The Greek Billionaire's Innocent Rrincess(2)

for the ball and seen the words ‘buy dress’ that she’d realised she had nothing suitable to wear to

the palace’s most prestigious social event.



She lacked the confidence to wear sexy outfits, anyway, she acknowledged dismally. And she

certainly wouldn’t stand a chance with a man like Nikos. He had given no sign that he

recognised her, but palace protocol dictated that she should make the first introduction.

Immediately she felt tongue-tied by the crippling shyness that had afflicted her since childhood.

Not for the first time she wished she shared her sister Princess Elissa’s self-confidence and

sparkling personality. Liss always made socialising look so easy.



She was Princess Katarina Karedes, fourth in line to the throne of Aristo, Kitty reminded

herself. She had been trained practically from birth to deal with social situations, but she had

never found meeting new people easy, and she was still steeling herself to offer her hand to

Nikos in formal greeting when he spoke again.



‘I’ve a feeling that you are needed to serve champagne in the ballroom. I understand from Prince

Sebastian that a number of the catering staff have been taken ill, and I noticed that many of the

guests have empty glasses.’ He gave her a faint, dismissive smile, as if he expected her to

immediately scuttle off, and turned his attention to his phone.



Kitty gaped at him, overwhelmed by his powerful personality, and taken aback by his

suggestion that she was needed to serve drinks. She was aware of the problem with the caterers

she had booked to work alongside the palace staff, and, having spent the past month planning

every detail of the ball like a military operation, she found it annoying that so many of the

waiters had succumbed to a virulent sickness virus. Anxious to ensure that the evening ran

smoothly she had come to the banqueting room to check over the buffet table, but the head butler

had assured her that everything was under control, and she was sure it was not necessary for her

to take on the role of waitress.



Usually she had little to do with the royal ball, but this year, with Queen Tia mourning the death

of the king, Sebastian had asked her to oversee the arrangements. Seb had enough on his mind,

Kitty thought ruefully. After their father’s unexpected death Sebastian should have immediately

become the new king. But the shocking discovery that the Aristan half of the Stefani diamond,

which was set in the Aristan Crown, was a fake, and that the real diamond was missing, had

thrown the plans for his coronation into disarray. By royal tradition Sebastian could not be

crowned if he did not have the jewel, and until it was found he could only assume the title of

Prince Regent.



Lost in her thoughts, Kitty suddenly realised that Nikos Angelaki was watching her with

unconcealed impatience. He moved away and began to punch numbers into his phone. ‘My client

is expecting my call,’ he said as he walked towards the door leading to the sitting room. ‘And

you had better get back to work.’ He paused, and looked back at her. ‘Actually, you could bring

me some champagne—and while you’re about it something from the buffet. The dolmathakia

looks good, and perhaps some bread and olives.’



He was a guest, Kitty reminded herself, and her duty as hostess of the ball was to ensure that the

guests enjoyed the evening. But his haughty tone rankled. It was usual for people she did not

know to address her as Your Highness, but Nikos was either unaware or unimpressed that he

should use her royal title. Throughout her life Kitty had been treated with a deference suited to#p#分页标题#e#

her royal status. She did not expect to be fawned over, but Nikos had spoken to her as if she were

a lackey. Didn’t he know who she was?



‘You want me to serve you?’ she queried, taken aback by his arrogant demand.



Her sharp tone caught Nikos’s attention and he glanced across the room, his eyes narrowing

when he noted the waitress’s mutinous expression. He had paid scant attention to her when he

had first walked into the room, and had formed a vague impression of a dumpy, rather plain girl

in a badly fitting dress. But now, as he studied her more closely, he realised that she was far from uninteresting.



She was unfashionably curvaceous, he mused idly, allowing his gaze to roam over the swell of

her hips that flared below her neat waist. Her voluptuous breasts straining beneath her dress

would make a generous handful. A vivid mental picture came into his mind of her wearing a

strapless, low-cut couture gown that displayed her breasts like plump, round peaches. In his

imagination he saw himself slowly removing the gown, drawing it down and feasting his eyes on