The Exiled Prince Trilogy

by Jeana E. Mann

  Blood climbed from the open throat of her blouse, up her slender neck, and settled in her cheeks. “There’s nothing I’d rather do.” Sweetness and complicity filled her tone, but those goddamn eyes flashed. What I wouldn’t give to turn her over my knee and give her a good spanking. Something about her incited the devil inside me. I wanted to tame her, claim her, and bend her stubborn will to meet mine.

  “Are you done bickering?” One of Ivan’s thick black brows arched. By the curl of his lips, he enjoyed the display between us.

  “Continue.” I twirled a finger through the air.

  He scrolled through the messages on his phone. “It looks like she just bought lunch at a restaurant in London. I can have someone in the area within the hour.”

  “Then why are you standing here?” I snapped, my concerns immediately going back to my daughter.

  “On it, sir.” Ivan gave a small bow and disappeared on silent feet.

  I buried my head in my hands and groaned. For the last three months, I’d been patient, controlled, and calm. News of their sightings came in, one after the other, sometimes all at once, and sometimes not at all. Through these reports, I’d held my breath, hoping each one would be the break necessary to bring Milada home. And each time, I’d been wrong. We were always a day too late or a city behind.

  Through my fingers, I watched low-heeled pumps cross the carpet and stop in front of my feet. My gaze traveled up slender calves, past the hem of her blue dress and the belt wrapped around a narrow waist, over her full breasts and stopped on her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. The warmth of her fingertips sent a shockwave down my arm. “You must love her very much.”

  “Yes.” The broken admission rasped past the thickness in my throat.

  “I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you. Is there anything I can do to help?” The sincerity in her tone placed a crack in the shield around my emotions. A lot of years had passed since any woman had touched me with more than lust.

  “No.”

  She hovered at my feet for a few beats.

  Apologize, Roman. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Contrition had never been my one of my strong suits. A man in my position never had to apologize for anything. At least, that was what I’d been told. We stared at each other, the seconds passing, my heart beating faster. If only she knew what I knew, we wouldn’t be having this stupid conversation. She’d be kneeling at my feet, and I’d take control of that sweet, sassy mouth.

  “Well, I’ll get to work then.” With a nod, she left the room and closed the door behind her.

  For the rest of the day, I threw myself into work. Because it was a Saturday, I spent the day in my study, tying up loose ends from the previous week and devising strategies for the future. Under normal circumstances, this was my favorite day, a day for lounging in sweat pants, catching up on news, watching baseball. Today, however, I couldn’t shake the worry over Milada. No matter how many reports I read, how many phone calls I made, her innocent, round face hovered in front of my eyes.

  Unable to stand the sensation of powerlessness, I phoned Ivan. “Any news?”

  “They were definitely in London.” The quiet, noncommittal undertone in his voice sent a chill down my back.

  “But they’re not now?” I shifted back from the desk and closed my eyes, willing him to say the words I wanted to hear.

  “We think it was just a long layover. It’s a possibility they moved out of the country. We’re checking the leads now.”

  I hung up the phone then walked to the window and stared over the bustling city. In another week, Milada would have her twelfth birthday, and I wouldn’t be there to celebrate with her. If I knew her mother at all, she’d used the time to fill our daughter’s head with lies and misinformation, to turn her against me. With a sigh, I rested a palm against the glass and concentrated on the line of traffic crawling its way up Park Avenue.

  “Plotting world domination?” Nicky’s sarcastic question slammed the door shut on my thoughts. He sauntered into the room in his cocky, playful way.

  “What is it, Nicky?” Given the circumstances, I didn’t have the patience for his mischief. “I’ve seen more of you in the last month than the past five years. What are you up to?”

  “No ‘Hello’? ‘How are you?’ You really need to work on your social skills.” Resting a hip on the corner of my desk, he toyed with the stapler. I took it from his hands and returned it to its place.

  “Hello. How are you?” I asked to humor him.

