Contract Wedding, Expectant Bride

by Yvonne Lindsay

  But right now, he had a call to make.

  “Andrej?” he said when a man answered on the first ring.

  “Your Majesty,” the head of his armed forces replied.

  “I want you to redouble your efforts to find out exactly who is behind this attack on my position. Someone has weaseled their way into the minds of more than half my parliament.”

  “The vote did not go as you hoped?”

  “If the abstentions had been yeas we would have won, but whoever is feeding this drivel to our politicians has created enough doubt that they now question everything.”

  “I will do as you wish.”

  “Thank you, Andrej. It’s good to know who my allies are.”

  Rocco’s words were heartfelt. He’d known Andrej Novak his whole life. Two years older than him and the son of Sonja Novak and her late husband, they’d spent a lot of time together growing up. Rocco trusted him implicitly.

  “Will that be all?” Andrej asked.

  Across the line Rocco heard the faint repetitive click that signaled Andrej had another incoming call.

  “Yes, for now. But please keep me apprised of what you find as soon as anything comes to light.”

  “Understood, Sire.”

  He looked out the window across the terrace to where Ottavia sat, idly flicking through the contents of the folder. He still didn’t know what to make of her...or of the effect she had on him. Hadn’t he voluntarily asked nicely more than once today? He felt his lips curl into an ironic smile.

  Even now, looking at her across this short distance, he felt the mesmeric pull of her personality. Sensed the siren song of her allure. How did any man spend time with her and not want to make love with her? Not want to feast upon the bounty of her sensuous curves, or coax cries of passion from her lush lips and see those fascinating gray-green eyes cloud with need?

  There was nothing else he could do right now. He was wasting time here when he could be with her, gently whittling down her resistance. The thought immediately struck him as manipulative, but he pushed the thought aside. A man didn’t get what he wanted by waiting patiently. And he had little time at hand with the pressing urgency of his marriage to think about. He would not be like his father and keep a mistress. Once he was engaged he planned to be wholly faithful to his bride. But in the meantime...

  Rocco got to his feet and headed for the door. Sonja still waited outside his office and slid her cell phone discreetly into her pocket as he came out the door.

  “What are you going to do now?” she asked.

  “Now? I’m going to choose a bride. Did you do as I asked regarding bringing the women here?”

  “I did. They are both expected here later in the week.”

  “Good. Thank you.”

  Sonja looked startled. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said, thank you.”

  Her eyes widened a moment before she composed her features once more and inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Would you like me to organize the reception? It can be scheduled for a week from now. Obviously you will need to invite a number of members of parliament and their respective partners. The numbers should quickly reach two hundred.”

  “Compile the guest list and send out the invitations as quickly as possible. The rest, I will leave to Sandra,” he said, mentioning the event coordinator on his staff. “I know Mila’s wedding was supposed to be her last function before her maternity leave, but Ms. Romolo can assist and you can confirm attendees with her.”

  “Is that wise?” his adviser blurted.

  “She is experienced in entertaining. I think it would be beneficial for us to utilize that experience.”

  He heard Sonja mutter something under her breath.

  “If you have something to say, do me the courtesy of saying it to my face.”

  “I’m sure she is experienced in a lot of things, however I would not have considered a royal reception to be among her—” Sonja paused, clearly searching for the right word. “Talents. Besides, I don’t think you should be giving her so much responsibility. What will people say?”

  “Why should that be a problem? She has acted as hostess for several high-profile businessmen in Erminia in recent years.”

  “Hostess.” Sonja gave an inelegant snort.

  Rocco gave her a hard look and she composed herself again.

  “My apologies, Sire.”

  “If there are no further matters requiring my attention, I think you should take the rest of the day off. You’ve been under a great deal of pressure while we waited for the vote and it’s beginning to show.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” she protested.

  “Sonja, take the day. Please.”

  They stared at one another for a full thirty seconds before she averted her gaze. “Very well, but I do not like the idea of you being left alone with the machinations of that courtesan. I believe you will regret having that woman here. Her presence does not augur well for your future.”

  “You have warned me, as I would expect you to do, and your words are duly noted. Now go, make the most of the summer sun, do something you enjoy.”

  Sonja sniffed in response, turned and stalked away, her annoyance visible in every line of her body. Rocco watched her leave, playing over her words in his mind. Could it be that she was right? That he was risking his future? He’d never had any reason to doubt Sonja’s advice in the past, so why was he turning away from it now?

  * * *

  Another morning, another rose on her pillow. Again, he’d slept beside her. Again, she’d slept so deeply she hadn’t noticed, though this time she had not used a sleeping pill. Strange, then, that she’d slept so well all the same. Against her better judgment, Ottavia smiled and dragged the rose across her lips. Its texture was cool and silky smooth. This was crazy, she thought. She should not allow herself to be...wooed, for want of a better word, by a man who clearly just wanted to bed her. Still, he had made no move on her and, aside from those kisses that had undeniably heated her blood, he hadn’t touched her again.

