by Maisey Yates
“What is it you want, Eva?” He moved to the table and sat across from her. “Beyond creating scandal?”
“Something. Anything. A chance just to be myself for a while. A chance to have some freedom. To live.”
He ignored the slight twinge in his chest. “Your life is different, Eva.”
“Ah yes, I’m a princess. Which, ironically, means I have less control than your average person. Not more.”
“I find it difficult to muster any sympathy for you.”
“So … in lieu of that you plan on watching me eat breakfast?” she asked, finely groomed brow arched. She was stunning. A study in refined beauty. In another life, well, this same life, but a part of it that was so long ago it might as well not have existed, he never would have been able to speak to a woman like her. A woman of her station.
And yet, things had changed. He had found great success. And with every step in his professional life, with every dollar added to his bank account, more had been torn away from his heart, more of the things he loved stripped from him.
Now he was a billionaire. Self-made royalty. The most highly regarded man in his field. And in so many other ways he was bankrupt. He could relate in some ways to her, more strongly than she could imagine.
Still, she was here. She could use her legs, her mouth, her mind. She had so much, and she seemed to appreciate nothing.
“Breakfast, then maybe coffee out on the terrace? Lunch later. A thrilling day for us both.”
She rolled her eyes, the expression making her look like a rebellious teenager. He wasn’t that much older than her. Just nine years. It felt like so much more. “How can you stand this?”
“Simple. I’m getting paid to be here.”
“You don’t need the money.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Then why?”
He shrugged. “I have nothing else to do, and I don’t believe in an idle life. I have built my company from nothing, I have a reputation to protect, and I intend to do it. I see a job through to completion and I don’t intend to stop now.”
“Well, you might have chosen your life, Mak. But I didn’t choose mine.”
He laughed at that. Laughter was a rare thing in his life, yet Eva seemed to make him laugh more easily than most. Unintentionally of course. “I didn’t choose my life, any more than you chose yours. But what I did was make something with it.” No one, not a single person in history, would have chosen the path he’d walked, not knowing where it led. He was certain of that.
“But you said you didn’t have to work … you.”
“I don’t. But I choose to, because I believe in what I do. I started my business for the same reason anyone starts a business. To make money. I did. I kept going, I made more. And now I am here.” He looked around the dining room, bright, with large windows that overlooked a turquoise sea. “I started a job here, and like every job I have ever started, I will see it through to the end. Honor, keeping my word, that’s more important than money. Something I realize you don’t understand.”
“That’s low,” she said, pushing her plate back. “I get that you pride yourself on reading people,” she looked up, her dark eyes blazing, clashing with his, “but you don’t know me. And you won’t until you’re facing a future filled with nothing but endless … endless darkness. An eternity serving other people with no consideration to yourself.”
His stomach tightened. Painfully. It was still so easy to find himself back at Marina’s bedside in his mind. Watching her face, so lovely at one time, contorted with pain, her lips opening for silent screams her damaged mind wouldn’t allow her to articulate. Then sometimes she would scream. Sometimes …
He stood, trying to ignore the raging of his heart. He couldn’t afford an emotional reaction. Not now. Never.
“I will make you a deal, printzyessa. I won’t assume to know you, so long as you don’t presume to know where I’ve been in my life. There are other paths to walk down than the one you speak of. There is darkness you can’t imagine. Darkness no light can cut through.” He breathed in deeply, ignoring the stricken look on her face, finding a foothold in his control and taking it. “Are you through eating?”
“Yes.” She stood too, a hint of curiosity mingling with the anger in her eyes.
“Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind showing me the grounds of the palace?”
Eva couldn’t even pretend to be happy about playing tour guide to Mak, particularly since she didn’t believe, for one second, that he wasn’t well-versed in everything pertaining to the Kyonosian palace and its grounds. He’d read her file after all.
“So, now that we’ve covered every wing of the palace, and half of the gardens, be honest with me,” she said. “You already know about everything I’ve told you, don’t you?”
His expression remained stoic as he studied the little alcove. It was on the far end of the gardens, shrouded by hedges, with lattice and grapevines arching over them like a domed ceiling, providing shade and privacy. The ground was covered in stone carved with scenes from ancient stories. It was a sacred place, one her family never seemed to have time for. But she’d always liked it.
“I’ve been over the schematics for the palace in detail, and of course I’ve walked the perimeter, both of the grounds and of the palace itself.”
“This was just to keep me busy.”
“The bodyguard equivalent to a nanny’s cartoon,” he said, his tone as stoic as his face.
She shot him her deadliest glare. “And now you’re being an ass on purpose.”
A small smile curved his mouth. “I have to make my own fun.”
She studied him for a moment, the hard lines of his face. Hardness not even the slight show of humor softened. “You don’t look like you care one way or the other about fun.”
He looked at her, his gray eyes intense. “You’re right. I don’t.”
Being on the end of that look, of those eyes, made her feel hot all over. “So … so you can’t really understand my problem.”
