A Tale of Two Cousins (A Papaioannou Novel Book 3)

by Katie MacAlister

  “There’s no naturally about it,” she said with a shake of her head. “I told you: Kardom’s poisoned the administration against Chris and me. That’s why they won’t have me. Right now the government is in transition while they work out everything. There are twelve ministers on the council who makes the decisions about this sort of thing, and the woman I talked to, one of the twelve, said that she and another woman were fine with recognizing me as crown princess, but that Kardom had five other ministers who wanted him.”

  “What about the other five?” Dmitri asked, wondering whom he knew in the north of Europe.

  She gave a little shrug. “Undecided either way.”

  “Still, there’s a hope you can change their minds. You’ll just have to fight for it.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head again. “It’s not that easy. I can’t make them recognize me.”

  “No, but you can inform the government that your cousin is spreading lies about you. If you are the heir presumptive—or rather, your brother is—then, assuming they wish to have a royal family for purposes of bringing income to Beck, they will have to recognize you, and not your cousin.”

  “I’ve tried to point out that Kardom is lying up one side and down the other, but no one believes me.”

  “Why?” he asked, studying her face. It didn’t make sense that a government that needed an influx of tourist dollars would turn down such a lovely woman to act as figurehead.

  A little flush warmed her cheeks as she looked down to rub a finger down the damp curve of the water glass. For a moment, he had a mental image of her fingers doing the same to his penis, and for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day, he hardened. “It’s ... it’s complicated,” she said softly.

  He wondered for a moment if her revelation that she was a bona fide princess had anything to do with his attraction, but realized it didn’t. He’d been aware of her all day, and aware of a subtle sensation of pleasurable anticipation that seemed to hum around them. She was nothing like the women he was normally attracted to, and yet the thought of touching her, and tasting her, increasingly filled his mind.

  But all thoughts of indulging in any of the things he’d like to do now had to be dismissed. She was a princess, and despite her claim that the title meant nothing, others would take a different view. He’d be accused of chasing after her for the fame she’d bring to him, to Papaioannou Green. He couldn’t risk damaging the company before its first project was even finished.

  No, he told himself while the waitress brought their meal. He’d have to let the intriguing Thyra go on her way without any further interaction between them. He’d simply sate the desire he felt for her on Patricia’s friend, and his life would remain as calm and even-keeled as he planned it to be.

  A voice in the back of his mind laughed and laughed and laughed at that.

  THREE

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something else?”

  Dmitri looked concerned when I finished my salad, and he still had half a plate of something meaty left. “We could get another order of chicken. Or would you like some of my moussaka?”

  “No, thank you, I’m fine,” I said, glancing around us. “I’m just a fast eater. It comes from having an older brother who felt it was fair to pillage food from my plate because he had what my mother called a hollow leg. This is such a nice area, but not for claustrophobics, huh?”

  He smiled at the change of subject, but let it pass. I was still a bit worried that he was going to treat me differently now that he knew the truth, but I was prepared for it if he did. I’d simply tell him I’d had a nice day, and would leave.

  Valentino had finished his bit of poached chicken breast and, after cleaning his face extensively, was now curled up with his front feet tucked under his chest, watching the world go by with an expression that, if not contented, was at least no longer testy.

  When Dmitri finished his food, there was a tussle—which I fully expected—over the bill.

  “Please let me pay for my lunch,” I told him when he frowned as I tried to give him a few coins that would cover the cost of the salad and chicken breast.

  “Why would I do that when you’ve given me so much pleasure today?” he countered, giving the waitress a couple of bills. She gave him one last seductive look and wiggled her way off. Dmitri rose.

  I shoved the money toward his plate. “I appreciate that, but my father taught me that it was very important that I pay my own way. Here.”

  He shoved the money toward me. “With all due respect to your father teaching you proper manners, I have yet to take a lady to lunch and make her pay for herself. Take your money back.”

