Shock Heir For The King (Mills & Boon Modern) (Secret Heirs of Billionaires, Book 25)

by Clare Connelly

  ‘What happens next?’ she asked, sitting back in her seat, clasping her hands in her lap in a gesture that she hoped made her look calm and confident.

  He nodded, apparently relieved she was prepared to discuss things rationally. ‘My security has kept the press away from the airport. Usually there are photographers on hand when my plane comes in,’ he said.

  ‘But not now?’

  ‘No, not now.’ He stared into her eyes and her mouth was drier than the Arizona desert. ‘Now, there will be just my drivers and security personnel.’

  ‘Do you have security personnel with you often?’

  ‘Always,’ he agreed.

  ‘You didn’t that weekend.’

  ‘That weekend, I was still a prince.’ His look was one of self-derision. ‘I was still a boy, running from my destiny.’

  She regarded him thoughtfully. ‘You said your uncle was King until you turned thirty?’

  ‘Not King, no.’ He shook his head. ‘Ancient rules govern the line of succession. My uncle was a prosorinós. A sort of caretaker for the throne.’

  ‘What if you’d died too?’ she asked, and then heat flushed her face as she realised how insensitive the question sounded.

  He didn’t seem to mind though. He considered it carefully. ‘Then, yes, my uncle would have been King.’

  She tilted her head to the side. ‘I’m sure I heard once that the legal guardian of an heir couldn’t assume that heir’s title—lest self-interest lead them to murderous deeds.’

  He arched a brow. ‘True. And it is the same in Tolmirós. My uncle was not my legal guardian. In fact, I was prevented from seeing him more than once or twice a year during that time.’

  She absorbed these words, turning them over in her mind before saying with a small frown, ‘But he was your only surviving family? No cousins? Aunt?’

  ‘No. He never married.’ His expression shifted.

  ‘And you didn’t get to see him?’

  He shrugged, as though it barely mattered. ‘It is the way it had to be.’

  She was inwardly appalled. ‘Then who raised you?’

  ‘I was fifteen when my family died,’ he said dismissively. ‘I had already been “raised”.’

  ‘You think you were a grown man at that age?’ Her heart hurt for the teenager he’d been.

  ‘I was in school, at Port Kalamathi,’ he said, his eyes shifting to the window. ‘I went back to school and stayed there until I was eighteen.’

  ‘Boarding school?’

  He nodded.

  ‘And then what?’ She wished she didn’t feel this curiosity, but how could she not wish to understand?

  ‘I joined the military.’

  This didn’t surprise her. From the first moment she’d seen him, she’d felt he was some kind of real-life warrior. A Trojan, brought back to life.

  ‘And did you enjoy it?’

  He paused, apparently analysing that question before answering. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  His smile was tight. ‘Tolmirós is a peaceful country. We do not fight wars. Our military training is the best in the world, yet we rarely have cause to require our soldiers.’ He shrugged. ‘I learned discipline and self-reliance.’

  ‘I can’t help thinking these are qualities you already had in spades.’

  He shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’

  There was silence, except for the whirr of the engines as the pilot brought the plane lower and lower, over the dozens of small islands, including the one they were to land on.

  ‘How do you get from one island to the next?’ she asked.

  ‘We have a huge ferry network. Look.’ He pointed and now she saw dozens of boats moving in the water. ‘See the way the islands seem to shimmer?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘Tolmirós is referred to as the Diamond Kingdom. Each island is like a gem in the midst of the sea.’

  She nodded, the magic of that description settling against her chest. The plane dropped lower and lower and it almost felt as though it might land in the ocean. But then land emerged from the depths of the sea and, beyond it, a runway, pale grey, lined with bright red flowers. The plane touched down with a soft thud and instinctively she looked to Leo. He lay where he was, fast asleep, and her heart gave a little tug.

  Matthias was watching her; she could feel his gaze and it dragged on her like a tangible force. Slowly, of their own volition, her eyes raised to his.

  Her breath locked in her throat; her body was frozen. Her very soul was arrested by the sight of this man she’d lost her head to three years earlier, a man who was so much more than that. He was a king, a ruler of a country, and all that implied.