“Your problem?”
She swallowed. “Yes. The fact that I want a life. You can’t understand it because you have no desire to have one of your own.”
He paused for a long moment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had one. It doesn’t mean I don’t understand it.”
More puzzles. He was a complex man. Hard on the surface, letting things glance off without even feeling them. He had erected a barrier between himself and the world, that much was obvious. He was able to talk to her, joke even and yet, it felt as though he was barely giving any of himself in the process. Makhail, who he really was, was hidden behind that thick stone barrier he’d erected. She had a feeling if she could ever get a look behind it, she would find a darkness that would consume her.
Because she could feel it. Could see it sometimes, in his eyes. As frightening as his surface image was, all of that hard muscle displayed to its best advantage by military-grade posture, it was the man beneath that scared her most.
And intrigued her. Made her breath grow short and her stomach get tight. Which was actually scarier than Mak himself.
“Then, if you can imagine it, why can’t you try and understand instead of simply assuming I’m a spoiled brat?”
“Because it’s not my job to do anything that goes beyond your protection.”
“But … you can protect me without holding me prisoner. You can …”
“I don’t work for you, Eva. That means it’s very likely your suggestions are wasted.”
Her stomach tightened. “You’re right. I don’t know why I bothered. You aren’t any different from anyone else. From my father.”
She turned and he caught her arm, his touch sending a blaze of heat through her, her skin on fire where his fingers met her flesh. “And that means?”
She sucked in a sharp breath, determined to keep her composure. Determined to stay strong. “You only care about yourself, and you can use me to further your own end. For my father, it’s a
bout Kyonos. For you, it’s about the job. I’m a person, Mak. And I am sick to death of people forgetting that. Who has to go around reminding people that they aren’t a thing?” Her voice broke and she was horrified by the weakness. She didn’t show weakness. It accomplished nothing. It earned her even less respect than she already got. She cleared her throat. “That’s why your guilt trips don’t work. That’s why I can’t feel bad for wanting more.”
She jerked her arm out of his grasp and walked away as quickly as she could, willing the tears that were forming in her eyes not to fall. She didn’t cry. Ever. She wouldn’t start now.
It was late when Eva decided to try and make her escape. She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t care. But there was no way she was allowing Mak to think that he had all the power here, not even close.
She was a princess, and that ought to mean something. Shouldn’t she have some sort of power? Some sort of say in any part of her life?
She tightened the belt on her black trench coat and opened the door to her chambers, her heart pounding. She didn’t usually sneak out of the palace. Usually, she conned her guard into taking her somewhere and sneaked off from there. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could, her high heels dangling from her fingertips as she walked down the hall. The marble floor was cold on her feet, but it was preferable to announcing her presence with the click of her heels.
It was dark, and even though it was rare there wasn’t some form of activity happening in the castle, everything was quiet in her wing. She could only hope that there wasn’t anyone loitering in the halls.
She rounded the corner and hit a hot, solid barrier. A hand over her mouth cut off her sharp shriek, strong arms turning her sharply, putting her back to the wall. Her eyes clashed with Mak’s, dark and glittering in the dim hall. She breathed in deeply, her breasts brushing against his hard chest.
Anger, excitement, desire, swirled around inside her. She tried to grab onto anger and hold it steady, keep it at the forefront.
She narrowed her eyes and he lowered his hand.
“I didn’t want you waking the whole castle,” he said, his expression deadly.
“So, you accosted me?” She refused to be intimidated. Refused to let him hear the tremor in her voice. A tremor caused by his nearness, and not so much the scare she’d just had.
“You were sneaking out.”
“How did you know?” she asked, fully aware that she sounded petulant and childish and not really caring at all.
“I have an alarm on your door. Silent, of course.” One side of his mouth lifted into a grim sort of self-satisfied smile. “Surprise.”
“Bastard.”
He released his hold on her. “It’s entirely possible. Likely, in fact.”
“I didn’t mean in the literal sense,” she said, brushing her hand over her arm, where his hand had burned her through the fabric of her jacket. “Of having unmarried parents, I mean. I meant it to mean more that you’re a jerk.”
He shrugged. “Either way, you’re probably correct. Where were you going?”
“To a drink-fuelled party,” she said tightly.
His lips curved into what might have been a smile. “I don’t even almost believe that. Where were you going?”
She looked away from him. “I don’t know. Somewhere.”
“In the middle of the night. By yourself.” His tone was even, but hard. The control injected into each word more unsettling than if he’d been shouting. “You might not be under any current threat, but it seems as though you want to tempt someone to try something.”
“No. That’s not it. I …”
“What is it, Eva? You’re stubborn for the sake of it?”
“Hardly. I wanted to go out. I’m an adult, it seems like I ought to have the freedom to—”
“Oh yes, you think you’re an adult because you’ve reached a certain age, and yet you don’t show that you’re capable of making intelligent decisions.”
