Sadness filled her chest, tugging at her heart. She found a shirt he’d left over the chair and picked it up and smelled it. She loved his scent. Damn, she’d miss it.
Sighing, she put his shirt inside her bag. He wouldn’t miss it, right? She needed something to help her wean herself off. She felt her forehead tighten, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
A knock on the door sent a jolt of surprise through her. She smoothed her hand over her clothes and marched to the door to get this over with. Maybe it was her maid, offering again to help her pack—even though she’d already kindly declined. She needed to be alone, not to pretend to be okay.
When she opened the door, Kesia nodded at her. How did she know what was happening already?
“I came to check on you. Your maid told mine you’re packing.”
Izzy welcomed her inside, then closed the door behind them. “Yes.”
“Is it for a quick visit home? Has something happened?”
You don’t wanna know. She threaded her fingers, pacing in circles. How much of what happened could she share? She didn’t want to dismiss Kesia’s willingness to help, but to tell her the entire story would put her in jeopardy. She might hate me. What mother-in-law would approve of the son dating a woman he met at a virgin auction?
“There’s a lot I can’t tell you. You’ll have to talk to Nassor. I’m not leaving your kingdom until things are straightened out. But, yes, I’m going to a hotel.”
Kesia opened her small bag and retrieved a silver flask from it. She opened it and took a sip. “I feared you’d say something like that. Honey, I’ve been around for more decades than you. I’ve seen things. You’re not going to take away from me the right to know what happens in my castle.” Kesia offered her the flask.
She took a sip, the strong alcohol burning down her throat. She shook her head, wanting to distribute some of that hazy sensation down her body. What the hell? She was about to leave, anyway.
“I’m not sure a flask will do. I might need an entire bottle,” she said, bringing the flask to her mouth and gulping down more scotch. When she sat it down on the console table, a heady sensation loosened her limbs, somehow temporarily sweeping away her concerns.
“It all started at an auction. Not the type you go for rare art pieces or coveted paintings. I’m talking about…a virgin auction,” she started, explaining how Mary’s death prompted her to join the auction in hopes of getting money to avenge her death. Without a break, she continued, and Kesia heard her story without interrupting. With each word, her stomach knotted tighter. What if the woman hated her now?
It’s not like I need her approval anymore. Right now, she just needed a listening ear. Still, she ignored the cold sweat in her palms and the erratic beating of her pulse, and kept going.
“It’s an awful lot to process,” Kesia said when she finished, touching her temples as if trying to alleviate a headache.
Izzy studied her face, adamant on reading her reaction. A strand of relief coursed through her when she didn’t see any obvious signs of judgment. She chewed her bottom lip. “Well, I won’t be here anymore if you tell him. You know, I’m sorry. Maybe Nassor will hate me for telling you this, but at least I’m telling someone.” Feels good.
Kesia looked up at the ceiling, drumming her fingers on her lap. What could be on her mind?
Izzy swallowed hard. God, he will hate me.
Kesia lifted her eyebrow, threading her fingers. “Does anyone know about the auction?”
“Only this Rasheed person, who’s been temporarily pacified,” she said. For how long? Blackmailers always came back, and if she were to stay with Nassor, most likely this Rasheed person would only demand more. Their relationship would suffer, certainly. Her heart squeezed in her chest.
Kesia waved her off, her bangles swaying with the swing of her hand. “Oh, I know dirt about Rasheed to keep him quiet, dear. Trust me.”
“Really?”
“His first wife had an affair when they got married and his first born isn’t his biologically. Of course, I’d never tell a soul, but he doesn’t know that. A proud, old-fashioned man like him would never admit to being cheated on.”
“Royalty is a lot like daytime soap operas.”
Kesia laughed. “Why do you think I was shunned? No one is innocent.”
“Thanks. I know Nassor has responsibilities, and he must marry. How can I be that person when I can’t let go of the past and what happened to my mother?”
“You can let go. I mean, I’m not talking about seeking justice. You should do all in your power to avenge Mary’s death.” The look Kesia shot her held the intimacy of a warm embrace, and somehow, it comforted her. “I’m just saying, if you love him, you can focus that energy into the future. If you think you can’t make it with him, then you’re right, by all means leave. A future queen should be resilient and strong. You should use your background and trials in life as a way to cement how much you’ve been through and use it to make great things as a queen. Not to let it make you feel unworthy or less-than.”
Izzy ran her fingers down the waves of her hair, processing the words she just heard. “I never thought of it that way.”
I’m fucking tired of these games. Of you not believing in me. In us. The regret in his voice echoed in her ears. Did he speak the truth? He’d given her the decision-making power about an issue that could highly impact his ruling as king. He’d trusted her.
“If you feel unworthy of him because of your background, you’re empowering all those people who did you wrong in the past. The ones you should let go.”
You’re just a lost soul, alone in the world. An old, sad voice whispered inside her, bringing back those days when she hid in the pantry for longer than she could count. When she’d prayed someone would adopt her. When she’d prayed she’d change and become more open like the other kids.
