by M. S. Parker
She gaped at me. “You…I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Should I go back outside?” I offered.
She laughed, disbelief still in her voice. “What’s the point? He won’t give you the money back!”
“I don’t want it back.” Pulling her up against me, I pressed my mouth to hers. “I want to spend more time with you. Is that satisfactory to you?”
That smile came across her lips again, so sweet it left an ache in my chest. “I hope you don’t regret that hundred bucks.” She grinned at me as she pulled back, then nudged me away and gestured to a door. “Through there, down the hall, third door on the right. Find a seat…but, ah, make sure you’re a few rows behind the group of people you’ll see there. Just in case.”
“Do I wish you luck?” I called as she hurried away. “Or is it break a leg?”
She just flashed a smile at me over her shoulder before taking a left down a hallway that took her out of sight.
I blew out a breath then turned and pushed through the door, following the directions I’d been given. I didn’t even make it to the door when my phone started ringing.
I pulled it from my pocket, pausing to lean against the wall.
“You are a dick…Your Serene Highness.”
The fury in Isaak’s voice caused a mix of humor and regret in me. “Isaak…I’m fine. Just find a place to park and wait. Nobody could have possibly known I was coming here. I am safe.”
“I have a job to do, Bastian,” he bit off, the fury in his words so deep and cutting, I flinched. “I’ve already failed once—” He stopped abruptly.
I could have kicked myself.
Isaak hadn’t been with us that weekend—he’d been taking a few days off after he’d re-injured his knee. I knew he blamed himself. I hadn’t realized how my actions might affect him. I should have.
“Park the car, Isaak. The man at the door let me in for a hundred American dollars. I imagine if you flash your badge, you can get inside for fifty. He doesn’t seem smart enough to look beyond the badge part.”
Isaak muttered something unpleasant, too low for me to hear, then disconnected the call.
I’d talk to him, I told myself.
Putting it out of my mind for the moment, I pushed through the door.
I wanted to focus on Regan now.
It was decidedly strange taking a seat in the back row of the first section. I was used to being in a private box whenever I attended a performance of any kind. I’d only been seated for perhaps two minutes when Isaak made his appearance, and we locked gazes briefly before he looked away, taking up position by the wall.
Yes, he was furious with me.
I could be a bastard.
Sighing, I focused on the stage.
The people Reagan had mentioned were several rows from the front, and I studied them curiously as the various actresses came across the stage and auditioned.
Some were amazing.
Others clearly thought they were, but I wasn’t impressed. I didn’t know what roles were assigned to those observing this. Judges? That didn’t seem right. Directors, perhaps? That seemed on the right track. Two women sat there, along with an older, balding man who could have been asleep for all the interest he showed.
One of the women didn’t show much more reaction than he did, but her companion was easier to read, and several of the women who had struck me as average but thinks otherwise seemed to hit the same note with her.
As the most recent one strode from the stage, the female director who’d caught my attention leaned over to her partner, murmuring something. The other woman shook her head, shoulders shaking slightly with a suppressed laugh. She turned her head to the younger woman and gave her a look of mock sternness before looking back at the stage.
I did the same, finding myself amused by the whole scene. My phone buzzed, and I tugged it out, grateful I’d remembered to put it on vibrate after talking to Isaak. It was my sister. I rejected Katrina’s call and sent a message that I’d call back later. Her expression in her response was a string of emojis, mostly pouting faces and exclamation points.
A tall, slim woman with shoulder-length black hair took the stage next, her face exquisite, lips ruby red and curved in the faintest of smiles as she took her place. She looked down for a moment. When she looked back up, the smile was gone, and her calm, poised expression had been replaced by that of a cold, conniving woman that I wouldn’t want to be around without protecting my testicles.
By the time she was done, I was even more convinced of that. Again, she looked at the ground, then lifted her head, smiling and nodding at the directors.
Out of all of the performances, only hers stood out.
And I felt slightly disloyal sitting there and waiting for Regan, because how could she possibly play a role like that?
That vague feeling of disloyalty increased as Regan finally walked on stage.
Movement in front of me temporarily distracted me, and I looked to the people in front of me, trying to figure out what had changed.
The man.
He’d sat up straighter.
As Regan nodded politely to the directors, he even leaned forward in the seat.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, her face was like that of a stranger’s. But the difference between her performance and the woman before hers was…staggering. The brunette’s performance had been merciless sexuality, staggering and terrifying and beautiful.
Regan took the same scene, the same words, the same actions and turned them into something even deeper.
She wasn’t a spurned lover seeking control.
She already had it, and although there was a subtle sensuality to the role she’d donned like a second skin, it was just that…subtle, nothing she weaponized. It was clear she valued intelligence and cunning over all else.
Mesmerized, I watched, and when she finished, I almost surged to my feet in applause.
Isaak’s hand on my arm was the only thing that stopped me.
“I don’t think she’d appreciate you embarrassing her at an audition,” he said in a clipped voice.
