The Firstborn PrinceBy: Virginia Nelson
He nodded slightly before offering a shrug. “Those are all facts, yes.”
Waving one hand, she said, “You sound quite blasé about it, but those are all important facts; insofar as I’m an image consultant. There are things that are within my ability to change, and I have to be able to recognize the ones I can’t. In your case, Mr. Boyd, I have to admit I’m at a loss. You have a horrible—sorry for saying so, but it’s true—reputation and it doesn’t affect your business in the slightest. In summation, I’m not sure how I can help you. I can’t undo years of reprobate behavior, but I’m not sure you’d want me to, as it doesn’t affect your bottom line.”
Relaxing into his seat, he was happy she’d managed to work through all of it so quickly. It would save him time. “I appreciate the fact that you can see so clearly and quickly so much of the situation,” he admitted. “But, luckily for both of us, I don’t need my image changed so much as my situation.”
“Then you should speak with a situation consultant,” she suggested. “Not that I’m even sure that’s a thing, but still… My specialty is image, Mr. Boyd.”
“And you have no clients paying for that specialty right now, Ms. Stolen.”
His words dropped into the room, leaving waves of silence in their wake. Her face flushed again, this time clearly in embarrassment.
She looked rather good, rosy like that. It made a man wonder what she’d look like in the throes of passion, all breathless and pinkened as her lips went lax with desire.
He blinked twice, fascinated by how quickly this woman enchanted his imagination, before snapping down on his own cravings with an iron fist. He forced his mind away from the bedroom with the self-control he’d worked so many years to hone. He couldn’t help but think the raw sexuality of this woman would be a perk, as it served his plan beautifully.
One pale hand came up to cover her throat in a vulnerable move he was pretty sure wasn’t faked. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Boyd. Please allow me to show you to the door.”
From Natalie’s rules for Foster Boyd, v2
Rule #7: Avoid making bets or offering people deals without running it past legal first. You have a tendency to say things in a way… You’re horrible at it. And once you’re committed to one of your harebrained plans, not only do you not listen to reason, you have this weird ability to make people agree to them. The press? They’re counting on this particular weakness of yours. I know, Boyds don’t have weaknesses, but call it whatever you like, it’s a problem. Do not make bets or proposals without running them past legal. Ever.
Oh, she recognized Foster Boyd on sight, but not just because he was the only well-known man she’d ever read about who had a dog companion. She recognized him because his face graced more magazines than the sexiest man of the year. Known by one of those ridiculous prince names, the media dubbed Foster Boyd the Firstborn Prince. The elder brother by a few minutes, he was one of the Boyd twins who took over Boyd Cosmetics upon the death of their parents about a decade ago.
Both of the fraternal twins were known for their good looks, but it was often a race as to which brother had the most recent headlines. Foster was known for his love of the ladies and his constant dog pal, Connor was known for gambling and starting fights. Neither brother ever tried, in Natalie’s recollection, to change a thing about those well-earned reputations.
They were also both known for the fact they were silver spoon–fed jerks who never worked for a living. Born to money, and rather carefree about it, neither of the Boyds had to do more than breathe to inherit a fortune surpassing what most people could imagine. Other than the death of their parents—car crash, tragic really—their lives had been perfectly golden. There were pictures of them growing up in most magazines. They’d been the most photographed children per some ranking thing when they were kids. From ponies to playing with poor children in the mud, the twins had traveled the world and grown up center stage for the international community.
Due to that wealth and overexposure, or maybe because of it, neither of the Boyds were afraid of a little controversy. Or a lot of controversy. Their reputations weren’t rusted and dinged up—they were permanently soiled. She’d seen both of their behinds, generally in glossy spreads with headlines like, “Twin Princes Caught on Camera…Again!”