Contract Wedding, Expectant Bride

by Yvonne Lindsay

  The whole time he did so, Ottavia remained rooted to the spot. She wondered if he hadn’t somehow laid a clever trap for her in gaining her acceptance of the new clause. But, as she’d rationalized to herself, all she had to do was refuse to alter her terms.

  How tricky could that be?

  Once he’d finished, he stood up and offered her his seat. The contracts spread out on the table before her, but all she could focus on was how the residual heat of his body on the leather chair permeated the fabric of her yoga pants and seared the back of her thighs.

  “Ms. Romolo? Is there a problem?” he prompted from behind the chair.

  She steeled herself to pick up the pen. It didn’t seem to matter what he touched, he left a lingering impression of himself behind. She quickly flicked through the contract pages, adding her initials to his and quickly scanning the newly added clause. It seemed innocuous enough and made it quite clear that the agreement of both parties, in writing, would be sought and recorded before any amendments were made with such amendments to include sexual intimacy and other duties that may arise from time to time.

  Ottavia looked up. “Other duties? Would you like to specify what you mean by that?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows what may come up? We can agree upon them when they arise.”

  Despite having the distinct impression he was holding something back, Ottavia bent her head and reread his addition. Basically, it still came down to the both of them being in agreement. All she had to do was disagree and she had her out. Pushing aside the anxious niggle that hovered in the back of her mind, she initialed next to his handwriting and added her signature.

  There. It was done.

  Five

  “We can commence in the morning,” she said, rising from the seat and reaching out for a handshake to signal the end of the proceedings.

  But Rocco did not take her hand. Instead, very slowly, his face creased into a wide smile. A tug of attraction pulled mercilessly at her. What on earth had she let herself in for? It didn’t take long to find out.

  “We commence here and now.” He took her things from her and let them fall onto the seat she’d just vacated. “And I prefer to seal this deal with a kiss, don’t you?”

  “B-but, the contract states—!”

  “Nothing whatsoever about kissing,” he finished for her.

  She wanted to protest, but the words simply would not come out. Instead she felt her body soften to allow him to pull her into his arms, and when he lowered his lips to hers, so sweetly and so gently, she knew she’d been well and truly caught in a trap so cleverly engineered that she would have her wits and her will sorely tested in the coming weeks.

  His lips were firm and hot against hers and, try as she might, she couldn’t ignore the teasing tug of his teeth against her full lower lip or the gentle swipe of the tip of his tongue as she fought, and failed, to deny him access. Her hands swept up to his chest, but instead of forming some leverage between them, her fingers curled in the cotton of his shirt as she sought to become even closer with him.

  This was madness, she told herself. She didn’t engage with her clients on this level—had promised herself she never would. Was she really no different than what her mother had said—worth no more than she’d been the day her mother had bartered her daughter’s body for her lover’s money and interest?

  The thought speared through her with unerring and excoriating accuracy. She was not that person! Ottavia wrenched her mouth from Rocco’s, her heart pounding in her chest and her breathing difficult.

  “Please,” she begged, “let me go.”

  In an instant she was free.

  “Ottavia?”

  “J-just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

  “What is it? Are you all right? You were there with me, every step of the way until—”

  “Until I wasn’t,” she finished for him, dragged every last speck of self-control back together. “I told you that sex was not part of the contract.”

  “It was just a kiss,” he said softly.

  Just a kiss? The man was crazy if he thought he, or what he did, was just anything.

  “It was outside the parameters of what we agreed,” she insisted.

  “How so? Is a kiss not companionable?”

  “Don’t bandy semantics with me, Your Majesty,” she snapped back, irritated beyond belief—at herself even more so than at him.

  Damn him, but she’d actually begun to enjoy their embrace. She’d almost forgotten her promise to herself. He was dangerous, far more dangerous than she’d ever imagined.

  “Rocco, remember?”

  “Fine, Rocco, then. Either way, it doesn’t matter what I call you. Now, since our business tonight is complete, I will thank you for dinner and take my leave.”

  “Oh, you’re not going anywhere.”

  Ottavia fought not to curl her hands into fists of annoyance. “Why not?”

  “While we dined, your possessions were moved to my rooms here. For the duration of our contract, you will be staying with me.”

  The coil tightened into a knot. “You moved my things? Before we’d even signed the contract? Before you even knew what was in it? That was insufferably presumptuous of you.”

  “Perhaps, but I’m known as a man who goes for what he wants, especially when it serves the greater good.”

  “And how does having me here do that?” she demanded, before realizing the folly of giving him the opportunity to explain. He was far too persuasive. She cut him off before he could speak. “No, I won’t have it. This is not part of—”

  “Your contract? I think you’ll find that it is. As part of your compensation I am to provide you with accommodations, am I not?”

  “I had perfectly acceptable accommodations, before.”

  “It’s up to me to decide what is suitable for you, and those rooms are not of the standard I would want for my courtesan.”