I hadn’t even noticed him move over to join me, I’d been so caught up in her spell. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she?”
Isaak gave me a lingering look, then shook his head. “You are losing it, my friend.”
I would have argued, because some part of me felt like I’d found something.
But my phone started buzzing in my hand again, insistently. Katrina. Again.
He inclined his head and backed away to allow privacy.
Katrina wouldn’t call again so soon unless it was a matter of some importance. My sister might be viewed as a pampered, flighty spoiled princess by much of Europe—and they weren’t entirely wrong—but there was a sharp mind under all that long blonde hair, hiding behind her big blue eyes. She actually preferred that people take her for granted for some strange reason, but I never had—and never would.
Swiping my finger across the screen, I rose from the seat as I answered and moved to the back of the theater.
“Hello, sweet. Is everything well?”
“No, it’s not!” she huffed out, speaking in English. She often did that when she didn’t want the servants to understand her words. “Why am I hearing about your engagement from everybody but you?”
I blinked, caught off-guard.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, you oversized dimwit!” Scorn dripped from every word. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I drilled the heel of my hand against my eye. “Slow down a bit, darling. I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about.”
One of the directors cast a glance at me. Not wanting to draw any more attention to myself, I headed for the side door I’d entered through, only vaguely aware of Isaak following at my heels.
“Ava texted Mila to inquire when I’d start planning my wardrobe for the upcoming events, you idiot!”
“Aw, fuck.”
Ducking through the door, I leaned against the wall and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Has it gone public yet?”
“No.” More subdued, she sighed. “It’s true, then, isn’t it?”
“It’s…” I didn’t know how to explain, and if I was honest with myself, it wasn’t something I wanted to explain now. “It’s not officially true. I haven’t even made the offer to her yet, sweet. But I told Papa I would.”
“You don’t love her.”
“No. I don’t have that luxury anymore, Kat.” Pushing off the wall, I started down the hall with Isaak following along behind me. “I’ll talk to you more about this when I’m home.”
“You’ll be home as scheduled?”
“No. I need a bit more time.” I could feel Isaak’s sharp gaze cutting my way and sensed his surprise, but I’d just made the decision myself. I wasn’t ready yet, wasn’t ready to totally cede control of my life over to serving the country…and being chained to Franziska.
But when could I get that time?
My chaotic agenda started with a formal dinner tonight that included four private meetings with various dignitaries and businesspersons, then even more insanity in the morning when I was supposed to have breakfast with the German and Austrian Ambassadors, followed by more meetings and another dinner meeting.
“Very well,” she said. “I love you, Bastian. Let me know when you’re heading back.”
The line went dead before I could respond. Shoving the phone into my pocket, I shot Isaak a look. “Have you got anything to say?”
He took his time deliberating on an answer before finally saying, “You’re playing a dangerous game, cousin.”
“How so?” I demanded, my jaw going tight. I’d slipped back into German because, like my sister, I didn’t want prying ears, American ones this time, to easily understand our conversation.
His gaze slid to the hall behind me where I could already hear female voices, some of them excited, others obviously less so.
“I’ve never seen you so…intrigued by a woman, Bastian. But there is Franziska.” He looked back at me, brow arched. “Yes, I know. Your father keeps me well-apprised of most things that involve you.”
I wasn’t surprised.
“What are you getting at?”
“You know the American fascination with royal weddings. Liechtenstein doesn’t garner the attention England does, of course, but social media has changed things, and people in the States were showing a great deal of attention to the engagement between your brother and his fiancée. That will likely be the case this time as well. Or even more so, because of his tragic death.” He paused a moment, pinning me with a look. “And you are marrying his fiancée. Americans don’t understand the intricacies or the diplomatic ties that come with a marriage such as this. She could be hurt.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it as his words settled in. Doubts started to work their way into my heart, but I brushed them aside. “I’m not engaged right now. It hasn’t been made official. I haven’t put the matter before Franziska. I’m still, as of this moment, a free man, and all I’m doing is enjoying the moment with a woman I find intriguing. What is so wrong with that, Isaak?”
Turning my back on him, I strode down the hall to where I’d last spoken with Regan.
I had only hours before that fucking dinner. I wasn’t going to waste any time.
Ten
Regan
“You did fabulous, Regan.”
I wasn’t surprised to see Yvonne Holliday near the exit, pulling on a lipstick-red leather coat with a faux-fur trimmed lapel. She smiled at me, and although the smile reached her eyes, I knew to take her compliment with a grain of salt.
Yvonne and I weren’t enemies, but we weren’t exactly friends either. We’d often found ourselves competing for the same roles, and it looked like that would be the case again. Nodding at her, I said, “So did you.”
Her smile took on a caustic edge as she pulled her hair from beneath the neckline of her collar. “I did. But I think we both know who was more impressive.” Without saying anything else, she headed outside.
I didn’t really have much I could say.
