His Princess - Stacy Gail Page 0,1

it would be easier if I just took a pic of whoever what’s-his-name is with. I think I can be sneaky about it.”

“Oh, that’s an awesome idea.” Joelle gave her a quick thumbs-up. “In fact, take a pic of everyone at his table, if you can. Everyone he does business with should know what a snake Emerson is, and since I know just about everyone in this crowd, poisoning the well for that jerk shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Yikes. Remind me to never get you pissed off at me.” With a reluctant chuckle, Alice fished out her phone and fundraiser ticket from the clutch purse Joelle had supplied her with. “Man, I can’t believe I’m about to make a total ass out of myself. You so freaking owe me, Jo. If I didn’t love you so much…”

“Love you, too, Al. You’re the best.” Giving her foster sister a squeeze—and smiling when Alice returned it wholeheartedly—Joelle took a moment to watch her go inside before turning to find someone she could make small talk with until Alice called her.

Without warning, her gaze tangled with a man at the head of the stairs.

A shock went through her at the intensity of the stranger’s unblinking stare, and automatically she glanced behind her to see if he was actually staring at someone else. But as she was standing off to the side of the ballroom entrance, there was no one there.

The stranger was staring at her.

His flawless white dinner jacket and white shirt—silk, she could see the quality of it from where she stood—had to be tailor-made. They simply didn’t come in that size off-the-rack. His shoulders would have impressed Thor himself, along with a chest she could have played racquetball on. His legs were muscle-sculpted as well, and so long they easily prevented his powerful build from falling into the stocky range. Instead, he was the epitome of elegance, from the top of his wavy dark brown hair to the tips of his polished Armani dress shoes.

But why was he staring at her? She knew a lot of people here, but she was sure she hadn’t run across this man before.

She would have remembered.

Even if she had amnesia.

“There you are.” To her absolute shock, the man came right up to her, took her left hand in his, studied it a moment, then raised it to his mouth for an honest-to-God knuckle-kiss. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Uh.” Her polished manners deserted her. All she could do was stare up into this man’s fathomless dark eyes that held just a hint of russet and wonder which one of them had lost their mind. “I’m sorry, but I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“No, I haven’t. Got a name, my princess?”

Ew. Princess. That snapped her out of it like nothing else. “Joelle Fielding, and scrappy Chicagoan that I am, I’m not big on monarchies.”

“Fine by me. Augustus Bloch, though you can call me Gus.” He still held her hand, and his fingers were so warm she couldn’t seem to make herself pull away. “You’re not married, are you, Joelle Fielding? There’s no ring on this finger yet, or even an indentation of one. No man’s tagged you as his yet, have they?”

Wow. “I… What an extraordinary thing to say.”

“I’m an extraordinary kind of guy. Answer me.”

“No,” she said before thinking about it, then inwardly shook her head at how blindly she followed this stranger’s command. “No, I’m not married, nor have I ever been. But I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Mr. Bloch.”

“Gus. And you’re Joelle. Not Jo,” he added, tilting his head as if wanting to see her from another perspective. “Jo is a commoner. Joelle is the name of a true princess.”

The princess thing again. “Actually, my foster sister calls me Jo, and I call her Al. That’s about as common as you can get.”

His winged brows, peaked in an alluringly diabolical fashion, quirked up. “You were a foster kid?”

“No, Alice was. My family took her in when she was orphaned.” Then she bit her lip when she realized she was babbling. That had to stop. “Not that any of that matters. I still think you might have me confused with someone else, so I’d better—”

“I’m not the kind of man who gets confused, Joelle.” His fingers tightened on hers, as if anticipating her pulling away. “That woman I saw you hug. Was that your foster sister, or maybe a lover?”

Good grief. “That was Alice, and again, whether or not