  “Well, I’m a little pissed off about your behavior last night. Thank you for asking.”

  We’d played these games for the majority of our lives. When we were kids, Nicky had been the annoying younger kid, always tugging on my shirtsleeve. As teenagers, we’d competed against each other for everything: sports, cars, women. Once Claudette had come along and she’d become pregnant, the game had lost its luster for me, because now I had a child to consider, one who didn’t deserve to be manipulated. Nicky, however, couldn’t stop.

  “From now on, Rourke is off limits.” Ending the conversation, I powered up the computer.

  “I don’t think so.” Despite my dirty looks, he didn’t move from the desk. “I like her, and I think she likes me too. She might be the one.”

  I stared at him for a minute then burst into laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Am I?” With his hair tousled by the wind, he looked like a young boy again. He stood and wandered to the new abstract mounted over the sofa, clasped his hands behind his back, and stared at the swirls of color. “If your ego wasn’t so enormous, you’d be able to see how crazy she is about me. We’ve been sneaking around for weeks, stealing precious moments together. She’s worried you won’t understand.”

  Although I pretended to be unruffled by his comment, my guts clenched at the thought of her in any man’s arms, let alone his. “Go home, Nicky. I have work to do.”

  “Suit yourself, but next time you ruin my date, I won’t be so nice about it.”

  The pressure of work, worry for Milada, and sexual frustration culminated in a growl from my throat. I stood and slapped both hands on the desk. “Do not come in here and threaten me. I’m not playing your stupid games any longer. Rourke isn’t some prize. She’s a real person. Haven’t we hurt enough people? Leave her alone.”

  Stunned by my outburst, he stared, wide-eyed, until Rourke knocked on the frame of the open door. “Excuse me, but is everything okay? I can hear you all the way into the kitchen.”

  In unison, my brother and I turned to face her. With her hair in a ponytail and minus cosmetics, she looked much younger than twenty-six. Tight running pants hugged her hips and thighs, but my gaze stuttered over the strip of bare skin between her waistband and running bra.

  “Hi, babe,” Nicky closed in and bent to give her a kiss, but she turned her head at the last minute. His lips grazed her cheek instead. I choked back a chuckle.

  “Good morning.” The greeting was for him, but her eyes found mine and held there. A curious flutter twisted my stomach, pleasant yet unnerving.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I’m going for a run on my lunch hour, unless you need something right away. I’ve got to work off some of the weight I’ve gained.” At her words, my gaze involuntarily slid over her full breasts and the curves further down. In my opinion, she was perfect.

  “You’re welcome to use my gym,” I said. Nicky’s gaze flitted from me to her then back again, confusion furrowing his brow. No one was allowed to use my private workout facilities, not even him. “On your downtime, of course.”

  “Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to impose.” She shifted from one foot to the other. Maybe she sensed the tension between me and my brother. Or maybe it was the sexual tension that stretched taut as a guitar string between us. My eyes kept bouncing from her lips to her breasts, despite my best efforts to keep them under control.

  “It
’s not an imposition.”

  “I wish you’d told me you were going for a run. I’d have joined you,” Nicky said, stepping into my line of sight, breaking the visual connection between me and Rourke.

  I laughed. “You haven’t worked out a day in your life.” His murderous glare tickled my funny bone even more. I lifted an eyebrow, daring him to deny it. “The guy owns a chain of workout facilities and has never set foot in one, ever.”

  “That’s not true. I went to one in Las Vegas—once. Granted, it was by accident. My GPS gave the wrong directions. I was actually looking for the bar next door, but I think that counts. Don’t you?” When Nicky wanted, he possessed more charisma than anyone I’d ever met. He ramped up the charm for Rourke, showing his dimples. She smiled, and suddenly, the humor dissipated from the conversation.

  “What about the closet?” As soon as the question rolled off my tongue, her smile turned into a frown. It was a dick move, but jealousy removed the filter between my thoughts and my mouth.

