The Formidable King

by Alyssa J. Montgomery

  Eden may have been deceived initially into thinking India was a suitable young woman to volunteer at her foundation, but if she’d met her on a regular basis, she was astute enough to have seen through any deception and work out this woman’s real character. There was not a snowflake’s chance in hell that his sister would’ve taken tea on a regular basis with Miss Hamilton. The MD of the Princess Eden Foundation sat there and lied bald-faced, knowing Eden wasn’t alive to refute the claim.

  He unfurled the fist that his right hand had formed and swallowed down on the bitter taste that filled his mouth.

  ‘You did volunteer work for the foundation.’ He spoke slowly, half-disbelieving her claim. ‘Did you volunteer part-time while studying for your degree?’

  She sat straighter. ‘No.’

  He felt his eyes narrow. ‘When did you obtain your management degree?’

  ‘I didn’t.’ Her chin jutted forward defensively. ‘I’ve never been to university.’

  What? ‘Then how are you qualified to be the managing director of a foundation that distributes millions of dollars each year to international charities?’

  ‘I didn’t realise I was called here because my qualifications were in question,’ she said frostily.

  ‘You weren’t. But—’

  ‘Is there some aspect of my management you’re unhappy with?’

  Damn her! He wished he could call her out on a dozen aspects of her management, but all reports indicated she was doing fabulous job. He shifted against the edge of the desk. Few people he’d come across had ever been so forthright, or made him feel as though he was the one on the back foot, as he launched an attack. ‘Miss Hamilton, I’m patron of the foundation. I’m astonished that someone your age—and with no academic qualifications—’ not to mention one he knew to be in possession of few morals, ‘—holds such a responsible position.’

  ‘If you’ve had concerns, why not initiate a meeting earlier? I’ve held this position for two years and this is the first time you’ve bothered to meet with me,’ she pointed out coolly.

  Guilt stabbed through him. He should’ve paid more personal attention to his sister’s foundation, but his advice had been that it was running smoothly, and Eden had always had complete faith in her board of directors. With so many demands on his time, it’d been easy to accept that all was well with the charity and fix his attention on matters that were of more direct interest to the kingdom. His lack of scrutiny had also been a way of distancing himself and avoiding the guilt and raw loss he still felt whenever he thought of his sister.

  ‘And as for being young,’ she continued with a slight toss of her hair, ‘weren’t you crowned and in charge of the kingdom at just twenty-one?’

  His lips compressed. Despite her other less than savoury qualities, India Hamilton was sharp, confident and spirited. No wonder she’d impressed the board—but then, the best con artists generally possessed loads of confidence.

  Ignoring the parallels she drew between them, he continued his inquisition. ‘How were you employed prior to joining the foundation as a volunteer?’

  Her jaw clenched, making her high cheekbones even more prominent. ‘I didn’t have any paid employment prior to signing up for volunteer work.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘None whatsoever?’

  ‘No.’ There was no apology in her tone, but there was plenty of antagonism in her eyes and the set of her mouth.

  Gabe’s thoughts shot back to the woman he’d married and his gut roiled. Angelique had been a completely self-absorbed princess who’d never had to lift a finger in her life. The only responsibilities she’d held were in the order of making sure she saw a manicurist as soon as she chipped one of her polished fingernails.

  Flicking a contemptuous look at the woman who sat before him, he likened her to his former wife. Perhaps Miss Hamilton enjoyed the prestige of her position at the charity, and rubbing shoulders with the upper echelons of society as she organised the fundraising. ‘You were twenty when you began your volunteer work, but with no previous employment and no tertiary education?’ he hammered.

  ‘That’s right,’ she confirmed stonily.

  ‘What did you do before that?’

  Her eyes were still hard, but she sent him a forced smile. ‘I travelled.’

