Mistress to the Prince Read Online Free PDF Page A

from the aristocracy.  Max would need to marry someone born to help him rule the country and knew all the ins and outs of politics and organizing large functions to make the country work more efficiently . 
     
    She was not aristocratic by any stretch of the imagination.  Commoners married commoners.  There were no two ways around that fact of life no matter how much she wished it were different. 
     
    Besides, Max dated women who spent their days pampering themselves, getting manicures and massages, plastic surgery and fittings for their designer wardrobe.  Tara spent her days buried under piles of reports and spreadsheets.  Because of her salary, she could afford very nice clothes, but not designer or custom made clothes that were designed specifically for her and made to flatter and enhance her beauty.  They were all nice , neat , professional clothes.  She started out her day with a neatly made up face but by the end of the morning, her lipstick was gone and she knew she usually looked worn out when she fell into her car in the evenings.  She couldn’t really compete with women whose sole purpose was to look pretty and stylish . 
     
    Tara wondered what Queen Natasha or King Stephan would think if they found out about her feelings for their son.  She’d probably be fired, Tara thought, pulling on a tee-shirt and slipping between the sheets.  There was no use wondering about that, she told herself.  It was a secret she was determined to hide from everyone.  Tara preferred being around Max, even if it meant watc hing him date other wome n, and possibly marry someone else.  Any connection to the man made her feel alive and alert so she was willing to take what she could get, even if it meant being only an employee. 
     
    It was past midnight and Tara was exhausted.  She set her alarm for six the following morning, not sure if she’d be able to wake up in time for her usual five o’clock run through the neighborhoods.  She usually came home from work around eight or nine o’clock at night and was in bed by ten or earlier so waking up at five o’clock wasn’t too painful .  Since it was so late she felt, and probably , looked like a zombie. 
     
    Within moments of her head hitting the pillow , she was asleep.  Unfortunately, w hen her alarm went off the next morning, her hand went out to turn it off but her mind never turned on.  It was almost eight o’clock when she rolled over and covered her face with her arm, trying to block out the sunshine streaming in through her bedroom window .  The sun on her face actually woke her up since it rarely happened.
     
    “Oh my gosh,” she said, sitting straight up in bed.  “I’m late!”
     
    Tara jumped out of bed and showered quickly.  Grabbing the first thing that she could in her closet, she pulled on a navy suit and a simple cream silk shirt , both of which were professional looking but still circumspect which was her preferred style in the office since it allowed her to achieve a look of responsibility .  Pulling on the first pair of navy pumps her hands could grab , she was out the door and pulling her hai r into a bun at the same time, then coming to a screeching halt as she realized that her car was not in her garage.
     
    “That man!” she said, rushing back into the house and calling the cab company.  She remembered that Jeffrey had picked her up at the palace the night before so she’d left her car in the parking lot, assuming she’d be back to drive it home.  “I should send the cab bill to him,” she muttered under her breath as she dialed the number. 
     
    I t was almost nine o’clock b y the time she got to her desk.  Max was coming out of a meeting, shaking someone’s hand as he said goodbye to the man while she stored her purse in her desk drawer .  Tara turned quickly toward her computer and clicked on the keyboard which pulled up his schedule for the day, groaning when she realized that he had been meeting with the