Carrying the King's Pride

by Jennifer Hayward

  They attempted to greet everyone, but with hundreds in attendance it was almost impossible. Some of the Akathinians were gracious and welcoming to her, many more were cold and unfriendly to the outsider she clearly was. It was unnerving and depressing to put herself out there time and time again only to have her overtures thrown back in her face. By the time she and Nik moved to the center of the room to kick off the dancing, she wasn’t sure if she was furious or utterly deflated.

  He drew her into his arms, camera flashes extinguishing as she laced her fingers through his and set her hand on his shoulder. His gaze scoured hers. “If you let them get to you, they win.”

  “Easy for you to say. You haven’t been the subject of a hundred snubs.”

  “Who cares what they think? You are my choice.”

  Because she was carrying his child. Because it was his duty. The humiliation that had been building inside her all evening spun itself into a fury, heating every inch of her skin. Clamping her mouth shut, she stared sightlessly over his shoulder.

  “Sofía—”

  “Leave it,” she advised. “I’m fine.”

  She was anything but, but he did, likely as aware as she was that if they kept this up, the official photograph was going to be of them having a fight.

  She danced with his father after that, which did nothing for her demeanor, Harry, Nik’s best friend from New York, then with a succession of partners, following Akathinian tradition that the bride and groom-to-be began and ended the evening in the arms of their betrothed, but in between were encouraged to enjoy the charms of as many eligible guests as they could. To celebrate their last days of freedom as it were.

  When Aristos Nicolades approached her to dance, his blonde goddess Lord knew where, she almost refused him, not sure she was up to it. Then the defiant part of her that had been kicking up its heels all evening took over.

  “I would love to,” she accepted, taking the hand he offered. He was wickedly tall and solid as he took her into his arms on the dance floor, moving with a smooth, commanding precision. He flirted with her with that irreverent carelessness that seemed to be so much a part of him and it was exactly what Sofía needed in her current mood. When she laughed at a particularly outrageous anecdote he recounted, Nik trained his gaze on her from across the dance floor.

  Good, she thought. Let him watch.

  She looked up at her dance partner. “Why don’t you end it cleanly if you know your relationship is over?”

  His black-as-night eyes glimmered. “Are you reprimanding me, Ms. Ramirez?”

  “I think maybe I am.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Nikandros is going to have his hands full with you. No doubt about it. And yes, you are right. If I was anything but, what would the old-fashioned term be? A cad? I would have done so a few weeks ago.”

  “A woman would far more appreciate your honesty than to be treated as an expendable commodity.”

  An amused smile played about his lips. “Some of the women I date would prefer to bury their head in the sand when it’s time to call it quits. Perhaps it is my bank account that gives them pause.”

  “Then you, Mr. Nicolades,” she said tartly, “are dating the wrong women.”

  “Maybe so.” He gave her a considering look. “I would wish your husband-to-be good luck taming such a fiery personality, but I have the distinct feeling he is up to the challenge. And that he will enjoy it very much.”

  She blushed and lifted a brow. “You think so?”

  “Undoubtedly. Everyone talked about Athamos’s cool negotiating skills, yet I would far rather face him across a boardroom table than Nik. Nik may be passionate, but he is the iciest, most formidable negotiator I have ever encountered when he sits down at a table. He is willing to take it to the limit, to the very edge of a deal to win. A much more worthy adversary.”

  Aristos’s assessment of her fiancé only underscored the sinking feeling in her stomach. She had given her life up to become queen in a country that didn’t want her, for a man who thought she was a liar, who was only marrying her because she carried his heir. A man who would do what it took to have her fall in line so he could move on and rule his country. Her happiness was inconsequential.

  Thinking she could ever belong to this world had been madness.

  Her head reeling, a panicky feeling lingering just around the edges of her consciousness, she finished her dance with Aristos, grabbed a glass of sparkling water from a waiter’s tray and sought refuge on one of the smaller, more intimate balconies, desperately needing air. Relieved to find it empty, she rested her elbows on the railing, the still warm, fragrant air drifting across her bare shoulders in a featherlight caress. It was too late to change her mind. Too late to put a halt to the chain of events she’d set in place when she’d agreed to become Nik’s wife. But oh, how she wished she could in this moment. She would give anything to be back in New York, handling a busy rush at the boutique, her busy, ordinary life pulsing ahead. Instead she had descended into a version of hell she had no idea how she was going to manage.

  “A bit overwhelming, is it not?”

  She turned at the sound of the smooth, lightly accented voice. The countess. Dammit. She had done her best to avoid the woman all evening, yet here she was as if she’d specifically hunted her down.

  “I needed some air,” she acknowledged, turning back to look at the formal gardens, breathtaking in their color and symmetry.

  The countess joined her at the railing, balancing her champagne glass on the ledge. “Akathinians are not the most welcoming to outsiders. Oh, we appreciate the influx of foreigners and the money they spend here, but when it comes down to it, they are not Akathinians. They will never achieve the same station, the same acceptance as a native with the right bloodlines.”

