by Maya Blake
The trace of wistfulness in her voice further aggravated Remi, but he kept his emotions on a tight leash, saved his verbal dexterity for the noose caressing his throat.
‘I didn’t stoop to plucking my future wife from a list put together by faceless advisers five years ago and I’m not about to do that now.’
Queen Isadora slapped the piece of paper down on the desk. ‘Well, that’s too bad. This time you don’t have the luxury of time or indulgence. Perhaps this is the best way forward. I married for love. You were about to marry the woman of your heart. Look where that got us both!’
Remi stiffened. His mother froze in her chair, her eyes widening in shock at her own outburst. Thick silence slammed between them as Remi examined her closer, noted the pallor beneath the make-up, the lines of stress bracketing her eyes.
He’d absorbed more of her duties this past year, but he could still see the strain of office on her face.
Heavy really was the head that wore the crown, temporary or not.
A crown that was soon to be placed upon his own head.
Before he could comment she gathered herself with regal poise, her spine ramrod straight as she speared him with a glare.
‘Let me be clear, Remirez. I will not sit by and watch all that I’ve painstakingly rebuilt these past ten years fall to ruin again because your sensibilities won’t allow it. You’ll go to London, separate your half-brother from this piece of bad news and bring him home. Then you’ll pick a bride and announce your betrothal one week before the Solstice Festival. At the festival we’ll give an official date for your wedding, which will be three months after your engagement. That gives you six months to get used to the idea of marriage. I’ll make myself available to help with preparations if you need me to. Otherwise, I look forward to being the lucky mother of the groom come September.’
She closed the folder and nudged it an extra inch towards him, before straightening the specially engraved pens which had belonged to his father.
When she was done, she looked him straight in the eye. ‘It’s time to take your true place as head of this kingdom. I know you won’t let me down.’
One minute later, Remi walked out. And, as he’d rightly predicted, everything had changed.
* * *
Five more weeks.
Maddie Myers resisted the urge to check her phone for the exact hour and minute before this nightmare was over.
She should never have agreed to this preposterous proposition. So far every second had been hellish.
But then her choices were severely limited. And when a Lamborghini sideswiping you compounded those woes by knocking the grocery shopping paid for with your last tenner out of your hands, you needed to take a moment to accept that things were truly awful.
With luck in very limited supply in her world, she’d thanked every star she could name for escaping that horrifying incident with just a few unpleasant-looking bruises, the occasional twinge in her ribs that made it difficult to take a full breath and a sore arm.
To be honest, Maddie was sure it was the shock of being nearly run over that had made her agree to Jules Montagne’s scheme in the first place. But by the time she’d downed that second restorative brandy she’d been in the darkest pit of despair, one that not even expensive booze could lift her from. So when the owner of the Lamborghini of Death had offered her a solution to her problems...
Truth be told, at that point she’d been seriously considering the logistics of how to sell one of her kidneys, so a rich assaulter with money to burn had seemed the answer to her prayers.
Nevertheless, it had taken her forty-eight hours to accept his deal. Probably because he’d been cagey about why he needed her in the first place. If Maddie had learned one thing in life, it was to look before she leapt. Blind trust was no longer a flaw that would tarnish her.
She’d trusted her mother to stay and help the family she’d helped break apart. She’d trusted her father every time he’d told her he had his addiction under control. And Greg... He’d been the worst culprit of all.
So when Jules had delivered that stony-faced ask no questions ultimatum her first instinct had been to walk out of the fancy wine bar he’d taken her to after nearly running her over, and never look back.
But no matter how many times she’d checked her meagre bank account, or riffled through her belongings in the hope of finding something pawn-worthy, the balance had fallen far too short.
With time running out for her father, she’d had no choice but to return Jules Montagne’s phone call.
Of course his help hadn’t come for free. Hence her being once again dressed like a high-class escort, listening to him hold court among his circle of trustfundistas and minor royals in another VIP lounge as they guzzled thousands of pounds’ worth of champagne.
She’d long since passed the life is so unfair and why me? stage. And after her mother’s shocking desertion Maddie had shrugged off there’s always hope too.
‘Hey, Maddie, smile! The way you’re staring into your glass, you’d think somebody’s died.’
She plastered on a fake smile while the urge to scream burned through her gullet. True, no one had died. But the man who’d once been a strong, supportive father—a man now sadly broken by his failures—most definitely would, unless she pulled off this performance successfully and collected the payment due to her.
Seventy-five thousand pounds.
The exact amount needed for her father’s private kidney operation and aftercare in France.
The exact amount Jules had agreed to pay her if she pretended to be his girlfriend for six weeks.
She raised her gaze from her glass and connected with the gunmetal eyes of her pretend boyfriend. The man who barely spoke to her once they were away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi who dogged his every movement.
‘Smile, cherie,’ he insisted, with a hard, fierce light in his eyes.