“I see, were you required to pass some sort of test demonstrating competence before you made a decision in your adult life?”
He moved closer to her and she stepped back, hitting the wall again. He was so close she could smell him, a faint hint of soap and skin. Musky and enticing. It felt dangerous to be so close to him, and she wasn’t sure why.
“I’ve been making my own decisions since I was thirteen,” he said, his breath fanning over her cheek. “And since then I’ve made good decisions and I have made very, very bad decisions. So trust me, I recognize both kinds when I see them, and I have only seen the bad kind from you.”
She swallowed, ignoring the sudden impulse she felt to draw closer to him. Maybe that’s why it felt so dangerous to be near him. Because controlling herself seemed harder. Because her body didn’t quite seem as though it belong to her anymore. “Bad or good, you were still allowed to make the decisions.”
“And there are some I would take back tonight if I were able to. You don’t ever want to be in that position. Trust me.”
She wanted to touch him. To put her hand on his face. To feel the sculpted muscles that she knew lay beneath his crisp dark suit. She curled her hands into fists and pinned them against the wall, forcing herself to deny the impulse.
He looked at her for a moment, the air between them too thick for her to breathe in. Then he turned away, putting his broad back to her.
“Go back to bed,” he said.
“You’re just … leaving?”
He turned back to her. “Do you need me to come and hold your hand? Tuck you in?”
Her heart slammed into her breastbone. “No.”
He inclined his head. “Good night.”
She just stood and watched him walk away. And tried not to wonder why she wished he would come back.
Makhail cursed the fact that he felt bad for her. That he felt anything at all. But the look on Eva’s face before she’d stormed out of the gardens the day before, and her escape attempt that same night, had done something to him. Had appealed to the small bit of humanity he had left inside of him. One he had thought long snuffed out.
She’d spent the rest of the day yesterday in her room. Her father had considered it a victory. It kept her well out of the spotlight, after all.
Mak had not seen it the same way. He wasn’t in the business of dealing with people who didn’t want to his services. And as much as he hated the parallel, he was essentially a babysitter with a gun.
And Eva was unhappy. Desperately so.
I want to live.
That word, live, had hit him hard in the chest. There was something about her in that moment that reminded him of Marina. When she’d been vibrant, whole, with her entire life stretching before her.
I don’t need anything but you, Mak. Everything else can wait.
Except there had been no future for her, no later time to experience the things she’d longed for. In one moment everything had changed. All of the somedays they’d planned had been lost. And he had thought, so many times, that death would have been sweeter than what Marina had been left with.
There had been many times he’d thought of what he would do differently. If he could turn time back eleven years and redo everything.
He’d been doing nothing but thinking of that since Eva had shut herself in her room.
He stalked down the corridor and into the dining room, where Eva was alone, eating breakfast at the same table she’d eaten at yesterday. A table that could comfortably seat thirty, but seemed only ever to seat her.
“Morning,” she said tightly, not looking up.
“Good morning, Eva.”
“We did this yesterday,” she said. “It didn’t go well.”
“Not really.” He looked at Eva, really looked at her. He could change it for her. He could make sure she felt some sense of freedom. He didn’t want to care about her, about her situation. It was a job, only a job. And yet, now that he’d made th
e connection between Eva and Marina in his mind, it couldn’t be shaken.
When he thought of Marina in the same position, asking for a chance to taste life … he wished she had tasted life.
She hadn’t. And then the opportunity was stolen.
So much of that was his own fault.
He wouldn’t do the same to Eva.
And the attraction you feel has nothing to do with this? He banished the thought. The attraction, such as it was, could mean nothing.
“What do you want, Eva?” he asked, his voice rough, even to his own ears.
She looked at him, her expression wary. “What … what do you mean?”
“I thought about it last night. About what you said.”
“Before or after I had my emotional meltdown?”
“Just before,” he said. “I cannot change what it is your father expects of you. That’s a matter between you and the king. It concerns your country. But we have these months, and I don’t have to keep you in the palace. As long as you’re willing to cooperate.”
“Meaning?” she asked, her tone wary.
“What would it take to make you happy?” he said, his tone hard.
“In this … in this scenario, where you’re asking me … I still have to marry the man my father chooses for me?”
“I told you, that’s a matter between you, one that has nothing to do with me. But there are things I can arranged if you like. Outings. Shopping. Dinner.”
“I … my father says it’s too hard to arrange all of the security required to—”
“Your security is my concern. It might have been too hard for the Kyonosian Guard, but it’s certainly not too difficult for me.”
“You’re not kidding?” she asked, her expression guarded.
“No.”
“I want … I want to choose my own clothes.”
“You don’t pick out your club wear?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“I … actually no, it’s all been provided by the palace stylist. And if you saw what other women wore to those sorts of places, you’d believe me.”
“I do,” he said. He’d secured the perimeter of more than one of those types of establishments, though he’d never been in one as a guest. It wasn’t his scene. Not in the least. “What else?”