by Nina Milne
‘I came to see you. April Fotherington wrote an article saying you’d vanished.’
Sunita forced herself not to lean back against the wall in relief. Instead, she maintained her façade of reserve as they stood and studied each other. Against her will, her stomach nosedived and her hormones cartwheeled. Memories of the totally wrong sort streamed through her mind and fizzed through her veins as she drank him in. The same corn-blond hair, the same hazel eyes...
No, not the same. His eyes were now haunted by shadows and his lips no longer turned upward in insouciance. Prince Frederick looked like a man who hadn’t smiled in a while. Little wonder after the loss of his brother and his father, followed by a troubled ascent to the throne.
Instinctively she stepped closer, wanting to offer comfort. ‘I saw the article. But before we discuss that, I’m sorry for your losses. I wanted to send condolences but...’
It had been too risky, and it had seemed wrong somehow—to send condolences whilst pregnant with his baby, whom she intended to keep secret from him.
‘Why didn’t you?’
The seemingly casual question held an edge and she tensed.
‘If all your girlfriends had done that you’d still be reading them now. I didn’t feel our brief relationship gave me the right.’
Disingenuous, but there was some truth there. For a second she could almost taste the bitter disappointment with herself for succumbing to the Playboy Prince’s charms and falling into bed with him. Hell—she might as well have carved the notch on his four-poster bed herself.
She’d woken the morning after and known what she had to do—the only way forward to salvage some pride and dignity. End it on her terms, before he did. It had been the only option, but even as she had done it there had been a tiny part of her that had hoped he’d stop her, ask her to stay. But of course he hadn’t. The Playboy Prince wouldn’t change. People didn’t change—Sunita knew that.
Anyway this was history. Over and done with.
‘I am offering condolences now.’
‘Thank you. But, as I said, that’s not why I am here.’
‘The article?’
‘Yes. I’d like to talk—perhaps we could go inside.’
‘No!’ Tone it down, Sunita. ‘This is my home, Frederick, my private sanctuary. I want to keep it that way.’
He eyed her for a moment and she forced herself to hold his gaze.
‘Then where would you suggest? Preferably somewhere discreet.’
‘In case the press spot us and tips me as the next candidate for Lycander Bride?’
The words were out before she could stop them; obscure hurt touched her with the knowledge he didn’t want to be seen with her.
‘Something like that. You’re my unofficial business.’
For a moment there was a hint of the Frederick she’d known in the warmth of his voice, and more memories threatened to surface. Of warmth and laughter, touch and taste.
‘My official reason for this trip is charity business—I’m patron of an educational charity that is rolling out some new schools.’
The tang of warmth had disappeared; instead impatience vibrated from him as he shifted from foot to foot.
‘Are you sure we can’t talk inside? It shouldn’t take long. All I want is the solution to April’s mystery.’
Sunita checked the hollow laughter before it could fall from her lips. Was that all he wanted? Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.
‘I’m sure we can’t talk here.’
Think. But coherent thought was nigh on impossible. Raw panic combined with her body’s reaction to his proximity had unsettled her, sheer awareness wrong-footed her. Think. Yet her mind drew a blank as to any possible location, any café where she and Amil weren’t regulars.
Fear displaced all other emotion—Frederick must not find out about Amil. Not now, not like this. One day, yes, but at a time of her choice—when it was right and safe for Amil.
‘I’ll just grab a coat and we can go.’
‘A coat?’
‘It’s monsoon season.’
Sunita turned, opened the door, and slipped inside, her mind racing to formulate a plan. She’d always been able to think on her feet, after all. If Frederick wanted a solution to the mystery of her disappearance from the modelling scene, then that was what she would provide.
Grabbing her phone, she pressed speed dial and waited.
‘Sunita?’
‘Hey, Sam. I need a favour. A big favour.’
CHAPTER TWO
FREDERICK WATCHED AS she opened the door and sidled out. Coatless, he couldn’t help but notice. What was going on? Anyone would think she had the Lycander Crown Jewels tucked away in there. Hell, maybe she did. Or maybe something was wrong.
Disquiet flickered and he closed it down. He’d vowed emotion would not come into play here. He and Sunita were history—the sole reason for his presence was to ensure no scandal would touch Lycander and topple him, Humpty Dumpty-style.
They exited the building and emerged onto the heat-soaked pavement, thronged with an almost impossible mass of people, alive with the shouts of the hawkers who peddled their wares and the thrum of the seemingly endless cars that streamed along the road. Horns blared, and the smell of cumin, coriander and myriad spices mingled with the delicate scents of the garlands of flowers on offer and the harsher fumes of pollution.
Sunita walked slightly ahead, and he took the opportunity to study her. The past two years had done nothing to detract from her beauty—her hair shone with a lustre that should have the manufacturer of whatever brand of shampoo she used banging at her door, and her impossibly long legs and slender waist were unchanged.
Yet there was a difference. The Sunita he’d known had dressed to be noticed, but today her outfit was simple and anonymous—cut-off jeans, a loose dark blue T-shirt and blue sandals. It was an ensemble that made her blend in with the crowd. Even the way she walked seemed altered—somehow different from the way she had once sashayed down the catwalk.
