“He’s burning up with fever.” Roman moaned as I pressed a cool cloth to his forehead and neck.
Spitz took one look at Roman’s motionless, pallid figure and exclaimed, “Christ.”
Gerald arrived with a serving cart and several buckets of ice. “It’s all we have.”
Together, the three of us wrapped the ice in towels and packed them around Roman. He mumbled incoherently, sliding into brief periods of unconsciousness.
“He needs a doctor,” Spitz said. Concern filled his eyes. “Gerald, do you know anyone we can call? Someone discreet?”
“My brother’s a surgeon. He can be here within the hour. You can trust him.”
Spitz pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. Gerald and I stared at him. “I should run a background check on this guy.”
“There isn’t time.” I twisted my hands in frustration. I wasn’t an expert in the medical field, but any fool could see Roman had an infection. If this was true, a strong dose of antibiotics offered the only cure. I picked up the receiver of the house phone and handed it to Gerald. “Call him.”
Dr. MacDonald, Gerald’s twin brother, arrived within forty minutes, carrying a large black bag and a somber air of competence that eased my worries. After short introductions, he went straight to Roman’s side. Gerald and his brother talked quietly, finishing each other’s sentences. My overworked brain lacked the strength to concentrate on anything of consequence, and I struggled to make sense of the diagnosis.
“The wound is infected,” the doctor said. “I cleaned it and administered a tetanus shot. I’m going to start an intravenous antibiotic. That should kick it in the pants. Overall, he seems very healthy and should recover in a short time.” He squeezed my hand, his eyes kind. “You did the right thing by calling me. An injury like this, if left untreated, can take a man’s life.”
He tossed and turned, murmuring my name now and then. I held his hand and stroked his cheek. Every few hours, I woke him up to take a sip of water or drink some broth. The longer I stared at his inert form, the more my emotions vacillated. When had love become so complicated? Before Roman, I’d never believed in fairytales or happily-ever-after, but he’d changed all that with his smoldering gaze and mysterious moods. Would I be able to embrace his darker side? While he slept, I contemplated the various facets of his personality and weighed his good traits against the bad. To have the man I loved, I’d have to accept the billionaire mogul who funded arms deals and meddled in world politics, and I wasn’t sure it was something I could do.
17
Rourke
By the next morning, Roman’s fever had passed but he was weak. Despite my protests, he insisted on getting out of bed and dressing for breakfast. I called down to the kitchen and had a large breakfast brought up—eggs, sausage, fresh fruit, toast, and pancakes. My stomach churned at the sight and scent of food, but I forced down a few bites. Roman ate an entire plate of pancakes and eggs, something I’d never seen him do.
“I was starving.” He dabbed the corners of his mouth with the linen napkin and smiled apologetically. His gaze dropped to the half-eaten fruit on my plate. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“No. The war and lies and drama stole my appetite,” I replied. Now that he was feeling better, indignation burned inside me. I was acting like a petulant child but couldn’t stop myself. “Before we do anything, we need to tell Julie.”
The walk to her room was the longest walk of my life. On the way, we collected Everly. There was no easy way to break the news. Ivan had been so proud of her and the baby. They’d been at the beginning of their lives as a family. Now their future had been stolen from them. I wanted to cry for their loss, but my emotions had frozen into a thick block of ice. Instead, the three of us wrapped our arms around her and the baby and held them. I wanted to stay with her, but Roman and I had business to finish.
We walked in silence to his study. At the door, he took my hand. “Spitz and I have a meeting this morning. You’re welcome to sit in. With any luck, we’ll be able to put this rebellion to rest.” The angle of his head suggested cautious optimism, or maybe it was ambivalence. I didn’t know how to read him anymore.
“Okay.” Maybe, if I learned more about the problems he’d been facing, I’d understand where he was coming from.
“Great.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll meet here in an hour.”
The tone of his voice set off warning bells in my head. This wasn’t the voice of my husband. This voice belonged to the mercurial, arrogant, pain-in-the-ass I’d worked for in the beginning. Each conversation seemed to pull us farther and farther apart. I smiled and pushed my chair back from the table. “Fine. I’m going to take a shower, and I’ll be back.”
Without another word, he left through the bookcase passageway. I turned on the shower, letting the water heat up, and was about to undress when Everly knocked on the bedroom door.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, her features clouded with worry.
“Fine.” Heat raced into my cheeks. Would she see through my lie? I waved a hand toward the bathroom. “I was just about to take a shower.”
“Julie’s wanted to be alone with the baby.” She lifted the lid of one of the silver chafing dishes and sniffed at the pancakes. “I’ll check on her in a bit.”
I climbed into the shower but left the bathroom door open. A few seconds later, Everly sat leaned against the edge of the sink. We’d shared a bathroom for many years when we’d lived together, and she’d often chat to me while I showered.
“Is everything okay between you and Roman?” she asked.
“No. It’s not.” I wasn’t sure they’d ever be okay again.
When I didn’t elaborate, she changed the subject. “Did you know that Roman has a stable?”
“No.” And I had no idea that he was a warlord either, I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue instead.
“Yes. Twenty-four horses and some ponies. Do you want to come?”
