My fingers brush the still-stinging skin, the pain long since dulled into something else. Another kind of heat that rests lower in my body. “I liked it.” I shrug.
Penelope’s head whips toward me, and I can’t help but laugh at the shock on her face. “You’re sick in the head.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” I don’t even try to hide my grin.
“You need help.”
“Maybe I just need to be slapped around a bit.” I arch a brow, loving the way her eyes drift down to my lips.
But before I can move, Penelope shakes her head and walks to the door. She pauses, turning to glance at me. “How long are you in Nord?”
“As long as it takes.”
She holds my gaze, as if she’s trying to decipher my words. I don’t even know what I mean. Do I mean as long as it takes for me to close this merger with Donovan?
Or do I mean as long as it takes to see Penelope again? To make her understand what she means to me?
The Queen doesn’t answer. She opens the door and walks away. I listen to her footsteps fading, trying to control the violent thudding in my chest.
9
Penelope
I should have him deported. Or arrested. Or arrested, then deported. And fined. Definitely fined. He can pay for it, with the gazillions he’s made in all the business deals that article was boasting about.
A thought smacks me in the face. Did he plan the news article? Was it some ploy to get me to notice he’s here?
He said he came here because he wanted to see me…but then why wouldn’t he just try to contact me? It doesn’t make sense. I want to trust him, but…
Squeezing my eyes shut, I lean back against the seat of the car and let out a long sigh. The privacy screen is up and the windows are tinted dark, so I’m as alone as I can be.
Heat whips through my core even now, many minutes after I left Asher’s office. The way he looked at me…it was sinful. It made me want to kiss him in a desperate kind of way. My cheek burns with the whisper of his touch. Heart stuttering uncomfortably, I shift in my seat and try to regain control over my rioting body.
Letting out a sigh, I stare out the window. There’s something wrong with me. I can’t get involved with him. I should never have done anything in the first place. What happened at the wedding felt good. It was special—or at least, it felt special to me.
But Asher was able to turn my life upside down and take my focus off the kingdom. I slept with him once, and he had me stomping into his office in a completely inappropriate way. What will the newspapers say about me tomorrow, I wonder? Will the headlines scream about the two of us? Will they say I’m too busy worrying about my love life to focus on the looming recession and rising unemployment?
I shouldn’t want to see him, but, but, but…
Seeing him in his office made me feel alive in a way I’ve missed. In a way that makes me forget about my responsibilities.
I’ve been the Queen for so long, it feels like a betrayal to my people to feel like a woman, for once. My cheeks burn at the thought of the things we did in Prince Gabriel’s castle. If anyone were to find out…
The car jerks to a stop, jarring me from my thoughts. I look up ahead as a mass of people push onto the road. Angry, snarling faces scream, the noise dampened by the thick bulletproof glass protecting my car. Police officers push the crush of people back as protesters lift signs.
Craning my neck, I read one of them.
Give us work. Give us dignity.
My shoulders drop. Unemployment has been on the rise in Nord, and with winter only a few months away, many people will be struggling. It’s only the beginning of June, but the summer is short here—and the winter is harsh. I’ve tried to expand social services, but it doesn’t change the fact that the talking heads on the television are right. Nord is entering a recession. Maybe the parliament is right to push for new businesses to invest in Nord. Maybe Donovan Enterprises wouldn’t be so bad. If we were able to keep a short leash on them, they could provide jobs for thousands of people.
The police force clears a path through the crowd, allowing us to snake through the angry faces and make our way inside the palace gates. I spin around to watch the gates close, protesters rattling it from the outside.
The car intercom buzzes. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
I press a button on the center console. “Who were they?”
“Mostly workers from the oil refineries in the east. They lost their jobs when the refineries closed.”
Grimacing, I turn to look behind the car again. I knew things were getting bad in Nord, but I hadn’t realized just how much discontent was brewing. The push to open new industry makes sense. We closed six oil refineries for policy breaches. Thousands of people lost their jobs.
I, as their Queen, should have an answer. I should be able to provide work for the people who live in my country. I should be a head of state with a vision for the nation.
I thought I was doing something good by closing those refineries. The working conditions were atrocious, with small, dirty camps for the men and women who relocated to work there. Aquifers were polluted around every oil reserve. Closing them down had been a hard decision, but a good one.
Or so I thought.
Now, thousands of people stand at my gates, unemployed, demanding their dignity back.
Isn’t that my sole responsibility? To serve the people? To provide them with fruitful, stable lives?
The car stops in front of the entrance to my castle, and when a footman opens the door for me, I can still hear the shouts of the protesters in the distance. Gritting my teeth, I make my way inside and back to my office. I close the door, glancing at the stack of papers on my desk, then move to the window.
There are many hundreds of people out there. Truck drivers. Machinery operators. Scaffolders, carpenters, electricians.
They need work.
Sighing, I close my eyes. How could I possibly worry about Asher coming here without telling me when I should be caring about my own people? I’m not some jilted woman who needs to be coddled by a man. I’m a queen. I’m the Queen.
