Princess in Peril

by Rachelle Mccalla

  “You’re strong,” Levi assured her, wrapping one arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer to him. His words, whispered in her ear, were little more than a breath. “Everything is playing out well. Once we’re inside Valli’s residence, maybe we’ll find something.”

  Isabelle pressed her eyes closed as she leaned close to Levi’s ear. “But why? Aren’t you suspicious? I don’t doubt he’ll have that place bugged, too. I’m bracing myself. What is he after?”

  “All of Parliament knows you’re staying with him. If anything happens to you at this point he’ll be immediately suspect. He can’t risk that at this stage. He’s too close to getting what he wants.” Levi’s strong arm tightened around her, the last of his words raising to an audible level, as though Levi wanted to remind Valli or whoever might be listening to their conversation just exactly what they stood to lose if they tried anything against Isabelle.

  They were nearing the Embassy. Isabelle let her head rest on Levi’s shoulder a moment longer, basking in the comfort of his closeness. Too much had happened too quickly, and she feared everything was only going to get worse.

  Entering Valli’s lair was like entering a hornet’s nest. Isabelle had no doubt she was still in danger, no matter what reassurances she’d been given. If Valli had indeed been behind the attacks on her family, no doubt her survival posed a terrible problem to his plans. If she’d died like he’d wanted her to, he’d likely have been crowned king already.

  The car came to a stop under the carport that extended from the portico of the ambassador’s residence, which was technically attached to the chancery, though the Embassy and Valli’s residence were separate addresses. The same six soldiers who’d accompanied them since the airport stepped out of the SUV behind them and escorted them inside.

  Valli had arrived just ahead of them, and greeted them. “I’m sure you’d appreciate a moment to settle in.” He gestured to an attractive young woman in black slacks and a white blouse. “Calista will show you to your suite. And we have a room in the servants’ quarters for your guard.”

  “My guard will stay with me,” Isabelle said firmly. She forced a small smile to her lips. “Otherwise what is the point of having a guard?”

  “The Embassy compound has impeccable security.”

  “I’m not concerned about threats from without,” Isabelle didn’t mince her words. Parliament was no longer watching, and she’d put up with enough from Valli already.

  “As you wish,” the ambassador’s smile disappeared. “I’ve planned a late lunch. If you’ll join me in twenty minutes, Calista can wait at your door to show you the way to the dining room.”

  “Thank you.”

  Isabelle and Levi trailed Calista up the stairs two flights and then down the hall. When they reached their guest suite, Isabelle dismissed the girl with a sympathetic smile. It wasn’t Calista’s fault she worked for such slime.

  “I can find my own way to the dining room,” she assured the girl. “I’ve been here before.”

  “Twenty minutes,” Calista reminded them before hurrying off.

  Isabelle and Levi quietly scoped out the suite. As she’d hoped, there were two bedrooms at opposite ends, each with their own bathroom, and a large living area between, complete with corner kitchenette and fireplace. Everything was decorated in a regal manner with tasteful appointments.

  “I’ll be right out.” Isabelle excused herself to the bathroom. When she emerged a few minutes later, she found Levi sitting on one of two wood-inlaid white leather sofas that sat facing one another across a marble coffee table.

  A few days before, she might have chosen a seat on the opposite sofa. But given the circumstances and the likelihood that the room was bugged, Isabelle slumped down on the sofa near him.

  “Tired?” he asked in a normal voice.

  “I don’t know when I’ve ever been so exhausted.” She didn’t bother to whisper. The revelation would be news to no one. “And my feet are absolutely killing me.” All the running she’d done in inappropriate footwear following the attack had left her feet aching.

  Levi surprised her by gently lifting her feet onto his lap and sliding off the ballet flats she wore before gently strumming her soles with his fingers. “Is that too much pressure?” he asked.

