Page 2 of Claimed By the Crown Prince

Dax had lifted his hand in a gesture of appeasement, surprised at her vehemence. She’d looked at her security team then—another subtle movement—and Dax had found himself behind a solid wall of muscle as she’d left the dance floor.

He’d watched her leave, wondering what the hell had just happened. But he hadn’t been alone for long.

‘Hey, Prince Handsome, care to dance?’

Dax had torn his eyes from where Princess Laia had been fast retreating and looked down. A woman had come up beside him in a sparkling dress revealing more than it hid. Seeing her overly made-up face, and the very tell-tale glitter of synthetic substances in her unfocused eyes, he’d felt such a profound sense of ennui come over him that he’d walked straight out of the club—just in time to see a sleek chauffeur-driven SUV pull away from the kerb, followed by the recognisable security detail.

Dax had been eschewing his own security for some time by then, in spite of his brother’s protests, for complicated reasons that went to the root of who he was and the burden of guilt he’d carried for years. Quite simply, he didn’t deserve to be protected. He certainly wouldn’t be responsible for someone putting their life ahead of his.

As he’d watched those vehicles disappear he’d felt, ridiculously, as if he’d just lost something. When he’d made it his life’s purpose not to have much of an attachment to anything. Apart from his brother. It had been a long time since anyone else had made Daxfeelanything. Not since the dark days of his mother’s tragic death. A death he still held himself accountable for.

His emotions were rarely engaged now, and that was the way he liked it.

Even when he wanted a woman it was fleeting and quickly satisfied. But what had happened between him and Princess Laia had gone beyond merewanting, although that had been there too.

But there had been nothing he could do about it because she was the one woman Dax couldn’t touch.

She was promised to his brother.

Which was why he was here. In a rustic beach bar in Malaysia. To take her back to Santanger so she could fulfil her duty. Marry his brother and beget heirs.

A bilious knot formed in his gut at the thought of her with his brother. He chastised himself—she was beautiful and he couldn’t have her. That was all it was. FOMO. He smiled mirthlessly at himself.

It was time to let his brother know he had found her and would be bringing her back.

Dax put his hand out to retrieve his phone from where he’d put it on the table but his hand found nothing. He looked down. There was an empty space where he’d laid it just moments before. He looked up, his eye catching a small Malaysian kid on the other side of the bar, who was handing Crown Princess Laia what looked like a phone.

His phone.

She smiled at the boy indulgently and handed him someringgit.The boy skipped away, delighted with himself, counting the money. She slipped the phone into a voluminous beach bag, and only then did she deign to let her gaze track over to Dax.

He could see the green of her eyes from here. It was like an electric shock straight into his bloodstream. Her smile faded. Dax stood up and walked over, through the bar, and saw her gaze tracking his progress.

He noted that her security team didn’t move. Just watched carefully. He realised something then. He leaned against a wooden post beside her table and folded his arms across his chest.

‘How long have you known I was here?’

She started to put away her laptop, and a notebook full of scribbles, not looking at him. ‘We knew as soon as you boarded the flight in Kuala Lumpur. We’ve been tracking you since you landed in Langkawi two days ago.’

‘Did it amuse you to wait and let me find you?’

She looked up briefly, that vivid green gaze barely skating over him. A not-so-subtle insult. He was used to women looking and lingering. But to this woman he was inconsequential. A novelty.

She said in a clipped voice, ‘Not particularly.’

She stood up and Dax realised she was wearing a turquoise blue one-piece swimsuit under cut-off shorts. The floaty vibrantly coloured wrap couldn’t disguise her perfect body. Not an inch of excess flesh. She veered towards an athletic physique, but she still had curves in all the right places.

Dax had to force his gaze up from where the swells of her breasts were barely contained by the thin material of the swimsuit. Since when were one-pieces provocative?

Her naturally olive skin was evidence of the same ancestry as Dax. A mixture of Spanish, Italian, Moorish and Greek.

He asked, ‘Can I have my phone back, please?’

She looked at him. ‘That depends on what you intend to use it for. If it’s to divulge my location to your brother, or anyone else, then, no, I’m afraid not.’

Dax was more amused than anything else. There were other means of getting in touch with his brother. ‘How do you know I haven’t already done that?’

‘Because you only knew for certain I was here when you walked into the bar.’