  Sofía’s eyes widened. The countess held up a hand. “I’m not trying to be cruel. One could say I have, what do you Americans call it? Spoiled grapes? But in actuality, I’m telling you the truth. It will not be an easy ride for you.”

  Hot color filled Sofía’s cheeks. “It seems that’s the case. But since Nik has made his choice, I think the point is irrelevant, don’t you?”

  The countess shrugged. “Maybe so. It’s unfortunate, however, that he has been forced into this course of action. It would have been easier for him to have had the Agieros on his side. A wife who understands the intricacies of what he is facing instead of one who will detract from his popularity.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. The countess shrugged. “The king will, at some point, realize his mistake.”

  “And you, Countess?” she challenged, her control rapidly dwindling. “Would you have been happy being married off for political expediency? Knowing a man was only sharing your bed because he had to? I would find that rather hard to swallow.”

  The countess’s head snapped back. “It’s preferable, then, to be the woman who trapped him into marriage with a baby? What else would have prompted him to break an alliance with my family?” She shook her head. “Relationships burn brightly, then they extinguish. I’ve had enough experience in my life to learn that. So yes, Sofía, I would have been fine with a political match. It would serve you well to lose some of your starry-eyed perspective if I can give you one piece of advice. To recognize the reality of what you are walking into.”

  Starry-eyed? She would have laughed at how far that was from the truth of her and Nik if it wouldn’t have hurt too damn much.

  Turning on her heel she stalked inside. Had she stayed she would certainly have ensured herself a position on Akathinia’s persona non grata list. If she wasn’t there already.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IT WAS THE early hours of the next morning before Nik and Sofía bid farewell to their final guests on the front steps of the palace. Sofía stood by Nik’s side, so tightly strung underneath
the hand he had placed at her waist he knew he had another battle left to fight tonight. It was in every veiled look of hostility she’d thrown at him for the past couple of hours. She’d only done it, of course, in those rare moments when it wouldn’t be recorded by the cameras or hundreds of sets of eyes, but the message had come through loud and clear.

  His fiancée was unhappy. Desperately so. And while he couldn’t blame her given the reception the Akathinians had supplied, he had expected her to be tougher about it. Sofía had always been tough. It had been one of the things that had drawn him to her.

  The senior event staffer nodded at him that they could quietly melt away. He guided Sofía into the palace and up the stairs toward their rooms. She shrugged his hand off and continued up the stairs, cheeks rosy, hair slipping from the knot atop her head, the enticing curve of her back arched above her delectable bottom as she charged on ahead of him. She was the most stunning female on the face of the planet in that moment, a curvaceous red flame any man would be wild to possess.

  Including Aristos Nicolades. He had clearly been besotted with his fiancée.

  Sofía threw open the doors to their suite and stalked in, headed toward the bedroom. Sitting down on the bed, she yanked her shoes off and flung them toward the closet.

  Nik followed, shrugging out of his jacket and losing his tie. “So they gave you a hard ride. You knew from the press that was going to happen. We prepared you for that. Why let them get to you so?”

  Her eyes darkened. “That was not a hard ride. That was a bloodbath. They chewed me up and spit me out, Nik. I am humiliated. No,” she said, waving her hand at him, “that’s not a strong enough word. I feel...annihilated.”

  He narrowed his gaze on her. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

  “Exaggerating? I made an attempt with every single one of them, despite their condescension. I laughed at their elitist jokes, made an attempt to look like I cared about cricket and the dying art of a good afternoon tea, and all I got back was a brick wall. Nothing. As if I might as well not even have tried. It isn’t me that needs an attitude adjustment, it’s them.”

  “You need to calm down,” he said quietly, eyeing her heaving chest. Worrying she was going to work herself into a panic attack. “Not everyone was unwelcoming. Some of the most powerful members of Akathinian society were very welcoming.”

  “I can count them on a hand.” She started pulling pins out of her hair and tossing them on the bed.

  “Enough of this, Sofía,” he growled. “They’ll get over it.”

  She fixed her gaze on him, twin ebony pools of fire that singed him with her contempt. “Do you know what she said to me, your countess? She told me that I will never be accepted by Akathinian society because I am just not one of you. That you should have chosen a woman who understands the intricacies of what you are facing instead of one who will detract from your popularity.”

  He frowned. “She said that?”

  “That wasn’t even the best of it. She told me it was unfortunate I wasn’t taking your best interests to heart by trapping you into marriage with a baby. That you would realize your mistake of attaching yourself to a nobody like me.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Thee mou, Sofía, those are the words of a woman who has suffered her own humiliation. The Agieros have a name to protect. I don’t condone her for attacking you like that, but she can be forgiven for slipping.”

  “Slipping? She came after me. I’d been avoiding her all evening.”

  That surprised him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I am. I wish it could have been different tonight. But it will get easier, I promise you.”

  She pulled the last of the pins out of her hair, the long silken tresses floating around her shoulders. Turned that volatile dark stare on him. “What do you want from me, Nik? I have agreed to this marriage. I have given up my life. And still you keep asking for more.”