  “It’s perfect,” Isabelle shook her head. “But you don’t have to—”

  “I’m here for your well-being.” He silenced her. “If Valli was a decent host he’d offer you a spa treatment to relax you after all you’ve been through. Because he is not so thoughtful, this will have to do.”

  Isabelle couldn’t help grinning at the thought that Valli’s bug might have picked up Levi’s comment. And his ministrations toward her feet made her feel infinitely better, too.

  She watched his face as his eyes focused on her feet. How did the man manage to look so handsome, even with the bruises and cuts that marred his face? He had a bit of a fat lip on the side nearest her, and she found herself wanting to kiss his pain away.

  Forcing her thoughts from that futile track, she reminded herself that any future romantic encounters with her gorgeous bodyguard were highly unlikely. After all, Samantha had been very clear about Levi’s future plans. He was going to be the president of Sanctuary International if this mission was successful. And she might be Queen of Lydia, or possibly go back to being a princess, if she was very, very fortunate. Or Valli might have her beheaded.

  Whatever her future held, she was quite certain it wouldn’t hold Levi, at least not for very much longer. So the feelings she felt for him weren’t meant to be acted on. Through his kiss at the airport, he’d taught her she was capable of that elusive romantic love that she’d wanted so much to find during her ill-fated engagement. For that, she would be forever indebted to him.

  Besides, she realized as she looked at the clock on the mantel, they were expected in the dining room momentarily. “I suppose we should head downstairs in a few minutes.”

  Levi gently lowered her feet to the floor, then silently retreated to the kitchenette and washed his hands. Deciding she might as well wash up again, Isabelle joined him. Instead of handing her the sumptuous towel to dry her hands, however, he dried her hands for her, then took her hands in his.

  “Let’s pray,” he mouthed silently.

  Knowing they had little time to spare, Isabelle bent her forehead to rest against his. His prayers were more silent than a sigh, and she felt as though she understood him on a deeper level than mere words could communicate. She realized that when all was over and he was gone, she would miss the way they’d prayed silently together. It was something she’d never experienced before, but she’d found it to be marvelously sustaining when all she wanted to do was roll into a ball and cry.

  She might have still been tempted to cry, but knowing what was ahead of her, she held her tears back. They were both up against insurmountable odds. At any moment the enemies surrounding them might turn on them and take their lives.

  As Levi prayed, Isabelle felt her doubts fly away. Whatever was about to happen, God was with them. What had the verses for the Sanctuary pass code promised? “‘I will give you back the land,’” Isabelle quoted softly.

  Levi met her eyes as he whispered Amen. “Is there anything more I can do for you?” His expression was focused and sincere.

  Instantly Isabelle recalled their kiss, but she shoved away the thought as she shook her head no. Levi had done so much to support her during this awful ordeal. She wasn’t about to demand of him anything more.

  “We’d best get going,” she said aloud. Encouraged by their prayers, she headed for the door with Levi directly behind her, to face whatever Stephanos Valli had in store for them.

  Levi’s stomach churned. Nothing about the situation felt right. They were outnumbered in enemy territory, and though backup was only a phone call away, there was no telling what Valli might achieve before Levi’s brother, Joe, and his team could arrive. Their principle defense was their vulnerability, and that was th
in armor at best.

  Sticking just behind Isabelle’s right elbow, Levi followed her down the stairs, half certain the chime of the grandfather clock in the foyer below was ringing out their death knell.

  As they approached the open double French doors that led to the sumptuously laid table from which delectable Mediterranean scents wafted, Levi noted the two soldiers standing at attention on either side of the doorway. Levi recognized the man on the right as Sergio Cana, Alexander’s friend who’d warned them away the first time they’d entered the Embassy.

  Once again, Levi wondered what role the soldier was playing. Had he honestly gotten away with what he’d done? Or was he one of Valli’s inside men? Could he be trusted?

  As the princess crossed through the doorway, Levi slowed his steps, brushing near to Sergio. In that instant, the soldier’s hand flicked out and nabbed his sleeve.

