“You do need gas money?”
“No.” His expression was grim. “I promised to meet a friend of a friend for drinks at the marina later, after the interview.”
“Gotcha. Maybe we could do dinner another time.” I tried to keep my voice as free from disappointment as possible. He had a date. Of course he did; he was gorgeous, rich, and probably going to end up on that world’s most adorable bachelor list. “For the record, I would have let you buy me dinner without even looking at the prices on the menu. Not only that, I would have had a glass of wine, and we both know how restaurants charge up the ying-yang for that.”
“How am I supposed to resist such an rare event as that? I will simply arrange to have drinks with Patricia’s friend another time.” He sounded annoyed and determined at the same time.
“Don’t cancel on my account,” I said quickly, reminding myself that I’d just made a big deal about him living in a different world from me, and I couldn’t be disappointed to find it was true. “I’ll have Maggie to deal with anyway.”
“Do you have the address?” was all he said five minutes later when he double-parked in front of the narrow hotel entrance door, helping me down out of the Jeep before lifting out Valentino.
“Of your cousin’s house?” I recited the address that I’d memorized.
“That’s it. It’s an apartment building. Tell the concierge you want the penthouse. I’ll see you in two hours, then.”
“Thank you for lunch even though I really would like to pay for it. And for taking us around everywhere,” I said politely, back to feeling awkward and gawky and highly, highly desirous of kissing him again and again and again.
“It was my pleasure.” He started to turn away, then made an annoyed noise and, grabbing me by my free arm, pulled me sideways up to his chest, his mouth as hot as I remembered as he gave me a fast, hard kiss. “That was just in case you were thinking I’d rather have drinks with someone else than dinner with you.”
He was gone before I could gather up my wits. “That man,” I told Valentino when I led him inside the hotel and up the stairs to my room, “has magical lips that make my brain stop working when they touch me. Hoobaby. It’s a good thing we aren’t having dinner with him, because I’d spend the whole time thinking about touching him all over.”
“Who are you thinking about touching all over?” a voice asked me when I closed the door to my room on the last of my words.
I stared in stark surprise at the man who stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back, my skin prickling unpleasantly at the possessive way his gray-eyed gaze crawled over me.
Kardom was here? In Greece? In my room?
I slumped against the door. Now what the hell was I going to do?
FOUR
“Juliane, you look well.”
Kardom was the only person who called me by my first name. I swore he did it just to annoy me.
“And you look like the piece of shit that I know you are,” I said in a polite voice that belied the actual words, then picked up Valentino and stormed into Maggie’s room. She was standing before her tiny mirror, applying eyeliner and mascara. “Why the hell did you let that rat bastard into my room?”
“Kardom?” She eyed me in the mirror. “He asked to wait for you. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
“You figured wrong. Maggie, you know full well what he’s been doing to me—the lies he’s been spreading!”
“I know he’s been asking to marry you. Why is that so bad?”
I waved that away. “He’s lying to the Beck ministers about Chris and me. Mostly me, because Chris has no interest in taking up the crown prince duties.”
“You say that, but I’ve never actually seen any proof that you’re being slandered,” she said, turning back to her reflection and dabbing at an errant eyelash. “All I see is a very devoted man who has bent over backward trying to get you to marry him.”
“Gah!” I said, filled with frustration. How could she not see what was so obvious? “He’s not devoted. Not to me, anyway. He wants to be recognized by Beck so he can exploit them for every cent he can wring out of them.”
She waggled a hand. “Well, if it comes to that, why shouldn’t he want to make money off the country that did him wrong?”
“He was not done wrong. My great-grandfather Christian was done wrong when a group of leaders of other countries booted him out of his own homeland and handed it over to Germany. Kardom is not descended from Great-grandpa Christian.”
“No, but I am descended from Christian’s younger brother Friederich,” Kardom said, strolling into the room. Just his presence made me twitchy, as if I’d been covered in itching powder.
