The Playboy Prince Read Online Free PDF Page A

sigh and took a sip of hot chocolate. “It all ended rather abruptly. I learned he’d been cheating on me the whole time with a variety of secretaries and temps. Even then I might have forgiven him—that’s how low my self-esteem was at that point—but he dumped me first.” If she was trying to sound wry and not hurt, Ella knew she’d failed. “He claimed I wasn’t right for his image. He ended up dating another architect, someone who was going places, since I obviously wasn’t.” With her one year of college and her broken dreams. She simply hadn’t been good enough for him.
    “That must have hurt,” Philippe said quietly. He reached over and covered her hand with his own. Ella felt the warmth and strength of him, knew he understood about broken dreams. She never would have expected a man like Philippe to get it…but then she hadn’t really known what kind of man he was.
    “It did hurt,” she said quietly. “But what hurt most is that I didn’t see through him. I wouldn’t. I wanted to believe in the fairy tale, so I just closed my eyes and ignored every warning sign.” She shook her head. “I will never be that stupid again.” In fact, she was never going to risk her heart again—and certainly not with Philippe. Not, she reminded herself, that he was even asking her to.
    Philippe was silent, and Ella risked looking at him. His eyes were dark, his mouth drawn in a thoughtful frown.
    “I’m not sure why I told you all of that,” she said after a moment. “It’s not as if it has anything to do with—” She stumbled, avoiding that dangerous word…us. “You and me.”
    “No?” Philippe raised his eyebrows.
    “I mean, this is just one day.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I overreacted earlier. I know it was just a kiss.”
    “Just a kiss.”
    “Yes—”
    “Well.” Philippe brushed his fingers over her palm, causing sparks to ignite inside her once more. “This day isn’t over yet. Come with me tonight.”
    She stared at him, eyes wide. “Where?”
    “To a cocktail reception at the Guggenheim.”
    Her mind spun. “As—”
    “Yes,” Philippe cut her off with a grin. “As my date.”

Chapter Fourteen
    Ella stepped inside the Guggenheim’s famous spiral tower and her mouth went dry. All around her elegant and well-heeled guests circulated, glittering with jewels, holding glasses of champagne aloft. In her simple silver sheath dress she felt respectable enough, if only just. She glanced at Philippe, who was wearing his formal state dress— white tie and tails with a red sash across his chest. He looked handsome and dignified and yet somehow remote, and she could believe now more than ever that he was a prince, on his way to being a king.
    His hand slid around her waist, and with his other he plucked two flutes of champagne from a passing tray and handed her one. “I suspect this will all be very boring,” he murmured in her ear. “Which is why I asked you to join me.”
    She half turned to him, conscious of how her breast brushed against his arm. “Oh? I’m just your entertainment?”
    “You’re my salvation,” he answered, and with his arm still around her waist he guided her into the crowd.
    The next few hours passed in a blur. Philippe was charming with everyone and seemed to know them all. He introduced her easily, and Ella saw the speculation flare in people’s eyes as they wondered just what her relationship to Prince Philippe was. Ella didn’t explain, and neither did Philippe. What could either of them say, anyway? They’d met just over twenty-four hours ago, and their remaining time together was limited.
    Yet Ella didn’t want it to end. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye, even though she was well aware Philippe would be. And she should be, too, considering her own past. Even if Philippe decided he wanted to continue some kind of relationship with her, what future could they possibly have? She wasn’t queen material—and she wouldn’t change herself