‘Good,’ he said briskly. ‘Start packing. I have several calls to make.’
Relieved, she escaped into her small bedroom. With an oblique reference to ‘a family matter’, her volunteer co-ordinator at the drop-in centre expressed regret but understanding. It took only a moment to open an anonymous email account from which she could make the arrangements for her support for Lucia. Packing her belongings took only a moment too. She picked up the antique wooden box Alek had touched and carefully put it into the small backpack she’d used when she’d run away all those years ago. Her clothes fitted easily into the one small suitcase she’d acquired since.
‘That’s everything?’ He stared in frank amazement at her suitcase when she returned to the lounge.
‘I don’t need much.’
‘You’re going to need a little more than that.’ He reached out to take the case from her. ‘It’s probably good that we leave before Fi gets back. Saves on all the questions she’ll have been stockpiling over the last hour.’
But Hester didn’t follow him as he headed towards the door. ‘Are you absolutely certain about this, Your Highness?’
He turned back to face her. ‘Of course I’m certain,’ he said with absolute princely arrogance. ‘And you need to call me Alek.’
‘Okay.’ She hoisted her backpack and walked towards the door.
But he blocked her path. ‘Do it now. Practise so it slips off your tongue naturally. Call me Alek.’
‘I will.’
He still didn’t move to let her past. A frisson of awareness, danger, defiance, shivered within her as she defiantly met his gaze.
‘Say, Alek is wonderful. Now,’ he commanded.
She glared harder at him. ‘Alek is bossy.’
‘Good enough.’ He stepped back, the distance between them enabling her to breathe again. But his slow smile glinted with full wickedness. ‘For now.’
CHAPTER THREE
SWIFT WASN’T THE word for Alek’s modus operandi. When he’d decided something, he moved. Fast.
‘You’re very used to getting your own way,’ Hester said as she followed him downstairs out of the campus residence she’d called home for the last three years.
‘You think?’ He shot her a look. ‘I have the feeling I might not get everything quite on my terms for a while.’
‘Is that such a threat?’ Without thinking, another small smile sparkled free.
‘Not at all,’ he denied with relish. ‘I enjoy a challenge.’
Oh, she wasn’t a challenge. She was never going to be some kind of toy for this notorious playboy. But she forgot any flattening reply she was mulling when she saw the entourage waiting outside. Large, almost armoured vehicles were staffed by a phalanx of ferociously physical suited and booted men armed with earpieces and dark eyewear and who knew what else beneath the black fabric of their jackets. Alek guided her directly to the middle car. She was absurdly glad of its size and comfort, air conditioning and sleek silence. Her pulse hammered as they drove through the streets and she tried to stop herself snatching looks at him.
Lucia and Zoe will be secure and together.
That was what she needed to focus on. Not his dimples.
But her nerves mounted. The fluttering in her tummy was because she’d never flown in a plane before, that was all.
That’s not all.
This whole thing was insane. She needed to tell him she’d made a mistake. Back out and beg him to help that family—surely he would once he heard about Lucia’s struggle?
‘Okay?’ Alek was watching her with astute amusement.
She thought about Lucia and Zoe again. She thought about living on a warm island for a while. She thought about full financial freedom and independence for the rest of her life.
‘Okay.’ She nodded.
They went through a side door of the airport terminal. A uniformed woman escorted them directly to the plane.
‘Everyone is aboard?’ Alek asked.
‘Yes, sir. We’re cleared for departure as soon as you’re seated.’
Hester paused in the doorway and frowned. This wasn’t a small private jet like ones she’d seen in the movies. This was a commercial airliner. Except it wasn’t. There weren’t rows of cramped seats and masses of people. This was a lounge with sofas and small armchairs around wooden tables. Accented with back-lit marble and mirrors, it was so beautiful, it was like a hotel.
She gaped. ‘Is this really a plane?’
He smiled as he gestured for her to sit in one of the wide white leather armchairs and showed her where the seat belt hid. ‘I’ll give you the tour once we’re in the air. Can I take your bag?’