  She got up from the bed and added the bloom to the one he’d given her yesterday. She would need a bigger vase if he kept this up on a daily basis, she thought as she went through to the bathroom to prepare for the day. She had a great deal of work ahead of her. It had surprised her to be told she would be assisting his event coordinator in planning the reception for the two princesses and their entourages next week. Sandra, the event planner, was expecting her first baby and, while she could handle the organization side of things, she would not be able to spend the hours necessary on her feet to attend the function and see it ran smoothly on the night. With Ottavia’s experience as a hostess for her clients, Rocco had said she would be the best backup for the situation, which had come as quite a shock.

  She had done a lot of interesting things in her career, but she’d never had to stand by the side of a man while he was shopping for a wife. Of course, it was rarely an issue. Most of her clients had been widowers, unwilling or simply unready to dive into dating again, yet wanting to feel a connection to someone in a safe, controllable way.

  In her usual business engagements, she would never consider a client who was openly pursuing another woman, just as she would never accept a contract from a man who was currently married. Even if her assignments were not sexually intimate, they were still emotionally intimate, in a way that a married man should not be with anyone but his wife.

  But for the king, she was willing to make an exception, if only because his plans for his wedding seemed more like a business merger than an attempt to build a loving relationship. He was not betraying his future bride by spending time with Ottavia. If anything, she was doing the future queen a favor by training him to treat the women in his life with somewhat improved manners.

  Once she was dressed Ottavia wen
t downstairs for her video call with the event planner. There were menus to plan and decorations to discuss and sleeping arrangements to coordinate for the guests who were expected to begin arriving over the next few days. Sonja Novak had given her a copy of the invitation list, reluctantly and with an admonition that its contents were to remain completely confidential. On seeing the names of those attending, both royal and political, Ottavia was not at all surprised.

  The morning passed swiftly and she was surprised when she was interrupted by Marie, the maid, coming to her in the small office she’d been allocated.

  “His Majesty would like you to join him for lunch, ma’am,” she said with a small bob of a curtsy.

  “Thank you, Marie. Where can I find him?”

  “On the main terrace, ma’am. It’s his favorite place to eat when he’s here.”

  Ottavia packed away her notes and locked them in the drawer of her desk before checking her appearance in the small mirror behind the door. A flush of anticipation had bloomed in her cheeks and her eyes were unnaturally bright. Perhaps she was coming down with something, she mused, then poked her tongue out at herself and shook her head. No, she couldn’t lie. He excited her—everything about him excited her—and it galled her to admit it. But the physical signs were unmistakable. All she could do was hope that it wasn’t as obvious to him, lacking her training in interpreting body language. If he suspected the depth of her attraction to him, she had no doubt that he’d find some way to use it to his advantage—and that was something she couldn’t allow. She was the kind of woman who always maintained the upper hand. Always.

  She made her way to the main terrace and walked toward the umbrella-shaded table where he sat. Her eyes roamed his body, taking in the crisp white shirt, the impeccably knotted tie at his throat, the way his head bent as he studied a sheaf of papers in his hand. She knew she made no noise as she walked along the paved surface, but something alerted him to her presence. She saw the instant he stilled, then watched as he lifted his head and looked directly at her.

  A punch of awareness hit her square in the solar plexus and beneath the silk tunic and leggings she’d donned this morning her skin felt tight and sensitive—as if with his gaze he’d touched her. A featherlight touch, designed to tease, to test. Ottavia shoved the thought from her mind with ruthless determination. It was as if he could seduce her with a look. No man should have that much power over anyone, least of all her.

  * * *

  Rocco rose to his feet as his courtesan approached and he reached for her hand, sweeping it to his lips and pressing a kiss on her knuckles.

  “I’m glad you could join me,” he said.

  Despite the brightness of the day her pupils were dilated and her lips were parted slightly as if she was trying to draw breath any way she could. He smiled. It satisfied him greatly to know he affected her—and in a positive way, he noted.

  “How are the plans progressing for the reception?” he asked, holding out a chair for her as she settled at the table.

  “I think I have it all in hand. I have to admit, I was surprised you asked me to take care of it for you. What if I make a dreadful mess of it all?”

  He sat opposite her and picked up his water glass, eyeing her over the crystal rim. “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who makes dreadful messes.”

  “Okay, fine, I won’t. I have far too much personal pride for that,” she admitted.

  “Tell me more about yourself,” he asked. “With your education you could have taken on many various careers. Why did you choose to become a courtesan?”

  She sat still a moment. He’d caught her off guard with his question, obviously. Finally, she gave him a smile. He was beginning to recognize this one. It was one she used to charm and distract, so that she could appear to answer the question and yet reveal nothing at all.

  “I enjoy the lifestyle,” she answered simply. “I like wearing nice clothes, living in luxurious surroundings, being driven around in expensive, fast cars. I make no excuse for that.”

  “Living in the manner to which you are accustomed?” he probed.

  “Something like that.”

