Everly’s words stuck with me. How can you work through your problems if you’re not speaking to each other? Since I’d returned home, I’d had plenty of time to think about what he’d done. I expected him to act like a regular guy when he wasn’t. Wealth and power came at a great price to him. His parents had been executed. His best friend had been murdered in front of him. And his wife had left him when he’d tried to liberate his country. In front of a court official and God, I’d promised to love him for better or worse. Was I the kind of woman who bailed on her husband when he needed her most?
Inside the car, Lance turned to look at me from the front seat. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but I feel like you should know.”
“Know what?” Icy fingers of dread poked my chest.
“Mr. Menshikov—he’s in some trouble, madam.”
23
Rourke
At two in the morning, my phone rang. I blinked, ignored it, and fell back asleep. Thirty minutes later, it rang again. This time I bolted into an upright position. I snatched up the phone, butterflies fluttering in my belly at the sight of Roman’s name on the caller ID.
“Did I wake you?” His voice shimmered in my ear, soft and seductive, richer than I remembered with the perfect touch of roughness.
“No. Yes.” The sound of his voice brought me to full alertness. Blood thundered in my ears, so loudly I could hardly hear him. “Are you okay? Lance said you’re in trouble.”
“This isn’t a private call,” he said. His confession tugged at my heart in a thousand different ways. “I don’t have much time, but I had to call and tell you how much I love you.”
“I miss you.” My throat ached with unshed tears. I swallowed and tried to think of all the reasons I’d been angry with him. For loving me too much? For wanting to protect me from potential assassins? If we were going to reconcile, I needed to find a way past our differences.
“Are you still upset with me?”
“We haven’t resolved our issues.” I swung my feet over the side of the bed and wiggled my toes in the plush carpet.
“I love you more than life. I want to spend forever with you. I want to make babies and explore the world and grow old with you.” Exasperation transferred clearly through his tone. “I’ll never give up on us, Rourke.”
“Why don’t we have lunch tomorrow and talk about it?” My heart skipped a beat as I lowered the barrier around it.
“That’s not possible.”
“Oh.” His rejection stabbed my heart a final time. “Not possible or you don’t want to make time for me?” My anger, which had cooled considerably with time, began to heat up again.
“Things are…difficult right now.” The texture of his voice changed from rich and warm to diffident. The abrupt shift sent a shiver down my back.
“Are you going to tell my why?” I groaned and rubbed my forehead, desperate to ease the tension forming above my eyebrows. “We’re back to this again? More secrets. You still don’t trust me.”
“Listen to me.” The urgency in his voice turned my blood to ice. “You’re going to hear things about me that may or may not be true. I want you to know that I always did what I thought was right. I’m not the bad guy, Rourke. You have to believe that.”
“Time’s up, Roman.” An unfamiliar voice interrupted our conversation and the line went dead.
Thank you for reading The Dirty Princess. I hope you enjoy this glimpse of , the final episode in this trilogy — available now. The War King
THE WAR KING
Rourke
To distract my mind, I spent the day in Roman’s study, reorganizing his files, rummaging for clues to his whereabouts. When I logged into his computer, the screen remained blank and unyielding. His password no longer worked. Desperate for information, I waited for the work day to end then slipped into his downtown office. After a futile search of his desk and files, I climbed into the back of the limo, eager to return home. I drew the edges of my coat tighter as the car took the wrong exit off the freeway. My heart lurched at the unexpected change of direction.
I lowered the partition to question the driver. “Where are we going?” Lance had taken the night off for personal business, leaving me in the hands of an unfamiliar driver.
“I was instructed to take you to the Devil’s Playground, Mrs. Menshikov.” His unsmiling gaze met mine in the rearview mirror.
“Whose orders?” My pulse escalated. Relief flooded through me. At least Roman was okay.
“Mr. Menshikov, ma’am.”
“I want to go home.” Although I needed answers, Roman’s highhandedness spurred my rebellious nature. Now that I knew he wasn’t in trouble, anger crept in to replace the relief.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I have my orders.”
“Turn the car around,” I snapped.
“No disrespect, Mrs. Menshikov, but I don’t work for you.” With an apologetic nod, he raised the partition.
Outside the car, the city lights streaked through the night. I shoved back in the seat, seething with fury, knowing that further protests would go unheeded. I’d been summoned to the court of the exiled prince, and there was nothing I could do about it. With every passing mile, my anxiety climbed to new heights.
When the car stopped at the nondescript back door of the Devil’s Playground NYC, a thin sheen of perspiration chilled my skin. The last time I’d been here, I’d been filled with nervousness for different, more pleasant reasons. Reluctantly, I climbed out of the limo and rang the buzzer. Achilles opened the door immediately. His expression face yielded nothing.
“Good evening. May I take your wrap?” Under his watchful gaze, I slipped out of my light jacket and handed it to him. He draped it over his arm then pulled a red blindfold from his pocket. “You’ll need to put this on.”
