Whoa. Her knees weakened, and she had to force herself to stay upright. “I thought kings had to rule until they died.”
“As long as they’re fit to rule. My uncle has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and agreed to pass on the baton before it gets too bad.”
Nausea spread into her stomach. King Feruzi had supported a law that gave a slap on the hand of men who abused women. Women like Mary Roberts, her stepmother. She touched her stomach, wishing she had antacids in her purse. Fuck. She was screwed.
If he finds out what I’m planning, he’ll kill me.
But now it was too late to retreat. She’d signed a damn contract, and Madame Alexa had all her information. If she disappeared, they’d find her. Hell, he’d find her. A man with all the resources available to him.
“Are you okay?” He inched closer.
She lifted her hand in disagreement. “No. Well, you know, you being a king changes things.”
He tilted his head. “How?”
Because I want to find and expose Mary’s killer, and I doubt you’ll want this scandal so early into your ruling as king.
She touched her forehead, wiping the cool sweat on her skin. “I mean…you’re a big deal. What if I get kidnapped or something by one of your enemies?” she blurted, threading her fingers together, hoping he’d buy the story.
“You’ll be with me in my castle. You’ll have security guards should you leave the premises.”
In his castle? She dropped her arms at her sides and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other. Wait a minute. She’d have access, firsthand information. Hadn’t her stepmother, like many other thousands of tourists, visited the castle when she’d arrived in Gwokon? “Good.”
“Why don’t we enjoy dinner?” He removed the moon-shaped lid of a tray, displaying a gorgeous dish of lobster and sautéed vegetables. “We’ll worry about the fine print later.”
He showed her the other dishes, an impeccable array of tender filet mignon, more seafood, and a scrumptious salad. She picked a piece of bread, so soft and warm, it melted in her mouth. During dinner, he circumvented personal questions and talked about current events.
She managed to answer, despite her inner turmoil.
“If you like history, you’ll enjoy visiting some museums and sights. My country’s culture is very rich.”
She cut into her steak. “Rich and old-fashioned, I’m sure.”
“I have to say the south part of the country especially is very traditional. They still believe in things such as dowry, but the north part is slowly catching up to the western world.”
The meat got stuck in her throat for a moment. She swallowed, making a mental note to dial down a bit. If she showed him how much she knew about Gwokon, her entire goal would be at risk. “Dowry, huh?”
He bit a piece of lobster. “Yeah.”
She leaned back on the chair. “Like, what’s it going for these days?”
“Hmmm…there’s not an on-set price. If the family is poor, they’ll settle for animals they can cook and eat.”
“That’s sad,” she said, unable to help herself.
“It’s a way for the prospective husband to help out the family who’s losing one of their own.”
She took a sip of wine. In a twist of events, the money she’d make from this virgin auction deal would help her out after losing Mary. It would assist her to find the culprit behind her death.
When her gaze met his again, she caught him studying her. Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t cut the stare. Memories from the enticing way he’d kissed her popped into her head, even if she’d done a good job avoiding those. Until now.
A smile danced on his lips. Was he thinking what she was thinking?
Her internal temperature rose. A woman could lose herself in the depths of his eyes. Silvery rings circled the cocoa irises. Heat flared at the pit of her stomach, the place between her legs getting wet. When he’d kissed her, he’d explored her mouth, pinned her with his touch. She never thought kisses like that existed in real life, only in some movies and books. Not that she indulged herself in the romantic atmosphere of either.
Her view of love had always been straightforward and cynical. Her birth mother had loved doing crack more than she’d cared for her. At ten she’d been adopted by Harold, who took care of her for three years until he met Mary and married her. She’d expected her stepmother to shun her, but Mary had surprised her and cared for her, loved her, even after Harold’s death, only a year after their marriage. Mary had filled the parenting void, but as the years went by, she needed her own romantic love, and ended up embarking on a naive trip without return.
“You’re very guarded, Isabela,” he said in that sexy voice that had the power to turn even the most trivial words sinful. His deep baritone accented the way he called her name, a name she’d detested ever since going to school in Nevada. Girls made fun of her, of her accent, of her poor English and strange mismatched eyes. When Mary entered her life, she called her Izzy, and the nickname helped shape a new woman inside.
“You bought me temporarily. I’m here at your…disposal. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”
He stretched his hand across the table and touched hers. A frisson shot up her arm, immediately sending thrills of excitement to her sex. She shifted in the seat, unsure about what to do, but didn’t move her hand. Didn’t want to—the feel of his fingers brushing her knuckles was too good to let go.
“You know, when I was a little boy, I saw a stray dog in the street. I brought it home with me. My mother didn’t want him, but I insisted. I couldn’t give up on that dog,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes.
“What happened?”
He caressed her knuckles. “I bathed him, fed him. He didn’t want anything to do with me.”
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Maybe he’d been on the streets for too long, and didn’t trust humans.”