  A note of possession hummed through his last two words. Ottavia fought against the sense of helplessness they provoked and couldn’t bring herself to respond.

  “How much more salubrious could you get than my own private rooms?” Rocco said, spreading his arms wide.

  Every muscle in her body, at once taut and tensed for argument, sagged in defeat. He had her beaten; there were no two ways about it. Fine then, she’d stay in his chambers if that was what he so desired. It was more intimate than she preferred to be with her clients, but that’s where the intimacy would begin and end. She inclined her head.

  “Fine, please tell me where my room is. I’m tired and I would like to go to bed now.”

  “Ottavia, don’t sound so downtrodden. It’s not all bad.”

  “Whatever Your Majesty says,” she said with a small burst of exasperation.

  If she’d thought to annoy him by using his title, she was sadly mistaken.

  “Come with me,” Rocco said and gestured for her to follow.

  Ottavia was surprised at how many rooms his chambers comprised. Not only was there the kitchen and living room she’d already been in, but there was a formal dining room along with a well-equipped gym. He led her down a gallery lined with windows overlooking the gardens. About halfway along, Rocco stopped and threw open a door to a massive bedroom. She couldn’t help the appreciative sigh that rose from within her.

  “I’m to sleep here? It’s beautiful,” she said, stepping inside.

  Rocco nodded and followed her in. “You’ll find your things in that dressing room,” he said, gesturing to one set of double paneled doors. “Your toiletries should already be in the bathroom through there.”

  “Your staff is very efficient,” Ottavia said after opening the first doors he’d indicated and sighting her garments hanging neatly. A quick check of the ornate bureau showed her lingerie and sleepwea
r equally tidily arrayed.

  “I work with only the best,” he replied.

  His voice was nonchalant but he pinned her with his leonine stare, and despite herself, Ottavia felt a magnetic pull toward him.

  “Well, I’m very glad you won’t be required to compromise your standards with me,” she said as lightly as she could.

  He chuckled, the sound reaching across the distance between them to wrap itself around her nerve endings and squeeze a little.

  “I’ll leave you to it. I have some business to attend to.”

  Before she could say another word, he was gone—the heavy bedroom door closing silently behind him. Weariness tinged with a hefty dose of relief flooded through her body. Being with Rocco was exhausting. She would need her wits about her tomorrow, and the next day and the next.

  * * *

  Rocco strode to his study, his entire body humming with barely suppressed energy. This business with the courtesan was proving to be far more invigorating than he’d ever imagined. He pushed open the door to his private office and stopped in his tracks. Sonja Novak stood by the window. She turned to face him, disapproval painted in stark lines across her face.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here. It’s late,” he said, entering the room and taking his seat at the desk.

  “You have installed that woman in your apartment?”

  “I have,” he answered, challenging her to make a protest.

  She didn’t roll her eyes but he knew she disapproved. In fact, it radiated off her in waves. Instead of speaking, however, she pointed to a dossier on his desk.

  “The newly updated list of prospective brides for you.”

  “Updated? Again?”

  “One of the final three has just expressed her desire to become a Carmelite nun, which leaves you with two princesses to choose from,” she said, her voice clipped and to the point.

  Rocco fought the urge to roll his eyes in frustration. “I’ll deal with them in the morning.”

  “In a hurry to return to your courtesan?” The question was delivered in a matter-of-fact tone, but behind it he sensed her deep disapproval.

  He refused to have this conversation with her again. “When it comes to my private hours, it is no one’s business but my own as to whom I spend my time with,” Rocco growled and snatched up the revised dossier.

  Two prospective princess brides left—the only two who met his requirements. What did that say about the state of the world? he wondered. He lifted their photos out of the folder and, in turn, studied the women carefully. You couldn’t tell much from a photograph, he decided. Certainly not anything important like, did they make your blood heat and your heart race when you drew near to them? Did their scent intoxicate you, canceling out all other distractions and allowing you to focus solely on them?

  He shook his head.

  “Are you rejecting the princesses based on their photos? Without even having met them?” Sonja’s voice reminded him he was not alone.

  “No, just thinking of all my options.” He put the photos back in the dossier and snapped it closed. “By all means, arrange for each of the women to visit me here. I can’t be expected to decide on my life’s partner based on photos and what amounts to nothing more than a résumé.”

  “Does it really matter which one you choose? Surely you can father a child with either one of these women.”

  There was something in Sonja’s tone of voice that disturbed him.

  “You think that is all this is about? Creating an heir?”

  “Well, isn’t it? Forgive me for being the practical one here but you are running out of time. May I have your permission to be completely frank?”

