скачать книгу бесплатно
“So how many of these women you’ve shown me haven’t made the final cut with other men?”
She sniffed. “Almost all of them. Where is the wine?”
“Which ones?”
“Only Victoria has never asked to be entered in for consideration yet. You were the first one she showed interest in.”
“Setting her sights high?”
She kept her focus on her hunt for beverages. “Wine?”
“I mean that as far as status goes, not really saying I surpass the other men in terms of other qualities.”
“Right. Where is the wine?”
He chuckled and reached behind her, pulling a bottle from the built in rack above her head. “Will a merlot do?” He took glasses from the rack as well, holding them by the stems.
“Fine.” She reached up and took the bottle from his hand, then tilted it in his direction. “We should …” She gestured in the direction of the terrace. “Because I don’t want them to scratch each other’s eyes out or anything.”
“Remind me again why you thought this would be a good idea?”
She frowned. “Well, it seemed logical. It sort of followed how I do things … it’s just … it not being a big event sort of closes everything in a bit more.”
“Yeah.”
He took the bottle from her hand and led the way back out onto the terrace. Victoria, Cherry and Amy were standing at the far end of the terrace, a healthy bit of distance between each them so that they didn’t have to engage in conversation with one another.
He set the glasses down on a small round bistro table and opened the bottle, pouring a substantial portion into each glass.
“Drinks,” he said, lifting one for himself. They would need them.
The women advanced and each took their wine. The silence was awkward, oppressive. He hated this, he was starting to realize. It was the first thing he could remember hating in a long time. He hadn’t had an emotion so strong in … years.
He hadn’t thought he would mind this situation. Because he didn’t want a wife, not in a particular sense. Marriage for him would be something he did for his country. A distant affair, and that was how it had to be. He knew—he’d seen—that love, emotional attachment, could overpower strong men. Bring them to their knees. And if those men were in control of the country, they could bring the country down with them.
That was why he had to do it this way. That was why he had to keep everyone at a distance. Why he had to find a wife who would matter to the country, not to him.
Still, even with that in mind, being in the middle of the matchmaking process was as enjoyable as being boiled alive. His flirtatious manner was harder to hold on to than he could ever remember it being before.
Ultimately, it was Jessica, her quick wit and sparkling laugh, that saved the night. She engaged everyone in conversation and managed to make things seem easy. Easier at least.
By the time his marriage candidates had been sent off in the limo, the knot in his gut had eased. Though, it could have been due to the wine and not just Jessica’s lightning-quick wit.
As soon as the women were out of sight Jessica let out a loud breath and lifted her wineglass to her lips, tilting her head back and knocking the rest of the contents in. “That was vile. Worse than vile.”
“You’re good at covering up how you feel.”
“So are you,” she said. “Image. It’s important to both of us, right?”
“I have to put on a good front for my people.” Except he hadn’t thought of it as a front before. He’d simply thought of himself as empty of anything but confidence. Empty of anything unimportant. If something needed to be done, he saw it done.
“And I have to put on a calm front for my clients.”
“Then why is it you’re letting me in on just how stressed out that made you?”
She grimaced. “Well, for all intents and purposes, we’re roommates at the moment and I have to let my hair down at some point in the day, so to speak. For another, you’ve licked my lips and that puts you slightly over the line of ‘usual client.’ Slightly.”
“You don’t let all your clients lick your lips?” he asked. A strange tightness invaded his chest, his stomach. Jealousy.
Possessiveness. The image of all of her clients getting the sort of special treatment he had been on the receiving end of made him want to pull her to him again, to make sure she didn’t forget what it was like to be kissed by him. To make sure she never forgot.
That was as foreign as all the other emotions she’d brought out in him over the past few days. Jealousy implied some sort of special connection, and a fear of that connection being threatened.
He gritted his teeth, fought against the tightness in his chest. Flirting. That would put the distance back between them. Something light. Sexual.