  Hadn’t she detected that latent power in him, even when they’d been together back then? Hadn’t she known he was someone to whom command came easily?

  There was an intensity in his expression, a look of hungry determination, and her pulse raced hard and fast, her heart struggling to keep up with her blood’s demands. When he spoke, it was with a contained sense of strength.

  ‘Did you really attempt to find me?’

  The question was so quiet she almost didn’t hear it, like catching a swirling ribbon on a hazy night.

  ‘It was impossible,’ she murmured.

  ‘I intended it to be so.’

  The words were sharp in her sides. ‘You had an easier job of forgetting me than I did you,’ she said simply.

  He looked as though he was about to say something, his expression taut, but then he turned away from her, his eyes roaming towards Leo.

  The little boy was waking now, twisting his chubby, robust body against the flat chair, starfishing his legs out so that Frankie smiled unknowingly.

  ‘Mama?’ The plane was still moving forward but they’d landed, and Frankie unbuckled her belt and stood, crossing the aisle and undoing his seat belt. He wriggled into a sitting position, from which she plucked him onto her hip. ‘Where we?’

  ‘In an aeroplane. Do you remember?’ He’d been half asleep when they’d boarded the flight. He still wore his little emoji-themed pyjamas, a gift from her parents at Christmas.

  ‘No.’ He shook his head and she smiled softly. ‘Who’s that?’ Leo pointed a finger at Matthias.

  ‘A friend of Mummy’s,’ she said quickly, earning a swift look of rebuke from Matthias.

  ‘I’m your father, Leo,’ he said over the top of her, and now it was Frankie’s turn to volley back an expression of outright rage. Her lips compressed and her eyes held a warning.

  ‘Father?’ Leo blinked from Frankie to Matthias.

  ‘Your daddy.’ The words were said softly but when Matthias looked at Frankie she felt a sharp dagger of judgement. Of anger. She held his gaze, determined to show him she wasn’t going to back down from this fight—or any.

  ‘Daddy?’ Leo’s eyes went huge. ‘You say Daddy so kind!’ Leo enthused, and Frankie’s heart clenched in her chest. She had told Leo that, and many other things. She’d invented a father for Leo that he could be proud of, needing her son to believe a wonderful man had been a part of his creation, even when he couldn’t be a part of his life.

  ‘We’re going to stay with Daddy for a while,’ Frankie said gently, ignoring the way Matthias’s eyes were resting on her with startling intensity. ‘Would you like that?’

  Leo’s lower lip stuck out and he shook his head stubbornly. Frankie dipped her head forward and hid a smile in her son’s curls. Let King Matthias, who ‘always got what he wanted’ suck on that!

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked teasingly, as though he wasn’t remotely bothered by Leo’s rejection. ‘Because I happen to have a swimming pool right outside my bedroom,’ he said. ‘And you may use it any time.’

  ‘A pool?’ Leo tilted his head to one side in a gesture that was so reminiscent of Matthias that Frankie’s chest throbbed. ‘What a “pool�
�?’

  ‘What’s a pool?’ Matthias’s gaze lifted to Frankie’s, subtle accusation in his eyes. ‘How can you not know this? It’s like the biggest bath tub you can imagine,’ he said, not looking away from Frankie. ‘The water is warm and salty, and you can kick and splash to your heart’s content.’

  ‘Mummy says no splashing in the bath!’ Leo was dubious.

  Matthias’s eyes held Frankie’s for a moment longer and she fought an instinct to defend herself, to defend her parenting, before dropping her gaze to Leo’s. She breathed out, not having realised she’d been holding her breath until then. ‘In a pool you may splash.’

  Leo jumped up and down on Frankie’s lap, his excitement at this relaxation in the usual rules apparent.

  ‘Do you know what else?’ Matthias leaned forward, smiling in a way that caused Frankie’s breath to catch once more. ‘We are very near the beach. You can go swimming whenever you like.’

  Leo gleefully clapped his little hands together.

