Seduced (Royal Expat Series Book #1) Page 2

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  Three days later, on the plane, off the plane, in and out of a new apartment and into a new office, Matilda was both elated and exhausted. Jetlag meant that her hours were haywire, and she’d already spent Friday night and most of Saturday passed out and drooling on her new and extremely nice blue satin pillows.

  All afternoon she had been trekking around the country’s capital, taking in everything there was to see. She would have liked to do it all on her own, but unfortunately, she’d had to accept the fact that everything she did, she did with Colin as her constant bodyguard. Now it was close to 8, and she was eager to get a taste of the city’s night life, even though, to her disappointment, she was too young to drink.

  “Are you sure you don’t just want to go back to the apartment and try to get into a regular sleeping pattern?” Colin suggested. He looked tired, and reluctant to accompany her any further.

  “Don’t be such a bore,” Matilda chided. “Daddy can’t watch you here either, you know. Don’t you ever do anything for fun?”

  “I take my job seriously,” Colin replied.

  “Fine,” Matilda sighed, giving up on being able to enjoy herself fully whenever he was around. “Well I don’t need to be supervised every minute of the day—you’re free to go back home but I’m going out.”

  “Then I’ll make sure you get back safely.”

  A wave of annoyance rushed through Matilda. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Colin. He was just her bodyguard, always there and always casting a shadow on anything she did. She wanted to be free—properly free—to enjoy the city and her new life, and he was always there, breathing down her neck.

  Why had her father insisted on this arrangement? It was stupid, and in the end it was only going to make both of them miserable.

  “You don’t have to, you know,” was all she could find to say in response.

  She eventually gave up trying to make Colin go on home without her, and focused on finding the perfect location to get the feel of the city. Eventually, she settled on a bar in Georgetown, electing to sit out on the open balcony, an extension of the upstairs bar room, and take in the sunset, looking out over the elegant architecture of the street and enjoying the feeling of freedom—even if it was only a feeling. After all, after being ID’d at the bar and recalling the age restrictions in America, she was sipping at a glass of ginger ale.

  “Isn’t this sort of like London?” she asked Colin with a smile. “It’s kind of quaint—not at all what I’d expect of America.”

  “Oh my god, you’re English?” a group made up of a few guys and girls of around her age were suddenly paying attention to her.

  “Yeah. I’m working here,” she said, glad of the chance to turn away from Colin and talk to other people her age.

  She began to chat to the group, who she quickly found out were students, while Colin lurked behind her like an unwanted shadow. Matilda wondered briefly if she ought to have included him and tried to talk with him—but he wasn’t her friend, he was just an annoyance, and he was getting paid to be there. She didn’t owe him the courtesy of being friends with him when she’d rather he’d disappear.

  It had been a long time since she’d felt this free and happy, away from anyone who knew who she was, or wanted to get their picture in the paper. Even without alcohol, adrenaline was pumping through her veins and she was excited—excited to be there, to be away from home, and to be starting out on an adventure.

  She looked back into the bar—at the faces of all the people, enjoying a relaxing night away from their cares. What would it be like to be any one of them? Were their lives really as simple as they seemed? Everyone seemed to be in a group, spending time with friends or maybe even partners. She envied them their freedom. She wondered if they even knew how lucky they were.

  As she surveyed the crowd on the inside of the room, she noticed one guy in particular over by the bar. He was looking right at her, unabashedly studying her face as if she was a work of art at a gallery. She felt warmth flood over her entire body at the humorous, thoughtful eyes sweeping over her face and body. His eyes were a beautiful shade of gray, soft, yet with overwhelming depth. There was something predatory in his gaze, as if he was a wolf contemplating whether or not to swallow her whole. For some reason, it made her tingle from head to foot, as if someone was blowing a soft breath over her.

