The Royal Arrangement: Prequel to The Rebel Queen

by Jeana E. Mann

  “No, madam. Confidentiality works both ways.” The defiant set of his jaw reflects back at me through the rearview mirror.

  “I see.” I glance down at the phone number on my hand. The ink is smudged and unreadable. It’s probably just as well. The thought of my comfortable bed inside the refuge of my apartment overrides the need for more questions. I rattle off my address and settle into the supple butterscotch seat.

  Outside the car, the broad shoulders of the golden stranger disappear into the building. Even from a distance, his posture is regal, almost arrogant. Who is he? Why can’t I stop thinking about him? I shake my head and exhale a long breath. Obviously, this thing with Nicky isn’t going to work out. Our relationship is doomed, but I can’t seem to let him go. If I do, I’ll have to admit that I picked the wrong man. Again.

  5

  HENRY

  “Welcome back, Your Royal Highness.” Inside his office, Roman Menshikov, Grand Master of the Devil’s Playground franchise and the exiled prince of Kitzeh, greets me. His handshake is firm, the kind of grip that instills fear in lesser men. A custom tuxedo and unshaven jaw give him the perfect mix of uncivilized yet polished, symbolic of a powerful billionaire who doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of him. The black mask covering his eyes adds to his sinister air.

  Nick hovers at his elbow. “We got off to a rocky start this evening, Henry. Let’s start over.” He extends his hand. I avoid it. Tosser. I don’t care if he’s Roman’s younger brother and business partner. He can suck my dick. After a beat, he flexes his fingers and drops his fist to his side.

  “Thank you for having me, Roman.” I try to shift into business mode, but my thoughts remain with Nick’s gorgeous redhead. She was so beautiful in her clingy silk dress and sky-high heels as she tried to hide her hurt over his behavior. I glance around the paneled office the two men share, taking in the security camera on the ceiling, the matching desks, and the priceless modern art on the walls. “Are we allowed to remove our masks in here?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink?” In one smooth motion, Roman tugs the mask from his head and tucks it into the breast pocket of his tuxedo jacket, silk strings dangling.

  I breathe a sigh of relief and follow suit. “Not right now. Thanks.”

  Roman takes a seat behind the desk, leans back in his chair, and steeples his fingers in front of him. “Tell me. What do you think about our club? We’d love to have you as a permanent member.”

  “It’s intriguing, but not for me. I have more—specific—tastes.” Call it whatever you want—a side effect of my damaged childhood, lingering hatred for my overbearing mother, or just a general need to dominate—but the thought of a beautiful girl on her knees begging me to fuck her is enough to make my cock jerk to attention. And I’d prefer to do it without an audience.

  “Still fond of whips and handcuffs?” Nick asks, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Any fool can chain a woman to a wall,” I reply quietly. “What I do requires skill.” How do I explain the delicate process of stripping away a woman’s will and bending it to my own? A shallow man like Nicky could never understand the amount of time, consideration, and proficiency required.

  Nick opens his mouth to reply, but a scathing look from Roman causes him to bite his tongue. It seems his lips are still firmly attached to his big brother’s ass. Roman taps a fingernail on the surface of his desk, assessing the tension between his sibling and me. “What have you done, Nicky?”

  “What makes you think I’ve done anything?” His eyebrows shoot up, feigning shock.

  “Because I know you.” The muscles in Roman’s jaw tighten. “If my brother has done anything to offend you, Prince Henrich, I apologize.”

  He doesn’t know. No one does. As far as the world is concerned, my engagement to Lady Catherine Clayton ended by mutual agreement, not because I found my best mate between her legs. I might be arrogant and opportunistic, but I’ve always been a gentleman. And a gentleman doesn’t ruin the reputation of a woman, no matter how unsavory or salacious the affront. Therefore, I’ve kept the secret, biding my time until I can repay them for their insult.

