Crowning His Convenient Princess (Once Upon A Seduction... Book 4)

by Maisey Yates

  She’d been seen by her parents as a bargaining chip. Her only value had been how she could marry. And here she was, operating in a very stressful and important career.

  And she did it well.

  She allowed that to buoy her mood. To take away the sour feelings that had begun to roil in her stomach earlier.

  With them settled, Latika felt the need to check on the kitchen. She turned and slipped out a side entrance, heading down the hall. And what she saw there made her stomach twist. It was him.

  Ragnar.

  He didn’t have the decency to be hideous. No, instead he was a severe looking older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neat beard. He was handsome. And a great many women—regardless of their age—would have been thrilled with his attentions. But Latika knew how cruel he could be. And she knew that a life with him would be equal to misery.

  The fact that he had come after her after all this time, likely less out of an attraction for her specifically, and more because he wished her harm, sent fear rattling through her.

  “My dear, Latika,” he said. “It has been quite some time.”

  “Not accidentally,” she said, stopping in her tracks and beginning to edge back toward the ballroom. There was security there. And she would be able to call for help.

  “Do not think I’m so foolish as to try and take you from the palace. I simply wanted you to know how close I am. If you try to leave the country, my agents will intercept you. And I know you are here. Ultimately, as long as I can reach you, you are not safe. I will have you brought back to Norway, and married to me before you could ever protest.”

  “And why would I marry you?” She asked, fighting to keep her composure.

  He liked fear. He liked to cause pain.

  She would allow him to see neither in her.

  “Because you will find the alternatives so unpleasant. You have made for yourself a little problem here. You thought that by making yourself invisible you would become invisible to me, but you are not just invisible to me, but the whole world. And that is where you have failed yourself, my darling girl. Because when I take you, I will be able to hide you. Your Queen may miss you, but how will she mobilize forces beyond the borders of her country? The public outcry will never be sufficient enough.”

  The words settled down to her bones, the truth of them making her feel fear. Real and heavy.

  He continued. “I have you between a rock wall and me. And you know that it is true. For now... I will be here all night.”

  “I can have you removed,” she said, craning her neck.

  “I have done nothing,” he said. “And my removal would create an international incident. As you well know. I know you do not wish for an incident. You are too smart of a girl for something like that.” She swallowed hard, and turned and fled, running back into the ballroom, shutting the door behind her, pressing her hand to her chest.

  And she saw Gunnar. At the center of the room dancing with a woman. The brilliant Nigerian activist.

  And suddenly, she had an idea.

  Times were desperate. And so was she.

  She made her way across the ballroom, heading toward the opposite door she had just come in. A door that would take her away from Ragnar.

  With purpose, Latika left the ballroom, and headed toward her room.

  Though she didn’t know it at the time, Astrid had given her an escape. And Latika knew well enough to take it.

  * * *

  Gunnar was dancing with his third potential bride of the night when a hush fell over the ballroom. He turned, following the gazes of everyone in the room. And there he saw her. Standing at the entrance to the ballroom, dressed in orange and gold, her black hair a glossy wave over one side of her shoulder.

  Latika.

  She did not look like an assistant. She looked like a princess.

  And when she began to descend the stairs, the crowd parted for her as if she was. And then she looked at him. Deliberately. Intentionally.

  And a fire ignited in his gut.

  He had no idea what game she was playing. He had made it plain earlier that he was attracted to her, because he had never been the sort of man to be coy about such things.

  She looked completely different than she had earlier. Though, she had still been delectable in the slinky black dress she’d been wearing, it was the sort of dress designed to make her blend in. And had she been a different woman, it might have been successful. For him, Latika would never blend in.

  His greatest concern in life at this moment was that she would go on always as an unanswered need.

  And he was not a man who understood denial. Not in his adult life. When he’d escaped his father’s power, when it had become clear to the man that Gunnar could not be manipulated, and when it would have taken the involvement of palace guards to continue his grand experiments on Gunnar, Gunnar had taken the chance to escape into a world of sensual pleasures.

  Food. Drink. Women.

  Luxurious surroundings.

  Most of his time spent in warm climates rather than the harsh chill of Bjornland.

  He had forgotten denial. He had forgotten need.

  Until her.

  And while he had no moral qualms about taking Latika to his bed between now and his wedding, he did feel that perhaps the ball where he was supposed to meet his future wife was perhaps not the ideal venue for such an encounter to begin. But Latika didn’t seem to agree.

  She crossed the room, heading straight toward him, the expression on her face one of seductive intensity.

  He wanted her. And he had, ever since she had come into his sister’s employ. Every time they had sparred, it had only increased his desire for her.

  And now, she paraded herself before him. As if she thought he would not be able to take action here. As if she thought he would be leashed.

  “If you would excuse me,” he said to his partner, a woman whose name he could no longer recall.

  He stepped away from her, making his way toward Latika. And much to his shock, she increased her pace and nearly flung herself into his arms. “I would be delighted to dance with you,” she said.