He looked at nowhere in particular, probably lost in his own memories. “I kept him in my room at night. Every time I tried to pet him, he recoiled. I stopped trying, and talked to him before I went to sleep. I thought I was doing it for him, but now I know I was doing it for me,” he said.
She sucked in a breath, fighting the impulse to reach across the table and give him a hug. She’d always dreamed of having a pet as a child, but didn’t wish any cat or dog the life she had.
Nassor shook his head, then eyed her, determination washing over his expression. “Almost a year later, he climbed on my bed and let me pet him.”
“Must’ve been nice,” she said, emotion welling up in her throat. Why? She barely knew this man, and of all men, he had the power of destroying her if he found out her identity. Forget about revenge, only the fact she existed and knew her stepmother had been killed in his country was enough to make her a liability. She imagined he wanted no scandals as he took charge of his kingdom, especially one capable of causing international repercussions.
Yet…she touched her neck, willing away the frustration.
“My point is, I’m a patient man, Izzy.”
“Are you expecting me to climb on your bed out of my own free will?” she asked, partly joking, partly serious.
He patted her hand, then withdrew his. “I know it’ll happen. We have thirty days. And when it does, it’ll be so much better.” He winked at her, as if they shared some inside joke.
She straightened her shoulders, putting down her fork. Suddenly, her throat tightened and she could no longer eat anything else. Was he playing games with her? Selling her virginity and body for money was one thing. Climbing on his bed of her free will…was far more complicated.
…
“Your mother would like a word with you, Your Highness,” Nassor’s assistant Guban said with a tone of reverence.
Nassor logged out of his account. “Let her in.”
His mother, Kesia, strolled into his office, wearing a brown and orange gown, with her hair braided and plenty jewelry adorning her neck and wrists. A timeless beauty, she didn’t look a day older than thirty-five, shedding two decades from her real age. “We need to talk, son.”
“Of course. Have a seat.” He gestured.
Gracefully, she held both sides of the long hem and took a chair in front of him. Despite her good manners, a frown creased her forehead. “I know you brought an American woman with you.”
He toyed with telling his mother she was Brazilian by birth. What difference did it make? He rocked back in his chair, scratching his chin. “Yes.” With the coronation ceremony looming, he’d given himself a few days before breaking the news to his mother.
“That’s breaking protocol. As Queen Regent of the castle, I need to know when we’re receiving guests. I certainly shouldn’t find out by accident.”
“Mother, I’m not doing anything illegal. Izzy Lima is a good friend who will be here for the month. Then she’ll fly back to her home.”
His mother made a hand gesture, her bangles clanging against each other. “Who is she? You’ve never mentioned her before. Does she work in the American Embassy? I don’t want any diplomatic problems right now. We’ll have a lot to do after you’re crowned. Your uncle didn’t leave Gwokon in the best state. We don’t need any bad press.”
He ran his fingers down his face. Ah, how he preferred when his mother had been the rebel and not this polished version who tried to abide by impossible rules.
“Nassor, I’m serious. You’re from a different generation. People will be worried now your uncle won’t rule anymore—”
“Why? Because he’s done such a good job? The healthcare system sucks, and unemployment hit a new high last week. Uncle Feruzi trusted the wrong advisers, and I intend on replacing each one of them. So, yes, people will have to adapt.” But it’ll be for the better. A hot knot throbbed in his throat. The sweet face of his friend Jonah appeared in his mind. His childhood friend had died because of a routine tonsil removal surgery gone wrong. No one should have that kind of experience, and hopefully under his regime, no one would.
She lifted her eyebrow. “I don’t doubt you’ll make a great leader. I just want you to have a smooth transition.”
He picked a pen from his collection and clicked it. “Thank you.”
“How did you meet this woman? And when were you planning on telling me about her?”
He stopped clicking his pen and stared at her. “She’s not from the embassy, or a spy, or whatever you want to entertain. She’s a civilian I met by accident. I was going to tell you about her after we settled.” Even if I didn’t have to.
Kesia tilted her head, her shoulders sagging a notch. “Good. Per protocol, you have up to ninety days after coronation to pick your wives. I’ve been receiving calls and invitations to dinner parties.”
Nassor leaned back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. He’d forgotten about yet another rule, and one that’d impact his life forever. If his uncle hadn’t gotten ill and he’d had more time to prepare, he’d be already married or at least committed to new brides. “Forget it. I won’t go on dates or marriage matchmaking events while Izzy’s here.”
“And after she leaves?”
He rubbed his forehead. “You can schedule your events and we’ll pick the wives.”
A small smile formed on her lips. “You know, it’s always been the two of us—”
He leaned across the desk and held her hands. “Still is. I value your opinion and know you want what’s best for me,” he said, hoping those words would help get her off his back. She’d been particularly needy ever since his father left her again, a month prior—a subject Nassor avoided at all costs.
Her smile broadened, gratitude lighting her eyes. “Thank you.”
