A Prince on Paper (Reluctant Royals #3)(30)
He hadn’t realized how far away the door was when he’d impulsively jumped behind her. And he’d thought there might be some chatter, but not the invisible spotlight that seemed to make everyone’s head swivel to look at them.
Some guests stopped to stare, others tapped the people nearest to them and pointed. It seemed that, despite his attempt at inconspicuousness, they were making a scene. That was fine with Johan—scenes were his specialty.
“Smile,” Johan said, leaning his mouth down near her ear again. “Pretend I’m whispering dirty things to you. Absolutely filthy.”
“What? Why?” she squawked, stopping abruptly so that he almost crashed into her.
“You said you wanted to shock people, remember? I think we can multitask here.” Johan glanced around the crowd. “If you don’t want excitement, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Her shoulder blades pressed into his chest as she inhaled, and he could feel her shaking from nerves. “Sure. Why not? I can’t stop people from talking about me anyway, and each day brings some new embarrassment. Let’s do this.”
“Comme tu willst,” he said in a low voice, slipping his arm fully around her waist.
She started walking again, head held high, and he followed. When they reached the dance floor, he changed the rhythm of his steps to match the thrumming drumbeat, and his hips swayed of their own accord.
“Hello! Excellent party. Yes, we love this song! This is our jam!” Johan called out to the people they passed, pumping one fist in the air as he stepped fully into his role of fun-loving prince. Then he turned his mouth toward Nya’s ear. “You’re supposed to be pretending I’m seducing you.”
“I’m trying to!” she snapped. “And besides, everyone will laugh at the idea of you. And me. Together.”
She was right—anyone with common sense would wonder why someone like Nya would even talk to Johan, let alone be within seduction range of him.
“Fine, I’ll have to actually talk dirty to you,” he warned, then cleared his throat dramatically as she stiffened in apprehension. He imbued his voice with a husky lewdness. “Three-day-old lasagna pan that has not been soaked in the kitchen sink. Welcome mat at a pig farmer’s house. Sweaty socks that have been worn for thirty consecutive days.”
Her belly undulated against his forearm before laughter burst out of her mouth in a wild, high peel that was much louder than anything he expected from her. They were so close to the door now, navigating around large gowns and dancing guests, but everyone in the vicinity looked in their direction again.
“The deep fryer at a shady schnitzel shop,” he drawled. “The last stall in a bus station bathroom.”
“Enough!” she cried through a fit of giggles, and just like that they were at the entrance to the hall. Thabiso gave him a quizzical look as he passed through the doors, and Johan raised his eyebrows mischievously because, as he’d said, he wasn’t nice. If you were going to cause drama, you had to go all the way.
As they swept into the hallway, he spotted the guard who had helped him from the sauna, whose wide-eyed expression showed just what a scene he was causing. “Excuse me, Lineo, was it? Can you have a shuttle cart swing by the entrance to the summer garden and wait there? Thank you, merci, I will tell the prince and princess about your excellent service to the palace.”
He slowed down his pace now, though he still held Nya close to him as they left the air-conditioned coolness of the palace. They strolled past milling guests smoking out front or taking a break from dancing, until they reached the nearest garden. He released her as they stepped onto the vetiver-lined pathway, not enjoying how empty his arms felt when she moved away from him.
“Here we are,” he said, slightly out of breath. “You can wait here, and I’ll let you know when the shuttle cart arrives to take you to your room.”
Away from him, and the thoughts running wild in his head after having her so close to him.
She placed her hands on her hips and looked up at him. “Seriously, Phoko?”
He tried not to stare at the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
“What?” he asked innocently, making his eyes wide.
“Why did you do that? I appreciate it, thank you, but everyone will be talking about us now!”
Her expression was somewhere between frustration and giddiness—creased forehead but bright eyes and a mouth that didn’t know whether to smile or frown. This was the perfect time to tell her that everyone, or at least certain journalists with access to printing presses and large readerships, was already talking about them.
“It was the first thing that came to mind,” he said instead. “I told you causing drama is one of the few skills I possess.”
He shucked off his suit jacket, something he should have thought of before dancing her through a room packed with the elite of Thesolo and several other nations.
“I also wasn’t a fan of the idea that you had to sit there and accept people’s cruelty as punishment for something that hurt you, too.”
Her mouth opened and closed, and there was something about how her lips pressed together with apprehension but her eyes pleaded for understanding that made Johan forget that she was a dangerous flame.
He took a step forward with his jacket hanging from one hand by one sleeve and reached behind her to pull the other sleeve around her waist. “If anyone is going to gossip about you today, they should be saying that you were so breathtaking that you were whisked away by an infamous playboy. That he was so overcome with longing that he couldn’t wait for the festivities to end to get you alone.”