“Via an illegitimate son,” I snapped. Normally, I wouldn’t give a hoot about whether someone’s parents were married, but I made an exception for Kardom. “One who, by laws of cognatic succession, could never inherit the throne, even if Great-grandpa Christian didn’t have sons. Which he did.”
“I’m fully cognizant of the details of our family tree,” Kardom said calmly, gliding toward me in that creepy way he had. He was a little taller than Dmitri, but very thin, and had pale white hands that made my skin crawl just thinking of them touching me. “I have spent a good deal of money researching it.”
“And a whole lot more trying to bribe parish priests to alter their records. Oh, yes, I know about that. Didn’t I tell you? One of the priests who you tried to pay to modify the registry listing your great-grandfather’s birth from illegitimate to legitimate contacted Chris. He was very appreciative of the fact that the priest refused to do so, and told him that he was glad that a group of German genealogists had digitized the records a few years before. Just so that if anything happened to the original records, there were copies. Safe. And undoctored.”
Kardom stiffened with anger, and for a moment, I marveled that I had ever allowed him to seduce me. My only excuse was that I was young, stupid, and flattered that a sophisticated man ten years older than me was interested in me romantically.
Only he wasn’t, of course.
“That was a small misunderstanding, nothing more. I was attempting to get a copy of my great-grandfather’s birth records to present to the Council of Beck in order to prove my heredity. I don’t know why you insist on being so antagonistic toward me, Juliane. I want only what is best for you and your brother. When you marry me, the council will not be able to resist the joining of the two royal lines into one, and will be happy to accede to your brother’s request to be passed over in favor of you. You will be a rich woman.”
“Rich? From what source? Certainly not Beck. Even if I did marry you—and I am not going to, under any circumstances—I wouldn’t take money from them. And I certainly wouldn’t sit around and watch while Beck was raped of every natural resource you could get your hands on.”
“The use of resources would naturally fall to the government to decide,” he said with an unctuous smile. “Although we will be the royal family, we will likely have limited powers to influence the government. To start, at least. Later ... well, that’s best left for another discussion.”
I wanted to slap him, but instead clutched Valentino tight until he wiggled to be free. I set him down, keeping a tight hold on his leash. I didn’t trust Kardom further than I could spit. “I don’t have the slightest doubt that you will bribe and threaten and do God knows what until you convince the government to exploit anything and everything, just like you are bribing and threatening them to believe I’m a soulless wretch who just wants to be supported by the money they can ill afford to spend. You may not give a damn about the people of Beck, but I do. They’ve suffered a lot, Kardom, and I will not do anything that will hurt them.”
“You will naturally do as you please after we are married,” he said, his eyes reminding me of those of a snake. A particularly loathsome and heartless snake. One that ate baby bunnies.
“I really don’t like you,” I couldn’t help but tell him.
He brushed s
omething off the sleeve of his suit. Kardom always wore suits, no matter how hot it was, or what sort of environment he was in. Unreasonably, that irritated me almost as much as his repeated attempts to get me to marry him. What an insufferable, stuck-up prig. “As to that, you do not top my list of favorite people, but we do not need to view each other with favor in order to have a successful marriage. You will wed me, ensuring that I am recognized by the government of Beck, and I will naturally disprove all those pesky rumors going around about your mercenary intentions with regards to their budget. In addition, I will pay you a generous allowance every year that you remain married to me, enough for you to support as many bleeding-heart causes as you like.”
“You truly are a pus-filled boil on the buttocks of the world,” I told him, picking up Valentino, who was snuffling around his shoes. “No, kitty, you don’t want to smell him. You don’t know where he’s been. You might get some horrible disease.”
“Thyra!” Maggie gasped, shocked. She’d been quiet, watching us with a wary look, but she came over and put a hand on my arm. “You don’t have to be rude. Your cousin is just trying to do right by you.”