  I stood up, too. Valentino stretched, and moved out from under the table, sliding an expectant glance up to me. “This isn’t about manners—it’s about who I am. I would never have agreed to have lunch if I knew you were going to be this stubborn and let your male ego get in the way. Just take the money, Dmitri.”

  His frown got a bit darker. “I am not stubborn, and you haven’t done anything to my male ego other than make me appreciate just how reasonable men are. If I take a man to lunch, he allows me to pay without any sort of a fuss. Keep your money.” He shoved it back across the table to me.

  “Papa always said that it was important that I not let others do things for me when I’m capable of doing them myself,” I said with dignity, picking up the money and slapping it in his hand. “I know you aren’t trying to use me, because you aren’t that sort of person, but I can’t remember the number of times Papa warned Chris and me how wrong it was to accept gifts and favors that were offered because we were who we were. I know lots of actors and royals do otherwise, but Papa was adamant about us not allowing ourselves to be swayed by such temptations. I’ve lived my entire life by those dictates, and I’m not going to go against that now, just because I’ve dinged your pride a little bit.”

  He reached across the table and shoved the money into an open edge of my purse. “It’s not a matter of my pride. I asked you to lunch. Therefore, it is my right to pay for it. Surely even your father would recognize that gesture, and not attribute to it any ulterior motive.”

  “I just said that I don’t think you have an ulterior motive,” I protested, pulling out the money and slapping it down on the table. “But I went into the lunch with the intention of paying for it, and I will. Now, please, take back your money.”

  “I would sooner light myself on fire than take that damned money,” he said in a low growl, turning and walking away.

  “I’m going to leave it there until you take it,” I said loudly, scooping up Valentino and stalking after him.

  “Fine,” he called back without even turning to look at me. “The waitress can have it as a second tip. Your Highness.”

  “That’s Your Serene Highness, you ignoramus! And you can’t leave that for the waitress—it’s way too much for a tip!” I protested. He continued walking. I hesitated a minute; then my frugal self got the better of me, and I ran back to the table and snatched up the money, muttering things under my breath. By the time I caught up with him, he was next to his cousin’s car, and looked mad enough to spit.

  “Don’t you even think of giving me attitude,” I told him, shaking the money at him. “I’m the injured party, here. You have no right to look like how I feel!”

  He stared at me for a minute, his lovely black eyebrows pulled together; then suddenly they smoothed and he tipped his head back and laughed. To my utter and complete surprise, he took both my arms in his hands and, despite Valentino being clutched to my chest, leaned forward and kissed me.

  I was so startled for a moment that I missed the first few seconds of the kiss, and by the time my brain registered the feeling of his mouth on mine, not to mention the heat that pooled in my belly and rippled outward, it was over and he was smiling down at me, his almost dimples making my legs suddenly feel weak.

  “Thyra, I can honestly say that you are utterly delightf—”


  I lunged before he could finish the sentence, the desire that had burst into instantaneous life consuming my every thought. I grabbed his shoulder with my free hand and stood on my tiptoes to plant my lips on his, nipping his lower lip.

  He jerked backward, and I realized with horror what I’d done: I’d just thrown myself at the handsomest man I’d ever seen. My cheeks burned with shame at the look of surprise in his eyes.

  “Oh, God,” I said, all that desire and need and little spurts of lust smooshed together, making me sick to my stomach. “I didn’t just ... I’m so sor—”

  It was his turn to lunge, and lunge he did. This time Valentino objected, squirming between us when Dmitri’s mouth closed on mine, claiming it. I’d read of such things in books, but never had anyone taken over my mouth like they had the right, but Dmitri did just that. He didn’t politely nip at my lips asking for permission to come in and say hi; he was just there, making my lips part, his tongue all bossy on them before it marched into my mouth and told my tongue that it was now in charge.

