by Violet Paige
“I-I was looking at a special collection.”
“You worked? After last night?” Her eyes bulged.
Lying didn’t feel like the right thing. My stomach twisted, but I continued to protect the truth.
“It was a rare collection,” I explained. “I thought this might be my only chance to see it.”
She sighed. “Only you would do something like that.” She eyed me suspiciously. “What outfit is that?”
I bit my lip. “Oh, it’s something D—I mean, he gave it to me.”
“Really? You look so elegant. Sexy and proper at the same time.” She winked.
I wondered if that’s what Damon had thought. I blushed, remembering our walk to the royal library. I wondered if he had discovered by now I had left. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed. He had world leaders to entertain. The house manager had made that clear.
“How was your night?” I asked.
She sighed, throwing herself back on her pillows. “Amazing.”
“That good?”
She nodded. “It was more than amazing. I wish I could relive it. Or that I had a picture. Something to remember it. Anything.”
I saw the way she looked at my clothes. I hadn’t thought of them as a souvenir, but in her eyes, they were. Proof that I had spent the night at the palace.
“I’m sorry. But you had a good time? That’s what counts, right? You checked it off your Galona bucket list.”
I wished I had something to give her. A coin from The Titan. A cocktail napkin. Something that said we had been there.
“I did. More than once.” She giggled. The curiosity was killing me. I wanted to know who it was, but unless she volunteered I couldn’t ask. I also realized that would open me up to more sharing, and I didn’t want to trade stories. “Now that you’re home safely, I think I’m going to take a nap. I’m kind of exhausted.” She smiled sweetly.
I paused in her doorway. “Brooklyn?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks for talking me into it.” I closed the door behind me and left her to her nap.
13
Damon
It was dark. My tie draped around my neck. We had been at it for hours.
I motioned for the server to walk over.
“Your majesty?”
“Please bring dinner. Whatever the chef recommends,” I instructed.
“Yes, sir.” He bowed and disappeared through one of the service doors that led to a tunnel system. It wound throughout the palace, connecting rooms where no one would have imagined a link.
“Paul.” I exhaled. “We are down to three points. Let’s have a drink while we wait for dinner to arrive. We can cut one of these things during that time.”
My patience had run out. I was fucking tired of his stalling. I removed my cufflinks, shoved them in my pocket, and rolled my sleeves to my forearms. My muscles strained against the starched shirt.
I rose and walked to the standing bar, waving off one of the servants.
“Bourbon?” I offered, holding up my favorite decanter.
Paul leaned in his chair. “I remember you were a bourbon man. I seemed to remember it’s American bourbons you prefer?”
“Yes.” I lifted the crystal lid. “I consider them steeped in something a little darker than our Scottish friends can provide.”
Maybe a few drinks would loosen his hold on the trade negotiations. He refused wine at lunch. Ignored cocktail hour. Now we were into dinner. Something had to give.
I placed it in front of the prime minister.
His mustache lifted when he smiled. “This is a good bourbon.”
I held the growl in. Of course it was. I didn’t serve cheap piss, and I never drank it. These were the moments when it was hard to be diplomatic. The bastard wanted to be courted and seduced. His chain of islands was dependent on my ports. The problem was, Galona was just as dependent on the revenue from the island cargo.
We were at a fucking impasse.
“Paul, our taxes are lower than anything the French or Spanish will give you. You know that.”
He nodded, drinking my bourbon. “Portugal has made an offer,” he stated.
“What? Since when have they been a player in this?” I felt the anger breaking through my calm exterior. I was ready to crush the glass in my hand. He had been fucking with me all day.
“I can’t ignore an opportunity.”
“We have had a long-standing agreement. And our trade goes well beyond financial gains. We are allies in many ways.”
He raised his eyebrows. “We are. We have history.”
“I also expect that to mean we have a future. You don’t have that with Portugal.”
“They are extending pearl activity.”
I scoffed. “Pearls? That’s what this is about? You want access to our oyster reefs.”
He nodded. “You know the situation in the islands. They’ve been over-harvested. It’s going to take decades to reclaim the oyster beds. We have dedicated funds going to science, but I don’t know that we have that kind of time. We’re known for our pearls.”
I scratched the back of my head. It was a slippery slope. Allowing the Bostiques into our waters would require heavy regulation. I’d need to speak to our own environmental team. Consult our conservationists. I wouldn’t destroy Galona just to keep a shipping contract.
Just then the service entry opened and a waiter appeared with a cart of food. He rolled toward us, presenting the trays.
Our discussion paused while the food was laid out in front of us, along with a bottle of Spanish wine. I knew the chef had paired it with the meal.
Paul grinned. “Please, let’s eat.”
Fuck. I was never getting out of here.
***
The lights in the first floor rooms were dim by the time the prime minister left for his hotel. The ballroom doors were locked. The library was dark. I walked to the residence elevator.