  She usually would have looked away, embarrassed, but there was something about this guy which kept her eyes fixed on his. His expression was somewhere between amusement and attraction. She could see in his eyes that he wanted her, and she had to admit that she liked it. His lips were pulled into an amused smirk which made her stomach twist itself in knots. His face was tanned and unbelievably handsome, and his eyes were so intense and gray, both warm and somehow mysterious, and it made her long to know his name, or what he was thinking. His cheekbones were high and dashing, and his dark hair was sun-kissed and slightly wavy. Her heart beat faster as she took in his lazy, effortless posture, the long, lean body and the hint of raw power which clung to his well-muscled arms, broad shoulders and strong hands. He was absolutely gorgeous!

  She realized she’d been staring at him, and quickly looked away, a blush spreading over her cheeks. Quickly she took a sip of her drink and choked on it, the bubbles ticking her nose. She looked sharply up to see if he had noticed, and saw him chuckling slightly. She gave him a coy smile, and felt a hot spike of elation as he grinned back, his charming smile making her as warm as if she had just swallowed a shot of whiskey.

  Electricity crackled off her skin as she looked away again, pretending to listen to what someone was saying. She could feel the power of his gaze on her, and it was all she could do not to look back again. She’d never felt this before—the excitement, the nervousness, the feeling that all the lights in the bar (which were admittedly not many) were directed out onto the balcony, right at her.

  She couldn’t resist another peek at the mysterious man. She tried to do it subtly, but he spotted her right away. He gave her a wink, and raised his glass at her. Looking down and blushing, Matilda took a sip of her own drink—she was sure they must have accidentally put alcohol in it. What else could be making her behave so foolishly? She’d never met this guy before, and yet…it was as if there was an invisible force pulling her towards him.

  Suddenly she remembered Colin, and her heart sank as she realized that there was no chance that she would be able to approach the guy without him taking note of everything she did. She wondered if she could convince him to leave for the night so she could approach this man without him breathing down her neck. She looked around for her new shadow, but he had disappeared. Figuring he must have gone to the bathroom, she turned back to her mystery man—only to see his broad shoulders and back turned towards her, the contour of his spine and his slender yet powerful build perfectly defined in his t-shirt. She wondered if he was a student. She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. Somehow he seemed more… dangerous that any of the other students here, as if he had seen things they hadn’t even comprehended. Maybe it was that undertone of confidence and adventure that gave her thrills every time she looked at him.

  He was talking to someone, but his strong frame was blocking that someone from view. Was he here with someone? He almost certainly had a girlfriend, with looks like that. Waves of disappointment crashed over her at the thought, and she realized how badly she wanted to talk to him. Should she go over there? But even as she was thinking it, he turned around and indicated to her, giving her another of his dazzling smiles and causing her breath to hitch. What was it about him which affected her like this? It wasn’t as if she fell for every handsome guy she met. There was just something about this guy that was different.

  She looked up again, and saw him sliding lithely out of his seat. He moved with confidence and elegance, but she could see the strength and speed hidden just below the surface. Her heart beat like a blacksmith’s hammer as he sauntered towards her, his eyes fixed
on her face and a confident smirk on his lips. As he reached the balcony against which she was leaning, she realized how much taller than her he was. She could feel his physical presence like a blanket around her, and she caught an enticing whiff of his bold, smoky scent which made her mouth go dry.

  “You’re not drinking,” he told her. His voice was deep and smooth, but with just a hint of dry humor which had her heart dancing the rumba.

  “Can’t,” she admitted. “I’m not 21 for another few months.”

  “Can I get you something?” he asked, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

  Matilda hesitated. Something in his voice made it into a challenge—would she dare, or wouldn’t she?

  “I’ll have another ginger ale,” she said decisively, refusing to get lured into anyone’s traps, even if that person was the hottest man she’d ever met.

  “With a shot of…?” the man encouraged, grinning broadly. His tone was light and full of mischief.

  “With ice,” she said firmly, pressing her lips together in a show of stubborn disapproval. He laughed—a deep, mellow laugh which made Matilda’s skin tingle—and sauntered away.

