“Yes.” He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder to make sure the guard was a respectable distance away. “That was the last time I…well, you know. I date a great deal. It’s sort of expected. But like I’ve said, I don’t sleep with everyone I date. This antiquated law of ours is a pain in the ass and puts a damper on a guy’s sex life.”
She laughed. “You—a young, attractive prince who could get anyone in this country in his bed—haven’t had sex for three years?” she practically shouted.
Hell, the whole country probably knew now.
“Shh,” he said, glancing toward the guard again, who quickly gave them his back. “Please. Let me in so we can talk privately. I beg you.”
She raised her brows. “Beg?”
“That’s right. Beg.”
“Wow.” Whistling through her teeth, she stepped back, finally releasing his foot from the prison he’d stuck it into. “That must’ve hurt.”
Glancing down, he wiggled his toes. “A little.”
“I wasn’t talking about the foot.”
He shrugged. “My response still stands.”
“Interesting,” she said, eyeing him. “And honest.”
“I’m a straightforward man. If you ask me a question, you’ll get an honest answer.”
Nodding slowly, she watched him more closely. “Why are you so honest?”
“A ruler can’t afford to get caught in a lie. I’ll never lie to you, Alicia. I swear it.”
She stared at him another moment, then instead of saying she believed him or she didn’t, she settled into the chair in the sitting area of her room, she tucked her legs under her and immediately asked, “What’s your biggest fear?”
Easy one. She’d have to up her game if she wanted to make him sweat. “Failure.”
“What’s the best thing about being a prince?” she asked, biting her lip.
“The castle.” It was only partly a joke. He’d grown up here; it was home. A short pause, then he added, “And the cars. I have a lot of fast cars. I could take you for a ride in one, if you’d like.”
She snorted. “Such a guy answer.”
He laughed, the tension in his shoulders loosening at her openness in talking to him for the first time since he brought her here. Despite the past, and whatever she thought he’d done, he truly enjoyed her company. She brought back memories of the boy he’d once been. “Okay, fine. Real answer. I like being able to change the country for the better. I enjoy making laws, and making sure people live by them. I hope to be remembered for my fairness, and for making our struggling country financially stable. I hope to make a difference.”
She blinked at him, her mouth ajar. “How are you going to do that?”
“According to my father?” He lifted a shoulder. “Through marriage to a wealthy princess, of course. He’s got one in particular in mind for me, and she’s willing but…”
“Of course she is,” she said, averting her face. Was that a backhanded compliment, or was he only hearing what he wanted to hear? “And according to you?”
He headed for the bar in her room. “No fucking way that will happen. The only thing she talks about is shoes. I get it, people like shoes, but it’s an obsession. So, that’s a no, according to me. I’m determined, when the time is right, to marry for love.”
“Love?” she murmured. “I didn’t know princes married for that.”
“They generally don’t,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t stop me from hoping I could. I’ve given up many things in my life, without reservation. I live to serve the country, my people, but I won’t give up on that.”
“And if you can’t marry for love?” she asked softly.
All this marriage talk made him nervous. He was young and definitely wasn’t in the mood to settle down. He had a good ten years until that time came…maybe twenty. “Then I won’t marry at all.” Tugging on his collar, he sighed. “I need a scotch. Would you like a brandy?”
“No.” She frowned. “I’ll take a scotch.”
“Are you sure?” He walked toward the bar. “It’s pretty stiff.”
“Yeah. I like it stiff.” The second he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. “Don’t even think about making that a dirty comment of some sort.”
He smirked and gave her his back. “As you wish.”
“I see that.”
He glanced over his shoulder as he uncapped the scotch that he’d had placed in her room before she arrived. “See what?”
“That smile.” She wiggled her finger at him.
“But my face was turned away from you.”
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Still saw it.”
“Impressive.” He poured two glasses of scotch, and set the bottle down. As he crossed the room, he caught her watching him with a soft expression on her face. It sent his pulse racing. “So you’ve developed X-ray vision while at Baker?”
Her eyes lit up at the mention of her work. “Not yet, but we’re working on it. And we have infrared binoculars that are ages above anything anyone else will have. You have to see them to believe them.”
“I’d like to.” He took a sip of scotch. “How long have you been there?”
“A year, and I’ve already seen them make long strides in the protection of our military. We want to do the same thing for you and your country. Take you further.”
He nodded. “I’ve looked over the proposal, and I’m definitely interested in what you have to say.”
“I can answer any questions you might have,” she said quickly. “I’m an open book.”
“What’s your biggest fear?” he asked immediately.
She frowned, still not drinking her scotch. “I meant about Baker.”
“My question still stands,” he said slowly.
“Being left alone in airports.”
“Ah.” He sat across from her, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees, dangling the glass from his left hand, and putting two and two together. “Let me guess. I’m the one who supposedly left you alone in one, after writing you a letter I never wrote?”
She stared at him, and he could see the confusion written on her face. “Yes. At La Guardia.”
“And why, exactly, were you at the airport?” he asked slowly.
“You know why.”
“I don’t.” He tightened his hold on his glass. “But I assume you’re about to tell me?”