  There it was again. That fake smile, this time paired with an answer that was no answer at all. He narrowed his eyes at her. She left a great deal unsaid. He could accept that. They were only just beginning to get to know one another. Staff brought out their salads, soon followed by small medallions of venison with a sautéed vegetable medley. After they’d eaten, Rocco leaned back in his chair and studied her. Perhaps she’d be more forthcoming if she knew more about him.

  “This is my favorite place in the world, did you know that?” he said, staring out toward the lake and watching a small family of ducks as they swam across the water.

  “I do now,” Ottavia answered him, and he could hear a different kind of smile in her voice. A genuine one. “What is it about here that is so special to you?”

  Ah yes, she was happier being the questioner than the questioned.

  “I think it’s because it’s the place where my parents were happiest,” he said, surprising himself with his answer.

  It was totally honest and straight from the heart. Unguarded. And, for once in his life, it didn’t bother him to tell a virtual stranger something so personal about him.

  “Do you have many happy memories of growing up?” she asked.

  “Enough. What about you? Were your parents happy together?”

  She looked surprised by the question and he could see her carefully formulating an answer in her mind. He knew, instinctively, that whatever came from her mouth would be what she thought he wanted to hear. It wouldn’t be the truth—so he didn’t want to hear it at all.

  “Don’t answer that if you don’t want to,” he said, rising from his chair. “Shall we walk for a while, instead?”

  “That would be lovely,” she said, pushing back her chair.

  He’d been on the mark then, he gathered as he shook out his napkin and tipped the contents of the bread basket into it and pulled up the corners in a knot.

  “What are you doing? Surely if you need a snack for later on you can simply ring for one?” she teased.

  “You’ll see,” he answered and reached for her hand.

  Holding it in a warm, loose clasp he led her down the wide steps that led onto the expansive lawn. He felt a light tug as she stopped, midstep.

  “These roses,” she said, pointing to the many plants in large concrete urns spaced along the terrace. “Are they the ones you bring me in the morning?”

  “You like them?”

  “Yes, I do. They’re beautiful.”

  He nodded. “Their name is Pierre de Ronsard. They were my mother’s favorite. She planted many of these bushes herself. When she was here, it was one of the few times when she could be real and indulge in the things that brought her personal pleasure, like gardening, without having to worry about other people’s opinions.”

  “I can see why it brought you so much joy to be here with her then,” Ottavia commented as they began to walk again.

  “We could be a family here,” he answered simply, then debated his next words. What did it matter, he told himself. It wasn’t like it wasn’t public knowledge. “Until they fell out of love with one another, anyway.”

  “I know what you mean,” she responded, real understanding in her voice. She was being honest now, open—and he appreciated it more than he could say. “My parents fell out of love with one another when I was about ten,” she continued. “It was a confusing time. I was born in the United States and after the breakup my mother brought me back to Erminia. They weren’t married and it all happened very fast.”

  “Your father was from the US?”

  “No, he was Erminian, also. I never saw or heard from him again once we came here.”

  “I’m sorr
y.”

  “Don’t be. It was all a long time ago.”

  They walked along the lawn and toward the lake. The ducks Rocco had spied earlier spotted them immediately and began to swim toward them.

  “Oh, look at them,” Ottavia exclaimed in delight. “Can we feed them?”

  Rocco lifted up the napkin. “Your wish is my command,” he said unraveling the knot and passing her a few slices of bread.

  He watched as she tore it to pieces and threw it to the ducks who squawked and splashed and acted like they hadn’t eaten in a month. She was a beautiful woman when she was composed and acting her part, but when she was like this—natural and laughing and simply enjoying the moment—she was even more so. It made him want to know her better, to understand more intimately the enigma of what lay behind those eyes of hers—eyes that reminded him so much of the lake he loved.

  But like the stretch of water in front them, she was equally deep and full of secrets. And he looked forward to discovering exactly what they were.

  Seven

  Ottavia waited in the grand salon for the guests to arrive. The afternoon had been punctuated by the sounds of helicopters, boats and cars arriving at the castle and the atmosphere had changed from one of tranquility to one that buzzed with energy. Anticipation hung in the air along with a sense that people were watching and waiting for a scandal or a disaster. A shiver ran down her spine. She didn’t like this feeling and would have preferred not to be here this evening and, instead, to remain behind the scenes, but Rocco had insisted.

  She smoothed her hands down her gown in a reassuring motion. She’d chosen this dress from among the gowns she’d had in her luggage for its ability to conceal rather than reveal—this event was for the princesses and she did not want to draw attention to herself tonight. Even so, while the forest green jersey covered her from neck to ankle, the cut had been designed to maximize her feminine charms, so she’d done her best to downplay that fact by wearing minimal jewelry and using only the lightest hand with her cosmetics.

  Everything was in place. She’d liaised then checked and double-checked with the kitchens and the staff and the evening would run like clockwork. If only she could be as sure that the guests would behave equally as impeccably. There had been an uproar yesterday when the guest list had been leaked somehow to the national newspaper. A great many noses had apparently been prematurely put out of joint at not being included at what was believed to be an important royal event.