One Night with Prince Charming Read Free Page B

she wanted to tap into—that of Upper East Side prep school girls and future debutantes with well-heeled parents and with living quarters in cloistered prewar buildings guarded by uniformed and capped doormen standing under ubiquitous green awnings.
    She’d decorated the apartment as a showcase for her creativity and style because she had the occasional visit from a potential client. Mostly, however, she traveled to see brides in their well-appointed and luxurious homes.
    Now, she clicked on her computer mouse. After a few minutes, she brought up a link with an old article about Hawk from the New York Social Diary. He was pictured standing between two blond models, a drink in hand and a devilish glint in his eye. The article made it clear that Hawk had been a regular on the social circuit, mostly in London and somewhat in New York.
    Pia’s lips tightened. Well, at least the article served as some confirmation that she was his physical type—he appeared tohave an affinity for blondes. However, at five-foot-four, she was a few inches shorter—not to mention a bit fleshier—than the leggy, skinny catwalkers he’d been photographed with.
    The only saving grace in the whole situation was that Hawk’s detestable behavior three years ago had given her the courage to embark on her own and start her namesake wedding planning business. She’d realized it was time to stop waiting for Prince Charming and take charge of her life. How pathetic would it have been if he’d been scaling the heights of the financial world while she’d been pining away for him, cocooned to this day in the studio apartment where she’d lived three years ago?
    She’d moved on and up, just as he had. And Hawk—the duke or His Grace or however he liked to be referred to—could take a flying leap with his millions.
    Still, she couldn’t help digging for further information online. It was an exercise in self-flagellation to understand the extent to which she’d been a naive virgin who’d given away the goods to a smooth-talking playboy.
    After a half hour of searching, she discovered that Hawk’s reputation didn’t disappoint. He’d dated models, actresses and even a chanteuse or two. He’d been part of the social whirl of people with money to spare even before his recent incarnation as a top financier.
    How unworldly she’d been to expect more than one night with him. How stupidly trusting.
    And yet, she reminded herself, it hadn’t only been naiveté. She’d been tricked—duped—and used by a practiced player.
    She pushed away from the computer screen and padded into her bedroom. Her mind on autopilot, she removed her brown satin dress and slipped into cotton striped pajama bottoms and a peach-colored sleeveless top. In the bathroom, she removed her makeup, moisturized her face and brushed her teeth.
    Walking back into the bedroom again, she began to take the pins from her hair as she moved to her dressing table—boughtused at a flea market—and sat down. When her hair was loose, she ran a brush through it and stared at herself in the mirror.
    She’d never been glamorously beautiful, but she’d been able to lay some claim—if the occasional comments she’d received since high school were to be believed—to being a sort of cute pretty. Now, though, she forced herself to be more critical.
    Was there something about her that screamed Take advantage of me? Did her face sing I’m a pushover?
    She sighed as she stood, switched off the bedside lamp and slid into bed. She felt Mr. Darcy spring onto the bed and curl his warm weight next to her leg.
    Pia turned her face to the window, where rain had begun to pelt the glass, blurring the illumination cast by the city lights outside.
    It had been a long, too eventful day, and she was bone-tired. But instead of weariness overtaking her, she found herself awake.
    In the privacy of her