  He tasted lemony and hot and spicy, and the sensation of his mouth worked magic on my breasts and belly and lady parts. My nipples went from boring, mundane parts of my breasts to highly sensitized demanding bits of flesh, feeling both needy and heavy, and wanting badly for me to place them into Dmitri’s hands. My stomach fluttered with a thousand little butterflies of excitement, while my lady parts went from quiet business as usual to bring that man’s parts to us immediately mode. It was disconcerting, and arousing, and set off all sorts of warning bells in my head.

  It was Valentino biting my wrist that had me pulling back, my mouth immediately singing a sad little dirge about the loss of Dmitri’s tongue from its premises.

  I stared at him, absently noting that those lovely olive-green eyes had gone a bit darker, my brain struggling to make sense of Dmitri kissing me a second time, and failing to parse it in any meaningful way.

  “That was ... hoo,” I said, setting the cat down when he began to struggle in earnest.

  “It certainly was hoo, and possibly a wow, as well,” Dmitri answered, an odd look on his face. “Are you ... you’re not seeing anyone, are you?”

  “Yes,” I said, stupidly, I realized a few seconds later. “Oh, you mean other than you standing there with your really nice lips, and those almost dimples that make me feel all squidgy inside? I’m not dating anyone, if that’s what you meant.” I gave a little wry smile. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I was. No, don’t put him in yet—I think he may need to go potty, and there’s a stretch of dirt over there that he might want to use.”

  He put the cat down, and I walked him around on a tiny bit of dirt until Valentino, his gaze firmly locked on mine, squatted and piddled.

  I had a mental argument with myself about what to say once we were back at the car. Valentino was once again strapped into the backseat, at which point he took care of a little personal grooming, leaving me free to watch Dmitri when he got behind the wheel and stared for a moment at nothing, before starting the car and driving us out of the neighborhood, heading to the north.

  “I was worried for a few minutes that you might let the thing about who I am affect you, but you don’t care, do you?”

  He blinked a couple of times like his thoughts had been a million miles away. He slid me a look that I couldn’t read. “No. That is, I do, because it’s a part of you, but it doesn’t make me want to fall on my knees and propose to you, if that’s what you were implying.”

  “Good,” I said, relaxing back into my seat. “Because I don’t believe in marriage.”

  I had no trouble reading the startled look he sent me. “For any particular reason?”

  “I just don’t think it’s necessary.” I gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I’m not a religious person, so I don’t believe in marriage for those reasons, and once you take that element out of it, all that’s left is a legal convenience. And these days, you can set things up legally with a partner, so why bother?”

  “That’s a rather unique opinion,” he said in a noncommittal tone of voice.

  “Uh-oh. I think I just offended you,” I said, trying to assess if he was being so distant with me because of the kiss, or if I’d stepped all over his beliefs. “I’m sorry, if that’s the case.”

  “It’s not. As it happens, I’m not any great believer of marriage, either.” His cheeks did their thing when he smiled. “Despite my cousins telling me how badly I need to find a woman and settle down so I can be as blissfully happy as they are.”

  “Bah. You don’t need to be married to be happy. I was very happy when I was kissing you, but that doesn’t mean I want to marry you.”

  “Likewise,” he said. “That said, I wouldn’t mind if you ... if we explored that kiss a bit more. In private.”

  I stared at him with wide eyes before whacking him gently on the arm. “Dmitri! Did you just proposition me?”

  His eyes danced with amusement when he glanced at me. “Perhaps. Do you want to be propositioned?”

  I thought about that for a bit. “I’d like to kiss you again, so I guess so. Although only if you let me pay you for my lunch.”

  “No,” he said evenly.

  “It’s important to me,” I said, the pleasurable, tingly sense of excitement that seemed to wrap around me fading just a little.

  “As it is to me.” His jaw, that delicious jaw that made my fingers itch to touch it, tightened, warning me he wasn’t teasing.

