His Mistress, Book #2

• Marriage of Convenience
• Married to a Prince
• Forced Marriage
• Secret Identity

What happens when powerful, sexy Bad, Bad Boys! find the woman they want? They’ll do whatever it takes to keep them. Whatever it takes.

Become King of Verdonia? Working on it.

Find my own personal Cinderella at a charity ball? Definitely not a G-rated encounter, despite what the fairy tale might suggest.

Sign a top secret contract—marriage in exchange for saving my kingdom? Must keep Cinderella in the dark … or else.

Honor, duty, and responsibility to the kingdom of Verdonia always comes first. So, when the kingdom’s wealth disappears overnight, Prince Lander Montgomery does the one thing he never thought he’d have to do. He reaches out for help from a finance mogul, Joc Arnaud. All Lander has to do in order to save his kingdom is marry Joc’s sister, Juliana Rose. For the first time ever, his duty to his kingdom has lost its power over him. She’s the only thing that matters.

Juliana has run halfway around the world to escape a haunting past and a relationship that almost destroyed her. The mystery man at the charity ball helps her put all that behind her. But if her past ever comes to light, she’ll lose everything, including the husband she’s come to love.

His Mistress is the second book in the contemporary romance series Bad, Bad Boys! written by USA Today bestselling author Day Leclaire. Fair warning! This story includes blackmail, kidnapping, and a ton of romance. Read the Men of Passion series for stories featuring bold, passionate men and the women captivated by them.

A clear path opened to the buffet set up in an anteroom adjacent to the ballroom, and Lander headed in that direction. Helping himself to one of the fragile porcelain plates embossed with the Montgomery family crest, he filled it with a selection of tidbits. He dipped a strawberry in the molten chocolate fountain and offered it to her. To his amusement, she bit into the strawberry, her eyes half closing as she savored the rich dark chocolate.

“Come on. I know someplace private we can go to eat this.”

Bypassing the scattering of linen-covered tables, Lander led Juliana through the open French doors to the gardens beyond. Subtle lighting glowed along the gravel walkways and in the trees and shrubbery. He hooked a sharp right onto a path that most overlooked.

“You know your way around,” she observed.

“I’ve been here once or twice before.”

The path dead-ended at a small lattice-covered gazebo. Vines twined up the posts and across the top, dripping fat white rose blossoms. Their fragrant scent hung heavily in the air, ripe and eager to lend assistance to a scene set for seduction.

Lander plucked one of the plumpest roses, and after thumbing off the thorns, threaded it behind her ear. He allowed the back of his hand to trail along her cheek and down the endless length of her neck. He was amazed at the softness of her skin, the color and texture putting the rose to shame. Even the scent of her rivaled the most potent flower.

“How did you come to be here?” he demanded.

“Does it matter?”

“No. Right now it doesn’t matter in the least. Only one thing does.”

He tossed aside the plate he carried. Neither of them were hungry, at least not for food. Sliding his hands up along the bare length of her arms, he dipped his fingers into the heavy mass of auburn curls and tugged her close. She came willingly, lifting her face to his.

Night shadows turned her eyes black, the moonlight picking out the occasional glitter of gold that slipped past the darkness. Her heart thudded against his, tripping light and eager. A soft smile tilted her mouth and he wondered if her lips were as soft as her skin.
His younger brother, Merrick, had been labeled the impulsive one in the family practically from the moment of his birth, with his stepsister, Miri, close but not quite as bad. Lander had always chosen a more disciplined route. Steady. In charge. He allowed little to sway or influence him.

But he had only to look at Juliana to want with a ferocity beyond his control. He didn’t care that the Verdonian election to choose whether or not he’d be the next king was only months away. He didn’t care that the press had him beneath a microscope. He didn’t even care that in all likelihood the woman he held within his arms wouldn’t make an appropriate wife, let alone an appropriate queen. All that mattered was finding a way to carry her off to his bed and lose himself in the fiery heat of her.

Taking his time, he lowered his head and captured her mouth. Lightly. Just a gentle sample. Just enough to test flavor and texture. But that was all it took. One taste and he was lost. His mouth returned to hers and her hands curled into his shirt, anchoring him in place. Not that he planned on going anywhere.

The kiss seemed to change with each and every breath. First fast and impatient, two people discovering a new, irresistible sweet—and desperate to sate their craving of it. Then curious, each eager to explore every detail about the other. Next came slow and languid as they savored what they’d discovered, relishing the ability to please, before the want grew too strong, the urgency too powerful to deny. The kiss turned stormy again. Demanding. Pulsing. Hard and reckless. Robbing them of all thought. He heard her moan and inhaled the sound, reveling in the helpless sign of desire.

With each passing minute, with every hungry, biting kiss, his need for her coalesced into one inescapable certainty. Once she found out who he really was, there would be hell to pay. But he didn’t care. It would be worth it. Because no matter what obstacles he had to overcome, no matter who stood in his way, this woman was his and he intended to have her.