‘Can I keep it with me?’ Her box was in there and it contained her most precious things.
‘In this compartment, here.’ He stowed it and took the seat opposite hers. ‘I’ve arranged for a stylist to fly with us, so you can make a start, and I’ve had an assistant pull together a report on some key staffers so you can get ahead of the game on who’s who at the palace.’ He pulled a tablet from another hidden compartment. ‘I don’t find the palace intimidating, but I was born there so it’s normal for me.’ He shrugged his shoulders.
She nodded, unable to speak or smile. It was enough effort to stay calm. Was she really about to leave the country? About to marry a man who was destined to become a king? About to launch into the air in a giant tin can?
‘Nervous?’
‘Of course,’ she muttered honestly. ‘But once I’ve done some preparation I’ll feel better.’
His pilots would have years of expertise behind them. She breathed carefully, managing her emotions. After a while she could glance out of the window. They’d climbed steeply and now the plane levelled out.
‘Follow me,’ Alek said, unfastening his seat belt.
She fumbled and he reached across and undid her belt for her.
‘Are you—?’
‘I’m fine,’ she interrupted and quickly stood, taking a pace away from him. He was too close and she was unable to process the spaciousness. ‘Are all private planes this big?’
‘No,’ he smirked. ‘Mine’s the biggest.’
‘Of course it is,’ she muttered. ‘Your ego could handle nothing less.’
‘Miaow.’ He laughed. ‘I see why you’re friends with that grumpy cat.’
Beyond the private lounge he pointed out a bedroom suite—with more marble and mirrors—then led her through another lounge to another cabin that was more like the business-class seating she’d seen in the movies. Half the seats were full—several of those suited bodyguard types, then others who looked like assistants. As she and Alek neared, they all scrambled to stand.
‘Please.’ Alek smiled and gestured for them to remain seated. ‘Is your team ready, Billie?’
‘Of course, Your Highness.’ A slim jeans-clad woman stood, as did another couple of people.
‘This is Hester,’ Alek said briefly when they were back in the second lounge. ‘I’ll leave you to introduce your team. Please take good care of her.’ He sent her a small mocking smile and headed back to the front of the plane.
That was it? There were no instructions? She had no idea what she was supposed to do.
‘We’re here to help you, Ms Moss,’ Billie said confidently.
And there was indeed a team. A hairdresser, a make-up artist, a beautician and a tailor. They were doing a wonderful job of hiding their curiosity but it was so strong she could almost taste it.
‘Would you mind if we untie your hair?’
Hester paused. She had to trust Alek’s choice, and in their professionalism. ‘Of course.’ She pulled the elastic tie to free her ponytail. ‘I just need you to make me presentable as consort to the King.’
All four of them just stared at her, making her feel awkward.
‘That’s not going to
be a problem,’ Billie replied after endless seconds. ‘Not a problem.’
She didn’t pretend she could reach for anything more than presentable. But she’d been around Princess Fiorella long enough to understand a few tricks. Tailored clothing and some polish could make her passable.
‘We have some dresses,’ Billie said. ‘Would you try them on first so I can make alterations while you’re with the beautician?’
‘Of course, thank you.’ Hester watched, stunned, as Billie unzipped several garment bags while Jon the hairdresser began laying out his tools on the table. ‘You must have run to get all this together so quickly.’
‘An assignment like this?’ A huge smile spread across Jon’s face. ‘Once in a lifetime.’
Once in a lifetime was right. And it was an assignment for her as much as it was for them. She could learn to do what was necessary, she could even excel in some areas. But she definitely needed help with this. She’d never had the desire to look good before; frankly she’d never wanted people to notice her. Blending in was safer. Hiding was safer still.
But now people were going to be looking so she needed armour. That was what clothing and make-up could be, right?
Hester spent the best part of an hour turning this way and that and holding still while Billie pinned her waist and hem. The fabrics were so soft and sleek, slowly her trepidation ebbed and she actually began to enjoy herself.
