Slow Tango With a Prince (Royal Scandals) by Nicole Burnham Read Free Book Online Page B

followed me, you listened in on my phone conversation?” she managed, hoping she didn’t appear as shocked and disoriented as she felt. “Now who’s invading whose privacy?”
    The taxi driver shot Emily a questioning glance in the rear view mirror before shifting in his seat to turn and frown at Victor in warning. She assured the driver she was all right, then asked him to hold on for a moment.
    “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I didn’t want you to get away, either,” Victor said, his demanding tone softening a few notches. “Tell me why you need money. Please.”
    Get away? The man was positively infuriating. Despite his effort to ask more gently, he continued to stare at her as a parent might at a teen caught sneaking out of the house.  
    She set her handbag between them as a buffer. “I told you, the network is not going to give me an extension. I’m creating one. Not that it’s any of your concern.”
    “With your own money?”
    “Yes, with my own money.”
    “You have enough to do that?”
    “I can get it.” Why she told him that, she didn’t know. She rarely discussed finances with anyone, let alone with a total stranger. Maybe it was out of a sense of pride. Or to prove to him that she wasn’t desperate, that she was resourceful and strong.  
    Victor ran a hand through his dark hair as he glanced at the driver, who was still watching from the front seat, wary of the man who'd barged into his cab. “Tell the driver where you’re headed. I’ll come with you.”
    When Emily hesitated, Victor shot a pointed look in the direction of her cab window. “There are two people on the curb who want the taxi. If we don't get moving, we’re costing him a fare.”
    Fine. What'd she care if he rode along? She gave the driver the address of the show’s office in Recoleta. The burly man shrugged, then eased out into traffic.
    Victor slid the glass panel between the front and back seat closed, cutting off the driver from their conversation. He gestured toward the phone she still clutched. “Have Internet access?”
    “Of course.”
    He held out his hand, palm up. “May I use it for a moment? I’d like to check some information while we’re en route.”
    “You don’t have your own phone?”
    An odd look crossed his face, but was gone in a flash. “Left it at my hotel this morning.”
    She wasn’t sure she trusted him, but since there was a pass code that would bar him from accessing any of her personal information, she tapped the screen to open her browser and handed over the phone.
    “Production costs on a show like yours must be considerable,” Victor commented as his fingers moved across the screen with quick, light movements.
    “I don’t have to fund the production itself. That’s already covered. Just the expense of keeping the staff here an extra week or so while we wait for the Winstons to return. They’re the couple we’d originally planned to use in our finale.”
    “Still a lot of money.”
    She turned to face him. “First, I’m not sure why you’re so concerned with my budget. And second, if you were responsible for the livelihoods of so many people, I suspect you’d do whatever you could to help them, wouldn’t you?”
    His lean fingers stilled over the screen, but he didn’t meet her gaze. “I ask because I’ve wrestled with a budget or two in my time. I’ve also been responsible for the livelihoods of others, and yes, I do what I can to ensure their well-being. In fact, I’m quite good at it.”
    “Well, so am I. And that's all I’m doing.” She knew it would sound defensive, but she explained her reasoning to him anyway. “It’s not as if I’m throwing the money away. When the finale goes well and we’re renewed for another season, I can recoup the investment.”
    His brow puckered as he studied her phone, then tapped the screen a few more times. "From my understanding of television production—and I admit, it’s limited—it’s rare for one person to be