The Secret King

by C. J. Miller

  He was quiet for a beat and she wondered if she’d gone too far. Her mouth had gotten her in trouble before.

  “I will take great delight in winning you over and hearing you call me by my given name.”

  A little shiver of relief mixed with pleasure danced over her. “I wouldn’t hold your breath on that.”

  “Such hostility from someone I barely know. Of course, I would like to know you better. You’ve proven to be quite spirited. I like that in a companion.”

  Companion? What did that mean? Like a friend or a prostitute? She would be neither to him. Her heart raced and it was not because she found his confidence appealing. He was appalling. She would be wise to remember that. “What is it that you want? The princess is not available right now.”

  “Such a shame. I was hoping to speak with her this morning about several pressing matters.”

  “If you tell me what they are, I will relate them to the princess.” She wondered if he would tell her anything. In the past, he had refused to give her details of why he was anxious to meet in person and speak with Serena.

  “Her father kept the peace between Icarus and Rizari. I need to know the princess’s stance on that.”

  Was DeSante interested in peace in the region or did he want to stir up trouble? “I can assure you the princess wants no bloodshed.” Iliana shuddered, remembering the night of the king and Princess Danae’s murder. Serena had commanded her to hide in a closet and then had run off to aid her father and sister. Risky and bold, it was the side of Serena that came roaring to life in defense of the people she loved. When Iliana had left the closet where she’d hidden with several other women, the ballroom had looked like a slaughterhouse. Even now, the ballroom had not been reopened. Iliana wondered if it ever would be.

  “What do you want, Iliana? Because you sound like you want to wrap your hands around my throat and throttle me, which wouldn’t be keeping with the princess’s desire for peace.”

  She scoffed. “I don’t want to wrap my hands around your anything.” Why did that image elicit a strange stirring in her stomach?

  “Perhaps you’re attracted to me and you hate that, so you’re lashing out.”

  “I am not attracted to you.” Except it was a lie. The first time she had met him in person, she had had no defense against the rush of sensations. Her body had tingled and though he had been professional with her, she’d harbored some decidedly nonprofessional thoughts about him, his mouth, his body. She chalked it up to hormones. Her attraction to the dictator meant nothing. Handsome on the outside, he was a troll on the inside. Handsome could trick her hormones. Mean would prevent her from doing anything about it.

  “What is it that bothers you most about me?” DeSante asked.

  Listing his deficiencies could get her killed. At least, if rumors were true. “I do not feel safe enough to honestly answer that question.”

  “You are afraid of me?” He sounded surprised. Wasn’t he accustomed to fear from his countrymen?

  “I am afraid of nothing. I just don’t want to disappear.” Or be murdered in her bed.

  “You have nothing to fear from me. I will not hurt you. Not today and not ever. If I found out that you had been harmed, I would seek vengeance for that atrocity. A lady should never be on the receiving end of violence.”

  Why did he seem sincere? Why should she believe that? Even more, why did he sound as if he were earnestly trying to convince her? “How many people have died at your hands, believing that same thing?”

  “What I have done for my country is not something I am ashamed of. I have spilled soldiers’ blood, but I have done so for the greater good.”

  The greater good, which had fortuitously brought him into power.

  “What is most difficult is accepting that you believe I am a monster.”

  He was a monster. “Do you deny subjugating your people?”

  DeSante made a sound of disgust. “I deny it emphatically. If you are asking if my methods of leadership are harsh, then yes, they are. But I am not ashamed that every Icarus family has food on their table and important work that contributes to our economy.”

  Iliana had heard that conditions had improved in Icarus since DeSante had come into power. She couldn’t quite accept how he had come to power, but she felt a chink in her armor.

  “I want you to come to Icarus as my guest. I will show you. I will let you see with your own eyes.”

  His guest? Nothing in those words was sexual and yet her heart was doing somersaults. He had been secretive with the media and yet he wanted her to visit? “No.” Her reasons for saying no were complex. She couldn’t leave Serena now. She would feel like a traitor traveling to Icarus to spend time with DeSante. Spending time with DeSante under certain conditions could bring up some emotions she didn’t want to confront.

  Iliana did not have a good track record with men. She was easily seduced. DeSante could break down her defenses. Iliana knew it. She was loyal to Serena and she would remain that way.

  “Perhaps you will be persuaded in the future.”

  To sleep with him? She smothered her outrage, realizing he’d meant changing her mind about traveling to Icarus. Iliana pulled her emotions under control. What about this man riled her so deeply? “We will see.”

  “I believed you to be an open-minded woman. Did I misjudge you?”

  “Of course I’m open-minded. But I cannot travel to Icarus unless Princess Serena decides she wishes it. Did you have anything else you wanted to talk to the princess about?”

  “Tell her she is contemplating marrying a cad.”

  She hadn’t heard that term in years. “A cad?”

  “King Warrington will not make her happy.”

  “And you would?” Iliana asked, feeling a stab of jealousy at the idea of Serena dating President DeSante.

  “Not at all. I am not interested in marrying the princess. My interests in her are political and professional.”