  “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.” The tip of her nose tilted higher. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

  “God, you’re an ass.” Nicky’s laughter made the tips of my ears burn with irritation. “No wonder you can’t find a girlfriend.” He winked at Rourke, and they shared another grin, escalating my embarrassment. Outside, the sun moved behind a cloud and shadowed the city.

  “It’s okay. He can’t help himself.” The muscle beneath her cheek twitched, underlining her disapproval. “I’m used to it.”

  I didn’t want to admit Nicky was right, but I was an ass. Too many years as a spoiled, overentitled, megalomaniac had ruined me for polite company. In desperation, I floundered for a way to gain her approval. A photo of my new yacht flashed across the screensaver on my computer display. “When you get a minute, I’d like to get your input on décor for my yacht.”

  “You have a yacht?” She bit her lower lip, eyebrows raising. “Everly’s father had one—a small one. We used to go out on weekends sometimes. I really enjoyed it.”

  “It’s being delivered next week. I’ll need you to go with me to inspect it.” I made a mental note to remember this tidbit for later. “Maybe we can take it for a spin around the harbor.”

  “Yes, that would be awesome.” There it was, the smile I’d been yearning for, and all for me. I smirked at my brother, reveling in his scowl. Then her smile faded, like the sunshine on the New York horizon. “Do I need to stock it with condoms?”

  “Come along, Rourke. I’ll walk you downstairs,” Nicky said, wrapping his fingers around her elbow, and shot a smile of pure delight over his shoulder.

  I crumpled the piece of paper in my hand and watched them disappear through the door. Emptiness gnawed my gut as I reclaimed my seat behind the desk. Despite the size of my bank account, I couldn’t buy the skills to seduce a woman like Rourke. We’d gotten off on the wrong foot, and I had no idea how to get back in her good graces.

  23

  Rourke

  A few minutes after eight that evening, Roman called. I gritted my teeth at the familiar ringtone. “I need to see you in my room. Now.”

  The steely edge to his request made my stomach flip. The entire day had been spent sorting through his clothes, photographing each item, and entering its picture plus description into an iPad. I’d recruited one of the housemaids to assist. While I manipulated the data, she’d arranged the clothing according to season, color, and purpose. We’d finished a few minutes ago, and I was in the process of running hot water into the tub for a relaxing bath when he called. After a sigh of resignation, I shut off the taps, pulled on a bathrobe, and padded through the silent house.

  Outside Menshikov’s room, I rapped on the door and pressed my sweaty palms together. Heaven knew what his request might be. More condoms. A triple chocolate shake from the ice cream joint down the street. The longer I waited, the greater my irritation became. The man had no boundaries. Maybe it was time for me to show him mine.

  The door opened. I bit my lower lip and tried not to stare at his bare chest, the long lines of his torso, or the ripples of abdominal muscles above his silk boxers. Our eyes met, and I got lost in the churning depths of his irises. Inky-black hair spilled over his forehead. It took all my self-control to keep from slipping my fingers through those glossy strands and pushing them away from his face.

  “Explain.” He strode toward the closet, his tight ass bunching and flexing beneath the fabric of his boxers. With an angry jerk, he flung the door open. “What is this?”

  “Um, your closet.” My temper simmered. Following Nicky’s visit, we’d been tiptoeing around each other all day. An argument loomed on our horizon. I was done taking crap from him, and by the flash of his eyes, something itched beneath his skin, too.

  “I can’t find a damn thing.” His full lips tightened into a grim line. His bare feet slapped against the tile as he paced along the shelves of footwear.

  “What are you looking for?” A chuckle tickled the back of my throat. I coughed to keep it from escaping.

  “Pajamas.”

  “They’re here.” I tapped the second drawer of the center island. “All of your underwear, socks, and incidentals are in these drawers, grouped by color and purpose.” Nudging him aside, I pointed to the iPad on the island countertop and swiped a finger across the display. “An inventory of your clothing is here. I’ve contacted your stylist. She’ll be able to update your wardrobe with new purchases.”