  For a horrible second, Matilda wondered if she had blown it. He must think she was boring, refusing to bend the law. She should have lived up to her family’s opinion of her and been reckless, but she didn’t want to give Colin a reason to take her home, and she didn’t want to prove her critics right about her.

  Luckily, she was able to breathe a sigh of relief as her mystery man headed back to the bar, returning in a flash with two glasses of ginger ale.

  “You made it sound so tempting,” he teased, as he held out the glass. “I’m Damian Knight.”

  “Matilda,” she said. She deliberately omitted her last name on the off-chance that he tried to google her and found out who she was. The last thing she wanted was for some hot guy to find out she was a princess. He’d either try to use her, as Caroline feared, or, more likely, drop her like a hot potato. After all, who needed a complication like that in their life?

  “You’re not from these parts, are you?” he asked, oblivious to the thoughts rushing through her head.

  “No,” Matilda admitted. “I’m working here. It’s my third day,” she confided.

  “Aha!” Damian looked triumphant. “I thought you looked more excited than usual to be in a shitty bar.”

  “Oh, is it that obvious?” Matilda felt a wave of embarrassment as she realized how stupid she must seem to him.

  “It’s refreshing,” he told her, and the way he looked at her, as if he was longing to touch her, made her feel confused but excited. Even as her mind told her no, her body was unconsciously leaning towards him. She purposely changed the subject, trying to take the spotlight off herself.

  “What about you? Are you a student?” He looked young up close, younger than she had taken him for, but something in his eyes simply looked to mature to be a student. He had what could only be described as a rebellious edge.

  “Student of life,” he admitted. “I learn more by traveling than by being in one place. Once I’ve experienced something, it’s time to move on to something else.”

  “Does that apply to women as well?” Matilda found herself saying before she could stop herself.

  “Let’s see where the night takes us, and maybe you’ll find the answer you’re looking for,” he grinned.

  Matilda felt intoxicated just being near to Damian. Now that he was right next to her, she could feel the warmth emanating from his body, an enticing contrast to the cooling air which was blowing in from the balcony. His smoky scent, subtle and pleasantly spicy, was making her head spin, and she couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes. Up close, his irises were the cool gray of a pebble beach, with flecks of yellow and dark gray rings around the irises, making his gaze almost unbearably intense. Matilda felt like she could get lost in his eyes for days.

  They were separated now from the group she had been talking to before, standing a little further down the balcony, resting their glasses against the wooden ledge. Matilda had just about forgotten Colin when she felt his hand clamping down on her shoulder, like a noose wrapping around her neck. The action sent shivers of disgust down her spine, although she couldn’t explain why.

  “Time to get back,” he told her firmly. She could see from his tight expression that he expected to be obeyed, but she was tired of being told what to do. Why couldn’t she have one night to enjoy herself like a normal person? Drunk on Damian, on his talk of freedom and independence, she decided to rebel.

  “Do I have a curfew?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Matilda—don’t be childish,” he said. “I promised your father—”

  “Colin,” Matilda cut across him, “I’m not a child, and any issues you have with my conduct you can take up with my father. It’s not even 9 in the evening, and I am a grown woman. I can choose to do what I like. And I would like to stay here, unaccompanied. Is that clear?”

  “You clearly can’t make good choices. You’ve been here barely a few days and you’re illegally drinking alcohol in a bar with a suspicious man trying to chat you up.”

  Matilda’s temper flared.

  “Give me a little credit,” she said. “This is just ginger ale. You can taste it!” She held out the glass and Colin sniffed it suspiciously.

  “I’m not drinking. All I want to do is have a quiet, relaxed evening and get to know a new person without being guarded like a prisoner. I won’t allow you to prevent me. That’s not what my father sent you for.”

  Colin looked both confused and furious. He cast a look at Damian, who gave him a diffident shrug.

