At His Majesty's Request Page 7

  He stopped and turned. “Naturally.”

  “See you tomorrow then.”

  “I’ll be busy.”

  “So will I. I have other clients to do consultations with.” She was still stalling. Still trying to keep him close.

  He ignored her last statement and turned away again, heading down the hall. She let out a breath and walked back into her room, shutting the door behind her.

  She picked up her iPad and opened up her file for Stavros.

  Good kisser. Amazing body.

  She deleted both as soon as she wrote them. If only she could delete it from her memory so easily.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE women had arrived. Victoria, Amy and Cherry. Beautiful, polished and royal. They were wearing sleek, expensive-looking clothing, their hair perfectly coiffed, their makeup expertly applied.

  They were perfectly beautiful. Perfectly boring.

  Stavros surveyed the three women in their spot on the balcony. He felt like he was being featured on a bad reality television show. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

  He’d been around some in his thirty-three years. Some people might call him a playboy, he preferred to think he was taking advantage of the physical while ignoring the emotional. Even so, facing three women who had marriage on their minds was out of his realm of experience.

  Jessica was not out there with him, not there to run interference and give him a time limit for how long each woman could speak to him.

  Victoria spoke first. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I apologize if you weren’t expecting me … us.” He could tell she was irritated to be sharing the terrace with the other two women, who clearly felt the same way she did.

  “Of course you were expected,” he said, opting for diplomacy. Though he hoped, fervently, that they were staying at a hotel in Piraeus and not in the villa. Two was company, five would be a nightmare.

  Especially considering that kiss he’d shared with Jessica and all the options it was making him contemplate. Again.

  Victoria smiled, saccharine and a bit false, though, again given the situation, he hardly blamed her. His own smile was just as fake.

  Cherry—at least he was assuming she was Cherry based on Jessica’s description—spoke next. “I waited down at the airport for quite a while.”

  “I apologize,” he said.

  “I didn’t have to wait,” Victoria said, her expression a bit superior as she looked at the other two women.

  “Because your plane landed last,” Amy said, sniffing slightly.

  He heard the click of high heels behind him and turned, a rush of heat filling him as Jessica came walking out onto the terrace.

  “Sorry, ladies, I didn’t realize you’d arrived.” She smiled widely and he could sense the women in front of him relaxing as Jessica drew closer. She put her hands on her hips, pushing her full skirt in, revealing a bit of those luscious curves. “I had told the driver to bring you to your hotel. I apologize for the confusion.”

  Efharisto con theo.

  He didn’t want three women, all vying for position as queen, under the same roof. At least not one he was beneath. Not a very good thought to have, since it was very possible one of the three could be sharing his home, his bed, for the rest of their lives.

  They could spend the rest of their lives smiling falsely at each other. He didn’t know where the thought came from, and he didn’t know why it filled him with an emotion that he could only identify as terror.

  He appraised the three sleek women in front of him. All different in coloring, height and shape. He tried, he tried very hard, to find one that appealed to him more than the others.

  A blonde, a brunette and a redhead …

  He could not find anything especially appealing.

  Until Jessica appeared on the balcony. That made fire in his blood, heat pooling in his gut, coursing down to his groin. His lips burned with the memory of her kiss. Just a kiss. Something that, for a man of his experience, should mean nothing. And yet, it had seemed the height of sensuality. The pinnacle of pleasure.

  More than that, his heart had burned. And it hadn’t hurt. It hadn’t been unpleasant at all. He didn’t know what that meant.

  “Since you’re here, I think we should have a drink before you’re taken back into the city.” Jessica was in control, her smile unshakable, her composure solid. “Does that suit?”

  Amy looked like she might protest, about the drink or being taken back into the city, but instead, she nodded along with the others. Jessica turned and went back into the villa, undoubtedly to give the order for drinks to be served.

  The three women stared at him, doe-eyed. An indistinct blur of beauty that meant nothing more to him than the scenery. Possibly less. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, turning and following Jessica. “Jessica …”

  She whirled around, hands on her head. “I am so sorry.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes. I don’t really like all the three of the women to be together and … this … all right, this isn’t really going according to my system. But it’s okay. We’ll improvise. We’ll all have a drink, we’ll chat, tomorrow you can choose one to go on a dinner date with. Does that work?”

  “Fine,” he said, amused by how quickly her composure had evaporated once they were out of sight of the other women.

  “Really, this just makes it all seem a bit …”

  “Like a reality television show?”

  “Yes. And also a bit crass. And I’m sorry. But they all know the drill, so while it’s awkward, they knew that they weren’t the only people who had put in to be considered for this match.”

  He leaned against the wall. “So how exactly do women find you?”

  “I advertise. In a discreet manner of course, but I’ve managed to put together a select group of men and women. When someone comes to me looking for a match, I let those who meet the qualifications know, and then they respond and let me know if they’re interested. Simple.”

  “In a complex sort of way.”

  She raised both eyebrows, her expression haughty. “Well, it works anyway.”

  “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.