  ‘What else do you like to do?’

  That was it. Leo began to speak as best he was able, and Matthias listened and nodded along, even when Frankie was certain he couldn’t understand half of what the toddler was offering.

  The plane drew to a stop and the cabin crew opened the door—sultry heat immediately blew in, replacing the climate-controlled cool of the aircraft. There was sunshine on the breeze and Frankie sucked it in, deep inside her lungs, pressing her head back against the seat for a moment, letting the air stir through her body, praying it would bring a sense of calm and acceptance to her.

  She had no choice but to marry him. She could even see the sense of what he’d suggested. He wasn’t just a mere man—a mortal amongst mortals. He was a king, and she’d been foolish enough to sleep with a stranger—she hadn’t cared who he was; she hadn’t wanted or needed to know anything about him, besides the fact that she’d wanted him with an intensity that had refused to be quelled. And so they’d found themselves in bed—he’d been so experienced and charming that what little instinct she might have had to pause, to wait, had completely evaporated.

  She let out a small sigh of impatience. Why bother analysing the past? It had happened, and she couldn’t even say with any honesty that she wished it hadn’t. Sleeping with Matthias had given her Leo, and not for all the gold in the world would she wish him away.

  Nor, if she were completely honest, would she wish she hadn’t slept with Matthias. He hadn’t deserved her, he sure as heck hadn’t deserved her innocence, but he remained, to this day, one of the best experiences of her life.

  An experience she wanted to repeat?

  For a second she allowed herself to imagine that future, to imagine Matthias making love to her, the nights long with passion, rent with the noise of her pleasure and delirious need, her insides slicked with moist heat.

  Foreign voices filled the plane and she looked up to find Matthias watching her, even as Leo chattered to him. Heat burned her cheeks, the direction of her thoughts warming her, and she was sure he knew, and understood; she was sure he was watching her with the same sense of heated arousal.

  Frankie forced herself to look past him, to the cabin crew who were making their way into the plane. A woman was at the front and she held a garment bag in her hands. No, several, Frankie noted with disinterest.

  Matthias stood and spoke to his servants in his native tongue. Their deference was fascinating to observe. All bowed low and, though they spoke in their own language, she could hear the awe with which they held him.

  ‘This is Marina.’ Matthias turned to Frankie, his expression unreadable. ‘She’s going to help you get ready.’

  ‘Ready for what?’

  ‘Arriving at the palace.’

  ‘But... I am ready.’

  He looked at her long and hard, his dark gaze moving from her hair to her face and then to her clothes and, though she was wearing one of her favourite dresses, the way he looked at her made her feel as though she were dressed in a potato sack.

  ‘What?’ she asked defiantly, tilting her chin and glaring at him as though his scrutiny hadn’t affected her in the slightest degree.

  ‘You are my fiancée,’ he reminded her. ‘The future Queen of Tolmirós. You will feel more comfortable dressed for that role.’

  She bit down on her lip and if they’d been alone she might have had a few choice phrases to utter. Instead, she stood up, keeping Leo pinned to her hip.

  ‘I’m sorry if I don’t meet your high standards, Your Majesty,’ she said jerkily, panic rising inside her at the enormity of what she was going to do.

  ‘My standards are beside the point,’ he said quietly, with all the reasonableness she had failed to muster. ‘This is about what will be expected of you. And Leo.’ As though their child was an afterthought, he gestured to an old woman in the huddle of staff.

  Her smile was kind, her face lined in a way Frankie found instantly appealing. She looked like a woman who laughed a lot.

  ‘This is Liana,’ Matthias said, his expression unchanging as he nodded at the older woman. Emotion stirred in Liana’s green eyes though, feelings Frankie couldn’t begin to comprehend. The older woman’s smile dropped—just for a fraction of a second. Then her attention homed in on Leo and it was as though a firework had been set off beneath her.

  ‘Liana was my nanny, as a boy,’ Matthias explained, watching as Liana moved between them and began making clacking noises at Leo. He grinned in response and then clapped his hands together. Liana did likewise and laughed, rocking back on her heels so her slender frame arched.