  He stared at me, nostrils flaring, the epitome of every sexual fantasy I’d ever possessed. “When I asked you to organize my closet, I meant put things in order, not screw it all up.”

  I glanced around the pristine room. Gleaming-white cabinets, sparkling mirrors, and marble countertops shone back at me. Everything was perfect, down to the fresh centerpiece of white roses and ivy on the island. I crossed my arms over my chest. “No.”

  “No?” He mimicked my pose and arched a thick black eyebrow. The veins stood out on his flexing biceps. Apparently, he’d never heard the word before.

  “No, you do not get to berate me for doing an excellent job. I went above and beyond here. This is perfection.” I lifted my chin and dared him to challenge me.

  He took a step closer until the tips of his bare feet brushed my socks. When his chest rose and fell with an exasperated breath, an ache spread through my breasts and down the insides of my thighs. The scent of his cologne filled my nose. I wanted to run my hands over his smooth, bare skin and down the curve of his back. The tilt of his chest brought his nose within an inch of mine.

  “I asked you to organize it, not reconfigure the whole thing.” His eyes were dark, deep, infinite like the ocean, and surrounded by long, black lashes. Their focus dipped to my lips. “If I wanted you to deconstruct it, I’d have asked you.”

  “You know this is a great job,” I said, keeping my voice low and even, while my insides quaked with lust and fury. “If you don’t like it, maybe next time you’ll be more specific.”

  “I shouldn’t have to be specific. You should know what I want.”

  “That’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. I’m not a mind reader.”

  A knock on the door broke us apart. Roman shoved past me and opened the door. Ivan swept in. Rain dotted the lapels of his black suit. His gaze swept over my employer’s bare chest and my bath robe. A flicker of amusement crossed his face then disappeared.

  “I just wanted to let you know we’ve located your daughter,” Ivan said. Roman stopped breathing. “They just crossed the border into the Ukraine.”

  “What?” The air vibrated with the strength of Roman’s frustration. “How did this happen?”

  “They slipped past our guy and through customs before he could do anything.” Sincere remorse shadowed Ivan’s sharp features.

  “Tell me she’s okay.” Roman’s voice broken on the last word. This rare show of emotion reminded me of the man lurking beneath his tailored suits and persona of power, som
eone vulnerable and sensitive.

  “My contact says she looked healthy but tired. We won’t give up. I’m searching now for someone to enter the country on our behalf. Hell, I’ll go myself if I have to.” Ivan shook his head and stared at the floor. “I’m so sorry, Roman.”

  Menshikov placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “It’s okay. You’ve done everything you can. Just stay on it, would you?”

  “Of course.” With a deep inhale, Ivan squared his shoulders, his implacable facade sliding over his face again. “I’ll never give up.”

  I stood rooted to the floor until Ivan’s back disappeared into the hallway. Menshikov ran a hand through his hair, paced the floor twice, then picked up the scented candle I’d bought for his nightstand and chucked it against the wall. The glass holder shattered into a thousand pieces. The heavy weight of the piece dented the drywall, something I’d have to get repaired in the morning.

  “Is there anything I can do?” I twisted my hands helplessly. The pain on his face squeezed my chest, his distress palpable. “Do you want to talk? Or can I get you a drink—scotch or vodka?”

  “No. Just…just leave me.” He sank onto the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands, and I left the room with an ache between my ribs. The pain in his eyes resonated with me. I understood how it felt to lose someone you loved.

  Two hours later, I stared at the ceiling from my bed. The soft sheets rustled in the quiet. Roman had everything—everything but the one thing he wanted. No amount of power or wealth or good looks could help him in this situation. What made his ex so angry that she’d kept his daughter away from him? Men like him didn’t come into wealth and power without some dirty skeletons in their closets. I snorted, thinking of his temper tantrums and his arrogance. Despite his shortcomings, the pain in his eyes suggested caring and love, adding another layer to this complicated man.