“Oh, but of course he’ll be there,” the queen said firmly, though Dimitri did not miss her glance between them. He quickly shuttered his expression, but he couldn’t do the same to his body. In the blink of an eye, even thinking about holding Lauren Grant in his arms, both of them naked and slick with sweat and heat, was enough to make his body completely forget its hard-core training. The woman was a drug, and he suspected his next hit would be deadly. He needed to get out, get away, get some air. And some control.
“Yes, that should do nicely.” Catherine continued, oblivious to his internal struggle. “We’re not expecting any excitement, but it’s always good to have trained experts on hand. There are any number of details to manage when it comes to public appearances.”
“I’ll get working on that right now,” Dimitri said, grabbing for the opportunity to leave. Almost before the queen nodded, he’d turned on his heel and strode out.
He hit the corridor and kept moving, aiming for the closest location for him to take a moment and ratchet down his reactions. He knew the palace like the back of his hand. He’d been here countless times since he and Ari had met as teenagers. They’d become friends almost instantly, before Dimitri had known Ari was the prince of the realm. That was always Ari’s way. Everything was easy, unforced. Everything was meant for its proper place. And Dimitri’s place had been at his side—in battles large and small. Until the very end, anyway.
Now the palace held no more secrets for him, no more mysteries. And it also didn’t hold Ari. Without his best friend, the place seemed little more than a pretty, painted shell.
One short hallway and a turn later, and he stepped inside the quiet portrait gallery. The room was, as usual, shrouded in soft shadows. The family didn’t come here much. They hadn’t before Ari’s death, and now, when the portraits of generations past seemed only to remind them of the future that they’d lost, he doubted they’d darkened its doors in months.
Perfect. He needed the time alone.
As usual, he avoided Ari’s portrait, preferring instead to focus on the much older generations of the royal family. The quiet, staid paintings had the desired effect. His temper cooled, his body unknotted. He could manage the American, if he kept his distance from her. He could manage her even better if she never spoke. His lips twisted. Like that would ever happen.
He’d made it halfway down the long, narrow room when a flurry of movement at the doorway had him turning around.
“Ungh!” Lauren’s momentum took her halfway into the room before she stopped, her graceful arms flexing as she lifted her fists to her eyes. She hissed out a long breath, clearly trying to get control of herself. “This is impossible!”
Dimitri moved toward her almost unconsciously, picking up every detail, cataloging it, assessing. The blonde thought she was alone, safe. Unwatched. She pressed her hands to her temples, then turned toward the picture at the head of the room and exhaled a long, tortured breath. The image she was looking at was a large portrait of the royal family made after Ari’s death. The robust family of four seemed curiously shrunken without the eldest son, but Dimitri could tell Lauren wasn’t actually seeing the painting. She wasn’t seeing anything except the images that were shuddering through her mind.
He moved closer to her on soft feet, unreasonably pleased that she didn’t notice him. The room was dark, the only light where she was, highlighting the royal family. No windows lined the walls either. Perfect for a portrait gallery, and for hide-and-seek as well. But he was close enough now to see Lauren’s distress, and his words were harsher than he intended. “You lost?”
“Oh!” Lauren whirled, taking a defensive step back, and the play of emotions across her face would have been comical in any other situation. Shock, fear, panic, anger, all in succession, but the only one he wanted there was the anger. It was clean and fierce and didn’t twist up his guts, didn’t make him want to punch through walls he couldn’t see. “What are you doing here?” she gasped.
“I could ask the same. I don’t suppose you were following me?” He grinned at her, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers. As he planned, her gaze dropped to track the movement, then shot back up to meet his, her outrage ratcheting up a little bit.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she snapped, her chin firming. “You’re the last person in the world I’d want to follow.” The fire he wanted to see—needed to see—was back in her eyes, and he couldn’t deny the relief that spread through him.
He also couldn’t deny the way his body reacted being this close to her. Dammit. She might be a stuck-up, spoiled pain in the ass, but she definitely had his number. She seemed to radiate with energy no matter where she was in the room or who she was talking with. This close, that energy reached out toward him like a hungry sun, and it was all he could do to stand his ground and not grab it up, gathering in its warmth.
Instead, he went on the offensive, leaning toward her close enough that she stiffened, on guard. She wouldn’t back down, of course. That wasn’t her way.
He liked that about her.
About as much as he liked the soft curve of her lips, parted slightly below his mouth. As he’d thought before, she was a drug. And he was well on his way to getting addicted.
“And yet you’re still standing here,” he murmured. “Something you want from me, princess?”
Chapter Five
Lauren’s focus had narrowed to a pinprick, emphasis on prick. What was it about Dimitri Korba that so completely unnerved her?
Even now, he stood there, oozing sex appeal like it was his job, and she knew he was screwing with her, knew he could see how much he affected her. Saw it and liked it, which was galling on an entirely different level.
She found the trailing edge of her mad and grabbed for it, wrenching her gaze away from his lips to focus again on his maddeningly dark eyes. “Why are you really on security at this stupid party tomorrow? What else happened with that box that you’re not telling me?”
