She bites her lower lip. I can see that I’m wearing on her nerves, too. “I understand your concerns. You’re young and vibrant. You want to enjoy your youth.” Her patronizing tone makes my blood boil.
“Yes.” I storm to the window. Pressure builds inside my chest until I think it might explode. I press a hand to my sternum and gasp for breath.
“Your Highness, are you ill? Should I call for the doctor?” Madame Chantelle bends to catch sight of my face.
“Just leave me alone.” Immediately, guilt sweeps through me. This isn’t her fault. She’s only doing her job, and my tone is uncalled for. “I’m so sorry. I know you mean well, it’s just—I need to get out of here.” Clothes scatter as I push between the racks and explode into the hallway in search of fresh air. The guards jump to attention. I ignore them, quickening my pace before they can stop me.
“Your Highness, please come back.” Madame Chantelle trots in my wake. Three bodyguards join her. By the time I reach the end of the hall, I’ve got a half-dozen of Henry’s minions on my heels.
“I’m taking a break.” I toss the words over my shoulder, not stopping until I arrive at Henry’s office. The interior is empty, his desk clean. I turn in a circle. “Where is he?” I ask my entourage. “My husband. I want to see him.”
“He’s not here, Your Highness.” The answering voice is unfamiliar. A tall man steps forward from the corridor, shooing the guards away with a sharp glance. He bows to me, his movements crisp.
“Have we met?” I can’t quite place his hawk nose, thin lips, and blue-green eyes.
“Yes, on your first night here. I’m Prince Rupert.” He bows again. The movement, although courteous, holds an undercurrent of sarcasm. “I’ve been too busy with work to join you for dinner since then. My apologies.”
“Of course, I remember.” I roll through the list of peers and protocol, unable to remember if I should curtsy or not. The hours of training kick in. Because Rupert is third in succession to the throne, I need to curtsy—unless I’m with Henry, and then I don’t. It’s so confusing. Once I’m a queen, I won’t need to bow to anyone but Henry. The stupid rules are beyond frustrating. My irritation must show on my face. His eyebrows lift.
“Please, let’s dispense with formality. After all, we’re family now.” Something about his forced smile raises the hackles on the back of my neck. “Call me Rupert.”
“I was looking for Henry. Do you know where he is?” I glance nervously at the door, hoping the guards are outside. And, of course, they’re there. They haven’t left me alone since I arrived.
“He went to Zurich on business.” He takes a step closer. “Didn’t he mention it?” I shake my head. “Well, I’m sure it was just an oversight. Communication has never been his strong suit.”
Henry left without telling me? The knowledge settles like a stone in the pit of my stomach. Then again, why would he? We haven’t spoken in days. I’m nothing to him but a convenient screw. His absence underscores just how alone I am. Even though he irritates me, he’s the only anchor I have in the choppy Androvian waters.
Rupert tugs on his thin mustache. “It must be difficult for you—alone in a foreign country, surrounded by strangers, alienated from your family and former life.” His accurate assessment of the situation should appease me, but there’s a distinct lack of empathy in his cold glare.
“I’m looking forward to building a new life in Androvia.”
“I see you’ve been coached well by our wonderful PR team.”
“I don’t need a publicist to coach me. Those are my own words.” I back up until my butt hits the edge of the desk. A letter opener sits in the tray of unopened mail behind me. I grip the handle, hoping my instincts are wrong about this man.
“You’re much more intelligent than Don gives you credit for.” He edges closer until I can see the acne scars on his sallow skin. “He underestimated you. I won’t make the same mistake.”
“You know my father?” My fingers tighten around the letter opener until my knuckles ache.
“I do. We went to university together. He’s very concerned about you, Everly.” Using a white handkerchief, he wipes his nose and shoves the monogrammed silk back into his pocket. “Let’s be truthful with each other. You don’t belong here. I can get you out of this musty old castle. All you have to do is say the word. Your father is willing to forgive and forget if you’ll return home.”
This weasel of a man is in contact with the parent who threatened the lives of me and my dearest friend. He can’t be trusted. Now I understand Henry’s warning to stay vigilant.
“I appreciate your concern, but this is my home. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Madame Chantelle is waiting for me.” I push past him and through the door, eager to put as much distance between us as possible. He follows on my heels. The guards close in behind me, cutting him off. Their footsteps echo as they race to keep up with my rapid strides.
“If you change your mind, I’m always at your disposal. Think about it, Your Highness. You know it’s the right thing to do.” His words echo in the hallway behind us. I don’t stop until I’m back at my bedroom.
“Everyone out, please,” I say to the handful of servants and aides milling around the room. I need time to think, time to pull myself together.
When the door closes behind the last person, I sink onto the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress until my knuckles ache. If Rupert is a friend of my father’s, I’m not safe. There are thousands of miles between us, yet Don McElroy still has his thumb on me. It’s a subtle lesson in the scope of his power. For once, I’m glad for the sentries outside my door.
The gravity of my situation hits home. I can never let down my guard. Not here. Not anywhere. Henry was right to warn me. Even though I’m angry with him, I long to hear his voice. On impulse, I find his name on my phone’s contact list and call him.