  Levi’s eyes darted toward him, though he hardly turned his head.

  Sergio stood frozen but his eyes gestured away from the room.

  At that moment, Levi understood. He wasn’t invited to the dinner.

  He took a step back and waited beside Sergio, watching intently as Isabelle was seated. For a moment she looked a little lost as she appeared to realize he was no longer beside her, but when she looked back, a relieved smile spread across her face.

  Levi couldn’t help smiling a little in return.

  The meal played out like a performance, with dishes swept in and out by finely dressed wait staff, though the only two at the table were Valli and the princess. For her part, Isabelle was still wearing the wrinkle-resistant travel suit she’d worn for their flight. It wasn’t terribly fancy, but on her anything looked stunning.

  Something hard touched his hand. Levi realized he’d been so focused on watching the princess from the doorway that he’d hardly noticed Sergio inching surreptitiously closer to him.

  He froze.

  Then he seemed to hear that still, small voice Dom Procopio had talked about, telling him not to look at Sergio, nor to do anything to draw attention to what he held in his hand. Instead, his eyes still glued on the princess, he took the item that had been pressed into his palm, closing his fingers around it before he was able to identify what it was.

  A key.

  After several more minutes, once Sergio had slid silently back away from him, Levi tucked the key furtively into his pocket.

  He still wasn’t certain he could trust Sergio, but the scales had tipped a little further in the soldier’s favor.

  Other than a few polite questions about her flight and comments on the food, Valli and Isabelle had spoken little. But as a tray of delicate baklava was presented to each with coffee, Valli sat back and took a sip before placing his cup on its saucer.

  “You believe I instigated the attack on your family.” There was no question in his voice, and his eyes didn’t leave Isabelle’s face.

  Levi watched them both intently. He saw Isabelle’s spine stiffen slightly and a hint of red color the tips of her ears.

  Valli took another slow sip, replacing the delicate cup on its saucer without the slightest clink. “I assure you, Your Majesty, we are both pawns in a game being played by those far more powerful than either of us.”

  While Levi racked his brain trying to think who could possibly be more powerful than royalty and an American ambassador, Isabelle remained outwardly the model of composure, though he knew she had to be seething inside.

  Her expression was demure, as though they discussed nothing more important than the phyllo pastry on her plate. “Why were there Lydian soldiers standing guard at the United States Embassy following the attack?”

  “Why did you run from them?” Valli shot back.

  Levi watched Isabelle weigh her words. Would she admit what Sergio had said? They didn’t know whose side Sergio was on. If he was on their side, and his words had somehow not been brought to the attention of the powers against them, they couldn’t risk giving him away by admitting what the soldier had said to them.

  But what if Valli was telling the truth? What if he really was an innocent pawn? What if Sergio’s comment had been meant to scare them away from the one man who could help them?

  “You didn’t answer my question.” Isabelle lifted her coffee to her lips. How she held the cup steady, Levi couldn’t imagine.

  “I was away from the Embassy at the time, en route to the state dinner. The soldiers were dispatched for my safety.”

  “Then why are they still here?”

  Valli gave a low chuckle and leaned forward in his chair. “My dear Princess, in case you have forgotten, I am the heir apparent to the throne of Lydia. Given the current state of unrest in our nation, the soldiers are here to guarantee my continued safety and yours.”

  Isabelle didn’t like the look of the man who sat across the table from her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off his face. Was Valli lying? Could he possibly be telling the truth? She wished she knew how to scent him out without exposing herself to more danger.

  “If you and I are both pawns, then perhaps we ought to work together against those who would oppose the throne.” The words surprised her even as they came from her own mouth. Was she crazy for suggesting Valli team up with her? He’d only ever betrayed and maligned her before. Yet, what had her father always said?

  Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

  At least she knew enough not to trust Valli. She would choose her words with caution.

  Valli’s broad smile at her proposal did little to appease her fears.

