MAID FOR A PRINCE: (Book 1) (Point St. Claire, where true love finds a way) Read Online Free PDF

through the front door with barely enough energy to drag a gaze around. But her new surroundings were too beautiful to ignore.
    High cool ceilings, an ornate spiral staircase and heavy wooden furniture welcomed her in. A bubbling indoor fountain, bougainvillea-laced trestles, and a lengthy cream and blue couch were a few paces away from a balcony. With the doors open, a warm breeze stirred the gossamer-light curtains.
    “How old is this place?” she asked.
    Darius stood before a massive gilt-framed entrance mirror, inspecting the figurine yet again.
    “The foundations predate the start of the Roman Empire,” he said. “It’s been refurbished many times. Some of the original stonework is still in place.”
    She swallowed against a dry throat. Questions later. Right now she was dying of thirst. “Do you have anything to drink? I’m bone dry.”
    He looked over and his tense look melted with apology. After crossing to a bar, he paused and glanced around. Gingerly, he set the figurine on a massive wooden table. When he was certain she was steady, he saw to drinks.
    They downed two glasses of water each before he filled goblets with wine. “I’ll leave you for a moment,” he said, and nodded at the figurine. “I need to put her away.”
    In a vault, locked away for safekeeping? What a waste.
    But, sure. None of her business.
    Once he was gone, Helene drifted around the room. Like he’d said, much of the villa and its contents dated back years, in some instances centuries, but a lot of the touches were contemporary. A stereo and CD system. In an adjoining room, a laptop on a massive wooden desk.
    A portrait of the Tierenias royal family hung on the main wall. The late king’s hand rested on his wife’s shoulder as she posed on an ornate chair with two teenage sons and a younger daughter clustered around. Darius had said that after his father had passed, his mother had died of a broken heart. When her father had died, Helene’s mom had become a nervous wreck, anxious about every little thing, especially where her only child was concerned.
    Muscles aching, dragging her feet, Helene found a bathroom and washed up. With Darius still not  back, she drifted out onto the balcony.
    Looking out over the ocean, she stretched her arms high and breathed in the heady scent of briny air while two wrens darted, chasing each other an arm’s length away.
    “It’s like standing at the beginning of time,” she murmured, soaking up the glittering azure waters, the sun-drenched open space.
    She thought about the figurine―the goddess―and her fate of being locked up forever. Obviously a block of stone had no feelings. Still, Helene couldn’t help but sympathize. Why exist if you couldn’t breathe and have all the freedom you could find?
    She wandered back inside. Her untouched goblet waited, but wine would only make her eyelids droop more. She walked around a comfy-looking sofa and sat down. Setting an elbow on the armrest and her cheek in her palm, she settled in and yawned again.
     
    Darius allowed himself time to admire the figurine and dwell upon their lucky escape before he carefully placed her in the vault. Now he would make that phone call and have his adventurous guest taken away. No more surprises or distractions.
    He couldn’t afford it.
    Still, for all the drama that seemed to surround her, he wasn’t angry. Or, at least, he wasn’t angry anymore. Helene Masters felt bad enough.
    There was a phone extension in his bedroom, but he preferred to use his cell, which he’d left on the balcony before rushing off to find Helene. Moving through the main room, he stopped when he spotted his guest. Helene was passed out on the sofa—eyes closed, mouth open. Her breathing was deep and regular.
    Asleep she looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. He pitied the poor guy who fell in love her. But, hell, he envied him as well. The man Helene Masters married was in for quite a ride.
    As the palm holding up one cheek