  “What the lady said,” he said. “It’s a free country.”

  “Right,” Matilda agreed decisively. “Goodnight, Colin.”

  “Your father won’t like this,” Colin warned.

  “Then don’t tell him,” Matilda said simply.

  She watched Colin’s back recede into the crowd with an air of satisfaction before turning back to Damian, who was looking at her quizzically.

  “You aren’t secretly 16 or something are you?” he quipped.

  “What? Oh, no, my dad is just really overprotective.” She rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool and hoping she was succeeding.

  “Right,” Damian said. “And you just let his—what is he, an informant—ollow you around all the time? You’re not royalty, are you?”

  Matilda laughed awkwardly, hoping that it came off as natural—she almost felt sick at the thought of him coming so close to the truth. She was terrified of how she must look to him—silly, immature, and under the thumb of her father.

  “He’s gone, so let’s not worry,” she said, hoping to drop the subject which was spoiling her feeling of elation.

  “But doesn’t it bug you—having to live by someone else’s rules?” Damian persisted, raising his eyebrows at her.

  “I live by my own rules,” Matilda said stubbornly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Yes you are,” Damian surveyed her thoughtfully, making her blush yet again. “And why are you here, Matilda?”

  “I’m working,” she said, trying to avoid the obvious implication of his words. “I work in the National Archives.”

  “Woah,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “How did a little girl like you get a job in a big place like that?”

  “Oh, family connections. What about you?” Matilda was desperate to know more about Damian. He was such a mystery, his relaxed attitude with just a hint of wildness and danger. It intrigued her more than she could fathom.

  “I go here and there,” he said. “I thought I’d stop by and see what DC was all about. It’s been a while since I visited, and I love it here.”

  “Oh, you’re on holiday?” Matilda was downcast at the thought that he would only be there for a handful of days.

  “Not exactly. I guess you could call me a nomad,” Damian explained. “I go wherever I want. I prefer to enjoy life and see as much as I can—it’s p
ointless to be confined by society. Do you see anyone truly happy who has to live by someone else’s rules?”

  Matilda tried to take a sip of her drink and missed her mouth by at least a few feet, colliding the glass with someone else’s ear. As she hastily apologized, she tried to hide how envious she was. He was attractive, interesting and he had the one thing she desired—freedom.

  “What about your family?” she asked curiously. “Don’t they mind you going off into the middle of nowhere?”

  “Nah,” Damian shrugged. “They’re both as conventional as you could get. I think they’re proud of having a son who can think for himself and does what they only ever dreamed about doing.”

  “What about money?” asked Matilda, who had always been taught never to take without giving something in return.

  “Money is something that brings people more trouble than happiness,” Damian proclaimed. “I make some when I need it—I write a little, tend bar or help out in a garage if I need some extra cash. Otherwise I just go where the mood takes me—and I’m glad it took me here tonight.”

  Matilda bit her lip to try and hide her pleasure as Damian gave her a warm, approving look.

  “I wish I’d gone to England,” Damian said, giving her his trademark charming smile. “If I’d known they made women as beautiful as you there, I might have been persuaded to settle there for good.”

  “Don’t give me lines,” Matilda protested, although secretly she felt like beaming at the cheesy compliment. “Many men have tried and failed.”

  “Then what makes me different?” Damian grinned, reaching out his hand and touching her cheek, sending lightning bolts of excitement through her body.

  “N-nothing,” Matilda gasped out. “What makes you think you are different?”

  “I can read people pretty well,” he confessed. “Besides, you stood up to the ogre just so you could spend the evening with me. That’s got to count for something, right?”

  Damian leaned closer, his hand cupping her cheek, looking intensely into her eyes. Matilda felt her breathing hitch, and she opened her mouth instinctively as Damian’s fingers brushed against her lips. He was going to kiss her, she realized. She panicked, almost drawing her head away, not wanting to mess up, but Damian’s large, warm hand was holding her in place.