If he was surprised about her change in direction, he didn’t betray it. “Nothing.” He shrugged. “There’s still a lot of chatter about the Americans in our midst, and Emmaline remains news fodder. Additional security is standard procedure.”
“Oh, bullshit. You’re lying.”
Irritation flickered in his gaze, and she poked him in the chest with her index finger. She might as well have been poking a brick wall. “What happened? Did you get another package? You have to tell me.”
“I don’t have to do anything. You’re not my assignment, beyond keeping your pretty ass safe at a fancy party.” He gave her another half smile. “Now, you want to talk about the things I want to do, with and to you, that’s different.”
Once again, she found herself staring at his mouth. How long had it been since she’d been kissed by someone as vital and alive as Dimitri Korba? She couldn’t remember. Not that she lacked for suitors. But none of them, by careful design, were anything special.
And none of them were anything like Dimitri.
Then she recovered herself. This man was playing her, and here she was, begging to be played. She drew herself up haughtily. Even on her worst days, haughty was always a reaction she could depend on. Good thing, because this was quickly becoming one of her worst days. “I thought you didn’t like me,” she said, arching one eyebrow. “You’ve made that clear enough.”
“I don’t like you. I don’t like anything about you.” Before she could let those words register, before the hurt shot fully through her, stinging her to the quick, Dimitri closed the final gap between them and leaned down to brush her lips with his. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to bury myself inside you. Princess.”
The raw intensity of his words stung her, and Dimitri’s wolfish smile as he pulled back only made it worse. “And you know what? I think you want that too,” he said. Somehow, he remained far too close, so when he spoke, his breath fanned against her mouth, causing a response deep in her core that teetered dangerously close to complete meltdown
. “You gonna tell me I’m wrong?”
“No.” She breathed out the word before she could stop herself, before she could fully think.
“Good.” And he reached for her.
Dimitri didn’t merely bend down into his kiss, he attacked, his right hand snaking around Lauren’s neck as his left pulled her body into his. As if she needed more of a reminder of his interest, his hard shaft pressed against her, but she no sooner registered that sensation than she felt his fingers cup her backside and lift her against him, focusing the hard ridge between her legs where she most needed him. Meanwhile, his mouth plundered hers, not so much kissing her as devouring, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, then withdrawing quickly, his teeth catching her lower lip, then sucking it into his mouth as if he secretly wanted to eat her alive. Her own hands were on the move as well, grasping at his hair, his shirt, digging into his shoulders and the nape of his neck as she struggled to pull him closer, then closer still. She wanted to laugh, cry, scream, and pass out all at the same time, but her most immediate need was the pulse of him at her core, hot enough to detonate.
What are you thinking? Finally, her sense of safety prevailed, and she shuddered against Dimitri, using every last bit of strength to infuse her words with disdain. “Let go of me,” she managed, her words far too breathless, so she tried again. “I said let go.”
Dimitri obligingly leaned back, though his chuckle was pure seduction. “Your wish is my command, princess.”
Then his entire body went still. “In fact, we’ve got company,” he snapped, his voice low and hard, his movement brutally efficient as he set her apart from him, whipping his hands to his shirt to tuck it in. “Queen in twenty seconds.”
Lauren stared at him for another precious second before realization hit her square in the eyes. The queen! And she’d been mauling the security guard! With speed born of long practice, she pulled out her destroyed bun and reknotted it, then quickly smoothed down her dress. She’d worn only the barest makeup, and her gaze snapped to Dimitri. “Face?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “It’s dark.”
“Oh, great.”
“What can I say? I have an effect.”
“Yeah, well.” She let her gaze drop to rest on the evidence he couldn’t quite hide yet. “You’re not the only one. You owe me.”
She turned around smartly and positioned herself slightly in front Dimitri, so that when Queen Catherine entered the room, Lauren was effectively shielding him from view. The queen wasn’t alone either. Kristos filed in behind her, looking weary.
“Oh, good. I was hoping to find you together.” The look she sent Dimitri wasn’t challenging, Lauren realized. It was grateful. Wariness shot through her, stiffening her spine. Why was the queen grateful to Dimitri? What was going on here?
She didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. “Jasen finally filled me in completely on Lauren’s concerns with the package we received yesterday. I suspect you haven’t told her yet about your latest findings. No? Then you can tell us both now.”
Lauren couldn’t see Dimitri’s face, but she could almost sense his grimace. “There’s nothing to—”
“Don’t patronize us,” the queen said breezily. “I know full well that you’ve been using every piece of our electronics and surveillance systems to find information about Henry Smithson, if he’s truly behind this.” She shook her head. “I really hope he isn’t. I’ve met the man on more than one occasion, and he didn’t strike me as a game player. But I admit I am not always a good judge of villainy. So, what have you found?”
“Not much, Your Majesty, as I suspect Kristos has informed you.” Lauren saw Kristos nod almost apologetically and stifled her own smile. She knew that Dimitri had been the better friend of the older brother, Aristotle, but these two clearly knew each other well. “There is nothing to indicate that the package was from Smithson, and our layers of inquiry have ended at Rome, where the package apparently originated: a custom jewelry vendor of some sort.