  Of course she had. It was just as he thought. She’d no doubt flitted from one party spot to another—one ski slope or beach to another. And now that he’d called her to account for her idle lifestyle, she had the temerity to look affronted. Well, he’d be damned if he’d apologise for upsetting her. No way would she have been his sister’s friend. India Hamilton was more likely to have been a kindred spirit for his late wife.

  ‘You come from a wealthy background that afforded you the luxury of not having to seek paid employment?’

  ‘My family was not as wealthy as yours, Your Majesty.’

  Very few families were. Still, she hadn’t answered his question.

  Khalid and Marco had been told by an acquaintance of theirs from Eton days that the masquerade ball was to be one for high society—old money and the nouveau riche—with an exclusive and confidential guest list. India’s family must be wealthy for her to have been invited, and to afford her the rich, travelling lifestyle without having had to lift a finger to earn her own income.

  ‘What do your parents do?’

  ‘Both my parents have passed away, but they did a lot of voluntary work too.’

  This, again, told him nothing. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he muttered.

  She’d belonged to London’s idle rich set. Had the money dried up when her parents had died? It disturbed him to know she had access to millions of dollars annually through the foundation.

  She’d lied to him at the ball in saying she’d return. He was certain she was lying about her relationship with his sister. She might be lying about a whole lot of other things.

  Was she using her position to skim money from the charity to fund her social life, or had she taken the position in order to find rich lovers?

  ‘What made you change your circumstances to obtain paid employment?’

  ‘My reasons are personal, however I will point out that the money I earn from the foundation is donated straight back to the organisation.’

  He made a mental note to have Michael check that detail.

  She bit down on her lip for a second before a couple of fine lines became evident on her forehead. ‘I can’t help feeling I’m facing a rather antagonistic inquisition here and I don’t understand why.’

  Damned right she was, but he wasn’t going to elaborate on his reasons.

  ‘Your circumstances of going from being a volunteer to managing director are quite impressive.’ He allowed his tone to imply he was more suspicious than impressed.

  ‘There’s no mystery about it, Your Majesty.’ She stood abruptly and flags of red appeared along her cheeks. ‘I worked my way up through the ranks in the office for five years and knew every aspect of the organisation firsthand. Eventually, I received a directorship. Once I was on the board, the directors voted unanimously that I become the managing director,’ she told him with a touch of pride. Her mouth tightened before she challenged, ‘Tell me, Your Majesty, what degree do you think I should have obtained to be qualified for my position? In fact, what degree did you obtain to make you qualified for the running of a kingdom?’

  Of all the disrespectful, impertinent...

  The antagonism, which had previously been veiled, was right out in the open now.

  Gabriel thought about pulling her close and kissing those lush lips into silence.

  Shocked at his reaction, he told her coldly, ‘I was trained for my position from birth.’

  The sound that emerged from her mouth couldn’t be classified as a laugh. It was more of a scoffing noise. ‘As was I,’ she said cryptically.

  ‘Really?’ Bullshit! ‘How is one trained from birth to run an international charity foundation?’

  ‘In a way someone born
to your position would never relate to nor understand.’

  Gabe bit back his retort as the door opened and Michael entered, wheeling a tea trolley. The assistant hesitated for a moment, probably noting the hostility in the atmosphere and wondering what he’d interrupted. Gabriel was renowned for his diplomacy, yet he stood glaring at this woman while she glared right back at him, neither of them acknowledging Michael.

  No wonder his assistant was perplexed. It was even difficult for Gabriel to understand or accept that this official meeting had degenerated into a barbed, personal slanging match. In all his years as monarch, he’d never behaved with such lack of diplomacy.

  India Hamilton brought out a side of him that he didn’t recognise. Why?

  His conscience berated him. You know very well you despise her for making a fool of you at the ball and leaving you in favour of the sultan’s son. And you despise her because you’re still attracted to her. Even knowing she lied to you back then and she’s still lying to you, you’re attracted to her. Despite the crowd she socialises with, you still want her...

  No! He couldn’t still want her. He simply wanted to expose her for who she was—an individual who had no business running his late sister’s charity. But even as he made the claim, he knew he was lying to himself. Physically, India Hamilton was everything a man could possibly desire.

