by Maisey Yates
“What about me?” Gunnar asked.
“You will wear a black suit,” Latika said, each word crisp.
She was like a tart apple. Then he desperately wanted to take a bite of her.
It was a shame. For with this new endeavor now before him, he never would.
For years now, his dearest fantasy had been getting down on his knees before his sister’s prim assistant, pushing one of her tight pencil skirts up around her hips and draping her legs over his shoulder, her back against the wall, as he licked his way into her center.
As if she sensed his thoughts, her gaze landed on his, locked there. She looked startled, like a deer caught in the headlights.
“It seems to me that you are avoiding having to dress me,” he said.
“I’m not avoiding anything,” she said. “Believe me, Gunnar, if you required dressing, I would accommodate. I’m sorry if that wounds your fragile masculinity in any way.”
“Good to know,” he said.
On a tightlipped smile, Latika turned and walked out of the room.
Astrid fixed her cold gaze on him. “Can you not deliberately poke at her with a stick?”
“I’m not poking her.”
“You’re a pain in the ass. She’s been through enough without you harping on her constantly. Be a decent human being.”
“That is, dear sister, the point of all of this.”
If he could not fashion himself into a decent human in the realest sense, he would make himself look like one.
In his world, facade was better than reality anyway.
Two hours after the encounter with Gunnar in the dining room had left Latika trembling and feeling hollowed out, she found herself standing in Astrid’s chamber while her friend tried on a myriad of dresses.
“It seems strange,” Astrid said, currently admiring a white gown with delicate silver beading that clung to her curves. “To draw attention to myself on what should be a ball in my brother’s honor.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “I can see that. But you know, it is about improving the way people look at all of Bjornland. We have essentially put out a call to all the eligible ladies of the world that Prince Gunnar is looking to settle down. The media attention alone demands that you shine above all else. Especially all those eligible ladies. It won’t do to have anyone in attendance be more beautiful than the Queen.”
Astrid laughed. “I imagine there will be a great many women there who are more beautiful. My brother attracts rare beauties like honey attracts bees.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “Pity he is not actually sweet.”
“I don’t think anyone would find him half so compelling if he were.”
Compelling.
That was an appropriate word for the man.
Of course, there were other words too. None of them fit for polite company.
“I think this color washes me out,” Astrid said. She looked over at the rack that was entirely filled with gowns. “And that orange would be hideous on me. It would look lovely on you.”
She gestured to a gown with a long bodice and a full, sheer skirt that gathered at the side, with a close fitted lining beneath. It was orange, with shimmering gold geometric detail over the top of it.
And, Latika knew she would look good in it.
But, she needed stay in the background. Desperately.
“I think I will opt for something black,” she said decisively.
“Well,” Astrid said. “I will not. I would look like a ghost.”
Astrid sighed and then looked over at Latika thoughtfully. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Latika said.
“You don’t look fine. In fact, you seem very tense. And not simply because you’re planning a party. Usually, you enjoy that.”
“Well, it’s just Gunnar. You know he and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. But it’s normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Except the threats to her safety. But she was choosing to handle that herself.
Astrid blinked. “Yes. I do know that the two of you get on like angry ants trapped in a jar. I also don’t think that’s the real problem.”
“Why?” Latika asked.
“Because I know you. Because we’re friends. Latika, don’t you trust me?”
Latika shifted uncomfortably. “Of course I do.”
“Are you upset about Gunnar getting married?”
Latika sputtered. “What?”
“I’m not a fool,” Astrid said. “I know that he irritates you, but I also know that there is something underneath that. I can never tell if the two of you are going to start yelling at each other, or start tearing each other’s clothes off.”
Latika stiffened, her face getting hot. The fact that Astrid had noticed that she carried some sort of shameful...fascination with Gunnar was truly alarming. It was somewhat refreshing to be able to be alarmed about something other than the email she’d received a few days ago, though, she would not have chosen this. “I can honestly say that I am not upset about Gunnar choosing to get married.”
“Then what is it? Please don’t tell me it’s to do with your parents.”
Latika sighed. “Not as such.”
“It’s related to that, though.”
“I... I have reason to believe that my former fiancé knows where I am.”
“Latika, that’s terrible. You should have told me immediately. I will do whatever I have to, to protect you.”
“And I will do whatever I need to, to protect you. You don’t need to worry about me, or the issues that I’m having. The scandals in my life were never meant to touch you.”
“That’s not how friendship works,” Astrid said. “Yes, you have been an employee, but more than that. And you know it. You are the single best friend I’ve ever had. It’s because of you that I found my husband.”
“In fairness,” Latika said, “it was highly unlikely any of that would work, and I feel it was only a stroke of incredible luck that saw it all come together. Or fate, perhaps. But either way, I cannot take credit. And had everything gone awry, I would have been responsible for your most disastrous decision ever. We could have damaged the whole of the country over a one-night stand.”