  “I want you to stop fighting what you can’t change. You’re only making it more difficult for yourself.”

  “While you want everything.” She glared at him, her cheeks firing a deep red. “Do you know how hard I’ve tried to put my past behind me? How much I’d like to forget I was the girl who lived in the apartment building none of my friends were allowed to go to because so many bad things happened there? I had put that behind me until the press dredged up my meager beginnings. Then they go and quote one of the women I hated from my fashion design class, who called me Scholarship Girl, who never let me forget I didn’t belong in her high society circles, who refused to acknowledge the talent that got me there. Now she,” she rasped, “was smart. She made it sound as if we were fast friends, so she could attach her name to mine for her own advantage.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, the misery she must have felt as a child hitting him square in the chest. He took a deep breath. “It’s unfortunate, Sofía, how they have portrayed you. But if you let them destroy you over this, it’s they who have the power, not you. You can’t let them do that to you.”

  She lifted her chin. “I am better than that.”

  “Yes, you are,” he agreed, sitting down on the bed beside her. “You blow me away with your strength. What it must have taken for you to survive as a young girl. So use it now. Design the best clothing line that silences them all. Be that designer you’ve always wanted to be. The people’s respect will come if you show them who you are.

  She stared mutely at him. “That’s easy for you to say,” she finally said. “I’m scared. I feel lost Nik. Hopelessly adrift. Way out of my depth. I don’t know if I can do this. And that’s before we add a child to the mix.”

  “Did you ever stop to think how I feel? This is new for me, too, Sofía. I am finding my way. Amid the press who make constant comparisons of me to my brother and father, who record my mistakes one by one. I have to believe in myself in this situation. Believe I can run this country, that I can set this nation on the right path. There is no room for doubt or constant second-guessing.”

  Her chin dipped. “Is it too much to ask for a little support along the way?”

  He shook his head. “You need to do that. But you also need to tell me when you’re scared. When you’re feeling overwhelmed. I’m not a mind reader.”

  Her eyes fired. “All well and good for you to say. But since you made that promise to me a couple of weeks ago, Nik, I’ve seen you a total of about an hour a day, most of that time during dinner with your family. Should I book an appointment with you? Slot myself in?”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

  “Am I?” She gave him a scathing look. “Aristos thought I was well in hand with you, you know. That you would enjoy handling me. Putting me in my place.”

  “You were discussing me with Aristos?”

  “He brought it up, not me. He finds it impressive how you will take a deal to the very edge to win. Is that what you were doing earlier, Nik? Now? Telling me what I want to hear to solve your problem before it blows up in your face?”

  “I meant what I said.” He raked his gaze over her. “You were attracted to him.”

  “I wish I was. At least Aristos is an open book. What you see is what you get. God only knows with you.”

  Blood pounded his temples, frustration and jealousy mixing in a volatile combination. He’d had enough. Quite enough. He snared his fingers around her waist and dragged her onto his lap. His gaze speared hers as her lush bottom made intimate contact with his hard thighs. “You would be wise,” he bit out, “to never discuss me with Aristos again. Or,” he added deliberately, “to flirt with him as blatantly as you did tonight.”

  She didn’t heed the warning. Instead her eyes went even blacker. “I thought that was the point of the Akathinian tradition... To enjoy the free members of the opposite sex before you are tied down for all eternity.”

  A su
rge of adrenaline picked him up and carried him past the point of no return. “Yes,” he agreed. “It is also tradition that the bride-to-be ends up in the groom-to-be’s bed. Pleasuring him.”

  She caught her lip between her teeth. “Not this bride-to-be.”

  The flare of excitement in her eyes convinced him otherwise. Bending his head he tugged her lip between his teeth, taking over the job. She pushed her palms against his chest in a halfhearted shove, but her breath was coming too rapidly for him to put any stock in her protest, her luscious body in the sensational red dress plastered against him too great a temptation to resist.

  His teeth sank deeper into her lip, punishing her. “You should know better than to bait me, Sofía mou. Or maybe that was the point?”

  “As if I—” He cut off her sputter, taking her mouth in an aggressive possession designed to get to the heart of the matter. Her underneath him where she should have been for the past two weeks.

  Her nails dug into his biceps in a punishment of her own. A soft sound emerged from the back of her throat, her mouth opening under his. He took advantage of it, burying his fingers in a chunk of her hair while he slid his tongue inside her mouth to taste her, stroke her. Another low moan as her fingers relinquished their death grip on his flesh reached right inside of him.

  A push of his palm sent her back on the bed, her sexy red dress riding up her thighs. His hands pushed it up farther, his only intention to be inside of her. Her eyes were molten dark fire as they met his. But there was also indecision there. It made him curse low in his throat.

  “There isn’t one inch of you that doesn’t want me to take you right now,” he rasped. “Allow us what we both want.”

  “I need time to think.

  “About what?”

  She pushed herself into a sitting position. “About whether I give you that power over me.”

  His brutally aroused body protested loudly. “I have made a promise to you, Sofía. I am committed to making this work.”