  Despite the haughty way she held her head and the fire shooting from her eyes, she was nervous. It showed in the way her long, elegant fingers fidgeted with the straps of her black briefcase.

  The brilliant sparkle of a huge, solitaire diamond ring on the ring finger of her left hand flashed at him.

  Inexplicably, his chest cramped.

  A diamond.

  A huge diamond.

  A huge diamond, but no band of gold.

  So the party-loving playgirl was engaged but still unmarried. The little tease must’ve found her pot of gold.

  Why the hell does that matter? he asked himself. Your encounter with her was six years ago and all too brief. There are other more pressing issues here that require investigation. What does it matter if she’s engaged to be married?

  It mattered.

  It shouldn’t, but it did.

  It mattered because she’d caused extreme turmoil in his life. In the brief hours they’d been together at the ball, she’d played with his emotions—made him believe she was something special; someone for whom it was worth abandoning all his principles of honour and getting to know in private.

  Hell! He’d contemplated getting to know her and reneging on his betrothal to Angelique. Worse, he hadn’t even been able to put her out of his head when he’d uttered his vows and taken his wife to bed.

  It also mattered because some other poor fool had obviously been taken in by her and had no idea she wasn’t what she seemed.

  A muscle twitched in his cheek as he made a decision.

  Never mind that she was engaged.

  Never mind their encounter had been years ago.

  India Hamilton needed to be taught a lesson and her true colours needed to be exposed.

  The ultimate lesson would be to lure her with his wealth and position, enjoy a torrid affair with her, have her burn her bridges with her fiancé, then snatch the pot of gold away from her and leave her out in the cold—just as she’d left him.

  If he got close to her, he could also find out what her motivation was behind her directorship of the Princess Eden Foundation. If there was the slightest hint of her misappropriating funds or mismanaging the charity, she’d find herself out of her position.

  Was his plan honourable?

  It was honourable to expose her to her fiancé if she was a gold-digger, he reasoned. Besides, he had a moral obligation to the Princess Eden Foundation to ensure it wasn’t being mismanaged.

  Just for a moment, his conscience stung as he realised that the end result might be warranted, but the vengeful motivation wasn’t principled. As for having an affair with her—there was nothing admirable about the desire which slammed through him every time he looked at her.

  Tension and uncertainty coiled in his gut.

  This wasn’t how he behaved.

  Honour was the very code he lived by and his plan wasn’t honourable. India Hamilton was a woman who was engaged to be married. There was a slight chance he was judging her on pieces of circumstantial evidence that didn’t paint the whole picture.

  Possibly. But if she’s truly in love with her fiancé and not a gold-digger, she’ll never consider having an affair. If she can be swayed away from the man she’s consented to marry by a larger fortune and the possibility of a title, you’ll be doing her fiancé a favour.

  And if she’s honest and has no hidden agenda in being Managing Director of the Princess Eden Foundation, she won’t have anything to fear.

  Out of nowhere, a ruthlessness he’d never known raised its sharp blade and with one savage swipe, it struck and wounded his conscience, inciting him to indulge in a steamy affair with India and to take what he’d wanted six years ago.

  His conscience lay bleeding. It stirred, pleading with him to forget his need for revenge. The glint of steel from the blade sliced again, cutting off the last remnants of his indecision. From what he knew of her, India Hamilton didn’t deserve his honour, and he would expose her true colours to the world.

  Chapter 2

  India’s blood pumped hot as she stood glaring at the formidable King of Santaliana.

  By reputation he was an absolute gentleman. Knowing the kindness his sister had shown to everyone around her, and from all Eden had said about her elder brother, India had expected to like Gabriel de la Croix.

  Nothing had prepared her for the monarch who stood opposite her, challenged her lack of formal education and treated her with unwarranted suspicion and disdain. There’d never been a shred of antipathy in any of his emails to her—in fact, all his correspondence had indicated he was grateful for her work, and pleased with her decisions.