  “How is Kitty Cat anyway?” Nick slouches in his chair, wearing the same goddam smirk he’s had since college. “I haven’t seen her in ages.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Before I accepted Roman’s invitation to the club, I knew Nicky would be a part of the meeting, and I swore to myself that I wouldn’t let him get under my skin. Despite my promise, pressure builds inside my chest. It wouldn’t take much for me to launch across the room and strangle him with his stupid lavender tie. “We aren’t exactly close these days.”

  “What a shame. I thought for sure you’d patch things up and marry her anyway.” Delight dances in his eyes. The years might have passed, but he’s still the same bloke who burst into my dorm on the first day of university with a bottle of scotch in one hand, a box of Cuban cigars in the other, and the panties of the dean’s wife stuffed into his trouser pocket. “You have to be married to claim the throne, right? Kitty was really looking forward to becoming your queen.”

  “Thankfully, my father is in good health.” And living life to the fullest with his mistress. I have plenty of years to find the right woman.

  “Nick, zip it, or you can leave.” Steel edges the words of Roman’s warning. Nicky sighs and rolls his eyes. I stifle a chuckle. His big brother has him on a very tight leash. Good for him. Roman clears his throat, tilting his chair until the back hits the wall. “I’m sorry to rush, Henry, but it’s been one hell of an evening, and I have someone special waiting for me. Can we get down to business?”

  “Please.” My need to punish his younger brother will have to wait. Besides, it seems Roman is doing a great job of making his life uncomfortable.

  “After our discussion last night, I’ve been looking into your problem, and I think I have an answer.” We’ve been meeting in secret for the past month, brainstorming options to liberate our countries from unfortunate circumstances.

  “I’m all ears.” I try to remain calm. For the past several years, my father has reigned terror down on Androvia from his throne. He’s ignored the steady flow of heroin through our country and rebel uprisings to line his pockets, oblivious to the misery of his subjects. Once I wear the crown, this shit is going to stop, and Roman is my ticket to success. Although my reign won’t arrive for at least another decade, I’ve been insinuating myself into royal politics, so I’ll be ready.

  “Don McElroy is your problem.”

  I shove back in my chair, too stunned to speak. Don McElroy is a war hero, two-term Vice President of the United States, celebrated humanitarian, and recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor. “Are you sure?” I ask once my voice returns.

  “My sources are reliable,” Roman replies. “He’s facilitating the movement of drugs—and God knows what else—through your country into mine, and into the hands of eager European clients. From what I’ve learned, your father has chosen to turn a blind eye to this travesty as long as he gets a cut of the action.”

  Anger swells inside me until my skin feels like it’s going to burst. “They’ve got to be stopped.” Memories of war-torn villages, drug-addicted citizens, and opulent palace parties turn my stomach. As long as my parents can dine on caviar and lobster every evening, they don’t give two shits about the people on the streets. “I’ll do anything necessary.”

  “I’m working on it from the inside.” Nicky jumps back into the conversation, acting like we haven’t been at odds since he broke up my engagement. Fucker. “I hope to have details soon.”

  “I’ll do everything in my power to help you. Nicky has infiltrated McElroy’s camp, and he’s making good progress. McElroy is nervous. He’s putting pressure on me to ship weapons to his guerillas on your border.” Roman raises a hand in the air. “Don’t worry. I’ve refused.” He rests his elbows on the desk and leans forward. “All I need is your word of honor. Persuade your fa
ther to sign an alliance with Kitzeh and put a stop to this madness.”

  “Done.” One small country is subject to the whims of invaders and opportunists. Two small countries conjoined have twice the protection, twice the military presence, twice the power. “Excuse me for stating the obvious, but your family was ousted from Kitzeh a few decades ago.” The rebel invasion had slaughtered the king and queen, leaving the infant Prince Roman to be raised in secrecy. “How can you guarantee Kitzeh’s compliance?”

  “Leave the details to me. Just know that I have troops in place, as we speak, waiting for the go-ahead. In a few days, they’re going to storm the capital and take back what’s mine. The real question is whether or not you can divert your father’s attention long enough for us to make this move?”