  ‘May I?’ she asked, a cackled question, presumably directed at Frankie, though Liana didn’t take her eyes off Leo.

  ‘I...’ Frankie didn’t want to hand Leo over, though. On some instinctive level, she ached to hold him close, to keep him near her.

  She stared at Matthias and perhaps a hint of her panic showed itself in her eyes because his expression tightened and a pulse jerked at the base of his jaw. ‘Liana will help Leo change into more suitable clothes,’ Matthias reassured her, everything about him kind, as if he were trying to calm a horse on the brink of bolting. ‘While you are doing likewise.’

  It was a simple suggestion, and one that made sense, but the more he made sense, the more Frankie wanted to rebel.

  ‘I really don’t see the point in changing,’ she said. ‘You told me there wouldn’t be any photographers...’

  ‘True—’ he shrugged ‘—but there will be staff. Hundreds of them, all looking to see the woman who will become their Queen. Would you not feel happier wearing clothes made for a princess?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said curtly, dismissively. Then, for Liana’s benefit, ‘I’d rather stay with Leo.’

  He looked as if he wanted to argue with her, as if he wanted to insist. His eyes locked onto hers, he watched her thoughtfully and then he shrugged. ‘It is your decision, of course.’

  * * *

  As soon as they arrived at the palace, she wished she hadn’t been so stubborn and short-sighted. She was wearing a nice enough dress—but it was nothing compared to the grandeur of this place.

  From the outside, it looked ancient. A huge, imposing castle, with the city on one side and the ocean on the other. It formed a square, and his limousine had driven under a large archway and into a central courtyard. The walls ran on all sides and when the car stopped there was a vibrant blue carpet rolled out, leading to glass double doors that had been thrown open. Servants stood on either side. The men were in suits and the women wore dresses. Most also wore white gloves to their elbows. Many had white aprons around their waists.

  All looked somehow more formally attired than Frankie. Even little Leo was a resplendent king-in-waiting. A pair of grey shorts had been teamed with knee-high blue socks, shiny black shoes and a crisp white shirt with short sleeves and round buttons that glowed l
ike pearls. His unruly hair had been combed and tamed, parted on one side, and was sitting neatly on his head with the exception of one disobedient curl that flopped into the middle of his forehead.

  * * *

  The three of them sat in the back of the car—a family, yet not. Matthias regarded her carefully. When he’d held his body above hers and entered her and, upon discovering for himself that she was a virgin, he’d looked into her eyes and murmured words in his language that had taken away any pain and replaced it instead with pleasure and need, so that she’d called his name over and over, an incantation, as surely as if she were a witch.

  He looked at her with the desire that had rushed his bloodstream anew two nights earlier—desire that had made him want to shelve any conversation of marriage, bloodlines and their future and simply give in to his hunger for this woman. An insatiable hunger, he suspected, even when he had every intention of spending quite some time trying to satiate it.

  ‘Well, Frankie.’ He rolled her name around his mouth, tasting it, imagining kissing it against her throat, the sensitive flesh of her décolletage, down to breasts that he longed to lavish with attention. He was hard for her, ready for her already, hungry for her always. He cleared his throat, focusing on her face, forcing himself to be patient. ‘Are you ready?’

  Her smile lacked warmth. ‘If I say “no”, will it make a difference?’

  His lips twisted in a grimace of sorts and he understood then what he’d failed to see on the plane. She was nervous. She was fighting with him because she was about to step off a cliff, and she had no idea what would catch her. He leaned forward so that his face was close to hers and saw the way her breath hitched in her throat, saw the way she looked at him with a quick flash of desire that she fought to cover with a tightening of her features.

  ‘We have to do this,’ he said, wishing in that moment that it wasn’t the case. That Frankie didn’t have to endure a marriage she clearly hated the idea of. Wishing she was free to live her life. Wishing she was free to marry a man who loved her, just as she’d insisted marriage should be.

  ‘Then why ask the question?’ Her words were snapped out but he understood now, and he frowned, wanting to relieve her tension and knowing only one way to do so.