‘Now I have your measurements, I can get you some more when we land in Triscari,’ Billie said.
Hester glanced at the pile of clothes laid out on the table. ‘Do I need more?’
‘Much more.’ Billie swiftly hung the dresses. ‘It’s not all photo shoots and public engagements. You’ll still have day-to-day life at the palace.’
Hester bit back a nervous giggle. It sounded fantastical and her usual navy utility trousers weren’t exactly palace proper. ‘Okay, some more casual items would be wonderful. And...’ she fought back her blush ‘...perhaps some new underwear.’
‘Leave it with me.’ Billie smiled.
Hester smiled shyly. As the beautician waxed, plucked, buffed and massaged her, hours of flight time passed by and she was able to avoid conversation by studying the information on the tablet Alek had given her. Wrapped in a white fluffy robe, she sat in one of the chairs in the boardroom while Jon settled a towel around her shoulders.
She’d never coloured her hair or had any sort of stylish cut because she’d never been able to afford it. So now she sat still for hours as Jon and his assistant hovered over her while Billie hand-sewed alterations to the stunning dresses.
‘Okay,’ Jon said. ‘Take as long as you like in the shower and then we’ll get to drying it.’
‘Shower? Seriously?’ On an airplane?
‘Apparently so.’ Jon grinned. ‘I’ve been in some planes...but this?’
The biggest and the best. She bit back her grimace.
As she dressed, Hester tried not to wonder what Alek would think of her make-over. He didn’t need to find her attractive. She just needed to pass inspection.
But inside, she felt oddly different. There was something sensual about her smooth skin, rendered silky by the luxuriant lotions the beautician had rubbed in. For the first time in her life she felt pampered—almost precious.
Alek sprawled back in the recliner, absurdly satisfied with the day’s events. He’d gone from frustrated and angry to being in complete control of the situation. Flying off last minute to vent to Fi after another monster row with his chief advisor, Marc, had turned out to be the best idea he’d ever had.
He’d forgotten all about his sister’s prim secretary but she was perfect for this assignment. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t the most beautiful bride the world had ever seen because she was, after all, the one student his father had approved of. Back when Alek had been fighting to get his irascible control-freak father to allow Fiorella to study overseas, he’d come up with the idea of having an approved older student act as a mentor. His father had selected Hester from the pile of student records. So what better temporary wife could Alek produce now? The irony of it delighted him. And not having any emotional entanglement would make this ‘marriage’ wonderfully straightforward.
Though her determined reserve still fuelled his curiosity. He suspected she was more inexperienced than he’d first realised, but she had a smart head on her shoulders and it was insulting of him to think she couldn’t handle this. She was a tough, brave little cookie.
His curiosity deepened as he wondered what personal fire she’d been through to make her so. Because there had to have been something. Why else had she been less than enthusiastic to invite what little family she had left?
He thought again about that barren little bedroom. There was minimalist simplicity and there was plain sad. He knew she had no education debt because she’d been on a scholarship and worked her way through her degree. She was clearly frugal and knew how to live on only a little. Yet she’d wanted a bundle of money in a hurry. Maybe one day she’d tell him why. Though he had the extraordinary inclination to make her tell him sooner. How would he get her to do that? She was so reticent he’d have to tease it out of her. He eased further back in the chair, enjoying the possibilities when the door opened. He glanced up as a goddess walked into his lounge.
Hester Moss.
At least he thought it was Hester. His brain had suddenly been starved of oxygen and he had to blink a couple of times and force his slack jaw actually to suck in a hit of air before he could quite believe his eyes.
‘Do I pass?’ She gestured to her outfit in an offhand way, her gaze not quite meeting his. ‘Am I ready for the media onslaught?’
Her glasses were gone. Her hair was loose. Her baggy, boring clothing had hopefully been consigned to an incinerator because he only wanted her to wear items that fitted her as gorgeously as this dress did. He noticed all these things, but somehow he couldn’t actually think. He could only stare.