  “What are you doing?” he murmured.

  “I am sorry,” she said. “You have no idea how much. But I need you. Desperately. And I think that I will not harm your objective. I think that I will further your cause.”

  “Do you?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

  “I need you to marry me,” she said. “And I need you to announce it now.”

  “Latika...”

  And then, she did something truly shocking. She launched herself forward, and captured his mouth with her own.

  Gunnar was a difficult man to surprise, indeed, until this moment he would have said it was impossible.

  People were boring in their predictability.

  And up until this point, Latika had been scarcely different.

  She had bantered with him. She had brought their exchanges of wit to the edge of propriety, but she had never crossed it. And while he found her enjoyable, she had never truly shocked him.

  But in this moment, she turned the whole ballroom—maybe the world—on its head.

  There was something desperate in her kiss, and he responded to it. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing her tightly against his body, forgetting they had an audience. Because what else mattered when he was finally tasting this woman that had vexed him for years.

  He took control of the kiss, tightening his hold on her and angling his head, taking advantage of her surprise, of her slightly parted lips, and slipping his tongue between them.

  She gasped, and he took it deeper.

  And only then did he fully realize that while he might have ensnared her at this very moment, she had caught him in her trap.

  “Everyone has seen,” she said. “If you were to re
verse course now, no one would believe you. You have clearly staked your claim on me.”

  “Minx,” he said. “Was this your game all along?”

  “I promise you it was not.”

  “Does my sister know that you are little more than a fortune hunter?”

  “Your sister knows the truth.”

  He looked over at Astrid, who was seated in her throne still, watching what was taking place before her with a surprising amount of equanimity. If Astrid suspected that Latika was trying to snare him as a fortune hunter in some way, he knew that she would be on her feet.

  That she would have crossed the room, making her way to him, and to Latika, demanding that the farce be ended.

  But she was not. Instead, she was sitting and watching. Waiting. Clearly.

  “You must say that you’ll marry me,” she said. “Because if you do not, there is another man here. And he is going to take me away. Not from here, but if I ever set foot outside the palace, he has promised that he will take me. If I ever leave the safety of your land. And he said... He said that my anonymity is what has cursed me, and he is not wrong. If I were to go missing, no one would know. No one would care. But if I was your wife... Gunnar, if I was your wife not only would I improve your standing in the world, but you would save me from this man. If I was your wife, I could hardly go missing without notice. Then he could not force me to marry him. I need you to protect me.”

  On this, Gunnar did not need a moment to think. They could work out the details later, and they would, but if what Latika said was true, she needed protection. And it was no matter to him which woman in this room he married. It might as well be the one who needed help. It might as well be the one who lit his body on fire.

  “Very well,” he said. “You have yourself a fiancé.” He took her hand and led her over to where Astrid sat. Latika, for her part, was ashen at his side, and did not look the part of blushing bride at all. She was going to have to work on that.

  “I have an announcement for you to make,” he said to his sister. “It seems that I did not have to look far and wide to find my bride, as she was here the entire time.”

  Astrid’s gaze shot to Latika. “Are you in danger?”

  “I will be. If measures are not taken.”

  “Hello,” Gunnar said. “I am the measures being taken. I assume you know about this?”

  “Yes,” Astrid said.

  “We will speak later,” he said to his sister. “For now, just make the announcement.”

  “I think, it’s time for you to make your own.”

  Gunnar turned toward the crowd of people. He was not a stranger to being the center of attention, and in fact, in many venues had courted it. But never here in Astrid’s domain. He had been very careful about that fact. That he never assume too much authority in his sister’s presence.

  Mostly, because it had angered their father.

  But he was certain. Certain in this decision, whatever the eventual outcome would be.

  There was no other logical choice.

  “Thank you all for coming tonight. It is with great pleasure that I am able to announce that I have decided to marry. Especially in a room full of such suitable people. I will marry Latika Bakshmi in two weeks’ time. You have my permission to spread the news far and wide, and to publish photographs everywhere. After all, you do know I like the show.”

  And with that, he grabbed Latika, and pulled her close, kissing her fiercely on the mouth. He might be aiming for a kind of propriety, but he would never be tame.

  And that was something Latika would learn. He would help her, but he would never belong to her.

  For he belonged to no one.

  Not to Bjornland.

  Not to his father.

  What he did, he did because he chose to do it.

  He had not gotten where he was by being weak.

  He was unable to be brainwashed. Either by verbal suggestion or physical torture.

  He’d proved that.

  And he’d hidden it.

  Because the only other alternative was for Astrid to know just how desperate their father had been to have her ousted.

  And he would never do that to her either.

  The only line his father had was that of assassinating his own daughter.

  But it had been a thin line.

  He had certainly been willing to allow Gunnar to do it if he wanted to.

  But Gunnar was strong.

  And Gunnar protected what was his.

