She nodded. She would do that and get to know General Houlis, Kostas’s biggest foe, because he would be her enemy, too.
Kostas headed for the door. Halfway there, he turned. “What are you wearing, by the way?”
“That will be a surprise.”
His mouth tipped up at one corner. “I’m quite sure there will be enough of those tonight, but have it your way.”
He left. Page returned to finish her hair. Stella immersed herself in the guest list, going over each key name and title, committing them to memory. Thank goodness hers was photographic.
When she’d made it to the L’s, her eyes widened. Cassandra Liatos is attending? The guest of Captain Mena, one of General Houlis’s disciples, according to the list.
The woman Athamos had lost his life over. The woman her fiancé had most likely bedded.
Her pulse picked up into a steady thrum, blood pounding in her ears. An unimportant detail Kostas had forgotten to mention?
CHAPTER FOUR
“WE ARE LATE, Your Highness.”
Kostas was well aware of that fact as he waited for Stella in the foyer of the castle, the arrival of their first guests imminent. The crowds, he had been told, were in the tens of thousands in the courtyard, all of them waiting for a glimpse of their king and future queen.
The global media was also impatiently waiting for them, three rows deep behind the red stanchions, cameras at the ready. The need to greet both the people and the media before their guests began arriving weighed heavily on his mind, along with the speech he was about to give, perhaps the most important of his career. He did not have time for a recalcitrant princess making yet another expression of protest.
A flash of blue caught his eye on the stairwell. As if her ears were burning, his future queen appeared. The hem of her ankle-length sapphire-blue gown in her hand, she made her way carefully down the steps. The look of focus on her face, the determined tilt of her chin, the fire that blazed in her electric-blue eyes, stopped his breath in his chest. She was out to conquer. He could read it in every stubborn line of her body...in the sheer force of will she was projecting. He’d never seen anything sexier in his life.
He drew in a deep breath so he could enjoy, absorb the rest of the picture, for she was something to see. The gown that perfectly matched her incredible eyes wrapped itself around her slender curves in a seductive embrace that begged a man to do the same. Her hair, caught up in curls atop her head, revealed the long, slender sweep of her neck, the diamonds that glittered at her ears and throat reflecting the incandescent glow that blazed from inside of her, reaching out and wrapping itself around him.
Not for the first time in his life he found himself consumed by her. Intrigued by her. When Stella was in a room, everything else paled in comparison.
She stopped on the last step, eyes on his. Those sapphire-blue orbs widened imperceptivity as he made no effort to hide the effect she had on him—the way she owned him in that moment. The air between them was charged, heated. He left it like that, waiting to see what she would do. Mouth tightening, she lowered her chin, adopting that cool, blasé look he was beginning to recognize was her first line of defense.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said crisply. “My hair was not right.”
He studied the perfect curls. “There isn’t a hair out of place.”
“Now.” She glanced toward the antique glass doors that led to the entrance of the castle. “There are thousands out there. I saw them from my window.”
“Tens of thousands. And we are late. Are you ready?”
She nodded. He offered her his hand to help her down the last step. She took it, the fission of energy that passed between them as he wrapped his fingers around hers a living, breathing entity. Stella stared down at their clasped hands, then looked straight ahead as they walked to the doors.
He brought his mouth to her ear. “You look astonishingly beautiful. But where is the back of your dress?”
Her lips curved. “I thought we needed to shake things up a bit.”
That she would do so had never been in question.
The flash of exploding camera bulbs was blinding as they stepped out onto the portico of the castle, a roar going up in the crowd that filled the courtyard. The electric excitement, the sense of anticipation that blanketed the night, sent a chill up his spine; brought his heart to a stuttering halt. The crowds assembled for his father had been coordinated, manufactured photo ops meant to send a message to the world of the power of his rule—the people paying lip service to the dictator for fear of reprisal should they not.
This was spontaneous. No one had been forced to come and yet...they had. Packed into the courtyard, the crowd spilled out onto the avenue beyond, confirming the rise in his approval ratings since the announcement of the coming elections and the news of his engagement to Stella. Proof that hope had taken root in his country.
A piece of him he had kept buried for months, years, a part of him that had survived the darkness, the self-doubt his father had instilled in him with every derisory remark about the fallibility of democracy, about his own inadequacies, throbbed in his chest. It was, he realized, his own hope. Somehow it had survived the hell he had endured.
If he continued to earn the people’s trust, he could rebuild this nation. He could make everything that had been wrong right.
Stella squeezed his hand. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped dead in his tracks. Looking down at her, their eyes held for a long, emotion-filled moment. Go on, hers seemed to say. Seize the moment.
They stepped forward and smiled and waved to the throng. The press was hungry for them, too. They gave them a photo before they took their place at the top of the stairs beside the Constantinides family as the first limousine rolled up.
A fully recovered, if fragile-looking, King Gregorios stood by Queen Amara, flanked by Nikandros, his wife, Sofía, Aleksandra and her husband, Aristos. That he was alone, yet again, struck him at the same moment as Stella’s presence at his side filled that space inside of him. She was the strongest woman he knew.