Once.
And therein lay the crux of the matter. The more he thought about it, the more he recalled the vibrant, publicity-loving, career-orientated Sunita he’d known, the less possible it seemed that she had traded the life path she’d planned for an anonymous existence. His research of the past two days had confirmed that mere weeks after Sunita had ended their association she’d thrown it all away and melted into obscurity.
‘How did you find me?’
‘It wasn’t easy.’
Or so Marcus had informed him. Sunita’s agent had refused point-blank to respond to his discreet enquiries, but Marcus had ways and means, and had eventually procured the address through ‘contacts’—whatever that meant.
‘Was it my agent? Was it Harvey?’
‘No. But whoever it was I promise you they did you a favour.’
‘Some favour.’
‘You mean you aren’t happy to see me?’ he deadpanned.
A shadow of a smile threatened to touch her lips and he fought the urge to focus on those lips in more detail.
‘Pass.’
Raising an arm, she hailed a taxi and they waited until the yellow and black vehicle had screeched through the traffic to stop by the kerb.
Once inside she leant forward to speak to the driver. ‘Sunshine Café, please,’ she said, and then sat back. ‘I’m taking you to meet the solution to your mystery. The reason I stayed in India.’
Her eyes slid away from him for a fraction of a second and then back again as she inhaled an audible breath.
‘His name is Sam Matthews. He used to be a photographer, but he’s moved here and set up a beach café.’
‘A boyfriend?’
Such a simple answer—Sunita had given it all up for love. A small stab of jeal
ousy pierced his ribcage, caught him unawares. Get real, Frederick. So what if she walked straight into someone else’s arms, into the real thing? That had never been his destiny. Know your limitations. Easy come, easy go. Two stellar life mottos.
‘Yes.’
‘Must be some boyfriend to have persuaded you to throw away your career. You told me once that nothing was more important to you than success.’
‘I meant it at the time.’
‘So you gave up stardom and lucre for love.’
A small smile touched her lips. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘And you’re happy? Sam makes you happy?’
Her hands twisted on her lap in a small convulsive movement. She looked down as if in surprise, then back up as she nodded. ‘Yes.’
A spectrum of emotion showed in her brown eyes—regret, guilt, defiance,—he couldn’t settle on what it was, and then it was gone.
‘I’m happy.’
Job done. Sunita had a boyfriend and she’d moved on with her life. There was no dangerous scandal to uncover. A simple case of over-vigilance from his chief advisor. He could stop the taxi now and return to his hotel.
Yet...something felt off. He could swear Sunita was watching him, assessing his reactions. Just like two years ago when she’d called it a day. Or maybe it was his own ego seeing spectres—perhaps he didn’t want to believe another woman had ricocheted from him to perfect love. Sunita to Sam, Kaitlin to Daniel—there was a definite pattern emerging.
He glanced out of the window at the busy beach, scattered with parasols and bodies, as the taxi slowed to a halt.
‘We’re here,’ she announced.
What the hell? He might as well meet this paragon who had upended Sunita’s plans, her career, her life, in a way he had not.
Damn it. There was that hint of chagrin again. Not classy, Frederick. Not royal behaviour.
Minutes later they approached a glass-fronted restaurant nestled at the corner of a less populated section of sand, under the shade of two fronded palms. Once inside, Frederick absorbed the warm yet uncluttered feel achieved by the wooden floor, high exposed beam ceiling and polished wooden tables and slatted chairs. A long sweeping bar added to the ambience, as did the hum of conversation.
Sunita moved forward. ‘Hey, Sam.’
Frederick studied the man who stood before them. There was more than a hint of wariness in his eyes and stance. Chestnut wavy hair, average height, average build, light brown eyes that returned his gaze with an answering assessment.
Sunita completed the introduction. ‘Sam, Frederick—Frederick, Sam. Right, now that’s done...’
‘Perhaps you and I could have a drink and a catch-up? For old times’ sake.’
The suggestion brought on by an instinctive unease, augmented by the look of reluctance on her face. Something wasn’t right. She hadn’t wanted him to so much as peek into her apartment, and she could have simply told him about Sam. Instead she’d brought him here to see him, as if to provide tangible proof of his existence.
‘Sure.’ Sunita glanced at her watch. ‘But I can’t be too long.’
Sam indicated a staircase. ‘There’s a private room you can use upstairs, if you want to chat without attracting attention.’
‘Great. Thank you,’ Frederick said, and stepped back to allow the couple to walk together.
Their body language indicated that they were...comfortable with each other. They walked side by side, but there was no accidental brush of a hand, no quick glance of appreciation or anticipation, no chemistry or any sign of the awareness that had shimmered in the air since he himself had set eyes on Sunita.
They entered a small room with a wooden table and chairs by a large glass window that overlooked the beach. Sam moved over to the window, closed the shutters and turned to face them. ‘If you tell me what you’d like to drink, I’ll have it sent up.’
‘You’re welcome to join us,’ Frederick said smoothly, and saw the look of caution in Sam’s brown eyes intensify as he shook his head.
