by Maisey Yates
No. He wasn’t wrong at all.
What she had done had been clouded by desire. And it was easy for her to try to pretend it had been a clinical maneuver on her part. But the inclusion of Mauro Bianchi had always been suspect. She had tried to tell herself there were many reasons apart from the fact that she wanted to touch his body. To kiss him. To have him.
Well, now she’d had him. But not in the way that she had once wished.
She was queen, and he had come into her palace. Her country. She should feel a sense of power, regardless of his threats. This was her house. Not his. And yet, all she felt was the sense that she had let a tiger inside. One that didn’t care about hierarchy or blood.
One that cared only for what he might possess and how. He might exploit the weaknesses of those around him.
“You have a deal,” he said. “An engagement, more accurately.”
“Good,” Astrid said. “That means we have a lot to do. A lot of training to prepare you for your role as consort.”
“I thought you would have known by now,” he said, a dangerous smile curling that wicked mouth of his. “I am not one to be trained. I am not the one who will be receiving instruction. What you will have to learn is how to be a woman who would stand at my side. A woman who would compromise her kingdom for me. At the moment, you’re not believable in such a role.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t understand the need for a farce.”
“You’re the one who demanded it. It isn’t my fault if you didn’t think about what that might mean.”
He took his phone out of his pocket and pressed a number, holding it to his ear. “Carlo,” he barked. “For the time being I will be relocating to Bjornland. You will have my things sent here until further notice.”
Astrid bristled, trying to regain control of the situation. “Of course you will move into the palace.”
“No,” he said. “I will not. When we are married, we can perhaps share the same residence for part of the year. Until then, I am more than comfortable procuring my own lodgings.”
“There’s no point,” she said. “There’s no point, everyone already knows that I’m pregnant.”
“Yes, but what must be made clear, to you and everyone else, is that I am not a pet. I will have nothing to do with the day-to-day running of your country. I am not a man who needs to rent a space in a woman’s bed to have a roof over his head. I am not a man you can control. You would do well to remember that.”
He then turned and walked from the throne room, leaving Astrid standing there wondering how all of this had spun out of her control. It had started out as the perfect plan, and now it wasn’t even her plan anymore.
Mauro Bianchi had given her many firsts.
Her first time waiting in line.
Her first time having sex.
Her first time feeling utterly and completely at the mercy of another person.
She was trapped. And she could see absolutely no way out.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT TOOK MAURO less than twenty-four hours to acquire a penthouse in the small business district of Bjornland’s capital city, only three miles from the palace.
It was a simple thing to figure out a temporary work setup, where he could call in to any meeting he might be needed at over the next few weeks.
He wasn’t leaving Astrid unattended. Not now. Not until everything was settled between them. Legally.
He also wasn’t a dog that could be brought to heel, which was why he was refusing to move into the palace.
It took less time than that for him to acquire an engagement ring for his royal bride.
He had no doubt that she would be expecting to use a piece of jewelry belonging to the royal family, but he would not have it be so. He was not a house cat, and he would be damned if he were treated like one. That meant consolidating as much of his own power in the moment as he could. And what he had found was that there really wasn’t much that couldn’t be solved with money. Money was the universal way of gaining power and control. He might not have a title, and he might be theoretically beneath Astrid in this country, but he had no doubt he could buy the government of this country many times over. And he found that as long as he made it clear that was the case, people rushed to accommodate him.
He also managed to procure a reservation at what he had been assured was the queen’s favorite restaurant. It was the most highly coveted in the entire country.
The next step had been ensuring that he could get the queen to the restaurant. He’d thought about kidnap, but, with as many guards as she had, it would be needlessly complicated.
He had discovered through his research that the queen had an assistant. And he intended to use her if necessary.
He picked up the phone and waited while it rang. “Yes?”
“Is this Latika Bakshmi?”
“How did you get this number?” He could hear her lips go tight, could sense that her gaze had gone narrow and cold.
“I have connections,” he said easily. “This is Mauro Bianchi. I hear that you are the minder of my new fiancée.”
“She is not your fiancée. At least, not yet. As it is not printed in any papers anywhere.”
“Is that the standard by which engagements are measured?”
“In this world.”
“We have a verbal agreement. More than that, she is carrying my child.”
“I would kill you myself to protect her,” Latika said. “I hope you understand that.”
He was impressed. It took real leadership to inspire that kind of loyalty. Real friendship. He had not been able to get a read on his betrothed, not in a meaningful sense, since meeting her outside of that initial encounter, when she had been pretending to be someone else entirely. She seemed frosty. Distant, and completely unlike the beautiful, witty woman he had met that night. But the fact that Latika seemed quite so dedicated to her indicated that there was something more than she had shown him. Not that it mattered either way.