“No. I’m not,” she said simply, staring at him without moving. “No matter what happened that day, it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like you.”
He almost pushed her for more information. If he knew why she was so angry, maybe he could figure out what had happened. But he sensed pushing her about it wasn’t going to help—it would only make her hate him more.
“Oh, you like me in the one way that matters.” He leaned forward even more, and her grip on her glass tightened. “I think that night in the hallway proved that.”
“That proved nothing.” She stared down at her glass. “Other than the fact that I was desperate to cross an item off my bucket list. Desperate enough to choose you, even.”
He tensed, the sting of her words leaving a mark. “And if not for that item, you never would have noticed me standing across from you in that room. Never would have come over to me and shared a drink, or a laugh, or even a kiss?”
She bit down on her lip. “You’ve offered me honesty, so I’ll do the same. Yes, I would have seen you, and yes, I probably would have thought you were handsome. But I never would have come over to you, let alone kissed you, or found the nerve to go in that hallway with you, without this list burning a metaphorical hole in my pocket.”
“Why not?” he asked quickly, his pulse rocketing when she stared at his mouth, as if she was remembering just how nice it had felt when they’d kissed. He’d give anything to show her how good it had felt, all over again, right now.
“Because it had been a lot longer than three years for me,” she said slowly, the tip of her nose going as
red as her cheeks. “Ten years, to be exact.”
He choked on his scotch.
Chapter Eight
She glared at him as he choked on his drink, knowing this was how he’d felt when she did the same thing to him. Only she probably didn’t manage to look regally hot while dying like he did. Sighing, she lifted her glass to her lips and drank. Her confession hadn’t come easily, but something about him vowing to never lie to her, as he stared at her with those bottomless blue eyes, had softened her.
But she already regretted her honesty.
“Guess you weren’t as worried about a love baby back then, huh?” she said drily.
He laughed and coughed. “Uh…no. I wasn’t. If my father knew what we did back then, though…” He left the rest unsaid.
“Well, yeah.” She pursed her lips. “No one’s touched me since you. Does that make you feel good about yourself?”
He looked pretty damn proud of it. “Are you trying to trap me into saying something that will get me in trouble?”
The thought had crossed her mind once or twice, over the years. “Not at the moment.”
“But later?”
She lifted a shoulder, not meeting his eyes. “I’m just giving you the same honesty you gave me. Trying to keep it real.”
“I wish you’d told me that earlier.” He cleared his throat. “I would have been more of a gentleman that night.”
“Against a door,” she said drily. “Riiight.”
He tugged on his collar again. “And you chose your first time in ten years to be in a bar…why…?”
“Bucket list,” she said simply. “I was supposed to have a one-night stand and then ditch the guy after.”
Frowning, he eyed her. “Who gave you this bucket list?”
“Brian.” She traced the rim of her glass. “An old friend. A best friend.”
His face softened. “Is he…?”
“Yes. Cancer.” She twisted her lips and turned away, the familiar absence of Brian in her life hitting her in the heart. “A little under a year ago.”
Brian had been more than her best friend. He’d been her only friend. They’d roomed together in a tiny apartment during college, and he’d never let her down.
And she’d been there for him, too, all the way to the end.
If only he hadn’t had to go so soon.
He shifted and rested a hand on her knee, squeezing. It was a reassuring thing. A gesture of comfort. But even so, it set a fire ablaze within her that she didn’t want to feel, so she pulled away, her heart racing at the soft touch. His mouth tightened, but he leaned back in his seat again and took his confusing touch with him. “I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t sure if he apologized for resting his hand on her knee, or expressed sympathy for her loss, but either way there was nothing to be done for it. For Brian.
Sometimes, life sucked.
And sometimes, it sucked a lot.
At her continued silence, he cleared his throat. “What else is on this list of yours?”
“Lots of things, all meant to make me live and be adventurous, since I suck at that.” She took another sip of the god-awful scotch he’d given her. She preferred brandy, but since he’d stereotyped her, she had to prove him wrong. “Fall in love. Break a heart. Have my heart broken. Get sloppy drunk in public. Visit a foreign city.”
He nodded slowly. “Some of which you’ve done.”
“Two. Actually, one, I guess.”
He frowned. “How so?”
“I might have to cross off the one-night stand one.” She shrugged. “Because…” She gestured toward him. “Well, you know.”
He lifted his glass to his mouth, but didn’t drink it. His brows lowered. “Wait. What?”
“I didn’t ditch you. You’re here. And technically, you weren’t a stranger, and we’d already been together. I just didn’t know it at the time.”
His mouth tightened again, and he looked seconds from combusting.
Fighting back a smile, she added, “I guess I’ll have to find another—”
“It fucking counts,” he growled. “You ditched me quite effectively.”
A laugh escaped her. She couldn’t help it. “If you say so.”
“I do.” He yanked on his collar again. “Mind if I call dinner up, my lady?”
“If you wish, Sir Royal-pain-in-my-ass.”
He let out a half-snort, half-chuckle. “Maybe I should make that my new royal title. It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”
“I find it very fitting.”