“But it was meant to be,” Astrid said. “And you trusted me. You trusted me when I said I needed your help, and believe me, the people in my life who have trusted me, who have taken me at my word, have been in short supply. For the most part, people have doubted I know my own mind because I am a woman. Really, only you and Gunnar, and my mother, ever treated me as though I had the head on my shoulders required to run a country. Or, to make any decisions on my own.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “Well.”
It was one of the difficult things about Gunnar. He had always been incredibly supportive of his sister. And though he had been angry over the incident with Mauro, and Latika colluding with Astrid to sneak her into his club so that she might engage his services in the making of an heir, in many ways, Latika couldn’t blame him. And indeed, would possibly respect him less if he’d had no issue with it whatsoever.
Latika had helped Astrid accomplish that for her own reasons, but it certainly wasn’t in the interest of her finding love with Mauro. No. It was only that she understood what it was like to feel that you had no power in your own life.
An ancient law written into the code of the land of Bjornland had stated that the Queen could declare herself the sole parent of her issue. With that goal in mind, Astrid had set out to get pregnant by the most disreputable man on the planet, thinking he would want nothing to do with the child. Of course, he had. And Astrid had not ended up with a child, and no man, but with a husband. One that she loved very dearly. Nothing had gone quite as they planned, but in many ways, it had gone better.
Latika had never seen Astrid so happy.
And that—she had conclu
ded—was what happened when people were allowed to live. To make their own choices.
To make their own mistakes.
Sometimes even a mistake—in the end—was perfectly all right because it led you to where you had always been meant to be.
But choice, that was what Latika wanted. Eventually. A life of her choosing, with a man of her choosing.
She wanted children.
Watching Astrid with Mauro all those desires had only become more pronounced.
She was tired of surviving.
And with Ragnar coming after her those dreams seemed farther away than ever. Dreams other people took for granted.
“What can I do to protect you?” Astrid said. “Your problems are mine. Because we are friends.”
“Honestly, this ball is going to offer me a modicum of protection I would not have access to if it weren’t for my position here. We will, of course have to increase security. Seeing as we are inviting every eligible woman in the world to come and have a chance with Gunnar. And those who haven’t met him will surely jump at the opportunity.”
Astrid erupted into a peal of laughter. “You do protest too much, Latika.”
“Perhaps my protestations are honest,” she said.
“You find my brother attractive. Whether you want to admit it or not.”
“A spider can be beautiful in its web,” Latika said. “But that doesn’t mean I want it on my skin.”
Astrid shook her head. “But see, that’s where you have him wrong. He’s not a spider. Any more than you’re a fly. A predator, possibly. But maybe more like the wolves we have here in the mountains. Deadly if necessary, surely. But more than willing to put everything on the line to protect his pack. Gunnar is a true alpha. Leader and protector.”
“Perhaps that’s the problem,” Latika said. “It is difficult for two alphas to get involved.”
“That would be the story of my marriage,” Astrid said. “But what Mauro and I have learned is that sometimes it can be quite pleasurable to let the other take the lead.”
“Yes, well.” Latika firmed her lips into a straight line. “I will take the lead by finding some other woman for Gunnar to harass.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to wear this?” Astrid asked, gesturing to the orange gown again.
“No,” Latika returned. “I am not one of the women vying for your brother’s attention, and I will not dress like one. It would have to be a moment of true crisis in order for me to turn to him.”
“Well, let us hope we had don’t have any crises ahead of us.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE EVENING OF the ball, everything was going according to plan. Latika could find no fault with anything.
And she ignored the orange and gold gown that Astrid had sent up for her, in favor of a long, formfitting black dress and simple gold accessories. She would look appropriate, and she would blend.
And that was the idea.
She bustled around, making sure that everything was in place, pacing the length of the ornate ballroom, examining it from the gilt-edged ceilings, all the way down to the marble floors.
The massive, golden chandelier was lit, and it was like a sun burning brightly at the center of the room. Perfect. Gleaming and lovely. And in the next twenty minutes the ball would be full of fluttering flowers, all vying for Gunnar’s attention.
She heard footsteps on the marble floor, and turned.
And there he was.
He was devastating in that custom cut black suit, the one she had dismissed with a wave of her hand, saying that men needn’t be so concerned with such things.
There was nothing plain about Gunnar in a black suit. He was a weapon against all good sense, his broad shoulders waging war on every prudent thought.
His hair was still overlong, brushed away from his face, his beard just a bit unkempt.
And it put her in the mind of a Norse marauder, and she found that however she tried, she could not dislike the image.