None of this had anything to do with her.
Not in a personal sense. It was all about his child.
He would no sooner touch her again then he would allow a snake in his bed.
“I admire that,” he said. “But I would also like to remain unmurdered. I do not want to hurt your princess. I simply want to ask her to dinner.”
“You are hurting her,” Latika said. “By pushing this marriage the way that you are.”
“What do you suggest? That I allow my child to grow up without my name? Without me?”
He would not let his child grow up alone.
There was a long pause. “She didn’t think you would care.”
“I do,” he returned. “I don’t know the relationship you had with your own father, but surely you must understand that it is a loss to me to think I might not know my child.”
The pause on the other end of the line was longer this time. “What exactly did you need to know?”
“I would like to take her out to dinner tonight. I was hoping you could facilitate that.”
“I think that I can.”
By the time Mauro pulled up to the palace that night in his newly acquired car, he had every puzzle piece in place. What he had said to her about the way that he maneuvered the press was true. If he wanted to be seen by the press, then he was. Likewise, he knew how to avoid them. He was more than happy to cultivate a certain image in the media as it suited him. And more than happy to be left alone when it suited him, as well.
Tonight he needed an audience. And he had made sure that there would be one.
The restaurant itself was built into the side of a mountain. The views it offered of the valley below, a broad swath of mist and green, made him understand why Bjornland was listed as one of the world’s most pristine undiscovered gems.
Staff in the kitchen had ensured that
the photographs he wished to have taken tonight would be taken. A bit of money in the right palms, and the paparazzi would be let in the back doors at the appropriate time. He was bound and determined that he would secure this union and bind Astrid to him as quickly as possible.
He did not get to where he was in life by waiting. Or by leaving anything to chance. The palace doors opened, and she appeared.
Dressed in an immaculate emerald green dress with a wide, square neck that showcased her delicious breasts. The dress skimmed her curves, falling down below her knee, hugging each line and swell of her body like a lover.
It was a shame she was so beautiful. Considering he knew exactly what she was. Even knowing, his body responded to her. That connection that he had felt from the moment he had first seen her defied any kind of logic, and it continued to do so.
A valet came to the car and opened the passenger side, and she paused before getting in.
“It is you.”
“Did your faithful sidekick not tell you?”
“She did not. She was rather intentionally vague.” Astrid sank down into the car with a great deal of overly dignified posture. She looked like an arched hen, stiff and tall, but visibly ruffled. “She may in fact find herself looking for a job.”
“I would only hire her in my company,” he said, treating her to a grin he knew was wicked. And it had the desired result. Her color mounted, her indignation increasing.
“Why would you do that?”
“She helped me. And I am loyal to those that help me. Make no mistake.”
“That’s interesting,” she said as he put his car in Drive and roared away from the palace. “It’s interesting because you have rather a reputation for treating people as if they’re disposable.”
“You mean women,” he said, pointedly.
“Yes,” she said.
“I have many women that work at my company, and they will tell you differently.”
“I mean lovers,” she clarified.
“And yet, here you are.”
“That’s different,” she said.
“If you say so. The media makes much about my reputation, and a good portion of it is deserved. I am a man with a healthy sexual appetite, and I have never seen the point in pretending otherwise. However, I am a man from a particular background. And I learned long ago that only people with a disposable income could afford to treat others as if they were disposable. I was dependent upon the kindness of others for a great many years, and I have not forgotten it.”
“But to hear the press tell it...”
“I’m ruthless,” he said. “Relentless in my pursuit of the almighty dollar. And that might be true. I have thought nothing of buying property out from under the rich and titled. But I have not—and will not—send anyone to the poorhouse. I have scruples. Isn’t that an inconvenient thing for you to learn?”
She said nothing.
“Does it bother you?” he pressed. “The idea that I might not be a caricature that you can easily pin down? You wanted me to be a villain, did you not? Someone that you could easily say deserved to have his child hidden from him. After all, if I am everything you seem to think, I should not have a child in my presence, should I?”
She was frozen now, that stiff posture adding to her silence.
“I am not a nice man,” he continued. “On that score you are correct. I like excess. There you are correct, as well. But there are certain things that I cannot endure. That I will not abide by. I do not treat human beings like trash. Not the poor. And certainly not children. Least of all my own.”
“How kind of you,” she said, archly, making it clear she still found his standards of humanity beneath her.
“Do you actually want this child?” he asked as they continued up the winding mountain road that he knew would lead them to the palatial restaurant.
“Yes,” she said, her tone fierce. “I want this child very much. My life has been incredibly lonely. Filled mostly with tutors and sycophants. My brother has been my primary companion for most of that time, but he had a very different life than I did. He had a lot more freedom.”