“Hardly,” she said. Unable to read his mood, she kept her tone casual. “Indulge me, though, since I’ve now confessed that I don’t kiss my other clients. What exactly are you hiding?” She tilted her head, her green eyes assessing. Far too assessing for his taste. Too sincere.
It made it impossible to find that false front. Made him feel something shift deep inside himself.
“No skeletons in my closet,” he said. “But of course I have to live a certain way, conduct myself in a certain way.”
“You aren’t exactly a traditional ruler.”
“It’s not just tradition. It’s about instilling confidence. Showing stability. Emotion … that has no place. I must be charming, confident, at ease at all times.”
“I’ve never heard a whispered rumor that you were anything but.”
He looked out into the darkness, at the black ocean, moonlight glittering across the choppy surface. “I know. Because I don’t slip up. Ever.”
He had, though. He had slipped up with her. He had let go of his control, control he’d been forced to cultivate when he’d been named heir to the throne. He’d let go of it completely in those moments his lips had touched hers. Not control against physical desire, but the control he kept so tightly over his feelings.
Jessica laughed, a sad, hollow sound. “I’m certain I do. Sometimes.”
“What about you, Ms. Carter?” he said. “What are you hiding?” He turned to her, studying her face in the dim light. It seemed imperative to know her secrets. And he wasn’t certain why it would be. But just like last night, he was going to let his guard drop. Just for a moment. Just to follow that heavy, aching feeling in his chest. To give it some satisfaction.
The corners of her mouth twitched slightly. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
Warmth spread through him. In him. An alien feeling. One he was compelled to chase for the moment. “And that would create an international incident.”
“It would prick my conscience as well, so maybe I should keep it to myself,” she said, a small curve in her lips. It wasn’t really a smile, though. It was too sad for that. “Better question, if you could be anything, I mean, if the whole world was open to you, what would you be?”
He frowned. “If I wasn’t in line to rule Kyonos?”
“If you weren’t royal at all. If you could have anything you desired, without obligation, what would you do?”
It was the thing he never let himself wonder. The alternate reality that wasn’t even allowed in his dreams. But he was cheating now. Cheating on his own standards for himself.
For a fleeting moment, he had a vision of a life that was his own. A life with a woman of his choosing, in a home of his choosing. With children who wouldn’t know the pain, the responsibility of a royal lineage depending on them. With love.
He shoved the image aside. “I would run my corporation,”
he said. He had a sudden image of sailing a ship around the world and wondered if he’d told the truth.
“Would you get married?” she asked, a strange tone to her voice.
“Yes,” he said, the answer almost surprising him. But in that little, warm hint of fantasy, there had been a wife. There had been kids. And it wasn’t hard to breathe. “Yes,” he said again.
“Hmm.” She turned and walked to the end of the terrace, resting her hands on the railing.
He followed her, standing behind her, watching the sea breeze tug wisps of hair from her updo, letting them fall around her neck. He wanted to brush them aside. To kiss her shoulder. Her neck. Not just because he wanted her, but to feel connected to her.
A deadly desire.
“Why do you do it?” she asked. “Why is this so important?”
She was asking for more honesty. For answers he wasn’t sure he had. “I … When my mother died things fell apart. And the one thing that seemed real, that seemed to matter, was Kyonos. It was the one thing I could fix. The one place I could … matter.”
As he spoke the words, he realized that they were true. That every change he’d made, every effort he’d put forth, had been not just about helping his country, but about finding new purpose for himself.
“What about you?” he asked, ready to shift the spotlight off of himself.
She didn’t speak for a long time. When she did, she spoke slowly, cautiously. “In this scenario, reality isn’t playing a part, right?”
“Right,” he said, voice rough. He waited for her next words, anticipated them like a man submerged beneath the waves anticipated breaking the surface, desperate to take a breath.
She lowered her head, her eyes on her hands. “I would be a wife. A mother …” Her voice broke on the last word. “And maybe I would still do this, or maybe not. I don’t know if I would … need it. But … I would be a mother.”
She pushed off from the railing. “Back to reality,” she said, trying to smile. Failing. “I’m going to bed.”