She tried again, aiming for authenticity this time. She must have succeeded. He gave a brisk nod and raised his glass to her before swinging back into whatever joke he’d interrupted himself in.
Maddie breathed in relief, winced as her ribs protested, then went back to wondering just how long she could survive down this rabbit hole.
The first time they’d gone out she’d heard one tabloid hack shout a question about Jules’s family—specifically how the queen felt about his behaviour. Maddie had asked him about it. He’d shut her down with a snapped response she was sure had been a lie, and reminded her of the ask no questions rule.
The possibility that she’d struck a bargain with a minor royal had triggered unease. Media attention was the last thing she wanted.
Despite needing the money desperately, she’d voiced her concerns. Jules’s suggestion that she wear headphones with the music turned up high to avoid the paparazzi’s questions, and keep her head down to avoid the camera’s flash had worked a treat. After all, she couldn’t answer questions she couldn’t hear.
Maddie was sure that her perceived rudeness had earned her a disparaging label on social media. But the great thing about selling your laptop so you could buy food and using your phone only for emergency calls to avoid expensive bills was the blessed absence of the burden of social media.
So here she was, firmly ensconced in Wonderland, with no inkling of why she was playing pretend girlfriend to a handsome, spoilt, maybe minor royal who travelled with two bodyguards.
She watched him beckon one of them. Jules whispered in his ear, then loudly ordered another half-dozen bottles of Dom Perignon as the young guard headed to the back of the nightclub.
In the gleeful melee that followed the arrival of more booze, very few people noticed Jules following his bodyguard.
The sudden realisation that she’d aligned herself with a man who was headed down the same path of addiction as her father was enough to propel Maddie to her feet.
She wasn’t sure exactly how she would deal with Jules Montagne if she caught him taking drugs, but her burning anger and anxiety couldn’t be contained.
She was halfway across the floor when a commotion by the front doors caught her attention.
Except it wasn’t a commotion. It was more a force of nature invading the onyx-and-chrome interior of the Soho nightclub.
Two bodyguards, taller, sharper and burlier than the ones who followed Jules around, parted the crowd.
The man who sauntered forward and paused under a golden spotlight nearly caused Maddie to swallow her tongue.
Frozen in place, she stared unashamedly, certain that the faint tendrils of artificial smoke and strobe lighting were causing her to hallucinate the sheer magnificence of the god-like creature before her.
But no.
He was flesh.
The quiet fury and electric energy blanketing him clearly transmitted through the muscle ticking in his jaw.
He was blood.
Royal blood, if the arrogant, regal authority with which he carried himself and the further four bodyguards who formed a semi-circular barrier around him were any indication.
There was something vaguely familiar about him, although where she could possibly have caught a glimpse before of that square, rugged jaw, those haughty cut-glass cheekbones or those sinfully sensual lips eluded her.
Eyes like polished silver gleamed beneath slashed dark brows, scanning the crowd as he continued to prowl through the semi-dark space.
As he drew closer Maddie knew she should look away. Not out of shame or discomfort, but out of sheer self-preservation. He radiated enough sensual volatility to urge her to avoid direct eye contact. To take herself out of his magnetising orbit before she was swallowed up in his vortex.
And yet she couldn’t make her feet move. In fact she was fairly sure her lungs had stopped working too, now she was witnessing the way he moved. Like a jungle cat on the prowl... Each step a symphony of grace and symmetry and power.
Utterly absorbing.
Infinitely hypnotic.
She was unashamedly gawking when his eyes locked on her. For a fistful of heartbeats he stared.
Hard. Intense. Ice-hot.
Then with long strides he zeroed in on her. His scent invaded her senses as powerfully as the man himself. He smelled of ice and earth, elemental to the core and so utterly unique she could have stood there breathing him in for an eternity, her sore ribs be damned.
‘Where is he?’ he breathed, and the sound was electrifying enough to send skitters of stinging awareness over her skin.
Whether by some silent command, or simply because everyone in the room knew they were in the presence of greatness, the volume of the music had dropped. That was the reason she heard him and knew that his voice was deep and accented, resulting in sensually wrapped words that triggered a yearning to hear him speak again just for the hell of it.
Maddie knew that would never happen. When this man spoke it was for immediate and masterful effect, no extraneous words necessary.
Seconds passed. His nostrils flared slightly. She realised she hadn’t answered.
‘I...’ She swallowed hard. ‘Where is...? Who do you mean?’
‘The man you’re here with. Jules—’
‘What are you doing here?’
The snapped question from Jules held anger, panic and defiance, slicing through Maddie’s comprehension that the stranger—whoever he was—knew her, knew she was with Jules.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he studied Jules from head to toe, causing him to fidget and adjust his ruffled clothes.
‘What did you think would happen when you refused to answer your summons?’ he asked icily. ‘Did you think your activities would be allowed to continue unchecked?’
Jules opened his mouth, but the other man stopped him with a wave of his elegant hand that would have been poetic had it not been filled with foreboding.