  She’d never asked his permission before and was well-known in court circles for her acerbic and freely given opinions. If she felt the need to get permission first, then she must be about to say something that she thought would infuriate him. He was almost tempted to send her away and avoid the issue. But avoidance wasn’t his way. As king, it was his duty to listen to those who would ask him the hard questions, push him to make the hard decisions, and those were both things Sonja had always unhesitatingly done. The fact that more often than not she was proved right was one of the reasons she remained on his staff. He nodded.

  “Your reluctance to marry—are you considering giving up?”

  “What?”

  “This quest to find a bride in case you are unable to overturn the succession law in parliament...don’t you think it might be too little too late? Perhaps...” She took in a deep breath and looked him square in the eye before continuing, “Perhaps you should consider the needs of your people above your desire to remain king. Wouldn’t they benefit from a stable government rather than one torn over the issue of its rightful monarch?”

  “Are you suggesting I abdicate in favor of some unknown person who pretends to his right to my throne?”

  He held on to his temper, but only by the merest thread.

  “Call me the devil’s advocate if you will, but perhaps the throne truly is his right by birth?”

  “We don’t know that because he hasn’t seen fit to grace us with his details,” Rocco snapped in return.

  No, the man remained behind a cowardly cloud of intrigue and subterfuge. What Rocco wouldn’t give to get his hands on information that would lead to uncloaking his secretive, and dangerous, rival.

  “But what if it is his right?” she pressed.

  “You sound as if you support this unknown usurper.”

  “My loyalty to your father and his children has never been in question,” she said proudly. “I’m merely presenting another viewpoint. After all, you may still be successful in parliament, yes? If the law overturns, marriage may not be necessary, after all. Now, if there’s nothing else, I think I will retire for the night.”

  He gave her a curt nod and watched in silence as she let herself out of his office. Once she was gone he replayed her words. Why did he feel that he didn’t have her wholehearted support? It worried him. He needed to know that those in his inner circle were loyal to him, especially someone like Sonja who wielded considerable power of her own and represented him on several government committees.

  Her question about him giving up had made bile rise in his throat. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t an option. It was not the way he’d been brought up and it certainly wasn’t what felt instinctively right for himself or for his people. He was their rightful leader and until a better man came forward publicly to challenge him, he would continue to believe he was the best man to ensure an even hand at the helm. If someone had managed to undermine Sonja Novak’s fealty to her king he would find out who that person was. And then, perhaps he’d also find out exactly who was behind this crazy scheme that was starting to tear apart his nation at the seams.

  Rocco turned to his computer and logged in to his email, finding several matters that required his immediate attention. Sighing, he switched his attention to the things he could do something about and worked in silence for the next couple of hours.

  It was well past midnight when he was done, and his eyes burned in their sockets as he made his way back to his rooms. It had been a demanding day on several levels and he was physically and mentally exhausted. Sometimes, like now, he wondered how different his life would have been had he been born into a regular family—an ordinary existence. It must be the tiredness talking, he reminded himself as he let himself into his suite and stood silent for a moment, drinking in the peace of this, his sanctuary in his busy world.

  In the distance he heard the sonorous chime of one of the grandfather clocks that graced the hallways. In only four hours he’d need to be up and running, back on full duty again. But between then and now he would sleep, recharge and ready himself to start all over again. Because that’s what he did. Started over, and over. Always with his eye on
the main prize.

  He dropped the dossier he’d brought back upstairs with him onto the coffee table. Then he walked down the corridor to his bedroom and let himself in. He didn’t bother with any lights, but went through to the bathroom and had a quick shower before preparing for bed.

  He’d never felt the mantle of his leadership sit so heavily on his shoulders as he had these past months. It wouldn’t be so bad to be married, he reasoned—to be able to share his responsibilities with someone who’d ease his load, emotionally if not physically. Would one of the two women remaining on his short list be that person?

  He certainly hoped so. Both were well educated and trained in royal protocol. But did they have a fire in their bellies? Did they feel passion? Would they fight with him, indulge in battles of wits the way the courtesan had today?

  At the thought of Ottavia, all the weights and cares that pressed down on him seemed to lift, at least for a moment. The woman captivated him. Not only was she quite possibly the most enticing and beautiful creature he’d ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, she was almost hypnotic with her special brand of charm and intelligence.

  His body stirred with interest, but he knew that interest must remain unfulfilled for now thanks to the terms of that ridiculous contract she’d drawn up. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. He was nothing if not resourceful and he wasn’t blind. He’d both seen and felt her reaction. She wasn’t as immune to him as she wanted to be.

  One thing Ottavia Romolo would learn was that he was intensely goal oriented—that he kept going until he reached his target. Some said he was stubborn, and perhaps that was true. Personally, he preferred to call it focused, and he always followed through until completion. It was what he did best and that wouldn’t change now.

  Rocco let his towel drop to the bathroom floor and flipped the light switch before going back through to his room. He lifted the sheets and slid into the silky soft Egyptian cotton. Ottavia lay, fast asleep, on the other side of the bed, her breathing smooth and even. Believing herself safe, secure—and she was.