  Right. Though Serena hadn’t had many boyfriends, mostly as a result of her avoiding crowds and staying away from being the center of attention, she was a beautiful, voluptuous woman. “I’m writing this down. You’re not interested in war, you don’t want Serena to marry the king and you’re interested in her. Professionally.”

  “Don’t forget that last word. My personal interests lie elsewhere. Until we speak again, and I do hope that is soon, be well. Good day, Iliana.”

  She hung up the phone being more turned on from one phone conversation than she had by her last boyfriend in the year they’d been together. President DeSante was the trifecta of attraction: bad boy, bad ass and far too handsome for his own good.

  * * *

  Serena took her guard’s hand and stepped out of the town car to catch her balance and not trip over her gown. A plane flight and a long car ride had brought her to the palace of Rizari, King Warrington’s home.

  She smoothed her green dress, hoping it was appropriate for the evening’s events. Iliana had helped her select it and yet Serena was a bundle of nerves about the entire visit, including what she was wearing. This was not where she shone. She was not great at small talk and mingling, and preferred to stay on the outskirts of a crowd and watch. Or better yet, to sketch or paint from a safe distance. Even hiding behind a camera had a certain appeal.

  Before her father’s birthday party, Serena had not been to a formal occasion in years, avoiding them with carefully constructed excuses. Grief knotted in her stomach and she blinked away tears. How she wished her father and her sister were still alive!

  “Your Grace?” her guard asked.

  Serena realized she had been standing rooted in the same place, looking up at the palace. It was a breathtaking display of architecture and design. When Samuel had inherited the throne after the untimely death of his uncle, he had put energy and resources into renovating the two-hundred-year-old structure. The effort showed.

  “I’m fine.” Her guards flanked her and she took the stairs to the front door. It opened and
she was escorted inside.

  She had always believed her castle to be ornate, but the palace of Rizari made Acacia’s royal home look like a straw hut.

  This was her first date with King Warrington, although she wasn’t sure if he would consider it a date. Officially, it was a dinner party with members of the royal social circle, some whom she knew by name and others not at all.

  Her heels clicked against the floor as she was escorted by King Warrington’s butler and her guards into the dining room. She was almost used to having her guards so close, but in her home, they didn’t hover over her as they did in public.

  Serena scanned the room for an inconspicuous place to sit or stand, as was her usual technique when being in an unfamiliar place. Her eyes landed on a man across the room and her breath caught in her throat.

  “Your Grace, may I offer you a drink?”

  She held up her hand to decline, vaguely aware that she may have been rude, but she was impossibly fixated on one person. The man who had saved her life. As she crossed the room, she realized she could be mistaken. She could be imagining him. Thinking of him so often had a strange effect on her. She found herself almost subconsciously looking for him everywhere she traveled.

  When she was a few feet from him, he took a sip of his drink and then turned his head toward her. Their eyes connected. She remembered those kind eyes, eyes of strength and compassion.

  “Is it you?” she asked.

  “Your Grace.” He bowed to her.

  “What is your name?” She had to know before he disappeared again. A swell of emotion and questions rose up inside her.

  “Casimir Cullen.”

  Casimir. A regal name. His voice set off a sensation in her stomach, and excitement spiraled throughout her body. “Do you remember...” She didn’t know how to finish her thought. He had to remember that night. Anyone who had lived through it would have it seared into their memory.

  She had thought, upon their reunion, her protector would grab her, hug her to him, and now she realized, she had pictured him kissing her, banding his arms around her and making her feel safe for the first time in weeks.

  “I remember.”

  She would have to settle for being the target of his warm, intense gaze. But the effect was much the same. “I’ve been trying to find you.”

  He inclined his head and Serena glanced at the person he had been speaking to. More specifically, the woman he had been speaking to. This was the king’s dinner party. Was Casimir here with his wife? Why did that thought devastate her? Her entire being should be focused on grieving for her father and sister, and trying to wrap her arms around the tremendous tasks ahead of her. Yet part of her clung to Casimir as being something bright and good in her future. It was presumptuous of her to think they had a future.

  “That night was difficult. I have been traveling, trying to clear my head,” he said.

  “With your wife?” she asked, gesturing to the woman standing across from him.

  The woman smiled. “Cas and I aren’t married.” The look she gave him implied she would like to change that at some point.

  Cas. The nickname suggested familiarity and Serena was confused. Was this his girlfriend? Suddenly, her mind was reeling from a barrage of thoughts. What was he doing here? How did he know King Warrington?

  The king of Rizari. Serena’s heart dropped and she felt sickened. She was at the palace to spend time with King Warrington and she was fixating on Casimir. She glanced around the room. As if reading her thoughts, Casimir spoke.

  “The king has not yet arrived.”

  The woman giggled. “He tends to be late. You know the type.”

  Serena didn’t know the type or understand the reason for the laughter, and while his tardiness might have been rude, she was grateful he had not yet arrived. It had given her this moment with Casimir. “Casimir, could I speak with you alone for a minute?”