There was a quick salute from security before I entered the carriage.
I turned on the light as soon as I arrived in the residence. I didn’t expect it to be quiet. I didn’t expect it to be empty.
I expected to see Molly.
I checked the balcony before combing my suite. I reached for the royal line.
“Sutcliffe,” I snapped.
“Yes, your majesty.”
“Where is Miss Washington?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Miss Washington?”
I exhaled. “My guest, Sutcliffe. Where is she?”
“Oh. The young woman wandering around the palace.”
I clenched my fist. “Where is she?”
“Sir, we had no instructions. Security followed royal protocol.”
I gritted my teeth. “What does that mean exactly?”
“She left, your majesty.”
The irritation made the vein in my temple throb. “Why didn’t you ask my input?”
“Sir, it seemed as if the meeting with the prime minister was in a delicate state. And again, we had no instructions. I couldn’t be certain she was your guest. She was not on the royal roster. How did I know she wasn’t a lost tourist?”
Fuck the royal roster. I sat on the edge of my desk. I hadn’t left instructions. I had expected the security to let her back into the residence. I expected common sense. They saw her leave with me this morning. But they were like statues. They rarely looked around them. I wondered just how safe I was with guards who were so clearly fucking oblivious.
I closed my eyes. Where in the hell was she?
“How did she leave?” I quizzed the palace manager.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“I need to know when she left. How she left. And where she is now.”
“Sir, it’s after midnight,” he complained.
I looked at my watch. I didn’t give a shit what time it was. It was his fault she was gone.
“I expect the information to be included in the lodestar. On my desk before I reach my office tomorrow morning.”
“
Yes— ”
Damn it. I needed another drink if I was going to make it through this night. Molly was supposed to be mine now. I didn’t even know I wanted her before last night. How the fuck had I lost her so quickly?
I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling on the ends in frustration. “Early,” I pressed. “I want the lodestar early.”
“Certainly.”
I hung up, not satisfied with the information I had. Not satisfied about a fucking thing that had happened since the morning.
This morning I had Molly.
14
Molly
The alarm chirped. I pulled the covers close to my shoulders. I was warm in my little cocoon. I had been dreaming. I tried to pull the dream back to focus, but it was fuzzy. The edges came and left my consciousness. And then I saw them. The dark eyes. The lust of Damon’s piercing stare.
My breath caught. I squeezed my eyes together tightly. My core fluttered remembering that look. I’d never forget it. Along with his voice in my ear. It rattled me. Unlocked something in me that wanted to break free.
I sighed when the snooze ended and the alarm chirped again.
“Fine,” I groaned. I tapped my phone, and slid my feet to the floor. I had a lot of work to make up after I disappeared yesterday.
The back of my throat tightened. I didn’t want to admit I was disappointed. How foolish could I be to think the king was going to track down my phone number or show up on my doorstep overnight? I had to stop thinking that way and accept I had an incredible memory to relive anytime I wanted. Nothing more.
I walked to the shower. I brushed my teeth before stepping into the tub. The curtain was chained to the ceiling and only covered one side of the tub. It didn’t matter. There was a small radius where the water splashed. I had to stand in just the right spot to wash my hair or else I’d never get all the shampoo and conditioner out.
I performed my morning ritual, although I didn’t feel as routine as I did before The Titan. Something was different.
I tipped my head back, letting the water pour through my long hair. The angle reminded me how Damon yanked the nape of my neck, pushing me into submission. There was something entirely erotic about giving my control over to him. But it was a give and take. I’d never experienced anything where my body craved giving as much as needing to be pleasured. I felt my body heat from the inside out remembering how I begged him to give me more. I’d never done that.
I finished rinsing off and stepped from the shower, wrapping a towel around my chest. I pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. I twisted my hair in a bun and poked a pencil through. It could dry later.
The apartment was quiet. Brooklyn was still sleeping.
I started the coffee and turned on the TV. I froze when I saw the same pair of eyes that were in my dream.
“The king has been in closed door meetings with the prime minister of the Bostique Islands for the second straight day,” the reporter stated. “We expect a full briefing from the palace this afternoon.”
I sat on the loveseat, careful not to disturb my rows of notecards. I hadn’t touched them since arriving home.
A picture of Damon flashed on the screen along with the prime minister.
“A palace spokesperson has confirmed the prime minister’s trip has been extended.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Part of me felt a sweeping sense of relief. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten me. Maybe the country’s work had prevented him from returning. But that was naïve hope creeping in. Trying to convince me that my one night with the king had been more than fantasy.
The reporter stood in front of the palace at the main gates, not by the private entrance I had used. “Sources close to the king say that trade with Bostique is at risk unless the king can turn the talks around. The Islands accounts for twenty percent of our trade economy, so this meeting is critical for all of Galona’s citizens. We will broadcast the palace announcement live.”
