Stealing the Promised Princess

by Millie Adams

  “Is this your limousine?”

  He looked around and rolled his shoulders back, settling into the soft leather. “No.”

  “Who are you working for?”

  “I told you. My brother. The King of Monte Blanco.”

  “I don’t even know where that is.”

  She searched her brain, trying to think if she had ever heard of the place. Geography wasn’t her strong suit, but she was fairly well traveled, considering her job required it. Also, she loved it. Loved seeing new places and meeting new people. But Monte Blanco was not on her radar.

  “It’s not exactly a hot tourist destination,” he said.

  “Well.”

  “It’s not my brother’s limousine either, if you are curious. Neither of us would own something so...” His lip curled. “Ostentatious.”

  Old money. She was familiar enough with old money and the disdain that came with it. She was new money. And often, the disdain spilled over onto her. She was flashy. And she was obvious. But her fortune was made by selling beauty. By selling flash. Asking women to draw attention to themselves, telling them that it was all right. To dress for themselves. To put makeup on to please themselves, not necessarily to please men.

  So yes, of course Violet herself was flashy. And if he had an issue with it, he could go... Well, jump out of the limo and onto the busy San Diego Freeway. She would not mourn him.

  “Right. So you’re a snob. A snob who’s somehow involved in a kidnapping plot?” She supposed, again, he could be an actor. Not someone wealthy at all. Somebody hired to play a prank on her.

  Somebody hired to hurt her.

  That thought sent a sliver of dread through her body. She wouldn’t show it. After all, what good were layers of makeup if you couldn’t use them to hide your true face?

  “I’m not a snob. I’m a prince.”

  “Right. Of a country I’ve never heard of.”

  “Your American centric viewpoint is hardly my problem, is it, Ms. King? It seems to me that your lack of education does not speak to my authenticity.”

  “Yes. Well. That is something you would say.” The car was still moving, farther and farther away from where they had originated. And she supposed that she had to face the fact that this might not be a joke. That this man really thought she was going to go back to his country with him. If that country existed. Really, she had nothing but his word for it, and considering that he seemed to think that she was going to marry his brother, he might be delusional on multiple levels.

  “I want to call my dad.”

  “You’re welcome to,” he said, handing her the phone.

  She snatched it from him and dialed her father’s personal number as quickly as possible. Robert King picked up on the second ring.

  “Dad,” she said, launching into her proclamation without preamble. “A madman has bundled me up and put me in his limousine, and he’s claiming that you made a deal with him some decade ago, and I’m supposed to marry his brother?”

  “I didn’t make a deal with your dad,” Javier said. “My brother did.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she hissed. And then she sat there, waiting for her father to respond. With shock, she assumed. Yes, she assumed that he would respond with shock. Because of course this was insane. And of course it was the first time her father was hearing such a thing. Because there was no way he had anything to do with this. “So anyway, if you could just tell him that he’s crazy...”

  She realized how stupid it was the minute she said that. Because of course her father telling Javier he was crazy wouldn’t likely reinforce it if the act of flinging her into his limousine hadn’t done it.

  “Violet...” Her father’s voice was suddenly rough, completely uncharacteristic of the smooth, confident man that she had always looked up to.

  Her father was imperfect. She wasn’t blind to that. The fact that he was completely uninvested in her success was obvious to her. When it came to her brother, he was always happy to talk business. But because her business centered around female things, and she herself was a woman, she could never escape the feeling that her father thought it was some kind of hobby. Something insubstantial and less somehow.

  But surely he wouldn’t... Surely that didn’t mean he saw her as currency.

  “He’s crazy, right?”

  “I never thought that he would follow up on this,” her father said. “And when you reached your twenties and he didn’t... I assumed that there would be no recourse.”

  “You promised me to a king?”

  “It could’ve been worse. I could have promised you to the used car salesman.”

  “You can’t just promise someone else to someone else. I’m a person, not a... A cow.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Violet, I honestly didn’t think that...”

  “I won’t stand for it. I will not do it. What’s to stop me from jumping out of the car right now—” she looked out the window and saw the scenery flying by at an alarming clip, and she knew that that would keep her from jumping out of the car, but her father didn’t need to know that “—and running for freedom?”

  “The businesses. They will go to him.”

  “The businesses?”

  “Yours and mine. Remember we sheltered yours under mine for taxes and...”

  “Maximus’s too?”

  Because if he had sheltered her business, surely he had sheltered her brothers as well...

  “No,” her father said slowly.

  “What’s the real reason you kept mine underneath your corporation? Was it for this?”

  “No. Just that I worried about you. And I thought that perhaps...”

  “Because you don’t think anything of me. You don’t think that I’m equal to Maximus. If you did, then you wouldn’t have done this to me. I can’t believe... I can’t believe you.”

