It really did come down to dollars and cents. He’d read her application and her problems in life like a spreadsheet. She adjusted her eyeglasses and focused on him. "So, I could have been anyone?"
He raised two fingers on his right hand as a “no” gesture. "You are also attractive. That was a requirement for me."
Reconstructive surgery in the contract should have given that away her brain shouted, but her heart whispered that she was overly cynical and that the man adored on multiple continents for his charm and good looks thought she was pretty. She was sure she blushed. "Two things."
He leaned forward and put his hands together. "What?"
Her fingers trembled as she picked up the contract from the desk. "I'll need twenty-four hours to decide."
"Fair enough. And two?"
This one was for her silly heart. She had to know, if they were going to share a bed, a life, the truth. If there was nothing, no spark, she couldn’t go through with it. She stood and Antonio stood with her. The contract fell onto her chair, but her hands shook too much to even try to pick it up. She pushed her hair out of her face and then said, "I'll need you to kiss me now. If I don’t feel anything then this will never work."
The guttural sound he made from his throat told her he approved and he wrapped his hands around her waist. Her body felt warm as butter melting on a summer day. Her eyelids fluttered as she waited for his touch. He said, "We're clear that our union is business and not love?"
She opened her eyes and met his. She had always sworn she could take care of herself and wouldn’t marry someone she couldn’t respect enough to talk to everyday. Love wasn’t a factor. "Abundantly."
Closing her eyes again, she felt his lips inches from her mouth. "Then here..."
His kiss set her heart soaring. She held onto his shoulders to stay steady, but her foot lifted off the ground as if she might float away. His lips crushed hers in a soul-searching sweep of passion and she joined him in some place that must be heaven itself. No boy had ever come close to that kiss.
Once his lips left hers, Kristin used the desk behind her to hold herself upright.
If she left, she’d never have another kiss like that. If she stayed, she couldn’t honor her parents’ wishes that she marry someone who shared their manual labor, hard-working values. But they had been so unhappy. If she said yes, she might experience more of whatever had just sparked between her and Prince Antonio—she was sure her parents had never felt anything like that for each other.
Antonio read his watch. "See you tomorrow at 5 PM? Meet me here with your answer." He took his file and walked toward the door they’d come in and opened it for her.
"I’ll be here, Your Highness."
Chapter 2
Antonio Aussa stood near the window of his hotel suite, staring down at the empty beach below and then out to the ocean and mid-afternoon sun. Everyone here in Miami was tanned, except Kristin. She'd been pale, which would fit in fine in his country where the people were either snow white or olive-skinned. His ancestors clearly hailed from the Italian border.
The ring of his phone pierced the air and he ignored it for a moment. Not more bad news. He still needed his father and wasn't ready to be king.
He headed to the table he’d left his phone charging on by the second ring. Marco, his younger brother, popped on the screen and he knew the call wouldn’t directly be about his father. His mother would have called him if anything had changed. "Hello."
Marco immediately fired off a question. "So, how did meeting your true love go, Antonio?"
True love wasn’t the word he’d use, though Kristin’s sweet kiss tempted him more than he would have thought. If his father was still breathing then he had time to make things right. He collapsed into the nearby chair and kept his eyes closed. He wasn't a total failure. Not yet.
Kristin was the logical choice and he valued logic, even if the meeting hadn’t gone exactly as planned. That kiss replayed in his mind. "Stop. Marco, one day soon, you'll be like Lucio and myself as the clock counts down."
A click of Marco’s tongue told him that his baby brother didn't approve. "I understand that I'll have to marry in two years, but I won't be cold and mechanical as you. I can't believe you hired computer experts to track down exactly what components a spouse should have—getting a wife isn’t like takeout food where if you don't like it, you toss it in the trash."
Computers were good at finding people with skills to do a job—and to be the future Queen of Avce was a very important job. Truthfully, he wasn't ready to be the king so he needed a wife that offset his own flaws, for balance. "I don't have the luxury of time you have.” The unknown law requiring his marriage before his birthday had just been found two months ago, since his parents had reclaimed their throne.
"Two years isn't a luxury," Marco said. "It's a death sentence, but I won't go to my execution like either of my older brothers."
Despite Marco’s title, he’d spent years studying at Interpol. "You’re used to facing your own death because of all the terrorism detection stuff you’ve learned." And execution was a strong word. Kristin's kiss hadn't felt cold, like a computer. She was sweeter than he would have thought based on her 95% aggression score in her personality profile.
At least he had facts to back him up. Lucio's image-driven strategy was sure to backfire. "And my method is nothing like Lucio's."
Marco continued with his censure. "His is slightly better than yours, and I mean that in the narrowest sense possible because his method is stupid, but at least he's face-to-face with his options. Your computer programmers chose your bride."
Silence was all that comment warranted. Besides, his only argument right now was that logic mattered more than anything else, but her kiss made him question if this was such a calculated decision after all.
"So, now that you’ve met her, has anything changed?"
Lust filled his thoughts. Her kiss excited him and made him feel more than the last woman he'd taken to bed. He refused to tell his brother that. He walked to the window overlooking the beach. "Nothing. I need to close the deal and get home."