I blinked. That sounded serious. I turned the volume up and walked back to the kitchen. The coffee was ready. I didn’t want to miss any of the reports.
It was silly, but I was desperate for more glimpses of him. Maybe a sound bite. Video footage of him walking the palace grounds or in meetings with the prime minister.
I poured the coffee into my I heart Freychon mug. It was nothing like the delicate china cup I sipped from yesterday on the balcony. The mugs were one of the first things Brooklyn and I bought when we moved. We had a matching pair.
I returned to the love seat. The report now focused on the Bostique Islands. There were scenes from their sugar cane fields. Apparently, Galona imported ninety percent of its sugar from the prime minister’s country. The Galonian government was dependent on these tiny islands for huge trade profits. The country’s economic future would be determined based on these negotiations.
I watched old news clips from previous meetings between the two leaders. Damon hadn’t once implied his meeting was as critical as the reporter claimed. He had been calm. He didn’t rush my tour of the library. I never would have guessed this was going on.
I wondered if that made him a good leader. He was hard to read. He could present one side, while concealing his emotions. Or did that make him unreliable? Unpredictable? Maybe even dangerous?
“What’s going on?” Brooklyn emerged from her room. “Did something happen?” She yawned.
“No. I’m just watching the news.” I hadn’t looked away. I was absorbed in the intricacies of the relationship between the two countries.
She staggered to the kitchen. “Thank God there’s coffee.”
I nodded absently.
“Oh, it’s the king?” She sat next to me with a steaming mug.
I didn’t respond.
“What are they saying?” she asked.
“Trade meetings. Sugar taxes. That kind of thing.” I acted as if the details of trade tax bored me. And under any other circumstance, it did.
“Oh?” She lifted the mug to her lips. “I didn’t know you were interested in Galona politics.” I saw the smirk behind the coffee mug.
“There’s nothing wrong with taking interest in the country that is currently our home.” I felt defensive. As if I had been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
“Mmmhmm. And it happens that the king is hot as fuck.”
“Brooklyn.” I eyed her.
“You’re not going to tell me anything? Really?”
“We can’t.”
She huffed. “You’re not serious about the contract. I was planning on telling you, anyway.”
“We shouldn’t.”
“Mol, it’s not like security from The Titan is going to break in here and arrest us. It’s us. We can tell each other anything we want. Screw them.”
The news cut away to the weather. I didn’t know how long it would be until the press conference. I needed to stop procrastinating and focus on my notecards. I was losing time. I turned the TV off.
“You’re not going to watch?” She looked surprised.
“It doesn’t matter. I have work to do. We both knew what we signed up for. That night is over, and talking about it doesn’t get me any closer to completing my dissertation.”
“I wish you would stop being practical and just admit that you had fun and that something might have happened.” Her eyebrows rose.
“It’s not worth talking about. I’m going to the library.”
I scooped the cards off the couch and shoved them in a bag. I couldn’t stay in the apartment and deal with her prodding. I couldn’t deal with the temptation to turn on the TV again and watch the press conference, hoping for a glance of Damon. His Royal Highness, I mentally corrected myself.
“Mol, come on. Don’t leave.”
I grabbed the keys from the hook next to the door and slung my messenger bag over my shoulder. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Hope you have a good day. Maybe you’ll see a job posting you like.”
She rolled her eyes and I locked the door behind me
.
The library would be quiet. No TV. No phones. And no traces of the king.
15
Damon
The lodestar was detailed. Sutcliffe had included more information than I asked for. I sat behind my desk, reading the details of Molly Washington’s life. There were posts from her social media accounts. Copies of her transcripts.
There was an abundance of facts. What was missing was the spaces in between. Her stories. Her words. The colors of her experience. This black and white piece of paper didn’t have that. So far she was like one of my abstract paintings.
According to the account, Georgan had driven her home late afternoon.
I picked up the royal line.
“Sir?”
“Have Georgan escort Miss Washington to my residence.”
Sutcliffe exhaled. “Your Highness, you have continued meetings this morning. The press conference will be highly televised. The palace has precise focus this morning.”
My eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask for your input. I asked for Miss Washington to be brought to me.”
“The palace is already surrounded by press. What if someone sees her arrive? Have you thought through this, sir?”
I could almost see his brow sweating. He hated potential scandal. He panicked over the slightest wrinkle in the royal family’s fabric. Dominic caused him countless sleepless nights.
“My business with Miss Washington is not for public consumption. I expect her to be in the royal residence when I’m finished with the prime minister. And I expect our security and your expertise to keep her off the radar.”
I hung up the phone before he could continue his veiled lecture on my personal habits. I don’t know which made him more nervous: my brother’s drinking, or my dealings at the Titan.