Do I still want to believe I’m alone? A lump lodged in her throat. Is it that hard to let go? “I thought I had let the memories go. I mean, I moved on and went to college, found work.” No. Determination bolted through her, and she sucked in her breath, ready to write her own future. To kick the past to the curb.
“Yes. That’s excellent, but you’re a smart woman. I’m talking about other opportunities. I love my son with all I’ve got. If you think you’ll be a weak queen and wife and will bolt at every obstacle, I understand you leaving. I wouldn’t want that for him.”
She straightened her shoulders in a regal move, stretching to her full height. “But if you’re strong enough to make it, then show it to him. Show it to yourself.”
…
“Are you sure about this?” his lawyer asked.
“Yes.” Nassor ran his fingers through his hair. He’d given Izzy the option, and she’d suspected his reasoning. Moving on with the charges and making them public was the only way to proceed. She’d been right—he had been selfish by thinking about the status quo of their relationship alongside what happened to Mary Roberts.
He’d meant to share a concern, as a partner, but she also had shown she wasn’t up to facing the downside of becoming royalty. The hard decisions. The regret. The victories.
“It’d be cleaner to—”
“We’re doing the right thing. We’ll call the police, hand them Obasi, and the names. They will take care of getting warrants from judges and arresting the culprits. I’ll be on their tail and will be sure to pressure them to help end this operation. More people don’t have to die over this.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll meet with John Williams now and talk to him. We may need the American woman, Ms. Lima, to come along tomorrow to testify.”
He jammed his hand into his pocket. “I’m sure she will.”
“Good.”
He shook hands with the lawyer, then in a matter of seconds, the healthcare council populated his conference room. The director of the p
roject showed him a presentation about the new ways to make it more affordable for people. The memory of his friend Jonah popped in his mind. Yes. He wouldn’t have it any other way—he was no longer suggesting ideas to his uncle. He’d implement them, and help the needy.
“When can we execute this?” he asked.
The middle-aged woman with the short haircut fixed her glasses. “Well, Your Royal Highness, if you approve, we should get companies and businesses aboard with this plan in about six months. Then we can work on making new—”
The door swung open and Izzy stormed in, with Guban gesticulating behind her. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I told her to wait to speak with you.”
Izzy held a silver plate in her hands with a half-moon lid. She walked up to him, a glint of mischief in her eyes, her expression soft and hopeful—much different than a few hours earlier. His gut clenched and then unclenched immediately after, as if she had the power to undo the knots in his stomach. Hell, she also had the power to cause them.
“It’s okay,” he said, waving Guban off.
A flicker of hope flashed in her mismatched eyes. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait.” She stepped closer. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment, even when I didn’t know I was waiting.”
“Let’s take a break,” he said to the members of the council, and gestured for them to leave. “We’ll regroup in a bit.”
“Of course,” someone muttered, and they quickly vacated the room.
He looked deep into her eyes, his gut clenching. When he heard the click of the door being closed, he spoke, “I was going to talk to you later. I’ve given the team the green light to contact the police and make the case public. We’ll issue a statement this afternoon.”
She touched her chest with her right hand. “Really?”
“Yes. That’s the right thing to do, and giving you the option to make that decision was unfair. And if you taught me one thing, it was to do the right thing whenever possible,” he said, emotion thickening his throat. How proud of her was he? She’d committed to selling her body to get the funds to avenge a loved one.
“Thank you. Are you going to be okay?”
He reached into the inside pocket of his suit, touching the small box he’d been carrying with him since his mother had given it to him, along with her blessing, waiting for the right moment to propose. “I also gave my PR people a statement I wrote myself. They will be sending it out soon. I’ll break tradition and won’t be taking more than one wife.”
“You aren’t?” she asked, her lips parting.
He would perhaps face scrutiny, because many people in his country would forsake him not only for marrying a foreigner, but making her his only wife. He’d have to deal with the consequences of his actions for a long time, but fuck it, he knew he couldn’t have it any other way. Neither could she.
“A smart woman once told me love means committing to one person. Izzy, I love you, and I can’t let you go.” He got down on one knee and fished out the box, opening it in front of her. “Will you marry me?”
Izzy lifted her hand to her mouth, her eyebrows reaching her hairline. “Oh my God, I am…” She blinked a couple of times, surprise softening her expression. Then she looked into his eyes. “Yes. Yes!”
A jolt of joy coursed through him, and his own fingers trembled when he slid the ring onto her finger. She’d said yes. Yes! He stood to take her into his arms and kiss her, but she still held the dish with her other hand. “What’s this?”
She removed the lid and sat it on the table. “I know how you said the hot dogs you used to eat with Jonah were the best you’ve ever had. So I went to the kitchen, and, going against the chef’s orders, I made you a hot dog. Because I want this to be your new best hot dog—or at least a crappy hot dog made by me. I want to make new memories with you.”