  The woman frowned but stepped away. Serena walked toward the double-wide glass patio doors. Casimir followed her, as did her guards. Casimir opened the doors and led her outside.

  “I have so many questions,” Serena said.

  “Please ask them. I told you I was yours to call upon.”

  He had said those words and yet he had disappeared without giving his name. “Do you live in Rizari?” she asked.

  “I do not. I live in Icarus, but I travel frequently throughout the Mediterranean.”

  Many follow-up questions came to mind. “What were you doing in Acacia?” Serena asked. She wanted to know everything about this man. Everything.

  “Acacia is known for their world-class boat making and I am having one built. My friend Fiona,” he gestured inside to the woman he’d been speaking with, “knew I was in town and invited me to your father’s birthday party as her guest.”

  His story made sense. Acacia’s boat-building history dated back a thousand years. Most of the royal naval fleet had been assembled in Acacia. To hear him refer to his companion as a friend soothed some of her worry. “I am pleased you recognize quality.”

  He glanced at her lips and then his gaze skimmed down her body. “I recognize it.” His meaning was decidedly sensual.

  “I have wanted to thank you for what you did that night. I don’t recall if I did at the time.”

  She didn’t want the conversation to circle around the worst night of her life. Serena struggled with her grief and anger over what had happened. Yet, she felt it was important to acknowledge what he had done and express her gratitude.

  “I did what any man would have.”

  Except that he had done what no one else had. “My guards had left me.” Before becoming the heir apparent to the throne she had only traveled with one guard. That night she’d had two, but they had been trying to stop the gunfire and in the chaos, they lacked the training to execute the proper response.

  “Their mistake,” Casimir said.

  A mistake that could have cost her her life. Her uncle was reviewing and changing security measures to ensure nothing like it happened again. “You owe me nothing. But I want to know more about you.”

  “Your Grace, you may ask me anything you wish,” Casimir said.

  It was a cool evening and Serena noticed she could not see or smell the sea from the palace. “What do you do? I mean, besides saving the lives of princesses?”

  He grinned. “My father owns a financial services company. He and I recently parted ways. A life of numbers and spreadsheets bored me. Until I figure out what I want to do next, I’ve been traveling, studying and having fun.”

  She didn’t want to ask, but she needed to know about his relationship with King Warrington. She was aware, of course, that nothing could come of her attraction to Casimir. The king was courting her. This could be the only night she had with Casimir. The idea was beyond depressing. “How do you know King Warrington?”

  “He and I have been traveling in the same social circles for years. Fiona invited me here tonight. I didn’t realize you’d be in attendance.”

  Serena felt a mix of emotions about Casimir’s connection to King Warrington. She almost wished no one in Rizari had known Casimir, that he could exist in some space with her where they would be free to have a friendship without the interference of others. A strange notion, since she was not a possessive woman. Casimir had saved her life. She owed him, not the other way around.

  “Are you pleased to see me?” she asked, trying to understand if he reciprocated any of her feelings.

  Casimir looked over her shoulder and then returned his gaze to meet hers. “Yes. I should not say things like that to the princess, and to King Warrington’s future bride, but yes, I am pleased to see you.”

  Though two of her guards were standing inside the door and another two were on the patio with them, Serena felt the space surrounding her and Casimir closing in on them. “I’ve thought of you often.” An honest admission that could cost her.

  “I have wondered how you were coping. I read that your father and sister’s
send-offs were touching. Many people have had nice memories to share about your father.”

  A water burial, as was tradition in her country, had taken place for both the king and the princess. “I am glad to hear it. I’ve distanced myself from politics and the day-to-day duties of the royal family in recent years. But I’ll be forced into the center of the arena now and I have big shoes to fill.”

  “Why haven’t you been involved in politics recently? I thought that was mandatory for a princess,” he said. He took a seat on a concrete bench with birds carved across the back of it.

  Serena sat next to him, thinking how to frame her answer and not give away what she had been doing while at her beach house. No one except Iliana knew she had been selling her artwork and building her career as a painter. “My sister was to be the queen. I didn’t think my future entailed a throne, so I found other interests to pursue.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  Casimir hadn’t asked about her art directly, but she wanted to tell him. They had shared an experience that had changed her life and now she wanted to share this piece of her life with him. “I like to paint. And do yoga.” She spoke quickly, feeling strangely vulnerable.

  “What do you like to paint?” He sounded both calm and interested without censure in his voice.

  “The sea.” The beautiful sea, a source of calm and joy for her.

  “I’ve never had much success with art. Or yoga. But I’d like to try it.”

  “I could teach you to paint.” She offered quickly, without checking the words before she spoke them. It wasn’t like her to talk without thinking. She wanted a connection with Casimir, something to keep him in her life.

  “Then it’s date. I’ll be in Acacia tomorrow to meet with my boat builder. Do you have time tomorrow?”

  Tomorrow was Boat Day, a national holiday celebrating the water, and her schedule was full, but she would make time. She agreed, both nervous and excited about seeing Casimir again. Though this couldn’t end in a friendship—or something deeper—perhaps another day with her rescuer would satisfy her curiosity and she would stop thinking about him.