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He vowed at that moment that if her plans failed, that was just what he would do. She deserved to be safe. If she hated him for what he’d done, well, so be it. It occurred to him again that was what he was for. He did the jobs that no one else would—or no one else could. And bearing her hate, he could do that, too.
Resolve hard as stone, he changed the subject again. The port was in sight. “Look over there. It’s Barcelona.”
She perked up like a tiny wren who’d spotted a succulent worm. The closer they got, the wider her eyes were. “It’s so beautiful, even from here. Are we just going to dock and walk into the city like we didn’t just escape pirates?”
“Yeah. Why not?” He shrugged and flashed a smirk. “Half of my job requires balls.” There was a slim chance there’d be some of Grisha’s men stationed at the port to watch for them, but he’d have to take that chance. He’d burn that bridge when he had to cross it.
“Excuse me?” She arched a brow.
“Balls. You know...guts? Half of it is fake it until I make it. I fake a lot of things a lot of the time. Most of the time, if I act like I know I belong, I’m not questioned.”
“Even dressed like a guerilla from hell?”
“Even then. We’ll get a taxi and have him drop us off a few blocks from the hotel. I’ll check in to the penthouse, if it’s available. You need a special key to get on to that floor and that will help with our security.”
“From a stinky fisherman’s boat to a penthouse suite. This has been an adventure.”
Her smile didn’t meet her eyes. He could see that she was scared. She’d have to be stupid not to be. Everything was uncertain, and it was likely the Russians were still after them. Even when she got to the States that was possible—even likely.
“That’s the way to look at it, Princess. An adventure.”
He maneuvered the boat through the port, dodging larger ships and other crafts until he found an abandoned slip and docked.
“You ready to go?”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“Just think about the room service. It’s exquisite.”
“I am hungry. I could eat a goat.”
“I don’t think they have any goat.”
“Lamb?” she asked hopefully.
“Most definitely.” He thought of the garlic-roasted lamb he’d had on his last trip. It had been so good his mouth watered even now. “But it’ll make your mouth stink like a dead—well, it will give you bad breath.” His comparison to a dead body wasn’t exactly fodder for royal ears.
“Good to know. I’ll brush my teeth before I kiss anyone.”
The idea of her kissing anyone but him didn’t sit well. Not at all. But it wasn’t his place to say anything about it.
Things happened just as he’d said they would.
They disembarked from the small boat and walked up the dock and through the marina and no one said a word to them. It was as if people did such things all the time. It wouldn’t be too long, though, before they found the boat and discovered its owners were nowhere near Barcelona. The boat would be impounded and dusted for prints; there would be an investigation.
Although by then, Byron hoped they’d be long gone.
He had no trouble getting a taxi, and it dropped them at the hotel. He always kept a variety of monies on him, and he had just enough euros to tip well without being overly generous.
As soon as he walked into the hotel, the staff recognized him.
“Mr. Hale. What brings you back to Barcelona? Business or pleasure?” the desk clerk asked him in unaccented English.
“Pleasure. Most definitely.” When he noticed she was examining his attire, he said, “Cave exploration. Been wanting to do it since my first visit.”
“I would have been happy to set that up for you.” She made a show of wetting her lips. “And anything else you need, Mr. Hale.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for my next trip.” He gave her an easy smile. Part of him wanted to take her up on it now. He could just bend her over the couch in the office and slake his lust. Something, anything, to ease his body before more hours of confinement with the beautiful but innocent princess.
Except he wasn’t actually interested in anything this woman had to offer him. She was beautiful, accomplished and he was sure from the way she moved she’d be great in bed.
But she wasn’t Damara Petrakis.
He had to get those thoughts out of his head—he didn’t know how, but it would be so much easier once he’d put some distance between them.
“The penthouse suite is available. Shall I charge it to the card you have on file?”
“Yes, thank you. Double the room service order from my last visit, please. And I’d like to access my box while I’m here, as well.”
“I’ll let security and the kitchen know. Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Hale? Anything at all?” She smiled and leaned over the desk, emphasizing her ample and lovely cleavage.
“Not at the moment.” He accepted the key and winked at her.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Hale?” Damara said in a sickly sweet voice as he took her up to the penthouse.
Byron laughed. “Are you jealous?”
“No, of course not. But that was just pathetic.” She rolled her eyes. “Even I know that a man won’t buy the cow if he can get the milk for free.”
“I don’t want to buy the cow.” He snorted.
“Glad you see it my way.” She harrumphed.
He laughed again. “Call me Brian while we’re here. It’ll most likely be for only a few hours, but just in case, okay?”
“Yes, Brian.”
“And what’s your name?”
“I get to play, too?” Her pique seemed forgotten. “I want to be Holly Golightly, like Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
“You know she was a prostitute, right?” He raised a brow.
“It’s not a bad profession. It’s not unlike being royalty.”
“How’s that?” He couldn’t wait to hear how she’d managed to work that out in her head. Byron opened the door to the suite.
“Pay to play, right? I have to trade myself to my husband for his resources. It’s basically the same thing. He gets to sleep with me, but he has to pay for it.”
“I think that’s just being married.”