“Why?” I stared at the blindfold, unable to fathom the rules of this newest game, a game I wasn’t sure I wanted to play.
“I have no idea, madam.”
“I know. I know.” I cut him off mid-sentence. “My husband’s orders.”
“Yes, madam.” He clasped his hands in front of him and waited.
“Fine.” I kept my tone even and placed the blindfold over my eyes. My fight was with Roman, not Achilles, and it would be unfair to take my wrath out on his employee. The silk slipped through my trembling fingers, but I finally managed to tie the knot. Robbed of my sight, the rest of my senses leaped into action. The scents of floor polish and Achilles’s aftershave jumped to the forefront. The faint notes of classical music hovered in the air, too soft to be identified.
“Excellent. If you’ll allow me to take your hand, I’ll guide you to your husband.”
I jumped at his cool touch on my wrist. Taking my hand, he curled my fingers into the crook of his elbow.
Our footsteps echoed on the hard floor—his certain and mine hesitant. We passed through several corridors, winding our way into the unknown. When he opened the next door, loud techno music pulsed through the walls, making conversation impossible. My heart clanged against my ribs, knowing that each stride brought me closer to Roman. Equal measures of anticipation and anxiety warred inside me.
After a lengthy journey, Achilles halted. I strained for clues: the rustle of clothing, the click of a key in a lock, the quiet creak of hinges. He led me into what I presumed was one of the playrooms. “Wait here, madam,” he said. I reached for the blindfold, but he closed a hand over mine. “Don’t remove the blindfold.”
“Wait.” I reached in front of me, finding nothing but empty air. “Achilles, where are you going?” Standing alone, unable to see, my panic escalated. His footsteps faded to the rear. The door creaked shut, and the lock clicked.
“Don’t be afraid.” Roman’s deep voice rumbled at my side.
“I’m not afraid. I’m furious.” Even while I protested, my chest heaved with excitement. The scent of his cologne—peppery, familiar, and sweet—tickled my nose. “Why am I blindfolded?”
“Because it pleases me.�
�� The command in his voice weakened my knees. This was the Roman I loved, the man who ruled my heart and my body without mercy.
“I don’t appreciate being kidnapped.” In the absence of sight, my senses sharpened. Light footsteps circled me. I turned, trying to follow his path.
“And yet, here you are.”
“I hardly had a choice. I asked to be taken home. Your driver refused.”
“You always have a choice, Cinderella.” His breath brushed my right ear. I gasped at the delicious spread of goosebumps down the back of my neck.
“If you wanted to talk to me, you could have called on the phone like a normal person.”
His voice moved to my left. I whipped my head to follow his movements. “I could have, but then again, we both know I’m not a normal person, right? I’m arrogant and dirty and perverted.” The backs of his fingers skimmed up my bare forearm. I shivered. “This seemed like a lot more fun.”
“Don’t play with me.” An ache unfurled in the pit of my belly. Although I complained, I wanted him to do just that. Take me. Fuck me. Make me whole again.
“I want you back.” The stubble of his chin scraped along my jaw. I whimpered, knowing his lips hovered mere inches away. “You belong to me. I’ve barely touched you, yet your nipples are poking through your dress, taunting me.” To prove his point, he pinched one of them, making me hiss at the sting of pleasure. “Your rejection makes me crazy.”
“Your call this morning—what was that about? I’ve been out of mind with worry. Was it another one of your mind games?”
“A bad move on my part. I’m sorry for putting you through that.” The heat of his body warmed my backside. “I let circumstances get the better of me, and I apologize. It won’t happen again.” His soft lips nibbled along the bend of my jaw. The muscles below my waist clenched in response. “But I needed to hear your voice, to touch you, and the situation seemed…desperate.”
“Where were you? Give me answers.” This was just like him, to play with my head and tug at my heartstrings. As my fury grew, so did my lust for him. They were irrevocably entwined, each feeding the other.
“You’ll get them, but not tonight.” The tip of his nose traced the curve of my ear. Against my will, my body leaned into him, drawn by a force more powerful than gravity. “Tonight isn’t about excuses or explanations. I brought you here to remind you of how we began.” A slight tug preceded the growl of the zipper down my back. Fresh air wafted over the skin laid bare as my dress parted. His fingertips smoothed along the curve of my spine.
“Is anyone watching us?” The playrooms had been designed with walls of mirrored glass. The voyeuristic members of the club could observe and listen at the discretion of the occupants. The thought added to the slickness gathering between my thighs.
“Maybe.” His teeth nipped the bend of my shoulder. I whimpered, shifting my weight from one foot to the next, seeking to ease the ache of desire growing inside me. “Would you like that, my dirty princess?”
“Yes.” I bit my lower lip to keep from whimpering. “I mean, no.”