Marco snorted. "What happened to you as a child?"
"Same thing that happened to you. English boarding school choked my emotions out of me." Antonio watched the beachgoers—kids with pails, parents in the surf with them, laughing. Beautiful women tanning on beach towels next to buff men in lounge chairs. In America, people seemed happy. His own country was ready for a civil war. Nobody smiled. Someone close to his parents stirred controversy around the right of kingship. When Antonio took the throne, if he took the throne, he'd have to find out who the agitator was, fast.
"If you say so,” Marco said like he hadn't a care in the world. “Look, I have to go. I can't wait to meet the soon-to-be queen and give her my condolences."
Right. He and Lucio, as the oldest two males, had to marry by the age of thirty to stay in succession. He teased back, "Marco, I'll have my team find you the perfect woman so you have two years to persuade her. You’ll need it."
"Please don't. Victor Amadeus and I have plans to sweep across Europe and the world to interview women."
The panic in his voice was all Antonio needed to smile and continue, "Oh I’m ordering the workup now. Consider this a birthday present."
"Have you spoken to Mother today?" Marco asked, quickly changing the subject.
His heart banged in his chest. Their mother was at their father's bedside, holding the king’s hand as he lay in a coma. If she called, it wouldn’t be good news. He stilled and stepped into the shadow, away from the sun. "No, has something changed?"
"She asked me to tell you to call. She wants to talk to all of us."
The simple words made his body grow cold. If his father took a turn for the worse, then he needed to be back in Avce right away. He’d promised his father that he'd protect the kingdom from this takeover threat and that he’d find himself a wife as decreed by some ancient law. "Talk to you later."
His
stance widened and he closed the blinds. No one needed to see him as less than stoic, the trait that was often commented on as his most admired characteristic. He also cut the light so the only illumination in his suite came from the door of the other room. Satisfied he was alone in his own hotel room, he called the palace. He heard the phone click. "Mother?"
"Antonio, how is this woman you met today?"
His mother sounded stronger than the last time he saw her and she hadn't started with bad news. His gut churned, but he pretended all was normal. "If she says yes, then you'll meet her soon. How are you?"
"I'm holding on, but I need to know you'll keep our kingdom intact. The people are depending on you to lead them now."
The 24 hours, 7 days a week vigil she held at his father's sickbed was admirable, considering his parents had often acted more like partners than lovers. "I'll do my best."
"I know you will." She lowered her voice. "Your father isn't doing well."
The chill in the air grew against his neck and he sank down on the small sofa that wasn't made for a man his size. If something happened to his dad while he was in the states, he’d lose his chance to say goodbye. "What's going on?"
"He hasn't woken from his coma. I don't know how much longer he'll be with us."
One more day for his father to give him advice that he'd usually ignored in the past. This time, if he had the chance, he'd write down every word. He rested his head against the wall behind him. "Mother, I will get on the first flight home."
"No! Don't leave us in a crisis. Come home with a wife. At this point, I don't care if you stop in Vegas and marry a show girl."
Sixty days ago, before the law regarding the inheritance of the crown had been discovered, his mother would have needed to approve. Now that his marriage was a political tool being used to undermine his father's legacy, and a reason for possible civil war, things had changed.
If Kristin said no, then he just might have to marry the first available woman he found. He stood from the couch, and stretched his cramped back and stiff shoulders. "I'm in Florida, not Vegas, Mom."
"We can't lose everything, not now."
Agreed. He'd have to marry. Kristin was the best option. "I have this handled. Let’s talk later."
Once he hung up, he went to his bedroom and took off his hot wool suit. Linen pants would keep him cool in this tropical heat, which he paired with a short-sleeved polo.
A few minutes later, dressed more appropriately for the weather, he returned to the phone and pulled up the map application. Checking the address from Kristin’s file, he plugged in her information.
One way or another, he had to seal the deal with Kristin. He needed a wife and the sooner he was on a plane back to his father's death bed, the better. There was no time to waste.
Chapter 3
The setting sun colored the horizon with an orange hue. Kristin turned off her car engine and stared into the clouds. Beautiful. As if anything was possible. Her gaze lowered from the sky to the black-tarred parking lot with yellow lines separating the many cars. Reality.
This was her normal life. If she said yes today she’d probably have a driver and wear designer clothes that would never touch the simple polyester that gave her skirt a little shine at the bottom of the black. And she wasn’t sure how a crown might feel on top of her head.
She parked and then went into her three-story apartment building that spread over a half-acre of concrete.
Green grass and trees were found a block away in a tiny park she sometimes walked around. Just like all the important things in her life, it was little and tucked away somewhere. Despite their issues with each other, her parents had loved her and provided for her until they died.
After getting her master’s degree, she’d moved to the city in search of a better life. But here everything was too crowded and made her existence seem even more isolated than the old farm.
She craved a change. Kristin walked into her corner building and passed her neighbor, Greg, the thirty-four-year-old scuba diver and accountant, who waved at her.