“He’s doing nothing of the sort.” I took a deep breath and turned to face Kardom, hoping he could see the conviction in my eyes. “This is the last time I’m going to say this, so listen up: There is nothing on this good, green earth that would convince me to marry you. No amount of money, no campaigns to make Beck believe the worst of me, no attempts to browbeat me, nothing. I will not marry you. Not now, not ever. If you continue to pester me, I will lodge a complaint with the police and take out a restraining order against you. I hope that’s quite clear.”
And with that, I spun around on my heel and stalked through the connecting door, slamming it behind me. I hated to leave Maggie to deal with Kardom, but I had reached the end of my patience with him. I set the cat on my bed and sat next to him, stroking him and rubbing his ears. Despite my brave words, I was shaking with the strain of having to deal with Kardom yet again.
The thought flitted through my head that I could borrow Maggie’s phone and call Dmitri. Just hearing his voice would make me feel better. ... “No,” I told Valentino, giving a shake of my head when I got to my feet to fetch my gold lace dress. “I’m not his problem. He’s going on a date later, and despite all that kissing and sexy talk about going to bed, I think he finally understood that we just aren’t on the same playing field. Which is a damned shame, because just thinking about him makes me feel like I’m sixteen and in love for the first time—”
“Who makes you feel sixteen?” Maggie asked, coming through the connecting door. I swore at myself for forgetting to lock it.
“A man named Dmitri,” I said. “I met him yesterday.”
“At the party?” she asked, giving me a look I had a hard time reading.
“Yes.” I hesitated, wanting to tell her the truth, but feeling that something was off ever since we had arrived. Instead, I said carefully, “He came out of the door the waiters use and knocked me into the wall. We drove around today and looked at the gardens and things.”
“Oh.” She lost interest at the word “waiter.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if her head had been turned by the attention she’d received at the party, and immediately felt another twinge of guilt. She’d simply done as we’d agreed and pretended to be me. Why did it matter if she enjoyed it so much?
“Did he leave?” I asked, telling the sense of unease that gripped me it was overreacting.
“Prince Friederich? Yes.”
“Kardom is not a prince. Don’t pander to his massive ego.”
She rolled her eyes. “I think he’s nice. He’s certainly very elegant, and he dresses fabulously. Did you see his shoes? They were Italian.”
“Probably made from the skins of baby seals,” I snapped, shucking my clothing in order to pull on my dress.
“Now you’re just being silly. No, don’t lecture me; I’m not in the mood for it.” She went over to the mirror and patted the French twist that emphasized her delicate bone structure. “Let’s go over tonight so we both know what to do. And don’t forget to introduce me properly. I know you don’t like to have your title mentioned, but rich people love royalty almost as much as they do other rich people.”
I listened to her chatter with half my attention, shaking out a little more kibble for Valentino, hesitating between leaving him behind and taking him with me. He didn’t seem to mind going places at all, and although I knew he would probably be fine curled up on my bed, I decided I’d take him. I worried about him grieving the loss of his family, and felt stimulation would keep his mind occupied.
I finished dressing, and brushed my hair while I tried to think about what to do with it. It was down to my waist, nice enough except for the fact that it refused to curl no matter how many products I used with innumerable curling irons and hot rollers. I made a face at myself in the mirror; then with a glance at Maggie (who was demonstrating the proper way to make a curtsy), I quickly braided my hair and wound it into a crown on top of my head.
“You’re not taking that thing with you,” she asked when I scooped the offerings Valentino had just left in the litter box, then clipped the leash to his harness.
“I am. I don’t want him feeling sad all by himself, and I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”
“But there’s a party I want us to go to after the interview! You can’t take a cat to a party.”
“What party?” I asked, tidying up my room.
“One of the men I met last night invited us. It’s going to be on a yacht, and he said only a few very select people will be invited. We can’t miss that! You’ll have to leave the cat here.”
I made a face at myself in the mirror after checking my appearance one last time. “You know how I am about parties—you go if you want to, but I’d rather chill here, or maybe take a walking tour around the city.”