‘I will not have this conversation with you here, while you’re in this state. Come to my hotel tomorrow morning. We will have breakfast together.’
Each statement was a stern directive, permitting neither disagreement nor disobedience.
It rubbed Jules the wrong way. His chin jutted out. ‘Pas possible. I have plans in the morning.’
Low thunder rumbled across the stranger’s face. ‘According to your assistant, the only thing you have scheduled is sleeping off your hangover. You will be present, in my suite, at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Is that understood?’
They faced off for less than ten seconds, but it felt like an hour.
Jules’s abrupt nod bordered on the insolent, but at the piercing, relentless regard directed towards him his head dropped the way a dog’s might when confronted with its disobedience by its master.
The older man stared down at him for another long stretch before his eyes slid sideways to the usually raucous group Jules partied with, who were now respectfully, watchfully silent.
Then his gaze switched to Maddie. He took his time scrutinising her, from the loose knot of her thick hair to the painted toes peeping through her stilettoes.
Every inch of bare skin his gaze touched—and unfortunately there was a lot of it—blazed with an alien, thrilling fire, even the tips of her fingers. She wanted to recoil. Retreat. But there was something weirdly hypnotic about his eyes on her that held her in place, made her struggle to catch even a shallow breath.
Jules followed his line of sight and his eyes widened a touch when he spotted Maddie. Clearly he’d forgotten she existed. He hastily rearranged his expression and reached for her arm. ‘Viens, mon amour, let’s go home.’
Maddie stiffened, suppressing another wince.
Even with her limited French, she understood the endearment. In all the time they’d been playing pretence Jules had never called her that. Nor had he invited her to his place. Their routine once they left a club or restaurant and the paparazzi lost interest was for one of his bodyguards to put her in a taxi.
Before she could respond, the stranger shook his head.
‘It’s 2:00 a.m. You’ve partied enough for one night. Go home. I’ll see to it that Miss Myers makes it to wherever she’s going safely.’
Jules’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘You’re assuming she isn’t going back to my place. You’re assuming she’s not my live-in girlfriend.’
‘Is she?’ Without waiting for an answer he turned sharply to her, silver eyes pinning her to the spot. ‘Are you?’
The two words were bullet-sharp.
‘That’s not the point,’ Jules interjected aggressively.
‘Either she is or she isn’t. Answer the question,’ he demanded, without taking his eyes off her.
Very much aware that she had no clue what was going on, Maddie went with the truth. ‘No, we’re not living together.’
Jules’s jaw clenched, but she shrugged it off. If he wanted to give the impression that they were more serious he should have told her. She was uncomfortable enough about the subterfuge as it was.
‘Your driver will take you to your hotel, Jules,’ the stranger said, glancing pointedly at the hand Jules had on her arm.
Jules muttered a very rude, very French curse. One he intended the man to hear. One that produced a flash of anger in his silver eyes before his expression was ruthlessly blanked.
Without warning Jules yanked her close, cupped the back of her head before slamming his mouth down on hers.
The kiss was over in seconds, but the shocking violation kept Maddie frozen for longer. Stunned, and more than a little incensed, she watched Jules leave without a backward glance, strongly resisting the urge to swipe her hand across her mouth.
She knew he’d kissed her for effect, to annoy the domineering man standing before her, whose gaze was now a darker silver as it swept over cheeks gone pale before returni
ng to her mouth. And she knew, despite the burning urge to rub off the last trace of that kiss, it would be a dead giveaway that might cost her a lot in the long run.
So she raised her chin, met eyes that blazed with a fierce light she couldn’t fathom.
‘Come,’ he said abruptly. Then, like Jules, he turned and walked out.
Maddie shook her head once to clear it. When nothing altered the sensation of having just experienced a furious electric storm, she stumbled back on shaky legs to her seat.
She had no intention of following that arrogant, dangerously compelling man anywhere. The only place she was headed was home, to the flat she shared with her father. To the safety and discomfort of her single bed.
Excited chatter and camera phones aimed her way hastened her movements. She still had no clear idea what had transpired a few minutes ago, but she wasn’t sticking around to be the cynosure of all eyes.
She’d have enough to deal with come morning anyway. For one, she had to ensure her father got through another day without succumbing to the addiction that had decimated not just his life but the relatively carefree family life she’d taken for granted.
She pushed harrowing thoughts of her father’s addiction and her mother’s desertion aside, stood up—and was met with a wall of muscle.
‘Miss? Come with me, please.’
It was one of the superior bodyguards. Far from assuming the stranger had accepted she had no intention of following, he’d left a minder behind to ensure she obeyed his command.
The chatter was rising. Curious looks and pointing fingers were aimed at her as she scrambled to find a way around her dilemma.
Stay here and deal with the gossip-hungry pack, or go outside and deal with the even more dangerous predator who had made every nerve in her body zing to life?
‘Oh, my God, did you actually see him?’
‘He’s like...a god!’