  “Fine,” I said, thinking of sliding the money under the seat, but remembering in time that it wasn’t his car. I’d just have to get it into his pocket somehow without his knowing. Maybe if I was to kiss him again? I eyed the patterned navy-blue shirt he wore. It had a tiny breast pocket, but I doubted if I could get the money into it without him noticing. That left his jeans, and those seemed to be fairly tight.

  “If you continue to stare at my cock like that, I’m going to find the nearest hotel, carry you into it, and proposition the living hell out of you,” he said in a conversational tone of voice.

  My gaze snapped up from where I was, in fact, wondering if he was just unusually beefy in the genital department, or if he had been aroused by our kiss. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ogle. Well, all right, I did mean to, but I didn’t mean to be so obvious that you’d notice me. I will allow you a reciprocal ogle of my bosomage if you like.”

  He laughed, and reached over to pat my thigh. “I will take you up on that, although perhaps not while I’m trying to get through this traffic without killing us. Would you like to see Athens from Mount Immitos? The view is one of my favorites.”

  “Sure, but if it’s very far away, we might have to hurry. Maggie doesn’t normally get up until one or two in the afternoon, so she won’t have missed me this morning, but she’ll want me to be back by four or so in order to get ready for the interview.”

  “It’s not far, and I will have you back in time to do whatever you do to get ready for an interview.”

  “I don’t intend to do anything other than let Maggie schmooze the guy, and take notes on his answers. Say what I will about her pretending to be me—and I’m really starting to think of a lot of things to say—she is very charming and always has men eating out of her hands. I don’t know why she hasn’t caught some rich dude who wants a pretty woman parading around making him look good, but she hasn’t. Yet.”

  “Most men are wary of women who pursue them merely as a means to an end,” Dmitri said, driving us through the city and out to the east, where a big hill dominated the horizon. I assumed that was Mount Immitos. “Who is the man you are interviewing?”

  I dug through my memory, it not being as good with words as it was with numbers. “Christos ... um ... Papaioannou?”

  The car jerked to the side while Dmitri swore, glancing quickly at me before checking the rearview mirror. “Sorry. Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” I turned to check on Valentino, but he was happily snoozing in the sun. “Did you get stung or s
omething?”

  “No.” He was silent for a few minutes until we left the Athens outskirts and started up a winding hill, pulling out at a spot that I assumed was for people who had car trouble. He turned to me then and said, “Christos Papaioannou?”

  “Yeah, that’s the name. Do you know him?” I thought the odds of that were pretty unlikely, but then, how likely was it that I’d kiss a man I’d met only the day before?

  “You could say that. I am Christos Papaioannou. Christos Dmitri Papaioannou, to give my full name.”

  I felt my jaw drop a little at his words. “But ... Christos Papaioannou is an important businessman. He’s, like, überrich. And the editor said that he’s being considered for some world’s most eligible bachelor list. You’re ... you’re a waiter.”

  “I am not.”

  “But ... at the party, you were dressed just like a waiter, and you came out of their area. ...” Was he yanking my chain? Maybe he was flat out trying to deceive me. I hadn’t gotten that feeling at all from him, and yet what he said didn’t make sense.

  “Your cousin had just spilled wine on my suit jacket. I’d taken it in for the hotel staff to clean, and bumped into you when I returned to the party.”

  We stared at each other. “So, you’re not a poor waiter?” I finally asked.

  “No. You were sent to interview me?”

  “I guess so.” I readjusted my view of him to this new Dmitri, and instantly felt all shades of uncomfortable and awkward.

  A Dmitri who was a workingman, one who had to borrow his cousin’s car to take me sightseeing, was one thing. But a Dmitri who was so desirable that an international magazine wanted to put him on a most wanted bachelor list was a whole different matter.

  “Well, that solves the problem of getting you back in time for the interview,” he said, smiling and pulling out onto the road. “We can do it any time we like. Not that I’m anxious for it. I agreed to do it only because it will be good press for Papaioannou Green, not to be on that damned list. Both my cousins were on it, and they said it was a pain in the ass.”