To Steal a Prince Read Online Free PDF Page A

last.”
    The door snaps shut before I can come up with any more apologies. Miserably, I settle into the bed. It’s so soft that it’s hard to get comfortable. Closing my eyes, I try to sleep. I wonder how much more unpleasantness I’ll have to endure before I can leave.

3
    Light streams into the room, making shadows dance over my eyelids. Stretching, I roll over. It still looks like the morning sun. I’ve slept either a few minutes or a whole day. My stomach rumbles, suggesting the latter.
    Spurred by embarrassment, I get out of bed. Cool tiles greet my feet. Padding to the bathroom, I try to assess my soreness. I’m a little stiff, but otherwise okay. Still, I can’t believe I slept the day away. Damon said he was going to come back, didn’t he? I probably missed him. No telling when I’ll see him again.
    The bathroom has a wide mirror edged with gold. Leaning against the vanity, I inspect my lip. It would take a lot of makeup to cover up that gash. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself. It probably doesn’t look that bad at 500 yards.
    I press my finger against my lip. Blood pulses underneath. A dull throb builds until I remove my finger. I sigh. I can try to ignore it, but my lip won’t help me make any good impressions. What I need to do is make up an intriguing story. Skydiving accident. Bear fight. Not that the real story isn’t exciting enough, but I don’t want to give anyone a reason to send me to jail.
    I splash water over my face, careful to avoid my lip. My hair is a mess from sleeping too long, and there’s still some white powder in it from the airbag. Really, it makes quite a statement when combined with my lip. I run my fingers through it, hoping that I can find a hairbrush soon.
    Idly, I open one of the drawers. To my delight, I find a new hairbrush, a pristine toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste. I get ready, relieved that I don’t have to go hunting or begging for simple necessities. I should have brought my own, but in my haste, I forgot to pack my toiletries. To be fair, it’s not every day that a prince invites you over to his place.
    Once I’m finished, I shed my clothes. I can’t resist the urge to try out the shower. I halt before the smooth black walls. There’s no faucet, or any way to turn it on. Is this some kind of practical joke? I step in to look more closely. As soon as I do, water rains from the ceiling. Tilting my head, I let the drops wash over me. If not for the bottles of shampoo and three bars of soap stamped with the Lion family crest, I could pretend I’m in the rainforest.
    I’m loath to leave the shower, especially when I realize that the floor is slowly heating, but I have to if I want to find Damon. A fluffy towel is waiting for me when I get out. The water stops automatically. Wrapping the towel around my hair, I go back into my room. Digging through my bag, I find some clothes that aren’t too wrinkled. I scowl. They aren’t really clothes fit for walking around a palace.
    There’s a wardrobe in the corner. I wonder if it holds anything suitable. Yanking open the doors, I peer inside.
    It’s absolutely packed with clothes. Tank tops, light dresses, slacks, shorts, skirts. I take some off their hangers. They fit perfectly. A hanger slips from my finger. Bending to retrieve it, I notice that rows of shoes line the bottom of the closet. I’m more interested in new lock picking technology than shoe brands, but these impress even me. Jimmy Choos, Manolos, Louboutins. I can hardly contain my excitement. If Damon stocked this room, he’s a certifiable genius.
    I’m about to slip on a gorgeous pair of Louis Vuittons when I freeze. I can’t help but remember what that girl in gray had said. Everything is almost too perfect. Just how many women has Damon entertained here? Frowning, I put the shoes back. I’ll make do with my pair of sandals.
    As I pull them from my bag, I feel for the crown in the hidden pocket. My fingers trace its shape through the fabric,