When we were younger, we had horses at the same boarding stable and had ridden together in competitions. The thought of setting aside my troubles for fresh air and a gallop across the countryside sounded ideal. Unfortunately, I had bigger problems requiring my attention. “Not today. I’m meeting with Gerald about the household management, and I need to take care of some things for work,” I said, adding a new lie to the old ones. I shut off the water. She handed a towel into the shower.
“Okay. Well, I’m here if you need me. I’ll see you at lunch, right?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Finally, the door clicked shut behind her, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Like Julie, I needed time alone to process the situation. This was going to be a long, hard day for everyone.
With clean hair and a fresh attitude, I knocked on the door of Roman’s study an hour later. Spitz greeting me, relaxed but alert in a pair of dark blue jeans and a Bellingham Manor polo shirt. Roman sat behind his desk and didn’t look up when I entered. The loss of his attention stabbed me in the gut. I’d always loved the way his eyes brightened and his lips curved into a smile whenever we reunited after a few hours apart.
“Have a seat, Rourke.” Roman nodded toward the chair across from his desk but still didn’t make eye contact. “We’re going to do a Skype call in a few minutes.”
“You know how to Skype?” I asked, trying to tease him and lighten the mood. “All this time, I thought you were helpless.”
“I know how. I just pay people to do it for me.” Nothing about his expression softened. I waited for the traces of dry wit that I loved, but he remained somber.
“You’ll need to stay quiet and out of the picture,” Spitz said, stepping in as the tension thickened in the room. “These people are skittish. If they sense a new player has been introduced into the game, they can get squirrely.”
“Mum’s the word.” I mimed a zipping motion across my lips.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Spitz asked, glancing from me to Roman and back again. “By wit
nessing this exchange, you become a party to the transaction and could be held liable for any consequences that come from this meeting.”
His warning made my heart skip a beat. I nodded anyway, wondering if I’d just signed my death warrant. Then again, I was already married to a Russian warlord. Things couldn’t get much worse.
Roman cleared his throat and stared at the computer screen. “We’re ready to start.”
I sat quietly in the chair, out of view, and tried to concentrate on the discussion, differentiate between the many different speakers, and weave together the puzzle pieces. The conversation bounced back and forth between Russian and English. I struggled to translate. If I understood correctly, Roman’s troops had infiltrated the palace where his parents had reigned and “terminated” the persons responsible for the recent executions and Ivan’s death.
Two hours later, the call ended. Silence stretched through the room. Roman swiveled in his chair to face us. Throughout the call, he’d been calm, confident, and powerful, but once he signed off, the color drained from his face. “I swear to God this war stole ten years off my life.”
“I’ll be damned,” Spitz muttered, wearing a look of disbelief. “You did it. You arrogant son of a bitch. You just freed an entire country.”
18
Roman
It should have been the best day of my life. I should have been drinking champagne and celebrating. Instead, I felt like the bottom had dropped out of my world. Rourke sat in the chair across from me, silent and restrained. Although she hadn’t spoken a word, I could sense the gears grinding in her head. I may have won a war, but I’d lost my wife in the process. Her gaze met mine for one fleeting second before she stood and left the room. Something was missing from her eyes, something more precious to me than my own life.
Spitz went straight to the liquor cabinet, poured two fingers of my best scotch, and tossed it back. “I don’t care if it’s ten o’clock in the morning. I need a damn drink.”
“You did a great job,” I said. “I’ll make sure you get a bonus for all your trouble.”
He snorted, refilled his glass, and shook his head. “Ivan said you were a mastermind, and I’ll admit I had my doubts. But you, my friend, are a motherfucking genius.” He lifted his glass in a toast.
“I’m going to be a divorced genius if my wife doesn’t come around,” I said to no one in particular.
“Yep, I’d say she’s pretty pissed. You’d better get out the checkbook.”
“If you think that’ll work, then you don’t know Rourke very well. Money means nothing to her.” For the first time in my life, I couldn’t buy my way out of a problem. I could solve a war, but I had no idea how to handle my wife.
“Don’t look at me. Like I told you, I’m a four-time loser.” One of his eyebrows waggled in self-deprecation. “But if there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word.”
“I wish it was that simple.” Judging by the loss of admiration in her eyes, only time and good behavior would get me back into her good graces. “Why don’t you take the day off? You’ve earned it. Get a hotel room on me. Or you’re welcome to stay here.” During the events of the past few days, he’d more than earned my trust and respect. No one could ever replace Ivan, but Spitz had become a valued member of my team. “I hope you’ll consider staying on as chief of security.”
“Does the promotion come with a raise?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows higher.
“Absolutely.”
“Then count me in.” We shook hands. “It’s been a pleasure working for you, sir. I look forward to our next adventure.”
“Alright. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go grovel at my wife’s feet,” I said.
“Good luck.” He lifted the bottle of scotch into the air. “Do you mind if I take this with me?”
“Help yourself. I’ve got plenty more if you run out. Just call Gerald. He’ll hook you up with anything you need.”
