Ways To Ruin A Royal Reputation (Mills & Boon Modern) (Signed, Sealed…Seduced, Book 1) Dani Collins (lightest ebook reader txt) 📖

Her hair was in a topknot with wisps pulled out at her temples. Simple eye makeup made her new crimson lipstick all the more dramatic. She was ready to face Luca.

She hoped.

The young man who escorted her—was he a footman?—glanced at her in the various reflective surfaces they passed. She wasn’t falsely modest. She knew she attracted the male gaze. Even before her curves had developed, her mother had coached her to play up her femininity and keep the men around her happy and comfortable.

Manipulate them, was what her mother had meant. Trouble was, she’d taught Amy to hunt without teaching her to kill. Thus, Amy’s first experience had been to successfully stalk a predator and become his prey without even realizing what was happening.

But she wouldn’t think about that right now. The footman was letting her into an office that held a small lounge area and a scrumptious king.

“Amy,” Luca greeted.

The impact of his presence, of a voice that sounded pleased to see her, was a blast of sensual energy that made all the hair on her body stand up.

He was freshly shaved and wore dark pants with a pale blue shirt. Both were tailored to sit flawlessly against his muscled frame. Funny how she almost wished he wore a jacket and tie so this would feel more formal. She wasn’t sure why she wanted him to put up armor against her, but it would have made her feel safer.

Not that she felt unsafe as the door closed, leaving them alone. She just wanted him to put up barriers because she couldn’t find any of her own. She suddenly felt very raw and skinless as she faced him.

So she turned her attention to the old-world decor, the fine rugs and carved wooden columns. No overtly sexual images in here. It was decorated in a combination of modern abstracts, contemporary furniture and a few period pieces. His desk had to be three hundred years old. It was all very beautiful and...impersonal.

He hadn’t moved in. Not properly. He might have erased his father’s presence, but he’d made no effort to stamp the space with his own. He’d been planning his abdication from the day he was crowned.

When she looked at him, she caught him staring at her tattoo.

“You really don’t care for convention, do you?” he said.

Her toes tried to curl, reacting to the conflicting mix of approval in his tone with the suggestion of disapproval in his words.

“Does that bother you?” she asked, voice strained by the pressure in her chest.

“Some.” He poured two glasses of white wine and brought them across the room to offer one. “This is our private reserve. If you don’t care for it, I have a red that’s not as dry.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” She accepted it, and they touched the rims of their glasses before she tried the wine. It was icy and very dry, but complex with a fruit forward start, a round mouth feel and a brief tang before its soft finish. “This is lovely. I’ll take payment in cases.”

His mouth twitched. He nodded at her shoulder. “Do you mind? I saw online that you had one, but I didn’t see what it was.”

She angled slightly so he could examine the inked image of a bird flying free of a cage suspended from a branch of blossoms.

“Colorful,” he murmured. Something in his amused tone was drier than the wine. It made her feel as though he was making a joke she didn’t understand, but his thumb grazed her skin, blanking her mind while filling her body with heat. “It must have taken a lot of time.”

“Four hours. It hurt so much,” she said with a laugh that was shredded more by her longing for another caress than any memory of pain. “It’s too on-the-nose and was a foolish expense since I was broke at the time, but my mother had always threatened to disinherit me if I got a tattoo. Since she’d gone ahead and done that, I saw no reason to wait.”

“The same mother you spoke with in the car today? The one who spoiled you because you were an only child?”

“Yes. But then she stopped.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather not talk about my parents. It’s a complicated relationship.”

“That’s fine,” he said mildly. “But you can talk about them if you decide you’d like to. This is a safe space,” he added in a sardonic tone that threw her own words back at her.

She choked back saying it didn’t feel like it and said, “Good to know.” She gulped wine to wet her dry throat. “Do you have any?”

“Tattoos?” He snorted. “No.” He sipped his own wine, then walked his glass to an end table and set it down. “I was also forbidden to get one, but that didn’t bother me. I’ve never had much appetite for rebellion. My father thought being king gave him license to do whatever the hell he wanted despite the responsibilities that come with the title. I was taught differently.”

“By your mother and her team.”

“Yes. And his behavior impacted her. She had mental health struggles. That’s why the foundation exists. She started it because she understood the hurdles people face when seeking treatment. She passed away from an unrelated condition, but I often think her depression affected her...” Agony tightened his expression. “Her will to fight. She loved us, but she was very disillusioned. Humiliated by my father’s conduct. Or lack thereof,” he said with a twist of his lips. “He was completely indifferent to the effect he had on her. Not oblivious. He simply didn’t care. If anything, he was spiteful about it. He didn’t want to be a good husband or father or ruler. He set out to prove he didn’t have to conform or put anyone’s needs above his own. As a result, I find rebellion a selfish and unattractive behavior.”

“Ouch,” she said blithely as she set aside her own wine, fighting not to let