And for the first time, a strange pain hollowed out her stomach.
Another woman would dance in his arms tonight. Another woman would dance with him from tonight, possibly into forever.
And she would never know what it was like to be held by those strong arms.
She clenched her teeth. That was an empty fantasy, driven by hormones. And she was not a slave to her hormones. She was a woman who never had such a luxury. She had been driven by the need to survive. By the need to press forward, always, and make for herself a life that she could not only stand, but that she enjoyed.
She had found a way to live.
It might not be her ideal life, yet. But it was wonderful.
And she was only ever proud of herself for that fact.
Gunnar served no purpose. Attraction to Gunnar served no purpose.
She did not even like the man.
“You have done a spectacular job,” he said, and she ignored the slight thrill of pleasure that went through her midsection.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Soon, I will be like a steak put out before the dogs.” The wicked glint in his eye bade her stomach turn over. She ignored the sensation.
“You will find there are no dogs here. Only a wolf,” she said, harking back to Astrid’s earlier words.
He grinned, and Latika thought it was decidedly wolfish. “Perhaps.”
“Sheep,” Latika said. “Sheep going before a wolf.”
“Very evocative. Does that make you Little Red Riding Hood in this fairytale of a metaphor? Because I must tell you, I feel my mouth is all the better to eat you with.”
And that was when she realized, he was not simply engaging in empty banter. No, there was a gleam in his blue eyes that spoke of intent. But there was no point to him making sexual promises toward her. Not when tonight, of all nights, moved any possibility of something happening between them out of reach.
She ignored the jolt of irritation that she felt over that. The intense regret.
Every time he had ever traded barbs with her she had assumed it was simply who he was, what he did.
She had never once thought that he might... That he might actually want her.
“I am not anyone’s version of a fairytale. And you would find, that I bite back.”
He moved closer to her, and a thrill shot down her spine. “Pity for you, that what you intended as a threat only sounds like a promise to me. I like a woman who gives as good as she gets.”
“Then I suggest you find one here in the room full of them.”
“I doubt there will be one sharp as you.”
“The trade-offs you make for respectability,” she said.
She turned away from him and began to busy herself with details that did not need her attention.
“Are you not respectable?”
“That depends, I suppose,” she said, “on your definition of respectability.”
Those blue eyes regarded her with open interest. “Someday, I should like to find out.”
She locked her teeth together. So tight her jaw ached. “Oh, but there is no someday. For you are getting married. And we all know your life will end as we know it.”
“A tragedy,” he said.
“Well,” she said, brushing her hands down the front of her dress. “It’s time to bring in the staff. And then it will be time to open up the doors. I suggest you get in position.”
He arched a brow, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Missionary? Did you have something else in mind,” he said.
Latika ignored the sharp shock of pleasure that shot straight down through her core. It was wrong for them to talk like this—worse to be talking like this tonight. Though in some ways, it pushed it further out of the realm of possibility than ever. Which made it...almost less wrong maybe? Or less dangerous.
“You
will look a bit silly in missionary position on your own,” she shot back, unwilling to let him see that he had affected her.
“I suppose that depends on who you ask.”
The doors opened then, and the staff began to filter inside. Latika managed to busy herself and soon her interaction with Gunnar was forgotten. She had work to do. It distracted her, both from the strange sensation she felt whenever she was around the man, and from the underlying sense of fear she’d been feeling ever since she received that email.
The many, many palace guards in attendance made her feel safe.
No one would do anything to her while she was here.
She repeated all those things to herself as she made sure the food was in place, as she made sure all was well. And then, went back to the antechamber to ensure that everything was ready for Astrid to make her appearance.
Several guests arrived before the Queen was to be seated. And Latika had the task of making sure that Astrid’s entrance went smoothly, and according to plan.
Astrid and Mauro looked beautiful, the pair of them absolute perfection. Astrid had ended up choosing a deep emerald gown, and her husband was in a black suit. Mauro was a handsome man. There was no denying it. Tall, dark and Mediterranean, with wicked eyes and a mouth that looked like it was made for sin.
And yet, it was no particular sin that called to Latika. No, there was something about the cold, wild beauty that Gunnar possessed that seemed to ignite thoughts of sin.
Sin that sorely tempted her.
She put her head down, resolutely making her way through the ballroom, now filled with women that were bedecked as tropical birds, fluttering about in bright colors.
She knew that Gunnar had expressed a preference for two women in particular, but the guests did not. And every one woman—single or not—had dressed to impress him.
Latika cued everyone to Astrid and Mauro’s entrance, and the royal couple alit, walking through the crowd and taking their positions in their honored seats.
It was all going so smoothly Latika wanted to celebrate. That was the thing. She might not have a husband or children yet. She might not be fully living the life of her choice, but she was living well.