by Lucy Monroe
“He’s an opportunistic man.”
“He is.” Something clicked in her mind, two memories coming together to form a single conclusion. “He’s the one, isn’t he, the reason you had to act now?”
The king’s face smoothed over into an emotionless mask, but not before she saw the flare of surprise at her guess.
Because she was right.
“My great-great-grandfather Tanner died, apparently with a very different will to the one my great-grandmother believed to have been in existence. Yet no one from your family has approached mine in four generations to secure Baron Tanner’s shares in your precious company.”
“It is not just a company—it is the financial cornerstone of an entire country.”
“Your country.”
“Yours now, too.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Chanel—” Demyan tried to say something.
She put her hand up. “No. Not you. Not now. Trust me when I tell you it is better for everyone if you show that ruthless patience you are so well-known for in business.”
“How do you know about that?”
“I’ve spent six weeks learning you.” Too bad he hadn’t done the same.
He would have realized there was no worse way she could have learned of his subterfuge than to be told by an outside party. But then maybe he had realized and it simply didn’t matter.
He wouldn’t risk upsetting whatever scheme he and his father had set in motion to protect their precious wealth and thereby their country.
She focused on the king again. “My stepfather approached your company trying to trade on connections he didn’t really have, but it got you all worried.”
“He is a resourceful man.”
“He’s a shark, though I think maybe Demyan is a bigger, and much meaner, one.”
“Without doubt.” The king sounded proud.
But then he would be, wouldn’t he? His son’s ruthless resourcefulness had netted him full interest in Yurkovich Tanner for the first time in four generations.
She didn’t know how, or what the details were, but that much she had gleaned from what had and had not been said in this room tonight.
“There are half-a-dozen moderately accessible chemical compounds that would eat the flesh from a shark’s body in less than a minute, did you know that?”
The king shook his head, his expression almost bemused.
“I did. I know every single one of them.”
“Are you threatening him?”
“I am reminding you that even sharks get eaten if they aren’t careful and it doesn’t always take a bigger shark to do it.”
“I believe there is a strand of ruthlessness in you, too.”
“Would you like to find out?”
The king opened his mouth and then closed it, giving Demyan a look of concern before his expression turned thoughtful. “No.”
“Good.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“Throw the bouquet.”
“You know that is not what I meant.”
“I care?”
The king’s mouth tightened, but he stepped aside, having seemingly finally gotten the message that his admonitions were more effective goads to bad behavior than preventers of it.
*
Chanel threw the bouquet.
She even managed to dredge up a photo-op-worthy smile when Laura caught it and tossed it away again immediately. Her sister’s attitude toward the institution of marriage couldn’t have been more obvious.
Chanel had to wonder if the teenager had caught the bouquet just so she could throw it away again. The entire ballroom erupted into laughter and even Beatrice was smiling.
She should be.
Her disappointment of a daughter had managed to land a prince. No wonder she’d come to Chanel’s apartment with stories of undying first love.
Chanel couldn’t believe she’d thought her mom was finally showing a vested interest in her oldest daughter’s happiness.
But then she’d let herself be convinced that Demyan wanted to marry her. Not Bartholomew Tanner’s only surviving heir.
Smile still fixed firmly in place, Chanel looked out over the ballroom full of people. Her gaze settled on Queen Oxana. The older woman looked pleased, her normally controlled expression filled with unmistakable happiness.
Was that because she knew the Yurkovich fortune was secure, or was she happy at what she thought was her son’s marriage to someone she believed was his one true love?
Another memory clicked into place and the smile fell away from Chanel’s face. Oxana was the one who had made Demyan promise not to use protestations of love to convince Chanel to marry him.
The queen knew about the will. She must, but she had scruples where her husband and son did not. She might be the only person Chanel could trust to tell her the truth.
She was tempted to leave the reception early, but every time she let her gaze find Demyan, he was watching her. He would only follow her, but she wanted a chance to talk to his mother, to get some answers on her own first.
She got her chance unexpectedly when Oxana came up to her and laid a hand on her arm. “Are you all right, Chanel?”
Chanel looked toward Demyan. He returned her regard, his dark-eyed expression unreadable, but something in the way he watched Chanel and his mother told Chanel he had sent the older woman to her.
“You know,” Chanel said instead of answering.
“That you and my husband had something of an altercation earlier? Yes.”
Interesting that the queen considered the argument to be between Chanel and the king, not Chanel and Demyan. “Did he tell you?”
“Demyan did.”
Even the sound of his name on Oxana’s lips hurt Chanel in some indefinable way. “You were aware of their plans because of my great-great-grandfather’s will.”
Oxana nodded.