Without another word, he walked to the door and opened it. He conversed with the guard outside. This one switched duties with two other men, and all they did was stand there. She almost pitied them. He spoke to the man with respect and authority, and from what she’d heard spoken of Leo, he was a well-loved prince.
Clearly.
All she’d heard was how fair he was, and how he fought for equal rights and equal wages, and how cool-headed he was in a debate. The staff who brought her clothes, food, and anything else she needed—except for her phone—extolled the many wonderful traits of their royal prince. Everyone loved him. Adored him. Cherished him. It was enough to give her doubts about what happened. Was he telling the truth about the letters? It wasn’t in her nature to hold a grudge, but this was tough. If he had done what she accused him of—there was just no coming back from that. No matter how “wonderful” he might be.
It didn’t help that all she’d seen was the controlling jerk who had ordered her to his castle.
And, frankly, that was all she wanted to see.
As he spoke, he leaned into the hallway, his pants hugging his hard ass even tighter. She sucked in a breath and held it, heat sweeping over her body as she stared at his big, muscular thighs. He might be the ruler of the country, but he obviously spent as much time ruling a gym. He was lean, hot, and rock hard everywhere she’d touched. She wished she didn’t know that firsthand, but God, she did.
Nodding, he closed the door and turned back to her…
And totally caught her staring at his butt.
That cocky brow of his shot back up, and she turned away, cursing herself. “You like what you see?”
“Nope.” She took a sip of scotch. “Why were you at the nightclub that night? Seems like an un-princely thing to do.”
That should take the attention off my butt-appreciation.
He finished off his drink and went to the little side bar in her room. Once his back was to her, she studied him again. As he poured another glass, he said, “I like to see how the country thinks I’m doing. You’d be surprised how often my name comes up in clubs, and that one is particularly handy because I can darken my hair, put in brown contacts, and hide my face without looking out of place.”
“You do all of that to hear how you’re doing?” she laughed. “Wow. Okay then.”
Stiffening, he turned back to her. “You’re laughing at me. Why?”
“I just didn’t expect you to care what others think about you.” She waved a hand to him. “I mean, look at you. You’re a prince, you walk around in suits, everyone bows to you, but you’re secretly worried they don’t like you.”
“Believe it or not, I do want to be liked, and to be a fair ruler.” He pressed his lips into a thin line. “It’s human nature to want to be liked.”
“If you say so.” She stared down at the amber liquid in her glass. “I don’t really care whether people like me or not. Not anymore.”
“What changed that?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Life, I guess.”
Neither one of them spoke. The longer they stayed connected like that, the higher the tension rose in the room. That undeniable attraction between them hadn’t died, not even with him holding her captive, and it buzzed like static electricity in the air between them, threatening to set her on fire. And as angry as she still was at him for bringing her here, she almost understood it. Almost.
Not enough to trust him,
though.
“It’s good not to care, in some ways, I suppose,” he said. “I don’t have that luxury, though.”
“Why not? You’re a prince, not a president. It’s not like they’ll vote you out,” she said drily.
“I refuse to be that type of ruler. The kind who doesn’t care about his people’s wishes and thoughts.” He gripped the side of the chair with his free hand. “My father isn’t like that, and I won’t be, either.”
Well, that was…admirable. “I see.” When he adjusted his jacket again, she said, “You can take it off.” She pointed to the tie. “And that. I won’t let anyone know.”
“I know I can.” He raised a brow at her again. “But it’s my duty to look the role, as well as fill it, because you never know when someone will come by the palace and catch you off-guard. One time, my father was in pajamas, and the queen of—”
Someone knocked on the door, cutting off his story, kind of proving his point, in a way. And, despite her desire to remain aloof, she was dying to hear what happened to his father when he was in pajamas, and what the queen had done.
Why did she want to know so badly?
“Give me a minute,” he said politely. It didn’t escape her notice that he stood at attention out of instinct, as if he didn’t know any other way to react to a knock. Setting his glass down, he walked to the door and opened it, nodding at the person outside. “Bring it in front of the fire, please, Samuel.”
While she’d never admit it to him, she was in awe of the overdone opulence of the room. It had plush, tan carpet, light blue walls, softer than silk sheets and pillows, a marble fireplace, and its own bathroom…and, as already mentioned, a bar.
It was huge.
Gorgeous. Rich. Perfect.
After they were alone again, a small portable table rested between their two chairs, complete with a white linen tablecloth, roses, a bottle of Shiraz, two wine glasses, coffee, and chocolate mousse cake. He uncovered a plate, stealing a quick glance at her. It was roast beef, roasted vegetables, and brown gravy. Her favorite meal.
He hadn’t forgotten.
Licking her lips, she hesitated. “Coincidence?”
“No.” He lowered his head and straightened his coat sleeves. Underneath, he wore a buttoned-up white dress shirt, which she’d bet her whole bank account was free of even a single rebellious wrinkle. “Truth be told, I had cook prepare it every night in case you came to supper. That’s part of the reason I insisted you join me tonight. If I had to eat one more plate of room temperature roast beef…”
The Prince's Bride (Modern Fairytales) Page 6