him a flat!”

“Yes, but did you see who I was dancing with?”

I spot peacock feathers on the other side of the room. “There’s Gabe over there. We should say hello.”

We work our way over, but before we can say anything, a man in a purple mask approaches him. He bows to Gabe, extending a hand. “May I have this dance?”

Gabe bows back. “Be careful what you wish for.”

The two of them strut into the swarm of dancers. They never take their eyes off each other as they circle the room. I think they might be oblivious to everything else around them.

“Thanks for helping Gabe,” I say.

“He took care of you when you needed it. I wanted to repay him for that.”

How can anyone be so generous? And how could such a generous person want me?

My palm suddenly feels very warm against Damon’s. “Do you really want to be with me?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “I do.”

“Why me? You’ve experienced my tendencies to lie and steal. I wrecked your car. I tampered with your safe. I ran away from you, twice, because I have trouble trusting that people won’t leave me.”

Damon still dances easily, as if we’re talking about the weather and not huge issues of trust and compatibility. “I agreed to dedicate myself to this city, but I want part of my life to be my own. Most women I meet see me as a means to an end, not for who I am. They see a crown, not Damon Lion. I want to marry for love, not money or titles or politics.”

I’m too stunned to keep dancing. “You love me?”

Damon pulls me to the empty center of the floor. “Have I not told you? I’ve said it in my head scores of times.”

“When?”

“When I took off your mask. When I rode on the beach with you. When I showed you my mother’s roses. And when I pulled you out of the twisted remains of my car.”

“Even then?” Around us, couples dance much too fast.

“Especially then. I couldn’t tell you though, because that’s crazy, isn’t it? Love at first sight?”

“More like love at first crash.”

Damon pulls me close. Gazing into his eyes, I can barely contain my joy. Happiness must be emanating from me, bright and warm like the lights all around us. We’re surrounded by dancers, but it feels like we’re the only people in the world tonight. The prince cups my cheek with one hand, and draws me to him with the other. His lips are cool as he kisses my forehead.

I look up at him, trying to tempt him with my lips. “How about a real kiss?”

“Not quite yet. The moment’s not perfect.”

I pretend to pout. “What will make it perfect?”

He bows. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” Damon wends his way through the crowd. I watch him leave the hall, tingling with anticipation. What could he have in store?

To my left, someone lets out a startled cry. Couples move erratically as they try to avoid collisions. A curving feather marks the culprit. Natalia carves her way across the dance floor, not caring about the disruption she causes. She sidles up to me, disregarding the angry glances thrown her way.

I turn so that she can’t see the rose. She’s no longer wearing hers. I wonder if she discarded it.

Turning up her nose, she looks in the direction Damon went. “The prince never abandons his partner, yet he’s left you in the middle of a dance. What did you say?”

I decide to tell the truth. “I asked for a kiss.”

Natalia’s laugh is cold and harsh. “You can’t expect him to kiss just anyone. Why do you think he’d be interested in someone like you?”

I shrug.

“Novice mistake. You had your chance, so step aside.” She pulls out her fan. “I suppose I should thank you for the favor. Now that he’s seen the dearth of alternative prospects, he’ll come crawling back to me.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it.” She fans herself so rapidly that I hope she gets carpal tunnel. “He’s coming back. How do I look?”

But I’ve lost interest in her. The dancers step around the prince, and Damon makes his way back to me. As he gets closer, I realize why he left. The change is subtle, but I can’t miss it. He’s exchanged his gold mask and tie for bronze ones.

Grabbing his tie, I reel him in. “Where’d you get those?”

“I set spares aside in the cloakroom, just in case. You’re mine, Grace. And I’m yours. I don’t want there to be any confusion about that fact.”

He picks me up, spinning me around. It’s so unexpectedly playful that I laugh, stretching my arms out like an airplane. From the corner of my eye, I catch Natalia skulking away. Good. At least she has the decency not to ruin this moment. I should be getting a kiss any second now.

Damon sets me down, gazing into my eyes. This is it. Perfect.

The music stops on a discordant note.

“What’s going on?” The prince frowns. “The waltz wasn’t over.”

“It is now.” Marc steps into the circle with us. He hasn’t bothered with a mask, so he seems out of place.

All around, the dancers haltingly stop. They look at the center of the floor, trying to decipher the meaning of this interruption.

Marc doesn’t mince words. “I have the crown.”

“Which crown?” Damon asks.

“The one you’ve tried so hard, yet so ineffectually, to protect.”

I step toward him, but Damon puts a hand on my arm.

“He’s my brother. Let me handle it.”

“We’re dealing with a thief. That’s kind of my thing.”

Marc lets out a nasty laugh. “Who says I stole it? There are other means to acquire precious objects.”

“Can we at least do this somewhere private?” Damon asks. “I don’t want to ruin the ball.”

“We can’t have that, can we?” Marc smirks. “They came here for a show. Let them look.”

I need to end this now, before Marc embarrasses the family any further. “All right, then. How did you acquire it?”

“You should know.” His smirk shifts into an evil grin. “You sold it to me.”

It feels like I’ve been doused with ice water. “What?”

“Not two hours ago. You wanted a payout before you left the palace, didn’t you?”

I do my best to stare him down. “I wasn’t in the palace two hours ago. I have witnesses.” I wonder where the king is, or the Palace Guard. Shouldn’t they be putting a stop to this?

“No matter.” Marc reaches into his jacket. “I still have this.”

The crowd gasps as he holds up the crown. It glitters dully in his hand.

“That’s not yours to take,” Damon says, his voice harsh. “Hand it over.”