‘I’d love to, but we’re extremely busy and one of my staff members didn’t turn up today, so I’m afraid I can’t.’
‘That’s fine, Sam. Don’t worry,’ Sunita interpolated—and surely the words had tumbled out just a little too fast. Like they did when she was nervous. ‘Could I have a guava and pineapple juice, please?’
‘Sounds good—I’ll have the same.’
‘No problem.’
With that, Sam left the room.
‘He clearly doesn’t see me as a threat,’ Frederick observed.
‘There is no reason why he should.’
For an instant he allowed his gaze to linger on her lips and he saw heat touch her cheekbones. ‘Of course not,’ he agreed smoothly.
Her eyes narrowed, and one sandaled foot tapped the floor with an impatience he remembered all too well. ‘Anyway, you came here to solve the mystery. Mystery solved. So your “unofficial” business is over.’
Were her words almost too airy or had he caught a case of severe paranoia from Marcus? ‘It would appear so.’ He watched her from beneath lowered lids.
‘So, tell me more about your official business—the schools project.’
‘My brother set up the charity—he believed every child deserves access to an education, however basic.’
It had been a philanthropic side Frederick hadn’t even known Axel had had—one his brother had kept private. Because he had been a good man...a good man who had died—
Grief and guilt thrust forward but he pushed them back. The only reparation he could make was to continue Axel’s work.
‘So, I’m funding and working with a committee to set up schools here. Tomorrow I’m going to visit one of the new ones and meet the children.’
‘That sounds incredible—there’s so much poverty here, and yet also such a vibrant sense of happiness as well.’
‘Why don’t you get involved? That would be great publicity for the organisation—I could put you in touch.’
For a second her face lit up, and then she shook her head. ‘No. I’m not modelling at the moment and...’
‘I’m not suggesting you model. I’m suggesting you get involved with some charity work.’
‘I...I don’t want any publicity at the moment—’
‘Why not?’
‘I... Sam and I prefer our life to be out of the spotlight.’
This still didn’t make sense. Sunita had thrived in the spotlight, been pulled to it like a moth to a flame. But before he could point that out, the door opened and a waitress appeared with a tray.
‘Thank you.’ Sunita smiled as the girl placed the drinks on the table, alongside a plate of snacks that looked to range from across the globe. Tiny pizzas topped with morsels of smoked salmon nestled next to crisp, succulent pakora, which sat alongside miniature burgers in minuscule buns. ‘These look delicious.’
Once the waitress had exited, Frederick sampled a pakora, savoured the bite of the spice and the crunch of the batter around the soft potato underneath. ‘These are delicious! Sam runs an excellent kitchen.’
‘Yes—he and...he has made a real success of this place.’
‘You must be proud of him.’
‘Yes. Of course.’
‘Are you involved with the restaurant?’
‘No.’
He sipped his drink, with its refreshing contrast of sharp and sweet. ‘So what do you do now? Do you have a job?’
‘I...’
Fluster showed in the heat that crept along her cheekbones, the abrupt swirling of her drink, the over-careful selection of a snack.
‘I’m a lady of leisure.’ Her eyes dared him to challenge her, but he couldn’t help it—a snort of disbelief emerged. Sunita had been a human dynamo, always on the go, abuz
z with energy, ideas and vibrancy.
‘For real?’
‘Yes.’ Now her fingers tapped on the table in irritation. ‘Why not? I’m lucky enough that I can afford not to work—I pay my own way.’
An undercurrent of steel lined her words—one he remembered all too well. ‘Just like you did two years ago.’
It had become a standing joke—she’d refused point-blank to let him pay for anything, had insisted they split every bill down the middle. The one time he’d been foolish enough to buy her a gift, she’d handed it back.
‘I don’t like to feel beholden. It’s my issue, not yours. Keep it for your next woman. I pay my own way.’
Apparently she still did.
He raised his hands in a gesture of peace. ‘Where you get your money from is none of my business. I just can’t imagine you doing nothing all day.’
‘That’s not how it is. I have a very fulfilling life.’
‘Doing what?’
‘None of your business. You came here to find out why I disappeared. I’ve told you—I fell in love, I’ve settled down, and I want to live my life quietly.’
Instinct told him there was something askew with the portrait she painted. Tension showed in the tautness of her body; but perhaps that tension had nothing to do with him.
‘My chief advisor will be relieved—he is worried there is some mystery around your disappearance that could damage me.’
For a fraction of a second her knuckles whitened around her glass and then her eyebrows rose in a quizzical curve. ‘Isn’t that a tad far-fetched? To say nothing of egotistically paranoid?’
‘Possibly,’ he agreed, matching her eyebrow for eyebrow. ‘But it also seems extremely far-fetched to me that you walked away from your career.’
‘Well, I did.’
Frederick waited, but it appeared Sunita felt that sufficed.
‘So you confirm that your retreat and subsequent dramatic change of lifestyle have nothing to do with me?’
Her glance flickered away and then she laughed. ‘We spent one night together two years ago. Do you really think that your charms, manifest though they were, were sufficient to make me change my life?’