“So she gets to be married to a lot of men, doesn’t have to stay with any one of them and still gets to utilize their resources. I like this idea. Maybe instead of freeing my country, I should just go home and have a harem?”
“I’m not calling you Holly Golightly.”
“I’m surprised you even know who I was talking about. My brother said it was a movie for women to make themselves feel better about being powerless.”
“We’ve established that your brother is an asshole.” He studied her for a moment and tried to imagine any scenario where he’d ever think of Damara as powerless. There wasn’t one.
“Did you order food?”
“Yes, Highness.”
“Don’t call me that.” She bristled.
“Why not?”
“I already told you why not. I’m a woman, the same as any other.”
“Who talks about having harems of men to do her bidding.” He could admit, the thought was like rubbing sandpaper on his face. Byron didn’t want anyone to touch her but him. It was good that he needled her. Maybe she’d get tired of him and stop engaging. Maybe she’d want to get away from him as much as he needed to get away from her.
He had a burner phone in the deposit box, and he hoped he could make contact with Renner and work out an end to this soon.
If he had to spend more than one more night with her, and she offered herself to him, he didn’t think he’d be able to turn her away.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_169e3ee6-138a-5d2d-a856-dd0130fba8d6)
TREPIDATION AND EXCITEMENT were tangled up like vines in Damara’s belly.
This wasn’t what she’d expected at all. It was definitely better than a lifeboat or being chased by men with guns.
When he left to access his security box, Damara took stock of the room. It was a master suite with every luxury, from a wet bar to a king-size bed. She sat on the bed, running her fingers over the purple duvet.
For a brief moment, she wondered if she was being selfish. Maybe she should look for another royal to marry, someone strong enough to defeat Abele— No. No. Her father had wanted to bring democracy to Castallegna and if she married another royal, he wouldn’t want to give up a crown for her father’s dream.
Even though it was the right thing, it still felt wrong and strange to go against what she’d been told was her duty her whole life.
Damara told herself that her duty was to protect her people, to do what was best for them. And this was it. A monarch was a law unto himself, and Abele took that to the extreme. She was the only one who could stop him.
She exhaled heavily. She couldn’t wait to get into the shower. Maybe it could wash away the dirt and that feeling of guilt.
Probably not, because she’d decided.
Even after everything, Byron Hawkins would be the one. She wanted to experience him, and what did it matter anyway? They’d never see each other again after this.
Sometime later, when he reentered the room, their eyes met and it was as if they’d both been caught in some high-voltage current they were helpless to stop. She moved toward him, unable to direct her steps anywhere else.
He welcomed her into his arms but did nothing more. The tension between them was thick and heavy, like a weight pressing them down.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“No.” Only his head dipped toward her anyway.
“Oh.” She was disappointed. “Then I guess I’ll have to kiss you.” Damara arched her back, twined her arm around his neck and mashed her lips against his.
He wrapped one arm around her, his palm splayed on her waist, and he became the aggressor. She held her lips stiff and rigid, but gradually, under his guidance, she opened for him.
He tore his mouth from hers and pushed her away. “This can’t happen,” Hawkins said raggedly.
“Why not? You already said that if I still wanted this when we got to Barcelona, then God help me. So maybe he is.” His parted lips were swollen and even more inviting. “After you hand me over to your Mr. Renner, we’ll never see each other again.”
“What is it you want from me?” He met her regard, but his eyes seemed so tired, a deep well of sadness.
She almost lost her nerve. “I thought that would be obvious, Mr. Hawkins. I want you to make love to me.”
For the briefest moment, Damara thought he was going to deny her. Especially when his expression became guarded and closed, his mouth a tight line. “Then take off your clothes.”
This wasn’t what she’d expected, either, but she wasn’t turning back now.
* * *
SHE TOOK OFF her utility belt and hung it on the bedpost.
“That’s where I put mine.” He smirked.
With shaking hands, she undid the clasp on his utility belt and hung it over her own. She wet her lips, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to look up at his face. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a thousand butterflies looking for an escape.
He took her hands in his own, and the weight of his stare drew her gaze upward like a magnet.
“You can still change your mind.”
“No, this is the path I’ve chosen and I’ll see it through to the end.” She searched his eyes. “It’s what I want.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The softness of his voice was at odds with the fury of his kiss. Heat incinerated her and she melted against him. His hands were everywhere—rough and calloused, but sparks burst in their wake.
“Can I touch you?” she asked against his mouth.
“Anywhere you want.”
For some reason, his words made her feel powerful. She pushed her hands under the soft cotton of his shirt, and she marveled at the way he felt. His skin was smooth, but it was like velvet wrapped around steel. She supposed that was a stupid comparison, but she had nothing else to liken it to.
Damara loved the way his muscles rippled under her caress, the way he held her tighter when she touched him in a way he liked. It was hard to concentrate on what she was doing, though, because he’d filled his hand with her breast.
It was a decadent sensation, his thumb stroking over the peak of her nipple. It was no wonder people did such things to have more of this.
“Boots,” he whispered in her ear. “They have to go before we can take this any further.” He released her, and she felt his absence acutely. All the places on her body that had been hot were now cold.