Her expression pinched. ‘That much of a difference, huh?’
‘We’re arriving early—they won’t get much in the way of pictures,’ he muttered almost incoherently before clearing his throat and reaching for his glass of water.
‘Are you saying I just sat through an hour-long hair-drying session for nothing?’ She finally looked him directly in the eyes.
‘Not for nothing.’ Oddly breathless, he detangled the tie in his tongue. ‘I think it looks lovely.’
‘Oh, that makes it so worth it.’ She sat down in the recliner next to his. ‘Lovely.’
He grinned, appreciating the lick of sarcasm in her tone. He’d deserved it with that inane comment, but he could hardly be honest. He didn’t even want to face that raw and uncontrollable response himself.
Her unruffled composure had swiftly returned and he ached to scrape away that thin veneer because the leonine spark in her eyes a second ago had looked—
‘Can you see without the glasses?’ he muttered.
‘Well enough. Just don’t ask me to read my own handwriting,’ she quipped.
He stared, leaning closer. ‘Your eyelashes are—’
‘Weird. I know.’
Her increase in visible tension was so small you’d have to be paying close attention to notice. Fortunately, Alek was paying extremely close attention.
‘It’s a genetic thing,’ she said dismissively, but intriguingly her fingers had curled into fists. ‘Don’t pull an eyelash out to check they’re real.’
As if he’d ever think to do that. Whoever would? ‘I believe you.’ He forced his stiff face into a smile.
Had someone done that to her in the past? He blinked in disbelief. They really were the thickest, most lush lashes he’d ever seen. ‘And your transformation hasn’t been a waste of time. We need a portrait shot to go with the media release.’
‘You want to take that now?’ She loo
ked startled. ‘You have a professional photographer on board too, don’t you?’ She nodded to herself. ‘Unreal.’
He chuckled, appreciating the light relief. ‘You’ll get used to it.’
He buzzed for the photographer, who bounded in with more enthusiasm than usual and keenly listened as Alek explained what he wanted.
‘Okay, we can use the white background over here,’ the photographer said. ‘What about the engagement ring?’
‘We’ll display that later,’ Alek answered swiftly. ‘Work around it for now.’
‘We can do head and shoulders, but then some relaxed shots—more modern, arty, from the side—’
‘Whatever you think,’ Alek interrupted. ‘Just get them as quickly as you can.’
Hester looked so stiff and uncomfortable, Alek had to suppress both his smile and frustration. He could think of one way of helping her relax but he didn’t think she’d appreciate it. Besides, he’d ruled that out, hadn’t he? He’d glibly assured her that of course he could be celibate for a year.
A year. The term hit him with the force of an asteroid.
‘You will get used to it, Hester,’ he repeated to reassure her.
But he was the one facing the grim reality of his impetuous decision. No sex. No touching. Just a measly two kisses—what did he think he was, twelve? And did he really think he was in ‘complete control’ of the situation? Because somehow, something had changed. It had only been a few hours and he was already seeing Hester in a new light. Was he so shallow it was all about the make-over? Or, worse, was it a case of wanting what was off limits—as if he were some spoilt child?
But as he stood next to her his temperature rose. He never sweated through photo sessions; he was too used to them. But she was close enough for him to catch her scent and she seemed to be glowing and it wasn’t just the make-up. His fingers itched to touch and see if her skin was as silky soft as it looked.
‘Can we try it with you looking at each other?’ The photographer sounded frazzled. ‘Um...yes, like that.’
Alek gazed at her upturned face. He couldn’t think for the life of him why he’d thought her anything less than stunning. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was striking. Her golden eyes with those incredible lashes? Her lush pouting lips? That infuriating serenity and stillness of her very self? He couldn’t resist putting a careful hand on her waist and drawing her a little closer. He heard the slight catch in her breath but she didn’t frown.
Shy Queen In The Royal Spotlight (Once Upon a Temptation, Book 3) Page 5