  She could keep on arguing with her father, or she could accept the fact that he had sold her as chattel to a stranger. And with that realization, she knew that she needed to simply get off the phone. There was no redeeming this. Nothing at all that would fix it.

  She had come face-to-face with how little she meant to her father, how little he thought of her.

  She had taken his reaction to Minerva coming home with the baby to mean that he was enlightened, but that wasn’t it at all. Minerva was being traditional, even if she hadn’t had a husband initially when she had brought the baby home.

  Still, he would rather have seen Minerva, in all her quirky glory, with a baby, than see Violet as a serious businesswoman.

  There was no talking to him. She stared across the limo at the man who had taken her captive, and she realized...

  That he was a saner option than arguing with her father.

  She hung up the phone.

  “So you are telling the truth.”

  “I have no investment in lying to you,” Javier said. “I also have no investment in this deal as a whole. My brother has asked that I retrieve you, and so I have done it.”

  “So, you’re a Saint Bernard, then?”

  A flash of icy amusement shot through his dark eyes, the corner of his mouth curving up in a humorless smile. “You will find that I am not so easily brought to heel, I think.”

  “And yet here you are,” she said. “Doing the bidding of someone else.”

  “Of my king. For my country. My brother and I have been the stronghold standing between Monte Blanco and total destruction for over a decade. My father was always a dictator, but his behavior spiraled out of control toward the end of his life. We were the only thing that kept his iron fist from crushing our people. And now we seek to rebuild. Who my brother wants as his choice of bride is his business. And if you’ll excuse me... I don’t care one bit for your American sensibilities. For your money. For your achievements. I care only that he has asked for you, an
d so I will bring you to him.”

  “Good boy,” she said.

  His movements were like liquid fury. One minute he was sitting across from her in the limousine, and the other he was beside her. He gripped her chin and held her fast, forcing her to look into his eyes. But there was no anger there. It was black, and it was cold. And it was the absence of all feeling that truly terrified her.

  She did not think he would hurt her.

  There was too much control in his hold. He was not causing her any pain. She could feel the leashed strength at the point where his thumb and forefinger met her chin.

  “I am loyal,” he said. “But I am not good. The cost of keeping my country going, the cost of my subterfuge has been great. Do not ever make the mistake of thinking that I’m good.”

  And then he withdrew from her. It was like she had imagined it. Except she shivered with the cold from those eyes, so she knew she hadn’t.

  “How are you going to make me get on the plane?”

  “I will carry you,” he said. “Or you could get on with your own two feet. Your father won’t harbor you. I assume that he told you as much. So there’s no use you running back home, is there?”

  She was faced then with a very difficult decision. Because he was right—she could try to run away. But he would overpower her. And she had a feeling that no one would pay much attention to what would look like a screaming match between two rich people, culminating with her being carried onto a private plane. They were far too adjacent to Hollywood for anybody to consider that out of the ordinary.

  And even if she did escape... Her father had verified what he’d said. Her father saw nothing wrong with using her to get out of a bad situation. He had sacrificed not only her, but her livelihood.

  “You’re not going to hurt me,” she said. And she searched those eyes for something. All right, he’d said that he wasn’t good. But she had a feeling that he was honest. Otherwise, there would have been no reason for him to tell her he wasn’t good, except to hit back at her, and she had a feeling that wasn’t it. That wasn’t why.

  There was more to it than that.

  Somehow she knew that if she asked this question, he would answer. Even if the answer was yes, he was going to hurt her. He had no reason to lie to her, that was the thing. She was at his mercy and he knew it.

  “No,” he said. “I swear to you that no harm will come to you. My brother intends to make you his bride, not his slave. And as far as I go... I’m your protector, Violet, not your enemy. I have been charged with transporting you back to Monte Blanco and if I were to allow any harm to come to you, you can rest assured that my brother would see me rotting in my father’s favorite dungeon.”

  “Your father had a favorite dungeon?”

  “More than one, actually.”

  “Wow.”

  She didn’t know why she felt mollified by his assurance that he wouldn’t hurt her. Especially not considering he had just said his father had a favorite dungeon. But he made it clear that he and his brother weren’t like their father. So if she could believe that...

  It was insane that she believed him. But the thing was, he hadn’t lied to her. Not once. Her father had tricked her. Had made her believe that the life she was living was different than the one she actually had. That their relationship was different.

  But this man had never lied.

  Her world felt turned upside down, and suddenly, her kidnapper seemed about the most trustworthy person.

  A sad state of affairs.

  The car halted on the tarmac, and there was a plane. It didn’t look like a private charter, because it was the size of a commercial jet.

  But the royal crest on the side seemed to indicate that it was in fact his jet.

  Or his brother’s. However that worked.

  “This way,” he said, getting out of the limousine and holding the door for her.

  The driver had gotten out and stood there feebly. “I think he was going to hold the door,” she said, looking up at Javier.

  Her heart scampered up into her throat as her eyes connected with his again. Looking at him was like getting hit with a force. She had never experienced anything quite like it.