“You really are the limit, do you know that?” she answered, shaking her head. “Even if you don’t want to go to the party with me, it’s going to look extremely unprofessional if you bring a cat with you to an important business meeting.”
“We’re going to interview a man in someone’s apartment. That’s hardly a business meeting,” I said calmly. “Besides, Valentino likes to go places. Look, he’s already at the door.”
Maggie heaved a put-upon sigh. “Where we are going to meet the elitist of the elite. I heard a lot about this Christos Papaioannou last night, and everyone said he was super rich, and about to launch some company that is going to revolutionize something. Buildings, I think. Also, he’s hot. Like, really hot, the sort of hot that has women ripping off their underwear and writing their phone numbers on them.”
I pursed my lips, wondering how many women had given Dmitri their underwear, and more, why I was so furious at the thought of that. “What sort of woman would be so low-class as to write her number on her underwear?”
“It happens,” she answered with a shrug, waggling her butt at me as she marched to the door. “I’m not wearing any, so I certainly won’t be doing so.”
“For the love of Pete, Maggie, what would your mother say if she knew you were going out commando?” I asked, following with Valentino marching alongside me, his tail up, and his expression one of reserved interest. There was something about his dignified manner that made me giggle to myself. Once we were outside, I added, “Hang on, I’m going to let Valentino have a few minutes at the base of this tree, just in case he wants to scratch around and pee.”
“He just pooped!” Maggie protested. “I saw you cleaning it out of the box!”
“Yes, but he didn’t pee. It won’t take but a few minutes.”
“For heaven’s sake! I do not know you,” Maggie said, ire dripping off every word. “I suppose you’re going to make me walk all the way to this appointment, too?”
“No, it’s too far to walk. Oh, good kitty, Valentino. See? He seems to like free-range dirt as opposed to
his box.”
Maggie turned her back when I helped Valentino kick a bit of dirt over where he’d peed.
“If we aren’t walking, I assume we’re taking a taxi? Or did you call for an Uber car?”
“Neither.” I smiled and gestured down the road. “We’re taking the underground. There’s a station only two blocks away from the apartment where we’re going. Shall we?”
Maggie had many things to say to me about my parsimonious ways, but I let most of it wash over me. I was too busy feeling excited about seeing Dmitri again, even if I would have to pretend to be Maggie’s lackey. What was it about the man that put me in such a state? I mused when we entered a stylish block of apartments. A reception desk sat squarely in the middle of the room, manned by an elegant woman in a dark blue power suit.
A part of me, a tiny little part of me, wondered if Dmitri’s apartment building was as nice as this one, but immediately I dismissed the thought. It didn’t matter. He was out of my league, and we both knew it.
“Thyra,” Maggie said in a terse voice, gesturing abruptly to me. She was standing in front of the concierge, who I assumed was waiting for us to announce ourselves, and I stared at her for a few seconds, wondering why Maggie wasn’t giving the woman our names, but after a very pointed look, I realized that she was waiting for me to do the honors. I fought back the urge to tell her that she was irritating, if not downright obnoxious.
Instead, I slapped a smile on my face, and strolled over to the woman who was clearly waiting for Maggie to speak. “Hello. Her Serene Highness Princess Juliane of Sonderburg-Beck is here to see Mr. Christos Papaioannou.”
“Ah, indeed.” The woman looked with new respect at Maggie, who gave a cool smile. “You are expected in Mr. Papaioannou’s penthouse ... er ... Your Highness.”
“Oh, this is going to be such a long interview,” I told Valentino when I bent down to pick him up before entering the elevator with Maggie. He smelled my chin. I took that as a sign of agreement.
A small woman with salt-and-pepper hair opened the door to the apartment. We didn’t have to knock, leaving me to assume the concierge had called to tell her that we were on our way up.
A Tale of Two Cousins (A Papaioannou Novel Book 3) Page 7