  Now, it seemed that Latika Bakshmi was his, and he would protect her to the end.

  On that he was resolved.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LATIKA LOOKED TOWARD the back of the room and saw Ragnar, watching the proceedings. For a moment, she wondered what he might do. If he would pull out a weapon and assassinate her there on the spot. But then, her saving grace was the fact that he would never want his name overly sullied. And, that he would not want any physical harm to come to him. It was the biggest reason he would never make a move here. She knew that.

  He cared mostly for his own self-preservation, and thanks to that predictability she was insured some level of physical safety.

  He was a madman. And he was, in her opinion, nothing less than evil. But he cared for his own skin. For his own money.

  And he would do nothing to compromise those things.

  And so he simply stood, rendered impotent by the fact that Latika had allied herself with the most powerful man in the room.

  That she was now visible.

  And that if anything were to happen to her it would create something larger than an international incident.

  It would create a wave of global concern.

  Because while Gunnar was something of a scorned figure, particularly in his homeland, the world found the Playboy Prince to be captivating and compelling.

  He was handsome, and he was roguish, and that was something that won out over respectable every single time.

  If you were a man.

  Well, thankfully for he was. Because as such, she had been able to use him as her salvation. But she could not escape the feeling that she had jumped from the frying pan and into the fire in many ways.

  Although, at least, Gunnar would never harm her. But marriage was marriage. And it was entirely possible that she had gone from one life sentence to another.

  You could not just throw yourself onto the altar of marrying a prince and expect that divorce would come easily.

  It was possible, certainly. But it would not help Gunnar’s reputation. It would not help Astrid’s.

  Standing there in front of this crowd of people with their eyes on her, putting herself in the exact opposite position to the one she had been attempting to avoid for the past several years, she felt as defeated as she did triumphant.

  She had no idea what she was going to do. Not now that she had made herself so vulnerable. Not now that she had cast herself from one jail cell to another.

  At least the jail keeper of this one was good-looking.

  That was a shameful thought. She despised herself for it.

  And even as she did, the enormity of what she had done crashed down around her. Would Gunnar expect that their marriage be real? Would he expect them to have children?

  For she would have to marry him. And legally. To be absolutely certain that Ragnar would not simply be able to kidnap her and force her into marriage some other way.

  She had to be legally precluded from marriage.

  And still, that felt so defeating.

  Because she had done all that she could to avoid being in an arranged marriage, and yet, she had gone and arranged one for herself.

  Better the devil of your choosing.

  Perhaps.

  Her lips still burned from Gunnar’s kiss. And from the kiss she’d given him e
arlier.

  She had never kissed a man before.

  And now she had. Now she had, and in two weeks, was possibly going to be sharing his bed.

  And the idea didn’t horrify her.

  Perhaps there was another solution. Perhaps there was, and you didn’t want to. Perhaps it was because you wanted him.

  She ignored that voice and attempted to smile.

  “Now,” Gunnar said quietly to Astrid. “If you’ll excuse me. I have to celebrate my engagement with my future bride. In private.”

  And with that, he looped his arm around her waist and began to walk her toward the door. Once they were out in the corridor, he turned to her. “Not here,” she said.

  “Then where, Latika? As this is your three-ring circus.”

  “Your bedroom,” she said. “It is protected, and it is private.”

  “Or are you simply eager to get on with the wedding night? Because I can tell you, there are certain things I’m quite prepared to discuss naked.”

  “Let us go,” she said.

  She was trembling as they made their way down the corridor, Gunnar’s hand still resting low on her back. And once they arrived in the chamber and he closed the door behind them, he turned to look at her, something cold and vicious in those icy eyes.

  “Tell me honestly,” he said. “Did you plan this?”

  “I told you I didn’t. I can take you back to the ballroom and show you the man that I’m running from. Ragnar Stevenson.”

  Gunnar’s lip curled. “I know who he is. He has a...reputation. He has certain sexual interests that I don’t approve of. There is little in this world I find distasteful or that I haven’t participated in. My line, is consent, and that line is hard. He doesn’t seem overly concerned with it.”

  “Don’t you think I know? I heard all about it. I know how much he enjoys pain. Not the kind that both parties agree to enjoy together. He would much prefer to inflict it on women who do not enjoy it.”

  “How is it that you ended up on his radar?”

  “My parents. My parents are very wealthy. They move in elite circles in America. And they wanted his nobility. His connections to Europe. The minute I found out my parents had promised me to a stranger I did as much digging around as I could. In the end it was a friend of mine’s father who told me everything. He said I needed to know, and I needed to run. I tried to talk to my parents first. But they didn’t believe me when I told them... They didn’t believe me. They thought that I was simply trying to get out of them choosing my husband, something I had always been trying to get out of. They said that I would not have been happy with any of their choices. My friend’s father, he encouraged them to sweep my disappearance under the rug. Otherwise he...he threatened to expose them as mercenary enough to marry me to a monster.”