  “Absolutely.” I listen to Roman’s plan. King Gustav has been too busy cavorting on the royal yacht in Santorini to dwell on boring matters of state. His distraction presents a window of opportunity. Roman’s armies will close up Kitzeh’s borders, running the traffickers into a dead end. They’ll have no choice but to circumvent Androvia’s steep border mountains and flowing rivers, ridding my precious homeland of its menace.

  “In the meantime, I need you to sit tight, Your Highness. And watch your back.” Roman stands. “There are rumors that the Androvian throne is in jeopardy. If McElroy is indeed at the head of this scourge, he won’t hesitate to eliminate anyone who stands between him and victory. Your problems run much deeper than you think.” With a sharp tug, he adjusts the cuffs of his shirt beneath his tuxedo jacket. Brilliant diamond cufflinks wink in the light. “It’s important for you to keep our affiliation quiet until we get him under control.”

  “Agreed.” Few men have my admiration, but this guy is in a class by himself. No one messes with Roman Menshikov. My success is guaranteed with him as a partner. “Androvia will help in any way we can.”

  “Excellent. I have a feeling we’re going to make history together.” Roman’s gaze bores into me. “I hope you’re ready for the ride.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” I reply.

  We walk toward the door. Roman withdraws his mask from his pocket and slips it into place, nodding for me to do the same. He hesitates with a hand on the door handle. “Before we go, I wonder if I might ask you a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “A young woman died under suspicious circumstances last night—Lavender Cunningham. She was an event planner for my company. Perhaps you’ve heard of her?”

  I shake my head, wondering what this has to do with me. “Her name sounds familiar. I wasn’t aware of her passing. My condolences.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.” The shrug of his shoulders reveals little emotion. “The police are interested in my whereabouts at the time of her death. As you know, I was with you last night, discussing strategies. I can’t give the investigators an alibi without revealing our relationship, and I don’t want to drag you into this shitstorm.” We don our masks, preparing to re-enter the decadent playground. He opens the door and gestures for me to step out of the office. “If our names are linked, the entire plan, as well as our lives, will be in jeopardy. McElroy isn’t known for being sympathetic to his adversaries.”

  “Agreed.” The repercussions would be catastrophic. “But if you need me to vouch for you, I will.”

  He lifts a hand into the air, palm facing forward. “I’ll deal with it. I just want you to be aware in case they come to you. For the time being, I think it’s best for both of us to remain silent.”

  “Your consideration is appreciated. I’ll take precautions. If the situation changes, let me know. I’ll do whatever I can for you.” While we walk, I text Shasta, asking her to erase all traces of Roman’s name from my appointment calendar and schedules. She answers right away, even though it’s past midnight, leading me to wonder if my personal assistant ever sleeps.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Now that Roman is indebted to me, I’m emboldened to ask for a favor. “Before I go, I was wondering about the woman you were with tonight, Nikolay.”

  Nicky’s gray eyes narrow. “What about her?”

  “I want her.” Circumspection has never been one of my traits. In my experience, few people have the balls to deny the request of a prince. “And I’m going to take her from you.”

  “Why? So you can turn her into one of your zombie lovers? I don’t think so.” Nick lifts his chin. The playfulness leaves his gaze. His refusal heightens my curiosity about the leggy beauty. “She only came here tonight because of my considerable persuasive skills, not because she’s submissive.”

  “Maybe. Or we could consider it repayment for the woman you stole from me.” I match his gaze in intensity.

  “That’s not possible.” Roman shakes his dark head and steps between us. “I’m sorry, but we don’t reveal identities. Not even for you. And this woman isn’t the type to be owned.” His relaxed demeanor doesn’t fool me. Beneath the sharp lines of his black tuxedo, he’s coiled for action, like a cobra about to strike. We resume our walk, shoulder-to-shoulder in the wide corridor. Nikolay trails behind us. Knowing he’s back there makes the hairs stand on the nape of my neck. The last time I turned my back on him, he betrayed me. A mistake I’ll never make again. “If you’re interested in an anonymous companion for your next visit, one of my matchmakers would be happy to match your profile to one of our members.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I can find my own dates,” I reply, unable to hide a hint of arrogance. My royal title acts as human catnip for the ladies. “I’m interested in only her.”