He nodded, watching as she walked past him.
I would be a mother.
There was something so sad, so defeated in the admission. It made his chest tighten, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. He’d never had someone else’s feelings inhabit his body in this way. But he was certain that’s what was happening. That the oppressive weight that had just invaded him was the same sadness that filled her.
Maybe Jessica wasn’t as happily divorced as she appeared to be. And maybe she wasn’t quite as hard as she appeared to be, either.
She was running interference for Stavros and his harem today, and she wasn’t all that thrilled about it. It was getting harder to chuck other women in his direction when she just wanted to throw herself at him.
Not happening, but still. She was so envious of her clients that she was developing a twitch.
And for heaven’s sake, she never should have said all that about being a mother. Should never have asked him what he wanted. Should never have tried to get to know him. Because it didn’t matter. It just didn’t. There was no point in suspending reality, even for a moment.
There was no escaping reality. You couldn’t outrun it. You could try but eventually it would bite you in the ass. She knew that. She knew it really, really well. She’d tried to ignore how often she and her husband went to their separate corners of the house. She’d tried to ignore his touch at night, and when she couldn’t, she tried to ignore his total disregard for her pain. She’d even tried to ignore his outright berating of her. The screaming and anger and hateful words.
No, there was no point in ignoring that kind of thing. The facts were simple. Stavros needed certain things, she didn’t have any of them.
Why was she even thinking about that crap? She didn’t have time for it. She had a gaggle of women to manage for the whole day.
She blew out a breath and slipped her oversize sunglasses onto her face, tightening her hold on her latte. She had gotten them all booked into a luxury salon in Piraeus, and they were all safely getting massaged and waxed as she stood out on the crowded, narrow streets drinking her coffee.
Stavros was coming soon. He was meeting the group of them for a quick lunch and tour around the city, and then he would be selecting the woman who would accompany him on a private date for the evening.
And it would be up to Jessica to send the other two off without making them feel like it really was some low-rent reality television show.
Jessica wasn’t used to feeling like things were out of her control. Not since that moment four years ago when she’d taken back the reins of her life. She liked to feel like she had everything managed. Like her little universe was in the palm of her hand.
It was an illusion, and she knew it, but she still liked it.
Since Stavros, she didn’t even have her illusion.
What was it about him that reminded her … that reminded her she was a woman? Not just on the surface, but really and truly. With a woman’s desires, no matter how hard life had tried to wring them out of her.
Oh, dear … right on time. The master of her rekindled sexual needs was striding toward her. Cream-colored jacket and trousers, shirt open at the collar. She did love a man who knew how to dress. A Mediterranean sex god with very expensive taste.
He also had two dark-suited members of security flanking him and discreetly parting the crowd so that His Majesty wouldn’t be jostled.
Not that Stavros ever behaved that way. He didn’t act like a spoiled prince who would be able to feel a pea through fifty mattresses, not even close. He acted like a man who carried the weight of a nation on his shoulders.
More than that, he acted like a man who intended to support the weight of that nation for the rest of his life. A man prepared to tailor his every decision to suit that responsibility.
“Hello, Jessica,” he said, a smile curving his lips.
“Prince Stavros,” she said, reverting because last night had gotten a bit too intimate and she had no desire to go there again. Well, that was a lie. She did want to go there again. But she couldn’t.
“Demoted, I see.”
“What?”
“Back to a title.”
“Oh …” Why did he have to notice all these little things about her? Why did he have to care at all? “Sorry.”
“How are things going?”
“Good. Great. Looking forward to you thinning the herd tonight.”
“You make it sound like there are a lot more than three.”
She sighed. “They feel like more than three. In my experience, the women haven’t been so catty. But then, I normally don’t do this with them in such close proximity to each other. I’ve also never tried to match a crown prince.”
He looked past her, into the spa. “Let’s leave them in there.”
“What?” She looked behind her.
“If we hurry, they won’t know I was here.”
She laughed. “You’re not serious.”