She stood and he did the same. Before leaving, she hugged him, warmth cloaking him for a moment. Insecurity must have gotten the best of his mother. He’d always shared a lot with her, but as king, he had to keep some business private—for the good of the nation. Hopefully, those wife-matching plans would keep her busy.
The image of Izzy flashed in his mind. The opposite of a wife—what would his mother say if she found out how they truly met? He surged to his feet and walked out of his office. He’d told Izzy he’d take her somewhere special tonight—and he had a plan.
After they’d kissed, two days prior, he wanted to bed her more than anything, but the discovery of his real identity drained the color from her face. Maybe his title intimidated her and had the opposite effect it did on most women. Could be—Izzy certainly wasn’t like anyone else he’d met.
So he’d been a complete gentleman and tried to engage her in fruitful conversation. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to get her naked and under him, but she had to come to terms with her desire for a man of his standing.
“Guban,” he said, walking by his assistant’s desk. “Have you heard from the pilot?”
Guban promptly stood, even though he could respond sitting. “Yes, Your Highness. He checked with maintenance, and the helicopter is good to go.”
“Good.”
Tonight, he’d show Izzy the stars—and maybe take her to them too.
Chapter Four
“Are you ready?” Nassor asked her.
Izzy touched the blindfold he’d put on her halfway into their helicopter ride. “Yes.”
He removed the blindfold. “Now.”
She glanced around. When the chopper had landed, she’d heard the sounds of crackling leaves and the smell of tree sap, but this was beyond her expectations. Floor lanterns created a path of light in the forest.
Nassor gestured for her to go ahead, and she followed the path, wishing she hadn’t chosen to wear her only pair of high heels. Her maid Candace had shown her the closet filled with clothes and shoes far too fancy for her taste that the king had bought for her stay. She imagined what her students and colleagues would think if they saw her in those getups.
A warm evening breeze caressed her skin, and she folded her arms. A sleeveless black dress hadn’t helped, either. That had been the only dressy kind of clothes she’d brought from home. When she’d bought it, over two years ago, it had fit her but now—after the stress eating following her stepmother’s death—it pressed into her too much, pushing her breasts above the top.
When she got to the last lantern, she sucked in her breath. In front of her, a swarm of fireflies flew in a much closed off area of the forest—where the trees canopied the area, giving a magical atmosphere. “Stunning.”
“It was my favorite place to visit as a child.”
Her heart squeezed in her chest.
“Sit down,” he said, pointing at the picnic basket in the middle of an outdoor blanket.
He’d done all this for her. He didn’t have to, despite his spiel about wanting her to climb into his bed. Still, no man had ever gone out of his way for her.
“Thank you. The fireflies are so beautiful.”
He removed his jacket and handed it to her. Heat inflated inside her the moment she saw how his muscles stretched the gray shirt he wore. Damn. Her gaze slid down his thick forearms, and her nipples tightened so much they nearly popped from her dress. The idea caused her veins to thrum, and heat once more flooded through her.
She sat on the blanket as he opened the basket and retrieved different types of cheese, crackers, grapes, and more.
“Each firefly lights up its pattern in a unique way,” he said.
“Did you learn that as a kid?”
“No, I read it online a few hours ago.”
She chuckled. “Your country is beautiful, I’ll give you that.” From what she could see anyway. She’d been in his castle for the past two days, recovering from horrible jetlag, but also trying to make friends with the staff. They treated her with a lot of respect, and she wondered if they’d be useful for her to find out more about her stepmother’s death. When she’d checked in, she’d seen a large guest book where all visitors signed. It asked for name and address—had Mary put her home address or the one from where she stayed? She needed to get that guest book and see.
All in good time. She’d have over three more weeks to get some closure, or better, hard evidence she could take to the authorities in the United States.
“Thirsty?” He offered a glass of white wine, and she took it. The chilled drink soothed her throat.
She enjoyed more than half the glass, then placed it on the grass and nibbled on some cheese. “So you came here as a kid? To escape the pressure of royalty life?”
“I didn’t have much pressure. For a long time, my mother was an outcast… I actually had a normal childhood. Had a best friend and bad grades sometimes.”
“Really?” She inched closer, remembering the story he told her about the dog he adopted.
“Yeah.” A flicker of satisfaction glinted in his eyes. “My mother fell in love with this man, a car salesman. They fought a lot, and didn’t get married. She got pregnant with me, and at the time my grandfather was king and thought a bastard couldn’t be part of the family.”
“How horrible.” She touched his hand. “I’m sorry. So your coming back into the family fold is pretty recent.”
“Yeah. I’ve had a very successful financial investment business. I didn’t really care. Last year, my mother married my father and was recognized as a royal again. Three months ago, I moved into the castle and my uncle introduced me to the people as his nephew and successor.” He squeezed her hand, and an intimate energy passed between them.
She threaded her fingers in his, loving the closeness even if that could give her a headache later on. The warmth from his palm made her wish for him to touch her all over. “What about your father? What kind of relationship do you have with him?”
Sold to the King Page 3