This was a field where there would always be…well, maybe not winners and losers, but when it came to auditions, not everybody would make the cut. That was just how it went with show business. It was not a career for anybody with thin skin.
“I know who impressed me more.”
I spun around at the sound of that low, husky voice, my cheeks heating. “Bastian!”
“Regan.” Grooves appeared in his cheeks as he smiled at me, and I imagined that when he’d been a child, those grooves had been charming dimples. “That was a rather amazing performance. I have to admit, with that sweet smile of yours, I didn’t think you’d be able to match the brunette who went before you.”
“Yvonne?” I found myself laughing. “She used to underestimate me too.”
“Oh?” He came closer, stopping only a foot away. “Perhaps you can tell that story.”
I shrugged. “Not much to tell.” Aware of the people trickling in around us and watching with curiosity, I eased back and pulled my coat on, fishing around in the pockets for my gloves. “We both started working about the same time, both auditioned for a bit part in an off-Broadway production. She was certain she’d get it. Her boyfriend at the time was friends with the producer. I got the part. She didn’t. But she got the part in the next show. Friendly rivalry.” Or friendly enough.
Hitching my bag up on my shoulder, I started for the door.
He followed me, and I tried not to wince under the brooding glare Mick directed my way, his eyes bouncing from me to the man following along behind me. He seemed to be looking at somebody besides Bastian, and once we were clear of the door, I craned my neck around to see who else had pissed him off. Of course, it didn’t take much to make the hulking security guard angry. At least from what I’d learned about him.
My gaze landed on Isaak. He caught me staring and nodded politely before dismissing me, eyes roaming around, seeming to take in everything all at once.
Bodyguard, I realized with a start.
He was Bastian’s bodyguard.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
Jerking my head around, I looked at Bastian. A hundred questions burned at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t seem to focus on just one. And just how did a person politely ask, Why do you need a bodyguard?
And what if I was wrong?
What if they were just really good friends, or as Isaak had put it earlier, Bastian was so crazy busy, he needed his assistant with him all the time?
Of course, both of those options seemed weird.
But any other reason why Bastian might have this watchful, wary person with him everywhere he went seemed even weirder. And he was rich—beyond rich. I’d caught sight of his watch earlier. I had a strange obsession with Cartier watches even though I didn’t particularly want one. Actually, I didn’t want one. But my father had owned one, and I could recall admiring it when I’d been very young. I’d told him it was a “very pretty watch.” He’d given me what I’d later realize was a backhanded compliment, telling me that at least I had good taste and could appreciate Cartier when I saw it.
In my naïveté, I’d thought maybe I could save my allowance and buy him one. I’d been seven. By the time he died of a heart attack when I was eight, I’d saved fifty dollars, nowhere near enough for a Cartier watch.
But it had started my obsession.
I easily recognized the watch Bastian wore. It cost almost one hundred thousand dollars.
Maybe that was why he had a bodyguard, just so he didn’t get mugged for his fine clothes, fancy Italian loafers, and a watch that cost more than most cars. Heck, more than some houses.
“Regan?”
The sound of his puzzled tone jerked me out of my reverie, and I smiled at him as I tried to remember what he’d been asking. Oh. Plans. “Ah, no. Not really. Why?”
�
�I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of touring me around the city.” He gave me a boyish grin. “I’ve heard it’s better to experience New York with a local rather than try to muddle through it on your own.”
“Is that a fact?” I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over my face, even as I sensed Isaak drawing closer.
Isaak touched his fingers to Bastian’s arm, but Bastian shook him off without even looking away from me. “It is a fact. And I agree. If you were to go to Paris, would you want to do it on your own or have a local take you around?”
“A local.” Lifting a shoulder, I added, “But I’ve never really had any dream to go to Paris. I’ve always wanted to go to Italy. Milan, maybe. Or just a villa by the sea.”
“With a local guide, of course.” That slow smile, hesitant at first, then bright as the sun, came across his face. “So, will you show me around the city today, Regan?”
I ended up showing them both, because although Isaak said nothing, it was clear he was going with us. Once we were in the car, Bastian asked, “What shall we do first?”
I’d already thought about that. “I thought we’d go to the zoo at Central Park.”
Without saying anything, Isaak punched the destination into the GPS, and in moments, we had joined the flow of traffic.
“How do you think your audition went?”
“I think it went well.” Smiling over at him, I asked, “What about you?”
“I already told you how you impressed me.” That warm smile curled his lips again. “How big of a role is it?”
“It’s one of the most important secondary parts.” Rubbing my hands together, I confided, “I hope I’ll get it. I almost always get parts where I’m playing the misguided love interest, or the naïve one, or the jilted one, or a governess…a nanny…” Refusing to let my thoughts get maudlin, I gave him a rueful smile. “I like the chance to play a cold-hearted bitch once in a while.”
“Why?” He looked confused.
“To prove I can.” I winked at him. “Besides, it helps to show I have a broad range. That can help land bigger roles in the future.”