  It wasn’t simply that he was beautiful—though he was—it was the hardness to him. The overwhelming feeling of rampant masculinity coming at her like a testosterone-fueled train.

  Admittedly, she was not exposed to men like him all that often. Not in her line of work.

  She actually hadn’t been certain that men like him existed.

  Well, there was her brother-in-law, Dante, who was a hard man indeed, but still, he looked approachable in comparison to Javier.

  This man was like a throwback from a medieval era. The circumstances of her meeting him—the ones where she was being sold into marriage pit debt—certainly contributing to this feeling.

  “Too bad for him,” Javier shot back. “I don’t wait.”

  And that, she concluded, was her signal to get out of the limo. She decided to take her time. Because he might not wait, but she did not take orders.

  And if she was going to retain any kind of power in the situation, she had better do it now. Hoard little pieces of it as best she could, because he wasn’t going to give her any. No. So she would not surrender what she might be able to claim.

  “Good to know.” She made small micromovements, sliding across the seat and then flexing her ankles before her feet made contact with the ground. Then she scooted forward a bit more, put her hands on her knees.

  And he stood there, not saying anything.

  She stood, and as she did so, he bent down, and her face came within scant inches of his. She forgot to breathe. But she did not forget to move. She pitched herself forward and nearly came into contact with the asphalt. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. Her shoulder blades came into stark contact with his hard chest. It all lasted only a moment, because he released her and allowed her to stand on her own feet as soon as she was steady. But she could still feel him. The impression of him. Burning her.

  “If I walk on my own two feet to the airplane, it is not a kidnapping, is it?”

  “I’m certainly not married to the narrative of it being a kidnapping. Call it whatever you need to.”

  She straightened her shoulders and began to walk toward the plane.

  Toward her doom.

  Violet didn’t know which it was.

  But she did know that she was going to have to find her control in this, one way or another.

  Even if it were only in the simple act of carrying herself aboard the plane.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JAVIER STUDIED THE woman sitting across from him. Her rage had shrunk slightly and was now emanating off her in small waves rather than whole tsunamis.

  She had not accepted a drink, and he had made a show of drinking in front of her, to prove that no one was attempting to poison her, or whatever she seemed to imagine.

  He was going to have to have words with Matteo once he arrived in Monte Blanco. “You might want to lower your shields,” he said.

  “Sure,” she said. “Allow me to relax. In front of the man who is holding me against my will.”

  “Remember, you walked on your own two feet to the airplane, which you felt was the difference between a kidnapping and an impromptu vacation.”

  “It’s a kidnapping,” she said. “And I’ll have some champagne.”

  “Now that you’ve watched me drink a glass and a half and are satisfied that I’m not going to fall down dead?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Why are you in a temper now when you were fine before?”

  “This is absurd. I haven’t been able to check my social media for hours.”

  “Is that a problem for you?”

  “It’s my entire business
,” she said. “It’s built off that. Off connectivity. And viral posts. If I can’t make posts, I can’t go viral.”

  “That sounds like something you would want to avoid.”

  “You’re being obtuse. Surely you know what going viral means.”

  “I’ve heard it,” he said. “I can’t say that I cared to look too deeply into it. The internet is the least of our concerns in Monte Blanco.”

  “Well, it’s one of my primary concerns, considering it’s how I make my living. All fine for you to be able to ignore it, but I can’t.”

  “Also not going to allow you to post from the plane. Anyway. We don’t have Wi-Fi up here.”

  “How do you not have Wi-Fi? Every airplane has that.”

  “My father didn’t have it installed. And my brother has not seen the use for it.”

  “I find that hard to believe. He’s running a country.”

  “Again. That is not a primary concern in my country. You may find that we have different priorities than you.”

  “Do you have electricity?” she asked, in what he assumed was mock horror.

  “We have electricity.”

  “Do you live in a moldering castle?”

  “It’s quite a bit less moldering than when my brother took the throne. But it is a bit medieval, I’m not going to lie.”

  “Well. All of this is a bit medieval, isn’t it?”

  “I felt it was quite modern, given you weren’t traded for a pair of sheep.”

  “No. Just my father’s gambling debt, extracted from him when he was drunk. What kind of man is your brother that he would do that?”

  “I would say honorable. But his primary concern is the country, and while I don’t know what his ultimate plans are for you, or why he wants you specifically, I do know there is a reason. One thing I know about him is that he has his reasons.”

  “Woof,” she said.

  In spite of himself, amusement tightened his stomach. And that was the last thing he expected to feel at her insolence. She had no idea who he was. He was a weapon. A human blade.

  And she... She taunted him.

  He was used to women reacting to him with awe. Sometimes they trembled with fear, but in a way that they seemed to enjoy. He was not blind to the effect he had on women. No indeed. He was a powerful man. A man with a title. A man with wealth.