Doing what I do best, I shove my own feelings aside. Now is not the time to think about the way Asher’s stubble felt when he kissed my neck, or how good it felt to have him pressed up against me. I gave up companionship when Xavier died. Being with a man like Asher doesn’t change that. I don’t deserve a companion. I can’t have a companion. Even if I could be with Asher, I’d be denying him the opportunity to have children. My infertility would take that choice away from him, and what kind of woman does that make me? How could I ask a man—any man—to give that up for me?
I need to take those minutes in the break room in Westhill and shove them somewhere deep and cold and inaccessible.
Now is the time to act like the monarch I am—even if it means giving up the only man who’s made me feel alive. I know what I need to do.
An idea sparks. A plan.
My chair groans when I drop into it, reaching for the phone. I pick up the receiver and hear my secretary greet me on the other side of the line. “Get me Mick Burgundy.” The CEO of the Nord Resources Group has been under a lot of pressure lately, but I need to know exactly where he stands—and if he’d agree to this plan I’m concocting.
As soon as the line connects, I hear the older gentleman’s deep voice. “Your Majesty.”
“Thank you for taking my call,” I say, even though I know no one would refuse a call from me. “I want to know exactly where you stand with regard to taking on new projects, and if you’d be open to a joint venture.”
There’s a slight pause, then Mick clears his throat. “I’m listening.”
After a long conversation with NRG, where Mick tells me about their restructuring efforts, and just how much—or how little—work they’d be able to take on, I hang up the phone and take a deep breath. That was the easy part. I’m used to dealing with Mick—as the head of the national resources company in Nord,
he’s an important government employee. He’s been a solid partner for many years, and I trust him. The other half of this plan, on the other hand…it’s not quite so easy. Or so clean.
With a trembling hand, I pick up the phone again and hear my private secretary’s greeting on the other side of the line. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Frederick, can you connect me with Asher Gerhard?” Even saying his name sends a thrill rushing down my spine.
“Right away, Your Majesty.” Frederick hangs up the phone and I do the same, folding my hands on the desk as my heart thumps. My mind spins circles around me as I sit there, staring at my desk.
Am I doing this because I’m thinking of the kingdom, or am I doing it because I want to talk to Asher again? Does it matter, if the outcome helps the people of Nord?
I jump when the phone rings.
“Well, well, well,” Asher’s deep, resonant voice says on the other end of the line. A thrill skips down my spine, diving somewhere in the pit of my stomach. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”
Ignoring the thumping of my heart, I grit my teeth and keep my voice as cold and emotionless as I can. “We may be able to make a deal after all, Mr. Gerhard.”
Asher lets out a soft groan.
I frown. “What?”
“I like when you call me that.”
“Mr. Gerhard?”
There’s that growly moan again, sparking fire in my veins. “Yeah. That.”
“Focus, Asher,” I snap. “I’m not calling you about…you know.” Ugh, am I the least smooth person in the universe? I think I must be. I suck in a breath, squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m calling because I might be able to help your business interests in Nord, after all. I have a proposition for you.”
A pause. Asher clears his throat, and his voice is cooler when he answers. “Of course, Your Majesty. I’m willing to hear your proposal.”
How does he somehow have control over this situation? I know he didn’t stage the protests. I know I have the authority between us—but still, I feel like I’m asking him for permission. It irks me and…excites me. Heat buds in my stomach, and I resist the urge to squirm in my seat. “Come to the palace tomorrow. I’ll have Frederick arrange an appointment with you.” I hang up the phone before Asher can say something else that will surely knock me off balance. My heart stutters as I close my eyes. I massage my temples, letting out a long sigh.
This idea, this plan…it’s the right thing to do. My people need me to think about something other than the heat moving lower in my abdomen. Asher Gerhard came to Nord for a reason, and whether or not part of it was to see me, it’s irrelevant now. I need his help—and his business.
My fingers drift to my lips, and I can almost taste Asher’s kiss. If I go through with my plan tomorrow, and he accepts, it’ll be the end of anything more between us. We’ll be professionals, and our relationship will be nothing like it was at Prince Gabriel’s wedding.
But for my people, for Nord, I’ll give anything up. Even Asher.
10
Asher
I’m not a nervous person. Business deals are where I feel most comfortable, but when the car slides through the tall gates leading to Stirling Castle, I have to admit I feel a tremor in my gut.
I wasn’t expecting a call from the castle so soon after Penelope left my office. I wasn’t expecting a call from her at all, if I’m honest. There’s something between us, but when a woman slaps you twice within the space of five minutes, that sends a certain message.
Not that I minded.
Penelope said something about a business meeting. She told me she would let me expand my business in Nord, but what does that mean, exactly? When she left my office, she seemed completely focused on not letting me do business here.
There’s something underneath my nerves, too. The buzz of excitement, warm and spicy. It tastes sweet on the tip of my tongue.