“You made him promise not to lie about loving me. Thank you.” She wasn’t sure how much worse the pain inside her would be if she’d believed false words of love. “I want to read the will.”
“If you ask Demyan, he will tell you everything.”
“I don’t want to hear from him. He had his chance to tell me. He chose not to.”
“He was trying to protect our nation.”
Chanel couldn’t help mocking. “Because I’m such a huge security risk.”
Oxana looked around them, obviously concerned someone might overhear. No one was in range of their subdued tones, but that could change any second.
“I don’t want to be here,” Chanel admitted hopelessly.
There was nowhere else she could be without someone she didn’t want to talk to following her, which included pretty much everyone but Oxana at the moment.
The queen sighed, looking at her sadly. “He cares for you.”
Maybe Oxana wouldn’t be the best company either. Chanel just shook her head, moving to turn away.
But Oxana’s hand on her arm stopped her from putting distance between them. “Come, I will take you someplace away from the scrutiny and company of others.”
Chanel thought it a bit obvious when the queen led her to the retiring room for the ladies, but they didn’t stop in the outer room as she expected. The queen led her into one of the three small chambers with toilets, closing the door behind them.
While the room was larger than the usual commode stall, it wasn’t exactly meant for two people and Chanel didn’t think talking about sensitive subjects with only a door between them and anyone who walked into the lounge was a good idea.
But Oxana did not ask any questions, or make any attempts at comfort. She simply pushed up on a section of wainscoting and then the wall behind the commode swung backward.
Oxana put her hand out to Chanel. “Come, I’ll take you to the private papers library for the House of Yurkovich. Your great-great-grandfather’s will has been stored there.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
DARKNESS SURROUNDED CH
ANEL as she stood on the balcony overlooking the now-silent grounds of the palace. The reception was long over, the last guest’s car having left the drive thirty minutes before.
Temperatures had dropped since that morning and she shivered in the cold air, but she did not go back inside.
Before leaving her to read over the will and relevant places in Bartholomew Tanner’s diaries the queen had marked for Chanel, Oxana had told her that her favorite place for solitude was this balcony.
“The bedrooms do not have security cameras in them, but they do have infrared monitoring. The public rooms and hallways are all covered with video feed, though. The only two places in the palace where you can relax unmonitored in any way are the public address balcony and the one outside Fedir’s rooms.”
“Isn’t that a security risk?” Chanel had asked.
But Oxana had shaken her head. “The walls and every approach are covered.”
Which meant that Demyan would eventually find her because Chanel’s path to the balcony would have been tracked by video monitoring once she left the secret passageway.
She could have left the palace completely. Chanel was a resourceful woman and there had been dozens of cars departing the grounds over the past few hours.
But she wasn’t a coward and she’d never hidden from the truth, no matter how much it might hurt to face.
What that truth was, however, wasn’t entirely clear. Not after reading the will. Not after remembering Demyan’s words in the carriage that morning.
Not after having Oxana tell Chanel exactly what promise she’d extracted from her son over the love thing.
Not until Chanel asked Demyan the only question that really mattered.
“Chanel.”
She turned at the sound of her name on Demyan’s lips.
He stood framed by the light from the hall. He reached and flipped a switch. More golden light flooded the balcony.
“Turn it off,” she said, angling her head away so he could not see the damage tears had done on even the indelible makeup job her mother’s professional artist had applied.
“No. We do not need more shadows in our relationship.”
She swung back to face him head-on, anger making her muscles rigid with tension. “The shadows are all you.”
He nodded, his expression as tortured as she felt, if she could believe the evidence of her eyes.
She wasn’t sure she trusted her own perceptions at all, though, not after how easily he’d taken her in. However, she didn’t think he could fake the parchment-pale of his complexion, the way his black pupils nearly swallowed the espresso irises or the way he breathed in what she would consider panicked gasps in anyone else.
“That day in my lab. It was planned.”
“I needed to meet you. You are not a social person.”
“So Yurkovich Tanner donated five million dollars to my department for research. That’s an expensive introduction.” Though nothing in comparison to what the Yurkovich fortune stood to lose if she had made her claim on the Tanner shares in the company.
“It also ensured you were predisposed to look on me favorably.”
“Your idea, or the king’s?”
“Does it matter?”
“No.”
“You’ve read the will.”
“Oxana told you.”
“I saw you go into the personal archives library on the video monitor feedback.”
“Oh.”
“I spent two hours watching the tapes, trying to find you.”
“We used the secret passages.”
“Yes. You only showed up for brief periods on the video monitors and there were too many extra people in the palace to track you with the infrared body counter and placement.”
“Poor you.”
“Cha…” Her name choked off and he stepped forward, stumbling, though she knew the stone floor was smooth with no hindrances.