  What could have changed his opinion so dramatically?

  When she’d attended Eden’s funeral, she’d only seen King Gabriel from afar. Even with his anguish over his sister’s death scored into his features, he’d still been divinely handsome, and she’d been highly aware of him throughout the entire service. Aware of his masculinity, but also aware of his pain. Although he’d presented a brave monarch’s face, his grief was so tangible, long tentacles of it had reached out to her across the great expanse of the cathedral and enveloped her, his desolation echoing in her chest cavity.

  Only the strict formalities of the royal funeral, and the knowledge that his wife stood by his side, had stopped her from going to him, hugging him close and pouring out to him just how much Eden had meant to her.

  Apart from the chinking of cutlery against china as Michael busied himself with his organisation of the tea trolley, the silence was stifling.

  When she’d first walked into the room, she’d been stunned again by King Gabriel’s irresistibly handsome appearance and his commanding masculine aura. Her steps had faltered and she’d almost forgotten to curtsey. Her first impression had been that he was powerfully built and his extra five inches of height was perfect for a woman of her stature. It struck her that his dark suit was a superficial layer, which encased but couldn’t contain his raw, dynamic energy. Part of her had envied the way the quality fabric of his jacket hugged his broad shoulders so lovingly. Her arms had itched to do the same.

  One look at his handsome masculine features and her mouth had become so dry, her tongue tip had stuck to her palate. It’d taken concerted effort to walk into the room and to focus on the meeting ahead.

  There’d been another formal occasion where she’d found it difficult to breathe in the presence of a man. It’d been the only other time she’d met a man whose height was such a fabulous match to hers. Having always felt like an awkward Amazonian, it was incredible on that occasion to stand beside a man who made her feel petite and feminine for the first time in her life
. That had been in London, a long time ago—an evening she tried desperately to banish from her mind each time she thought of it.

  Gabriel de la Croix might be a perfect match height-wise, but this encounter wasn’t making her feel petite or feminine. Instead, she felt like she had to draw herself up defensively. Rather than making her feel cherished and special like the man in London had, this king made her feel like she needed to grow claws and breathe fire to protect herself from whatever it was he had against her.

  ‘Will you take milk or lemon with your tea, Miss Hamilton?’ Michael’s question dragged her back to the present.

  ‘Lemon, thank you.’

  It was unsettling that she was about to take tea with a man who clearly despised her.

  Trying to curb her confusion and disappointment, she sat back down and accepted the tea from Michael. She wished she could rewind the whole encounter with the king from the moment she’d entered the office. The outcome mightn’t be any different but at least she’d be prepared for meeting an absolutely arrogant ass. As it was, she had to soldier on with the meeting. She’d get through all the agenda items regarding the foundation’s ball, and get out of his office as quickly as possible.

  When the king was settled into a seat opposite her and Michael had left them, she decided to ignore the hostile undercurrent between them. ‘The yacht racing series has been a tremendous success—both in terms of raising funds for the foundation and also in raising our international profile. We’re all very grateful Prince Devereaux proposed the series and dedicated it to our foundation.’

  His nod was somewhat curt, but he was obviously prepared to leave whatever personal hostilities he had aside and get down to business. ‘My brother and his team have done a wonderful job.’

  ‘I trust you’ve received the folio I prepared which summarises the arrangements for the ball?’ It was going to be a massive red-carpet event—a celebration at the conclusion of the international yacht series, which had been held in the name of the foundation.

  ‘I have,’ he told her as he raised his teacup to his mouth. She followed the movement of the strong, tanned column of his neck as he swallowed, then noted the masculinity of his hands—a direct contrast to the fragility of the fine porcelain cup he held. ‘My brother and his fiancée will be in attendance, along with my closest friends, Crown Prince Khalid of Turastan and Prince Marco of Ralvinia. There’ll be a huge royal presence from other houses in Europe as well.’