It’s her—the Queen. Penelope. The thought of seeing her again, of being in the same room as her, watching her lips move every time she talks, hearing her call me Asher or Mr. Gerhard or asshole or whatever other name she wants to throw at me…I’ll take it all and beg for more.
As a staff member opens the door for me and gives me a low bow, I’m not thinking about a business deal or being the successor in my father’s company. I’m not thinking about serving on the board or making millions for the man who told me I looked like a monster. I’m not thinking about Logan, or how he doesn’t deserve to inherit Father’s company instead of me.
I’m thinking about Penelope and the way she holds her head high. How regal she looks in everything she does. How badly I want to wrap my arms around her again, or drop to my knees in front of her and pledge my life to her.
As my steps resonate on the polished floor, I try to regain control over my racing heart. I’m supposed to be the man who brings in business. The man who sees opportunities where there were none before, then exploits them. Right now, I feel more like a hormonal teen going to see his first crush.
“This way, sir,” a man in his thirties says. He’s wearing a crisp, black uniform, his hair gelled back. His mustache is so thick it would make Burt Reynolds jealous.
“Can I ask you a question?” I say as we walk down the castle hallway, nothing but old paintings and statuesque guards to keep us company.
“Of course, sir.” The man inclines his head but doesn’t look back at me.
“Do you carry a comb around for your mustache? Or does it just naturally lie so perfectly?”
He bristles, every proper bone in his body recoiling at my question. I fight to hide my grin. He sweeps a hand toward a door to the right of us, and I nod.
When I step through the door, I’m led down a slightly narrower hallway. Smaller, but still opulent. White marble floors with gray and black veins, expensive paintings, chandeliers dripping with crystals. Every inch of this place has crown molding and intricate finishes. The paint is a delicate white color, with accents of red and purple. We pass a living room with walls painted blue—the exact blue of Penelope’s eyes.
Tension builds in the pit of my stomach. I can almost sense her. The Queen. She’s close. I can see it in the way the staff members stand up straighter. The buzz of excitement in the air. The unnerving silence, where all I can hear are my footsteps and the thumping of my own heart.
Stopping in front of a timber-paneled door, I wait for my guide to knock. He raps on the door twice and waits for a voice to come through from the other side.
My breath catches. The door opens, and she’s there.
The woman I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. The goddess that made me feel like a man, and not a monster. The woman who touched my scar and didn’t recoil. Who clawed at my shirt and would have taken it off if I hadn’t stopped her. Who slapped me across the face then let me caress her cheek as if nothing had happened.
The woman who filled my mind when I had my fist wrapped around my throbbing cock this morning.
Today, the sun streaming through the windows silhouettes her sheer dress, leaving very little to the imagination. I want to tear every scrap of fabric off her body, lay her down on that polished oak desk, and feast on her. I want to worship every inch of her body, kiss every part of her, make her feel the heat of my desire.
I need her. My cock is so hard it hurts.
She stands tall as she greets me with a slight nod of her head. “Asher.”
“Your Majesty.”
A twitch of her eyebrow tells me she’s surprised I’m using her title. She glances at the man who led me here, and that’s enough for him to bow to her and back out of the door. We’re alone.
The Queen takes a deep breath, watching me. “Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t refuse you.”
Fire flashes in her eyes, sending sparks flying through my chest. “How long are you planning on being in Nord?”
“As long as it takes,” I answer without thinking.
“You said that yesterday. For what?”<
br />
As long as it takes to make you mine. “To explore options…for the business,” I answer, my voice stilted. I clamp my mouth shut, and the Queen motions to a sofa to my right. I wait for her to sit down across from me in a high, wingback chair, then take a seat where she indicated. Penelope folds her hands on her lap, looking regal and calm, but her eyes drill holes through me.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here.”
“I’d come here no matter what you wanted.”
“Asher…” Her voice is a breathy whisper. She ducks her head, angling it to the side so I can see the graceful column of her neck. I want to lick it. Every part of her. Head to toe. Glancing back up at me, Penelope takes a deep breath. “I have a proposition for you, Mr. Gerhard.”
I stifle a groan. Whenever she calls me that, it makes me imagine her on her knees in front of me, mouth open…
I nod. “I’m listening.”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed the unrest in the capital.”
“The protests?”
She inclines her head. “There have been a few major oil refineries that have closed recently, and a number of people have been left without jobs. Truck drivers, machinery operators, engineers. Unemployment is on the rise.”
“You need new industries to open.”
“I need people I can trust,” she replies, her eyes searching mine. “Can I trust you?”
“With your life.”
Penelope pauses, staring at me for a few moments. I try to hold her gaze, but all I want to do is rush over to her and take her in my arms. How is it possible for a woman to have this hold on me? I’m supposed to be listening to her business proposition, and all I can think about is how good she looks in that dress. My eyes drift down to her chest, tracing the soft curve of the neckline.
“At Prince Gabriel’s wedding, I mentioned I was supposed to talk to a mining executive. I was referring to Reginald Donovan, of Donovan Enterprises.”
Ice Queen: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance Page 8