Confident and utterly at ease, she greeted every guest with the perfect poise he had known she possessed, but it was her ability to connect with each one of the arrivals that blew him away. She found something in each brief greeting to make every encounter memorable, transforming like the chameleon she was—but it was always genuine. The skill was born of her royal heritage, yes, but it went deeper than that—to who she was, how she cared.
By the time they’d made their way through the first three flights of royalty, politicians and Carnelian high society deemed important enough for a personal greeting, he had had more than enough.
He pressed a hand to his fiancée’s sexy bare back as the PR person gave the contingent the cue to go in.
Stella glanced at the crowd, who were still waving and calling their names. “We can’t leave them like this.”
“We need to. The agenda is tight.”
She turned a vibrant blue beam of stubborn defiance on him. “If you want to win the people, Kostas, you have to know the people.” And with that, she picked up her skirt and made her way toward the stairs.
He cursed under his breath and started after her. His bodyguard stepped forward. “You can’t go into that crowd, Your Highness. You know the—”
“Threat,” he said grimly. He was well aware he was a target for assassins. That there were many who would like to see him dead. But his future queen had now cleared the stairs and was accepting flowers from a young girl, the stubborn curve of her back daring him to follow.
He did. This time it was his bodyguard who cursed, rifled off a series of instructions to his security team, then followed him into the crowd. Stella gave him a sweet-as-pie smile as he made his way to her side, curving an arm around her waist. “This is Berdina from the west coast. Your father once shook her hand.”
He shook Berdina’s hand. Then the hand of the elderly lady beside her that Stella had just finished hugging. Hugging. The
y worked their way through the front row, comprised of everything from those elderly ladies to children wishing to greet the royals to people anxious to confirm change was coming.
A man whose lined face had seen a great deal of life stepped forward and clasped his hands. “Will the elections really happen? We have waited so long for this.”
“Yes,” Kostas told him, “you have my word.”
“But will they mean anything?” the man asked, doubt in his eyes.
“They will not be shadow appointments,” he promised him. “The people will have real power. We are going to change this nation together.”
By the time they were called back to the stairs by his frantic PR person, his throat felt as if it was lined with glass. He wrapped a firm hand around Stella’s waist and directed her toward the stairs.
She aimed a satisfied look at him. “Glad you did it?”
“Yes,” he said. “My security, however, is not.”
“Why? Our bodyguards were with us.”
“I am an assassination target, Stella.”
Her mouth fell open. Staring at him, she missed her step and would have fallen had he not snared an arm around her waist and hauled her into him.
“Assassination target,” she gasped. “Oh, my God, I didn’t—”
“Think,” he said, finishing her thought. “You were too busy making a point.”
Her face went bright red.
“I know you’re living to be a thorn in my side at the moment,” he said as he directed her up the stairs and into the castle, “but could I please ask that you think before you act, particularly where protocol is concerned?”
* * *
Thee mou. Stella’s head spun, blood pounding in her veins, as she matched Kostas’s long strides through the doors of the castle and down the stone hallway toward the ballroom. She had not considered such a horrific thing and yet she should have. Kostas had detailed his enemies to her, outlined their hostility toward his rule. It only made sense he would be a target.
But assassins? Fear coated her mouth, gritty and dark. What she had been trying to do was shake Kostas out of that aloofness he protected himself with in a crowd. The stiff formality he had clearly learned from his father. She had felt his tension as soon as they’d emerged outside, and yet the emotion emanating from him had been anything but removed. He had been caught off guard by the people’s response to him. By the joy they had displayed. Moved by it. He just didn’t know how to show it.
“Lypamai,” she murmured as they halted in front of the massive, gold-plated doors to the ballroom. I’m sorry.
Kostas looked down at her. “How about a little less wave-making and a little more obedience?”
Her jaw dropped. “As if I—”
He pressed a finger to her mouth, a brilliant smile lighting up his somber face. “I was just getting you going... You will need your fire in there tonight, yineka mou.”
Her mouth burned where he touched her, the casual endearment throwing her completely off balance. She didn’t want to feel this pulsing, inescapable connection to him that had burned between them ever since she’d walked down those stairs tonight. Ever since she’d first laid eyes on him.
As if he didn’t look spectacular enough in full military dress, the severe black uniform adorned with gold buttons and a red sash playing up his hawk-like, brutal good looks. It made him appear larger than life—the weakness she’d always had for him.
She lowered her chin, the infinitesimal movement making him drop his fingers away from her mouth. “No need to worry about me. I’ve got this.”
“That is the one thing I do not doubt.”
A booming voice announced their arrival to the buzzing ballroom. She took Kostas’s arm as they made their way through the crowd of almost five hundred guests toward the front of the room, where Nik stood waiting. The cacophony of sound as the guests applauded echoed off the hundreds of stained-glass windows that lined the room, highlighted to dramatic effect by the golden-hued arches that framed them.