“Or don’t bother.” I shrug. “Seeing as it’s fake.”

Marc whips around. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Feel for yourself. It’s made of heavy plastic. You could probably snap it if you tried.”

“I don’t believe you!” Marc holds the crown close to him. “I overhead your plan. Great job keeping it quiet, by the way.”

“Wait…” I raise a hand to my mouth. “You broke into the Jewel Room? It’s impregnable.”

“Only if you play by the rules.”

I let my shoulders slump. “How did you do it?”

“I knew you were lying,” Marc crows. “That’s why you don’t cross your betters. Breaking in isn’t hard when you’re willing to cross lines, say, show a guard a video of his children walking home from school.”

“Bastard,” Damon growls.

“You wouldn’t be so complacent if you could think outside the box. Most people don’t like when their families are threatened. Not that you would mind, would you, Brother? You’ve never cared much for me.”

Damon grits his teeth. “That’s because you’re always pulling stunts like this. What do you want? Money? Haven’t you taken enough of that already?”

Marc points to me, making my blood run cold. “I want her. Give her to me or I’ll have it melted down.”

“Her heart’s not mine to give.” Damon stands beside me, firmly clasping my hand. “Do what you will. Grace is more important than a hunk of jewels and metal.”

I clutch his hand to keep tears from forming. I know how much this crown means to him.

“Then send her away. I won’t let you have both.” Marc raises the crown above his head, threatening to destroy it.

“Never.”

“Have it your way.” Marc hurls the crown against the floor. The main stone takes the brunt of the fall, shattering into a thousand pieces.

Damon’s grip spasms. “It looks like your bluff failed.”

“When I told him the crown wasn’t real?” I give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “That wasn’t a bluff.”

He stares at me. “But I saw you put the crown in the vault.”

“I put
a
crown in the vault. But not the real one. I switched them.”

“When?” His brow furrows.

“When I was explaining the shell game.”

The prince looks thoroughly confused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For insurance purposes. Haven’t you heard the saying? ‘Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.’ It’s always safer if only one person knows the whole plan.” I look at Marc, triumphant. I’m not going to let him ruin this day. “A word of advice,” I tell him. “Don’t try the same con twice on the same mark—especially when it failed the first time.”

Marc glowers at me. “You’ll regret this. I promise!”

A man steps out of the crowd behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t touch me, Father!” Slapping the hand away, Marc runs from the hall.

Nic appears at Damon’s side, ready to give chase.

“Please,” says a woman in a silver mask. “Let him go.”

Darius nods, taking his wife’s hand. Nic stands down, but he glares at Marc’s retreating back.

The king nudges a piece of plastic with his boot. “Let’s get someone to clean this up.”

“I’ll take care of it, Sire.” Eris bends down, broom and dustpan in hand. How did she get those so quickly?

“Very good. Now, let’s have some music. I don’t recall the party ending.” All it takes is one look from the king for the musicians to pick up where they left off. Around us, the dancers dutifully follow suit.

Darius stands next to me, hands clasped behind his back. He surveys the dance floor, looking for all the world like his only concern is his guests’ enjoyment. “This is all on you now,” he growls in my ear. “Prove to me the crown is safe.”

Reaching out, Damon grasps my hand. “We’ll show you, Father. Together.”

We slip from the ballroom. Nic leads, insisting that he provide security. No one argues with him. The main hall is empty as we march up the first flight of stairs.

“We disable the main floor elevator for large events,” Nic explains. “We’ve had too many nosy guests over the years.”

We take the elevator up the rest of the way, riding in uncomfortable silence. Before long, our group stands outside the lion-carved door. Damon lets us in.

The king walks briskly to the wall safe. “It’s in here, isn’t it? At least you didn’t totally lose your senses.” He raps against the wall. “Open it.”

Damon obliges him. I look away as he enters the combination. My face already burns knowing what he’ll find inside.

The heavy door swings open. Damon reaches in, then pauses.

“What is it?” Darius asks sharply.

“It’s … nothing.”

“Show me,” Darius barks.

Slowly, Damon retrieves the black lace panties. Turning to show us, he gives me a sideways glance.

Darius clears his throat impatiently. “Are you keeping anything useful in there?”

I’d like to argue that black panties can be incredibly useful, but now doesn’t seem like the time.

At last, Damon withdraws the crown. Darius takes it immediately, not bothering to ask for permission. He hefts the crown, and inspects the glistening central stone. Satisfied, he lets out a long breath.

The king studies me. “It seems we owe you a great debt.” Buttoning his jacket, he sweeps his gaze over us. “I’d suggest that we get back to the dance.”

“Sire?” I lower my mask, though I wish I could hide behind it. “If I may ask, what do you plan to do to Marc?”

“I’ll talk to him.” The king looks like he’s bitten into something sour.

“Talk? That’s it?”

Darius fixes me with his gaze, as if daring me to challenge him. “He didn’t destroy the real crown.”

“But he had every intention of doing so.” I clench my hands into fists. “He can’t get away with this!”

“Do you wish for me to throw him in jail? To expel him from the city? Do you want me to implement harsher crimes for stealing and destroying valuables?”

I gulp uncomfortably.

“That’s what I thought. I cannot make exceptions for you, then lay down the law for Marc. Keep that in mind the next time something shiny catches your eye.” The king turns on his heel. “Damon, put that thing away. We’ll discuss increased security measures at a more appropriate time. Nic, escort me back to the ballroom.”

The bodyguard follows him from the room, bowing as he shuts the door behind them.

I turn to Damon. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault Marc’s getting away.”