“You never needed your glasses.” For anything.
He stopped a couple of feet from her. “I told you that.”
“But I thought you needed them as an emotional crutch.”
“I do not use crutches.”
“No. A man without emotions doesn’t need crutches for them, does he?”
“I am human, damn it, not a puppet. I have emotions.”
“I bet it was the king’s idea to approach me looking like a corporate geek to match my science-nerd personality.”
“He believed I would be too intimidating in my usual way.”
“That man, the corporate shark, he’s part of you.”
“Yes.”
“But he’s not all of you.”
“I thought he was.”
“Until when?” she pushed.
“Until I met you.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I’ve never meant anything more.”
“You lied to me.”
“I am ruthless when it comes to protecting my country and those I love.”
“I noticed.”
“There is little hope that will change.”
“No. It’s part of your nature. You would have made a very good Cossack.”
“We still have the elite in our army. As tradition dictates, I spent two years training with them before going to university.”
“Wasn’t that Prince Maksim’s job?”
“He wasn’t the oldest son to the king.”
“But he is heir to the throne.”
“Yes.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No. I hate politics.”
“I hate being deceived.”
“I will not do it again.”
“Can you really promise that, with your ruthless nature?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think you do.”
If anything, his face paled further. “Don’t, Chanel.”
“Don’t what? Make you admit your vulnerabilities. If you have any, that is.”
“I do.”
“I’m not stupid by any stretch, you know. Legalese may not be science speak, but I understand it well enough.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. Bartholomew Tanner’s will is unambiguous. My marriage to you negated all claim I, or any of my children, had to Yurkovich Tanner.”
Demyan nodded.
“The prenuptial didn’t need to spell that out at all.”
“No.”
“You had that paragraph added as a kind of warning to me, didn’t you?”
He shrugged.
“You also made sure I would be taken care of financially despite the fact that legally I would have no way of pursuing any monetary interests in the future.”
“You are my wife. I wanted you provided for.”
“I bet the king just loved the terms of the prenup.”
“He agreed to them.”
She was sure there was a story there, but right now she wasn’t interested in hearing it. “You came after me with the intention of securing Volyarussian economic stability, no matter the cost.”
“Yes.” The word sounded torn out of him.
“You could have just asked me to sign the shares over and I would have done it. Especially after reading my grandfather’s diaries.”
“His diaries?”
“He spelled out his intention of leaving the shares to the people of Volyarus, but at first he was still holding out hope your great-uncle would marry my great-grandmother, then he got his hopes set on the next generation. He died before he could try to make that alliance happen.”
“I am aware.”
“What you didn’t know was that he’d written my great-grandmother and told her that he planned to leave his interest in Yurkovich Tanner to the Volyarussian people. I never would have tried to undermine his clear wishes.”
“Your stepfather would not be so sanguine. He might well have convinced your mother to bring suit on her deceased husband’s behalf.”
&nbs
p; “A suit that wouldn’t have gone anywhere without my cooperation, and I wouldn’t have given it.”
“We did not know that.”
“You had to have realized, as you got to know me.”
“Once I commit to a purpose, I do not change my direction on a whim or the hope of a different outcome.”
“Maybe you decided you wanted to marry me.” It was hard to say the words, to put it out there like that, but this man was about as in touch with his emotions as the puppet he was so adamant he was not.
“I did want to marry you.”
“Why?”
He stared at her, his expression so open she wanted to cry. Because it showed so much that he so clearly didn’t know how to express verbally. One thing was really obvious. This man did not know what to do with his emotions.
“We are very compatible.”
“Are we?”
“You know we are.”
“You’re a prince. I’m a scientist.”
“Those are our titles, not who we are at the core.”
“Okay, then you’re ruthless and I’m insecure. We’re both emotionally repressed.”
“But you are more secure about yourself with me.”
“And you are less ruthless with me?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Looking back on it, she saw that the prenuptial agreement was practically a love letter from Demyan.
The uncertainty in his expression was heartbreaking. “Yes?”
She couldn’t hold back from touching him any longer. She stepped right into his personal space and he wrapped his arms around her like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
“Yes, Demyan. Yes.” His ruthlessness wasn’t always a bad thing, but she brought out the best in him, too.
Now, if she could just get him to realize what that meant.
“You turn me on like no other woman ever has.” He spoke as if that fact confused him. “I don’t like being without you. Not even for a couple of days. It makes it hard to focus.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I feel the same way.”
“I miss you,” he stressed. “Every hour we are apart. Even when I am working.”
No matter how this thing between them had started, it had caught Demyan in the whirlwind of emotion right along with her. Which was the conclusion she’d finally come to after a lot of pain-filled soul-searching and examination of every memory from the moment they’d met.