She nodded and ran up the stairs to the third floor, hoping Renee wouldn’t be mad that she was late.
The clank of dishes in the kitchen greeted her as she went inside. Renee called out, "Where were you? The later we order, the longer it takes for the pizza to arrive."
Kristin put her pocketbook on the lamp table by the door and kicked off her borrowed heels, then went to the counter where Renee was making a salad. "I had my job interview with the Royal Prince Antonio Aussa from Avce this afternoon."
Renee’s dark brown eyebrows arched with that quizzical expression she must give her students daily. I know there is more. It was how she cocked her eyebrow that made her expressive face so distinctive. "That was at three. You're late."
Kristin began to feel normal as she nodded. "I was driving around aimlessly."
Renee's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Kristin stiffened and hugged her waist to ease herself into believing Antonio Aussa was real and that the contract in her pocketbook was proof.
If she explained this, Renee would push her to say yes to Antonio. She’d say she was being silly for hesitating, but Kristin wouldn’t mention the contract or the lack of love promised. Her parents had been living proof that marrying based on feelings never lasted anyhow.
Maybe her father was wrong and that for once she shouldn’t be practical. Right. Perhaps she needed the push. She met her friend's stare. "Because he asked me to marry him."
Renee dropped the salad tongs into the huge blue plastic bowl she’d tossed romaine in. "Shut the door."
Kristin turned her head toward the front door. "I did."
“Slang. You have got to enter the 21st century.” Renee reached out and took her hand. Kristin let her body relax. Renee's teasing reminded her why they were best friends. "Seriously? He asked you to marry him?"
"Yes." She couldn't quite meet Renee’s gaze. The contract wasn't part of this discussion. Her friend didn't need to know that part of it. No one should.
“I saw your application for secretary…did he take one look at you and fall in love?”
Kristin shook her head fast. “Not love. That doesn’t happen and never lasts anyhow.”
“That’s cynical and untrue—love can last a lifetime, but that’s for another day.” Renee squeezed her hands. "So what did you say?"
She tugged her arms free, but she kept her head down. "I needed time to think. Part of me was so mesmerized by him that I almost said yes, but my parents warned me all my life that work and security would bring me happiness. Marrying a prince I just met isn’t exactly practical.”
Renee laughed and said, "If a prince with billions of dollars knocked on my door and asked me to marry him, I'd say yes."
Right. Judgments weren't part of their friendship. She went to her pocketbook, dug out her phone and used the restaurant's app to order her usual pizza. "Just like that?"
"Absolutely." Renee picked up the salad tongs again.
The pizza would arrive in half an hour. Perfect. Kristin left her phone on the counter in the kitchen and went to the cabinet to get cups and plates. "No. No you wouldn't. You'd see through the BS, and wonder if there were any cameras taping you."
Renee walked out of the kitchen and put the salad bowl in the middle of the dining room table. "Oh, were you bamboozled in some awful prank I'll get to see on TV?"
"No." She followed her out with the plates, centering each on a placemat. "He asked me, for real. I just feel like I was being played, like maybe I’m missing something."
Renee leaned against the table and crossed her arms. "Why does he want to marry you? Did you ask that?"
"Yes." She went to the wine cooler. "He listed off my resume and personal information. It seemed like I would benefit from the deal. I should have insisted that a secretary application wasn’t a prescription for finding a wife. I feel so foolish now."
"Pour some wine for both of us and we'll talk all about how you s
hould be a princess." Renee immediately held the two glasses as Kristin popped the cork. “And I can be a princess’s best friend.”
Once she was done pouring, she brought the bottle to the table. "Yeah, I've not been anyone's princess since my father walked out on my mother when I was eight. When he returned home six months later, neither one of them were ever happy. They never really conversed again. You have no idea what it’s like to grow up knowing your parents hate each other while they sit right next to you and speak through you."
Renee handed her a glass of wine and sipped her own. "Well, that was depressing. So let's lighten up, and you can tell me if he's as hot in real life as he is in your photos."
Kristin took a small drink and sat, her elbow on the table. "Renee, he's hotter. TV and photos...I don't know...make him somehow blander. He's sexy in such a raw powerful way that I was shaken up. I wasn’t kidding—I almost said yes to his marriage proposal on the spot."
Renee held her glass near her face but hadn't sipped. "What exactly made you say ‘you’d think about it?’"
Kristin gulped what was left in her glass. She’d applied for a secretarial position because it would pay off her debts and allow her to travel while getting out of the boring rut she was in. Marriage to a man that made her blood sizzle, while he insisted they couldn’t feel love, ever, was a different proposition. The money was tempting, but his kiss was more. Raw hunger for him raged through her still. Once she swallowed her wine she nodded. "Self-preservation kicked in."
"What are you talking about?" Renee asked.
The kiss earlier had been off the charts and the mesmerizing personality and good looks were part of the unbelievable person that claimed her lips in a tasty scoop of yumminess that didn't compare to anything, not even her favorite chardonnay—so how could she explain it? She lifted her chin. "Despite how attractive he is, I want love to be at least part of why I get married."
Forbidden Crown Page 2