The Greek Billionaire's Innocent Rrincess(3)

her nakedness, and he felt his body tighten with unbidden sexual awareness.



She wasn’t his type, he reminded himself irritably. He liked tall, elegant blondes, and she was a

short, curvy brunette. Her heavy-rimmed glasses were unflattering, but he noted that her skin

was smooth and tinted a pale olive-gold, her slanting cheekbones highlighted by a flush of rose-

pink, and her mouth was wide, her lips full and lush and eminently kissable.



Hell! He’d obviously been celibate for too long, he thought sardonically. He was a self-

confessed workaholic, and under his leadership Petridis Angelaki Shipping’s profits had soared.

He worked hard and played hard, but recently he hadn’t played enough. It was time he redressed

the balance—but he doubted Prince Sebastian would be pleased if he seduced a member of the

palace staff.



‘If it’s not too much trouble,’ he drawled sarcastically. ‘It is your job, after all.’



Kitty thought of the hours she’d spent organising the party, and felt a spurt of temper. She’d

been run ragged for weeks, anxious to ensure the ball was a success for Sebastian’s sake, but her

duties didn’t include acting as a personal attendant to one of her brother’s friends. Twin spots of

colour burned on her cheeks, and she put her hands on her hips.



‘The idea of the buffet table is that guests can help themselves,’ she informed Nikos tightly.



She saw him frown as his eyes trailed over her, and it suddenly struck her that her high-necked,

long-sleeved black dress—which she had bought two seasons ago in the hope that the starkly

simple style would make her look slimmer—was almost identical to the uniform that the female

serving staff were wearing. Her job! Understanding slowly dawned. Could it be that Nikos

Angelaki had no idea of her identity? They had never met, and, unlike Liss, who was often

pictured in the tabloids, she was rarely recognised by the paparazzi. Nikos clearly believed she

was one of the palace staff, and she didn’t know whether to be amused or insulted by the

mistake.



She opened her mouth to tell him that she was Princess Katarina, not a lowly servant, but

something held her back. It was humiliating that he had mistaken her for a waitress. She wished

now that she had made more effort with her appearance instead of blithely assuming that no one

would take much notice of her. She was acting as the Prince Regent’s consort tonight, and

people had noticed her, but for all the wrong reasons.



During the evening she had overheard various unflattering comments from the guests that she

was the Plain Jane Princess who had missed out on her sister’s looks: ‘… twenty-six…oh, no,

notmarried…must be hard to be in the shadow oflovely Liss. Apparently Princess Katarina is

thebrainy one, but she doesn’t share PrincessElissa’s beauty.’



Kitty wondered how Nikos would react when she told him she was a princess. Would he share

the general consensus of the guests that she was the ugly duckling of the family? It didn’t help

that he was so stunningly good-looking. She could feel her heart thudding erratically as she

absorbed the masculine beauty of his face, and she was startled by a fierce longing to run her

fingers through the lock of silky black hair that had fallen forwards onto his brow.



She was terrified that he could somehow read her mind, but she could not tear her eyes from his,

and she sensed something indefinable pass between them that made her skin prickle and her

breasts tingle. To her horror she felt her nipples swell beneath her dress and she hastily crossed

her arms over her chest, her cheeks burning.



Nikos recognised the flare of sexual awareness in the waitress’s eyes and was infuriated by his

own body’s involuntary reaction to it. He did not have time to waste dealing with a stroppy

domestic, even though the chemistry between them was tangible. ‘I suggest you look up the

word “servant”,’ he said coldly. ‘You’ll find it means “someone who is paid to serve”. I’m sure

Prince Sebastian is a fair employer who pays you a generous wage, and I would be grateful if

you could do as I’ve asked without further argument.’



He should walk through into the private sitting room and make his call—but for reasons he

couldn’t explain, he hesitated. He could not dismiss the ridiculous urge to pull the girl into his

arms and kiss her senseless. Not a girl, he corrected himself, his eyes drawn once again to the

firm swell of her breasts. She was very much a woman, with a gorgeous hourglass figure that

might not be ‘in’ with the fashion police but was incredibly sexy. He felt a fierce tug of sexual