Raphael’s, Lauren thought. That settled it. It was one of Henry’s favorite boutiques, if only because they had no issue pushing conflict diamonds.
She kept her expression smooth, and Dimitri went on, blessedly oblivious to her sudden awareness. “This jeweler, Raphael’s, said the order was placed by a woman, not a man, and that it was to be an anonymous gift of a jeweled butterfly for your majesty. To honor your work with the World Land Trust?”
“Hmm. It’s reasonable. And yet the butterfly was sent in an unsealed package? Seems strange.”
“The rep would agree with you. They had the package sent with all the usual protections. Somewhere along the line, only the box remained.” She felt his gaze on her. “Black-and-white is their standard configuration. So it could be a coincidence that it matches Smithson’s preferences.”
Lauren nodded firmly. “Yes. Yes, it could be, absolutely.”
Dimitri went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Smithson himself has proven a bit more difficult to locate. His yacht was last docked in Portugal earlier this month, but there was no indication of where he was slated to travel next.”
“He’s in Portugal?” Lauren turned to Dimitri, fear surging up faster than she could shove it down. Smithson was that close? “Which yacht?”
A strange flash of irritation chased over his features. “I’m not aware of the craft’s name, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“The size, the color—is it white or black? He only has two. One he keeps solely for European travel. The other is bigger, more capable of going long distances.”
“Black,” he said, and Lauren managed to breathe again.
“Okay. Black is the bigger one—I don’t know how big.” A lie, but Dimitri didn’t need to know that. She’d studied Henry Smithson the way a cop studied a serial killer. He was that dangerous to her. “He could go anywhere, especially from Portugal. He could be heading back across the Atlantic.”
As she spoke the words, she knew she’d said too much. Dimitri practically turned to stone in front of her, and the queen took a step forward, her hand lifting in a gesture of reassurance. “You must know you’re safe with us, Lauren. We will put every resource at our disposal.”
“Oh! No, no.” Lauren lifted her own hands, tilted her head, shook it ever so slightly. The way she’d been doing since she was little, though with far less occasion to practice, since normally she didn’t slip so badly. What is wrong with me? “I do apologize. I only mean to say that, assuming that package was sent from Smithson, which is a big assumption, if he’s on his larger yacht, he’s likely not going to be landing on our doorstep. I’m terribly sorry that I did anything to worry you. I must seem completely silly.”
“Pay no mind at all, dear.” This time the queen did step forward, and she reached for Lauren’s hand with a warm smile. Turning, she tugged her forward toward Kristos. “Sweetheart, could you escort Lauren back to her friends? I’ll want to chat with Dimitri a moment more here.”
Once again, Lauren sensed the danger, but she could do nothing as Kristos bowed first to his mother, then to her. He held out his hand, and she took it, feeling Dimitri’s gaze scorch through her thin dress as she exited.
But what was he thinking, exactly?
Whatever it was, she needed to get back in control of it, fast.
“That is the least silly young woman I know.”
“What?” Dimitri looked sharply back at the queen, who was scowling at him. It made her look, if possible, more majestic, but it was still not an expression he enjoyed having leveled at him.
“What aren’t you telling me?” She shook her head to stave off his denial, then checked her watch. “Walk with me. Stefan is getting the guest list from Raptis. If I’d been briefed of this disturbing package in a timely manner, it could have ensured this party didn’t happen. Now it would seem awkward to cancel it.”
He winced. “King Jasen didn’t want you to be alarmed. There has been nothing to prove that the box was intended malevolently in any way,
or even that it’s attached to Smithson.”
“Nothing except that poor girl’s face. My God, Dimitri, are we actually debating this? I’ve barely met Lauren Grant, but I know the girl maintains her public profile with the severity of a drill sergeant. Yet here she looked like she was about to faint. What has that man done to scare her so deeply?”
Dimitri blew out a long breath. “We don’t know. According to preliminary data, Henry Smithson is a long-time friend of the Grants. He was mentored by Lauren’s father for the first several years of his professional life, and he has been a mainstay at their public events for the past fifteen years. Nothing more.”
“Lauren would have been a child when that started?” She sniffed. “And now he’s romantically attached to her? That’s obscene.”
“We don’t know that either,” Dimitri countered. “From all indications—”
“Well, she reacted in the manner of someone being stalked, so it’s a pretty good supposition. No.” She shook her head. “Even if his intentions are honorable, Smithson is far too old for her. I don’t care how rich he is.”
Dimitri didn’t miss the shift in his monarch’s expression, and he kept his face carefully neutral. Queen Catherine was notorious for her matchmaking wiles, but he wasn’t engaged in this assignment to keep the American away from an eager pursuer. And he certainly wasn’t trying to cock-block some wannabe future husband for a bored blonde. His dedication was to the royal family, but he had his limits. “So far, we’ve had no proof to link the empty box to Smithson. And it is, in the end, an empty box.”
“Fair enough.” Queen Catherine frowned. “It makes me nervous, though. Raptis has attended many state dinners where Smithson was our guest. If he’s on the list for the event on Wednesday, I can’t very well ask him to uninvite the man.”
Captured (Gowns & Crowns #2) Page 5