I found Rourke in the library, staring out the window at the park. She didn’t turn around when I entered, but I could tell she knew I was there by the way her posture shifted. I stood beside her and studied the budding trees, rolling meadows, and the glittering waters of the distant lake.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I asked, hoping to smooth out the kinks of the past few days.
“Can I go home now?” she asked.
“I thought maybe we could stay here for a while and spend some time together. No business meetings. No guests. Only the two of us.” When she didn’t answer, a cold sense of dread tightened my chest. “Or we can take our honeymoon. Anywhere in the world. Your choice.”
“I want to go home,” she said. I’d never heard her tone so flat before. The change in her voice worried me almost as much as the ice in her eyes.
“Okay, sure. I’ll have helicopter take us to Gatwick in the morning.”
“No. Not you.” Her declaration transformed my worry into panic. “I need time away from you. Time to think.”
“You’re leaving me?” The walls of my throat tightened until I couldn’t swallow.
“I’m not leaving you. I’m just not going to be with you.” The calmer her tone became, the more my anxiety grew.
“It’s the same thing, isn’t it? I’m here. You’re there.” The volume of my voice grew louder with each word. My panic turned to irrational anger. “You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”
“You don’t have a choice,” she said. When she turned to face me, her eyes flashed. “You’ve lied to me, deceived me, risked my life, and tricked me into a situation I want no part of.”
“I had my reasons. You have to understand my position. I have a responsibility to those people.” My temper started to break loose. I was losing control of everything in my life.
“You have a responsibility to me.” Her breasts heaved with the passion of her conviction. I’d never seen her so angry or so sexy. She was my equal in every way. “Right now, I want distance between us. At this point, I’m not sure separate continents will be far enough.”
19
Rourke
Roman’s highhandedness infuriated me. I glared at him. He shoved his fingers through his dark hair, spiking it into a mess. Although I was angry, I couldn’t help thinking how handsome he was when he was angry. If I was honest with myself, I had to admit that his powerful command of the Skype call had turned me on. I crossed my arms over my breasts to hide the way my nipples peaked every time he growled. A small, sadistic part of me enjoyed his rage.
“You don’t own me,” I retorted.
“Like hell I don’t. The ring on your finger says otherwise.” He grabbed my left wrist and lifted my hand into the air. The diamond and sapphire band sparkled in the sunlight. Under normal circumstances, he’d never have said something like this. We both knew it, but our tempers had spiraled out of control.
“Let go.” I yanked on my arm. His touch remained gentle but firm.
“Never.” With a sharp jerk, he spun me around so my back was against his front. He wrapped an arm around my waist. I arched into him, grinding my bottom into the hardness behind his zipper, remaining careful of his injury. I wiggled and squirmed until we stood face to face once more. He fisted a hand in the hair at the nape of my neck and angled my head back to expose my throat. Like a vampire, he bent and placed a hot kiss on my pulsing jugular vein. At that moment, I would have willingly given him my blood. He already owned my soul. I moaned, overwhelmed by the tickle of his lips against my skin. My brain was angry with him, but my body craved his touch. He cupped my breast and squeezed, flicking a thumb over my nipple.
“I hate you,” I said, not meaning it, but desperate to gain control of the situation.
“I hate you more.”
Our mouths slammed together. His tongue teased and taunted mine. I dug my fingers into his hair and held him to me. For the past few nights, I’d dreamed of one more chance to hold him, to have him inside me again. Desire sang through my blood. I fumbled with the buckle of his
belt, slipped it through the loops, and unzipped his pants. His cock sprang forward and bobbed between us, long and heavy. All the emotions I’d been suppressing collided with a bang.
I hopped onto the edge of the desk and spread my legs. He slid into me, wincing at the pain of his wound. Why was I mad at him? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember. Our gazes connected. His pupils dilated, turning the blue of his eyes to black.
“Say you’re mine,” he commanded.
“No.” Every fiber in my body yearned for more. I struggled to draw him deeper inside me. Yes, I belonged to him. We both knew it, but I couldn’t give in. To punish him for taking away my free will, I raked my nails down his back, scarring him, marking him as mine, as well.
“If you think you can walk away from me, you’re dead wrong,” he growled in my ear. The vibrations of his deep voice hit me in the pit of my belly.
“Try and stop me.” Our bodies slammed together. He picked up a rapid rhythm, bruising and punishing me, and I loved every forceful thrust.
“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you.”
Attraction crackled between us, lifting the tiny hairs on my body like static electricity. I tried but couldn’t tear away. My body melted into his. I stared at his face, memorizing every plane and angle. His lips parted, his breathing getting heavier and heavier, like he’d just finished a footrace. Bittersweet ecstasy sparked through my body. He groaned, the sound guttural and feral. I glanced down at where we were joined. The dark red shaft of his cock slipped in and out of me, each thrust a little less controlled than the one before it.
“Roman.” For the briefest moment, I allowed myself to forget the lies and deceptions. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and pretended that we were happy and in love and newlyweds. My cry of release echoed around the room, bouncing off the books and the coffered ceiling. As my orgasm rolled through me, I refused to open my eyes because when I did, everything would change. Nothing would ever be the same for us again.
The Exiled Prince Trilogy Page 32