  “I had hoped you would be a reasonable woman. That’s why I decided to give you the opportunity to entertain a proposal from an old friend of ours.”

  An old friend could have meant anyone, but the most obvious person they had in common was Tyrone Spiteri. Her former fiancé was anything but an old friend. An old arch nemesis, perhaps, but nothing like a friend.

  But Valli couldn’t be talking about Tyrone, could he?

  Valli planted his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers in front of his nose. “I don’t have to accept the crown. In fact, I fear it would be a burden. But I have allegiances, and if those allegiances are best served by my ruling as Lydian king, I will not hesitate to do so.”

  Isabelle couldn’t think of anything to say, and her mouth felt as though it had been glued shut. She sat frozen in her chair, listening to Valli, wishing he would get to his point, and yet, at the same time, not wanting to ever have to hear what he was about to say.

  “It may be more politically expedient for both of us if you were to be crowned. As we both know, if you were crowned queen, whoever you marry would then become king.”

  “Only as long as I am alive,” Isabelle was quick to point out. She wasn’t certain what Valli was getting at, but that detail needed to be clearly expressed. The last thing she wanted was for someone to think they could marry her, be crowned king and then kill her off. The law stipulated that only a direct descendent of Lydia could rule, so the spouse of the reigning king or queen had a title but no power.

  But the way Valli’s snaky eyes glimmered, she doubted that he saw the law as a major impediment. Laws could be changed.

  The icy chill that crept up her spine left her frozen to her chair.

  Valli raised one finger and a servant appeared from the doorway behind him.

  “Bring our guest.”

  Isabelle’s eyes flickered over to where Levi stood solidly behind Sergio. His compassionate eyes communicated strength. She willed her heart to stop pounding with such horrible dread.

  And then her heart nearly stopped.

  Tyrone Spiteri entered the room, his head held higher than ever, his proud smile nine-tenths smirk. His classic tall, dark and handsome features had once fooled Isabelle into falling for the billionaire ten years her senior. She had so hoped their love was real, that the attraction he claimed to feel for her was rooted in something deeper than physical beauty and prominent power.

  But the
more she’d learned about Tyrone, the less she’d found to like. He’d made a fortune in banking, lending primarily to the subprime market, but when financial crisis hit his country, instead of being sucked into its black hole of debt, he’d gotten inexplicably wealthier. Though charges had never been brought against him, Isabelle was certain he couldn’t possibly have earned his wealth honestly or kept it legally.

  Tyrone stood by Valli’s side, his greedy eyes devouring her, even from that distance.

  “My dear Isabelle, what a pleasure to see you.” The edges of Tyrone’s words were sharpened by all his broken promises, and they cut at her wounded heart. “I regret that our last meeting did not go as I wished, but I am confident today’s meeting will remedy that.”

  Isabelle held fast to her chair. Her last meeting with Tyrone had been that fated visit in the Adirondacks when he’d tied her ankles to his four-poster bed and tried to rape her. If she hadn’t nearly gouged out his eyes and left him blinded and bleeding, he would surely have gotten away with his crime.

  He was threatening her. Again.

  Much as she wanted to look to Levi for support, Isabelle wouldn’t betray to Tyrone how much her bodyguard meant to her. If Tyrone suspected she felt anything for another man, he would destroy his perceived opponent.

  For Levi’s safety, she would have to play it cool.

  “We trusted you to honor your promise,” Valli’s voice was silky smooth, but it spun like a web around her. “This time, we will not trust in honor alone. Parliament is eager to crown a new head of state as soon as possible, and I do not wish to make them wait. If you will agree to marry Tyrone Spiteri tomorrow, the two of you will be crowned king and queen, and I will step aside. If not, I will accept the crown, and Lydia will have no more use for you.”

  Isabelle didn’t doubt that the threat she heard simmering under Valli’s words was real. If she refused to marry Tyrone, Valli would have her killed for treason.