“Maybe there’s a whole gallery of people watching me strip your gorgeous body.”
“I’m not going to have sex with you,” I said, in a final attempt to gain control of the situation.
“I can respect that. I wouldn’t expect any other answer from you, considering my recent bad behavior.” The loss of his body heat signaled his retreat. The removal of his lips from my skin filled me with disappointment and confusion.
“Where are you going?” Somehow, he’d turned the tables. Part of me wanted to scream at him, while the rest of me wanted him to fuck me senseless. How could I be so angry and so in love at the same time? The Victorian romance novels in my library had never mentioned this kind of conflict.
“I’m right here, but I’ll go if you want.”
“Not—not yet.” I held the front of my dress to my breasts with one arm.
“Do you want more?”
“Yes.” I whispered the word, ashamed of my desperation for his touch.
“Drop your dress.” The sharp command sent adrenalin rushing through my veins. I let the knee-length linen puddle at my feet. Gooseflesh pebbled my arms and legs. The roughness of his palms skated over my breasts, cupping them, then caught the edges of my panties and dragged them down my legs. “Step out.”
I lifted my feet, letting him dispose of the thin lace.
His footsteps circled me again. “Very nice.”
“I’m glad you approve.” I liked knowing he desired my body with its lumps and bumps and cellulite. I exhaled to calm my soaring heart rate. Where was he taking us? This game might have been unexpected, but I opened my mind to the possibilities. A little playtime might bring us back to common ground.
His hands bracketed my hips, his lips close to my ear. “Lift your arms. There are two ropes above your head. I want you to wrap them around your wrists and hold on.”
“What are you going to do to me?” My voice came out raspy and breathless. I trembled with excitement.
“Trust me.” He guided my hands to the soft braided ropes. The fabric of his shirt whispered across my back, my left arm, and finally my breasts as he came to stand in front of me.
I leaned into him. His shirt buttons bit into my breasts, and the hardness between his legs nudged my belly. “Why are you still dressed?”
“Until tonight, I’ve been holding back with you, but not anymore. It’s become apparent to me that life is fleeting. You want to know the real me—well, this is just a small part of who I am.” His arms wrapped around my waist and crushed me to him. I soaked up his strong embrace. “I can take you places you’ve never been before, Rourke, if you can accept my world.”
Thank you for reading this excerpt of The War King—available now.
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The War King
Prologue
ROMAN
The battery on my phone died a few minutes after my phone call to Rourke. I shoved it into the breast pocket of my jacket and rested my head in my hands. Think, Roman, think. No one had read my Miranda rights or charged me with a crime. They’d done nothing but ask me the same question over and over.
The door creaked open. Two burly men dressed in identical black trench coats followed the man with flat gray eyes. As I watched, the men stripped out of their coats, folding them before setting them aside. Next, they rolled up their shirtsleeves to reveal thick, muscular forearms covered in sinew and veins. My guts began to churn. This couldn’t be good.
“Now, we’re going to start again, Roman.” Mr. Gray Eyes pulled up a chair in front of me and sat down. “You had seven shipments of arms destined for Saudi Arabia. Only one of those shipments made it. Where are the other six?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. Of course, I knew where the guns had gone. The first three shipments had been diverted to Kitzeh, my home country, and the fourth to neighboring Androvia. The rest sat in the basement beneath a donut shop in a small central Indiana town.
�
��Wrong answer, Roman.”
“I can’t give you answers that I don’t have.”
“Let’s cut the bullshit.” He stood and shook his head. “You received payment in full for a product you didn’t deliver. That’s not good business. What are we going to do about this?”
“I don’t know. Call the Better Business Bureau,” I suggested.
With ominous calculation, he cracked each of the knuckles in his right hand, then the left. “You need to get in line, Mr. Menshikov. No one wants to cause a scene. Just do your job, and the threats will end.”
“I’m confused. Did you bring me here to charge me with a crime? If so, you need to get on with it.”
Hours later, they shoved me into the back of a van. My head cracked against the floor. Darkness swallowed me. I woke up on the hard, wet pavement in an alley behind a Chinese restaurant. My lower lip throbbed from a right hook, but the swelling had stopped. Their other kicks and punches had landed in my midsection. My body ached in previously unknown places. I managed to hobble inside the restaurant and called Spitz.
“You smell like a dead rat,” Spitz said, blinking at the aroma wafting from my soiled clothes. “You’re gonna stink up my car.”
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
“You need a doctor? Stitches? Anything broken?” His shrewd gaze traveled over my ripped trousers, blood-spattered dress shirt, and fat lip.
“No, I’m good.” Thankfully, I’d managed to protect my healing gunshot wound from their abuse. “I could use a hot shower though.” And Rourke—I needed her more now than ever. The thought of her sassy mouth and bright smile carried me through the worst of the beating.
The Exiled Prince Trilogy Page 34