Heat radiated from his chest, fast tracking all his cells. A lightness he’d never experienced overpowered him, the best, most delightful sensation in the world. “These will be the best memories.”
She put the dish aside, and he took her in his arms, lowered his lips to hers, and kissed her with the passion burning inside him. She circled her hands around his head, and he lifted her up, touching her, squeezing her. This was real—she was here for him and there would be no going back. She’d help him rule, love, and be. And he’d do the same for her.
He withdrew his mouth from hers, resting his forehead on hers, both of them breathing hard. “I love you so much. I don’t want to let you go, Izzy. Ever.”
“You won’t have to. I’m here to stay,” she said, embracing him tighter. “This is the beginning of a new life for us, and I can’t wait to enjoy every moment of it.”
Epilogue
Two years later
Izzy watched the water stream down the sink as she finished washing her face.
She grabbed the soft towel and dried her face, then brushed her hair. The royal hairstylist had been a godsend, having helped her with exclusive treatments and tips to keep her waves healthy and lustrous. Hell, she even started putting her hair up in a do, no matter how her ears stuck out.
So what? She smiled at her reflection.
Thankfully, the Gwokondenese population had accepted her as their queen even if she wasn’t one of them and wouldn’t be sharing the wife position with anyone else.
“Izzy?” Nassor called from the room. “Come to bed, sweetheart.”
She flicked off the light and closed the door behind her to find Nassor sprawled on the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.
He tapped the empty side next to him. “Do I have to bribe your personal assistant for some extra time with you?”
“Candace is not above bribery.”
“Good. Now you’re a big shot, I have to use all the help I can get,” he said, referring to her busy schedule as a queen and also the president of the organization she’d started to help women in peril. They’d started at an old warehouse, turning it into a safe place for women victims of physical and sexual abuse. The organization she’d named after her mother now included a solid number of employees and volunteers, and she had already contacted a team of contractors to discuss expansion.
She joined him in bed, and he rolled on top of her, his hardness pressing against her sex. He nuzzled her neck, whispering things she couldn’t hear. She wrapped her legs around him, loving how their bodies molded together. This never got old.
The feeling of being one, even though they were two. Or three, she reminded herself. A flutter moved through her chest. She had planned on telling him about her pregnancy in a more special way, but they both had been so busy lately. His country—their country—thrived and the people loved him.
“Nassor, I have to tell you something.”
He slid his hand down between her legs, cupping her pussy. She contracted her belly, inhaling, reveling in the frisson pumping in her bloodstream. “Tell me, sweetheart. I’m sure we can do two things at once.”
“I’m pregnant.” So we’ll be definitely doing a lot of things at once in the future.
He lifted his gaze to her, a spark of interest flickering in his eyes. “Really?”
“Yes.” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “I visited my doctor today to make sure. Are you…okay with it?” She chewed her bottom lip. They talked about having children, but not when. His mother, she imagined, would be elated. Kesia had been dropping hints she wanted a grandchild for about a year.
He frowned. “Okay?” His expression softened, and he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’m happy. I can’t wait, Izzy.” He kissed her and she rolled on top of him. “How do you feel?”
Waves of warmth flowed through her. She glanced at the handsome man smiling at her, and her heart skipped a beat. She grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach. “I feel like a new life is about to begin,” she said, remembering the conversation she
had with Madame Alexa’s assistant two years ago, before she’d even met Nassor. Before her life changed forever. She kissed his chin, reveling in the little thrills shooting through her.
Yep. They’d changed each other and there was no going back.
“And ours is about to get better.”
…
Acknowledgments
Once again, thank you Entangled Publishing!
Huge hugs to my editor, Alethea Spiridon. Thank you for your support and professionalism.
As always, I really appreciate my Facebook group, Carmen’s Crew. Thanks, ladies, for your support, friendship and laughs. You make an awfully good distraction for the procrastinating writer in me!
Thank you to my readers for continuing to support me on my journey as an independent author. If you enjoyed this or any of my books, please consider leaving a review online so it’ll be easier for other readers to find me.
About the Author
Carmen Falcone learned at an early age that fantasizing about fictional characters beat doing math homework any day. Brazilian by birth and traveler by nature, she moved to Central Texas after college and met her broody Swiss husband, living proof that opposites attract. She found in writing her deepest passion and the best excuse to avoid the healthy lifestyle everyone keeps talking about. When she is not lost in the world of romance, she enjoys spending time with her two kids, being walked by her three crazy pugs, reading, catching up with friends, and chatting with random people in the checkout line.
Discover the Highest Bidder Series
Auctioned to the Greek Billionaire
Also by Carmen Falcone
Good Girl Gone Bad
Good Girls Like it Dirty
Good Girl’s Bad Lessons
A Vengeful Affair
A Night of Misbehaving
Kidnapping the Brazilian Tycoon
A Weekend of Misbehaving
Brazilian Revenge
Brazilian Capture
Brazilian Surrender
Sold to the King Page 15