  “Giving out names—even one—undermines the integrity of this club.” Nick’s steps ahead to open the next door. The angry clench of his jaw fuels my intrigue. In my experience, he was never proprietary over any woman. What keeps him interested in the redhead other than her undeniable beauty and winning personality? “Violation of the NDA has serious consequences. Even for us.”

  “Of course. I understand.” I nod, far from satisfied with his answer. Defeat has never been an option for me. “She should be easy enough to track down.”

  “It would be in everyone’s best interest if you walk away from her.” Roman’s icy tone cements my resolve. The smile falls from Nicky’s lips. He doesn’t want me to know this woman, making her all the more desirable. I’m going to find her and take her, and I hope he hates me for it.

  6

  EVERLY

  A month passes, and my anger at Nicky fades. He continues to call, and I continue to answer. I have a handful of events scheduled in the upcoming weeks—events Nicky promised to attend as my escort. Charitable donations at my family fundraisers climb twenty percent when he’s present. He might be a dick, but he knows how to pry money out of a rich person’s wallet better than anyone I’ve ever met. I need to suck it up. After all, he’s handsome, amusing, and well-connected. I resolve to stick with him a little longer. Just until my string of charity events finish. Then, we can go our separate directions.

  Sometimes I catch him gazing into the distance, brows furrowed, like he’s thinking of someone else. Those looks are enough to remind me this isn’t real. We’re fucking each other to pass the time until the right person comes along. So, I turn a blind eye to the way he hides his phone screen, leaves the room to take late-night calls, and disappears for days at a time.

  Tonight is the evening of the Medallion-Hearst Charity Auction. The wealthiest people in New York are here, wallets in hand, eager to pay big dollars for the rescue of human trafficking victims. It’s a topic dear to my heart. One I’ve devoted my life to. And I depend on Nicky to work his magic on the wealthiest of them.

  I survey The Plaza Hotel ballroom with a critical eye, taking in the white linens, towering floral centerpieces, and auction items on display. Laughter floats above the music. Everyone seems to be having a great time. As I scan the space, a tall man with spiky blond hair catches my eye. Heat races up my neck. Is it him? The guy from the De
vil’s Playground? My heart pounds. I place a hand on the wall for support.

  “Sorry I’m late, darling. I can only stay a minute.” Nicky’s empty smile interrupts my line of sight. “A business emergency. You understand.”

  “Sure.” The light from the crystal chandeliers bounces off his platinum cufflinks. I’m too distracted by the blond man to express any disappointment. I strain to catch a glimpse of him over Nicky’s shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

  “It will be.” A whiff of his cologne teases my nose as he bends down to plant a kiss on my cheek. He straightens, his gaze sweeping across the ballroom. “You’ve done an excellent job. You should be very proud.”

  “Thank you.” The sincerity in his compliment brings a second rush of heat into my face. I'm being paranoid. Maybe the coolness in his eyes is due to stress over his work conflict. Although I’ve never seen Nicky stressed since Rourke introduced us. I want to ask, but I’m afraid of the answer, so I change the subject. “Is that the blond man from the Devil’s Playground?”

  “Where?” Nicky’s head snaps up.

  “Over there. Black tuxedo, black shirt, black tie. With a brunette in a green dress.”

  The lines across his forehead deepen in a brief scowl. “If it’s him, I couldn’t tell you without violating the club NDA. Why? Is he bothering you? I told you to stay away from him.”

  “Never mind. It’s probably just someone who looks like him.” He’s right. I don’t need more distractions in my life. Instead, I focus on the perfection of the venue, the strains of classical music from the string quartet, and the laughter of the guests. Manhattan’s most elegant have turned out in record numbers to support the McElroy Foundation. When I look back to Nicky, my father is in his place and the Russian is gone.

  “Did I just see Nicky leave? I was hoping to speak with him.” As always, my father’s voice booms with quiet authority.