The dark, seductive ambience lent by the stunning purple, gold and orange light from the glass windows highlighted by a dozen antique candelabra chandeliers scattered throughout the room seemed to set the tone for the evening as she and Kostas took their place beside Nik on a low balcony. Goose bumps unearthed themselves on her skin as she took in the packed ballroom, a glittering, privileged crowd who would decide the king’s fate. Her fate, she corrected herself, for it was hers now, too.
Silence fell as Kostas greeted their guests. If he was aloof in a crowd, he was compelling as an orator, his even, measured tone underpinned by the passion he held for his vision of a new Carnelia founded on the self-determination of its people and the modernization of his country to bring it into an “enlightened” age. If he knew he was making enemies with some even as he attempted to build trust with others, he was undeterred. He was daring his people to accept his challenge, daring them to dream of a brighter future.
“I’m ready to sign up,” she murmured under her breath as he finished and stepped back beside her to allow Nik to take center stage.
He bent his head, his breath a warm caress at her ear. “Efharisto. Perhaps in time you will be ready to sign on to...other pieces of our partnership as things become illuminated.”
She lifted her chin, cheeks burning. “In your dreams, Kostas.”
“You already are, Stella.”
She kept her gaze averted from his, looked at the crowd as Nik began speaking, refusing to engage. Except every part of her body was engaging with that seductive comment that had her excruciatingly aware of him long after Nik had delivered an eloquent speech of peace and friendship, and they had stepped off the balcony to mingle with their guests. It was not helped by the firm hand Kostas kept at her bare back, his big paw burning into her skin.
She hadn’t thought about that aspect of the dress when she’d chosen it and really should have, because it made it difficult to concentrate on the important introductions being made with his splayed fingers declaring an ownership over her. A reminder of how strong and overwhelmingly male he was.
Firming her jaw, she forced herself to focus, attaching faces to the names Kostas had given her, familiarizing herself with each and every one of the VIPs as they engaged in polite, easy bites of small talk. She was laying the groundwork for relationships she would later build on, some of which would be a challenge she discovered because Carnelia seemed to be as closed an inner circle as Akathinia was. But others were open and curious, welcoming.
It was exhausting, the mental effort it took to absorb all that information about so many people, despite her razor-sharp memory. She was craving a break when Kostas stiffened by her side, his hand tightening around hers.
She followed his gaze to the couple directly in their path. The tall, dark-haired, middle-aged male wore a military uniform with enough stripes on the shoulder to indicate he was very senior. Not quite handsome, with his clearly defined, masculine features, but his piercing dark eyes held her attention. Her yaya had always said the eyes were the measure of a person and this man’s dark stare held nothing good.
General Houlis.
Kostas drew her toward the couple, his hand at her waist. “General Houlis, I’m pleased to present my fiancée, Stella Constantinides. Stella, General Houlis is the commander of the Carnelian navy and a member of my executive council.”
Stella held her hand out to the general, who took it and bent lightly over it, the mocking significance of the gesture not lost on her. “A pleasure, Your Highness,” he said, straightening. “Your presence here in Carnelia has been highly...anticipated.”
The general made the introductions to his wife, then turned his attention back to Stella. “That was quite a reception for you two out there tonight.”
She tilted her head. “It was wonderful. I am looking forward to restoring the close bonds Carnelia and Akathinia once shared. My childhood is full of those happy memories. It was also,” she said deliberately, “lovely
to see the excitement of the people about the forthcoming elections. Their belief a better future is ahead...”
“Indeed,” said the general. “But are they ready for such widespread change? That is the real question.”
“They’ve been ready for a long time now.” Kostas set a deliberate gaze on the general. “Fear and intimidation have kept them silenced. Change is always hard, but for those who seek a better way, the short-term pain of the unknown will bring long-term gain. It is the faith we must all have. Those who resist change do so because it’s in their own self-interest. They fear what they have to lose.”
The general’s eyes glittered. “Or they don’t want the change that’s being shoved down their throat. How many examples can we count of nations who’ve signed on to regional and global lovefests only to find the old ways were better?”
“Old ways as in the suppression of their rights? As in the fear for their own safety if they refuse to toe the line? I am sure you would agree that can hardly be called better.”
“Sometimes,” the general countered, “the people aren’t equipped to make such important decisions for themselves. Sometimes they don’t have the vision required. It could all go to hell in a handbasket if not handled correctly.”
“Which is why the transition time will be used to smooth the way.” Kostas’s tone was frigid now. “My belief in the Carnelian people is absolute. There is only one way forward for this country.”
General Houlis lifted a shoulder. “Time will tell, won’t it?”
Stella drew in a breath. The general turned to her. “You will certainly have a front-row seat to pursue your vision from your position on the executive council if the rumors are to be believed...”
She opened her mouth to respond. Kostas tightened his fingers around her waist. “We still have elections to carry out,” the king said. “Many details to consider before the new council takes shape.”
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