“You are the queen,” he pointed out. “You have more power than he does.”
“More power in this case is not more freedom. I’m five minutes older than my brother,” she said. “Five minutes. My brother is everything the old men of my father’s council could possibly want in a leader. A tall, strapping man. An alpha male with the kind of immediate presence that gives a sense of confidence and intimidation. And me?” She shrugged. “I’m a woman. But, if not for a little bit of acrobatics in the womb, they would have the leader they wanted, and not the one they’re stuck with. Do you have any idea how much that galls them? How much they resent it? I can feel it every time I’m in their presence. And make no mistake, a great many citizens of this country feel the same way. When my father passed away, I think they all hoped that there would be some secret switch. That I would abdicate. That I would do the right thing. That is what some people think. That it would be right for me to abdicate because of my gender. I have been above reproach all this time. And I have been opposed every step of the way for no other reason than that I was born a woman. It was my mother’s deepest wish that I would not allow them to take what was rightfully mine. And I have not. I will not.”
“And the child... The child helps you accomplish this.”
“The issue of me needing a husband was being pushed. And there was a possibility that they would have the right to select a husband for me. There is also a great deal of responsibility placed on the production of an heir. Once I have produced one, some of the council’s oversight is removed. This is a protective method that has been in place in the country for generations. To ensure that a royal is doing their duty by the country, and if not, then decisions may have to be made.”
“And there is some arcane law that says the queen can be considered solely responsible for her own issue.”
“Yes.” She sighed heavily. “It seemed the smartest thing to do.”
“It might’ve been,” he said. “Had you chosen any other man.”
“Do you know what I liked about you?” she asked. He heard a slight smile in her voice.
“No,” he returned. It was true, he didn’t. Based on his interactions with her he would have assumed she liked nothing about him at all.
“You reminded me of a warrior. I liked that about you. I thought... That is the kind of genetic material I need for my child. And you might judge that, I understand. But it made sense to me at the time. I was feeling a bit desperate.”
He let silence lapse around them for a moment. The only sound that of the tires on the road, the engine a low hum running beneath. “The problem with warriors,” he said finally, “is that you cannot control all that they might do.”
She laughed. A small, humorless sound. “Understood. Understood all too well at this point.”
It was then that they reached the summit of the mountain, the restaurant glittering against the stone.
“Oh,” she breathed. “This is my favorite.”
“Good,” he said, and he fought against the strange curl of pleasure in his stomach that he had pleased her in some way.
There were glittering Christmas lights around the perimeter of the restaurant, green boughs hanging heavily over the doors and windows.
“It’s a bit early for all of this,” he commented.
“Perhaps,” she agreed. “But it’s nice all the same.”
She softened a bit, talking about Christmas. It confounded him. He didn’t much understand the joy of Christmas.
He’d never had a Christmas, not really.
They left the car with the valet, and he looped his arm through hers as he led her into the restaurant. She was like ice beside him, but he didn’t pay attention to that. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against h
er ear. “You will have to look as if you enjoy touching me.”
“I didn’t realize this was an exhibition.”
“You are Queen Astrid von Bjornland, and I am Mauro Bianchi, the most famous self-made billionaire in all the world. Everything we do is an exhibition.”
“Most famous?” she asked drily. “You think very highly of yourself.”
“I didn’t realize that ego and honesty were considered the same thing in your world.”
“I consider ego very important. Never think that I’m insulting you for pointing out that you have a healthy one. After all, I’m the queen that millions think should not have a crown. How do you think I walk with my head held so high?”
“Well, now,” he said. “That I can respect.”
“Whatever you think about me,” she continued. “I guarantee that you don’t have the first idea of what it means to operate in my world. You might be rich. But you don’t understand the expectations that have been placed on me. No one does. My brother... He tries. It cannot be said he doesn’t. He is my twin, and the closest person to me in the entire world. But he can’t fully understand. I don’t know that a man ever could.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Now, I imagine that being of low birth, as you are—”
“Low birth,” he said. “What a delicate way to phrase it.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to be delicate in particular. But being from the kind of station you are, I imagine that you reached some opposition when you were trying to ascend. I also imagine that once you proved yourself capable, then it was assumed you were capable.”
“I confess, my prowess has never been called into question. In any arena.”
“I was born to this,” she said. “My blood runs blue. My education, my upbringing... It was all geared toward me finding success in this career that I was born for. And yet whether or not I am capable of handling it... My marital status, whether or not I’m carrying an heir, all of those things, seem to matter more. I am a pass-through ruler. And believe me when I tell you they will all pray this child is a boy.”