“Well, if it isn’t Princess Everly of Androvia.” His voice is deeper and richer than I remember. It sends the best kind of shiver down my back. “I never expected to hear from you, Your Highness.”
“You left without telling me.”
“I didn’t think you’d care.”
“I don’t.”
“Hence the call?” His flirtatious tone adds to my confusion. “To tell me you don’t miss me?”
I bite my lower lip to prevent words I don’t mean from tumbling out. “Never mind.”
“Why did you call, Everly?” The rumble of his voice reminds me of satin bedsheets and the scrape of his stubbled chin across my thighs.
“No reason.” Except, I’m lonely and scared and so, so sick of looking at the same four walls of our apartment. Day in. Day out. It’s easy to let hopelessness and fear take over my thoughts.
His tone softens. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
“When are you coming home?” My voice breaks on the last word. Exposing my weaknesses to him can’t be smart, but I’m too rattled to pretend otherwise.
“What’s wrong?” His concern thickens the lump in my throat. “Everly, is something going on there? Tell me.”
“No. It’s silly. I’m fine.” The lie slips out easily, but inside, I’m a mess. My hand trembles as I push the hair away from my face. “I just—I’m bored.” No matter how unsettled I am, I can’t confess my fears to a man who doesn’t care. I’ve never felt so alone. “It’s nothing.”
He’s silent for so long I think he’s forgotten me until he says, “Are you sure? Because if you’re not—if you need me—”
“No. No. I’m sorry to have interrupted your evening. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Everly, wait. It’s not—"
I don’t let him complete his sentence. Overcome with embarrassment at the loss of my self-control, I end the call and toss the phone onto the bed. Queen Tatiana peers down at me, smirking. “Oh, shut up,” I mutter. “We both know how things turned out for you.”
* * *
HENRY
“She hung up on me,” I say, unable to hide my shock. I
glare at the phone in my hand. “No one has ever done that.”
Behind the frames of her spectacles, Shasta’s eyebrows lift toward the ceiling of the living room in my hotel suite. “Is there a problem, Your Majesty? Would you like me to call her back for you?”
“No. No problem.” Which is a total and complete lie. I’m a shitty husband. That’s the problem. I pace in front of the window, something I seem to do a lot since Everly’s introduction into my life. I’ve been so busy trying to locate her father that I’ve neglected our relationship. Deep down, I know it’s just an excuse to avoid my feelings toward her.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to be business partners, not lovers. I feel control over my heart slipping through my fingers. To my surprise, I miss her. I miss her sleepy smiles in the morning, the way she fits beneath my arm like she was made for me, and the sound of her laughter when she’s amused. She’s angry with me, but I have no idea how to mend the rift between us. One thing is for sure. I can’t fix our relationship from Switzerland. “Call the pilot. Tell him to get the plane ready. I want to leave as soon as we’re done here today.”
19
Everly
Tonight, I take extra care getting dressed for dinner. A black fitted dress hugs my curves. Pink lips and nude eyeshadow complete my outfit. It’s subtle but classy, something Madame Chantelle would approve of. I don’t know if Rupert will be present, but he’s not going to see my fear. I’m ready to go downstairs when the butler knocks on my dressing room door.
“Your Highness, Mr. Nikolay Tarnovsky is waiting in the sitting room. I told him you’re not receiving guests tonight, but he insists on speaking with you. Shall I send him away?”
Nicky? I wait for my heart to skip a beat at the mention of my former lover’s name, but it doesn’t happen. I know why. Henry has replaced the memories of all the men in my past. With him in my life, there isn’t room for anyone else, and I’m pretty sure there will never be. My fingers curl around the handle of my hairbrush. I run my thumb absently over the intricate rose vine entwined around the heavy silver handle. Nicky is one of the reasons I fled Manhattan. No matter how far I run, it seems I can’t escape the ghosts of my past.
“Offer him a drink. I’ll be out in a minute.” Before I can face him, I need to get a grip on my emotions. Henry’s absence and the altercation with Rupert have me unsettled. Nicky, being a master of manipulation, will feed off my unease and use it against me.
His mischievous smile greets me as I cross the room. As always, he’s dressed in the height of European fashion. He removes his hands from the pockets of his charcoal trousers. The collar of his pale lemon dress shirt emphasizes his golden tan. “Everly, you look fantastic.” He extends a hand then drops it to his side when I don’t return the gesture.
“That’s Princess Everly to you.” Maybe my new title has some perks. After the way he behaved, he deserves to be held at arm’s length. I’m more upset about his betrayal against Henry than myself. I won’t make this easy for him.
“I thought we’d worked through your hostility toward me.” He bows. “My apologies, Princess Everly. Again.”
“It comes and goes.” To keep distance between us, I cross the room and hover near the windows. “You’re the last person I expected to find on my doorstep.”
“It’s not really a doorstep, though, is it? It’s more of a moat with a drawbridge and an enormous iron gate.” The light in his gray eyes isn’t quite as bright as before, and lines of weariness bracket his mouth. This isn’t the same man I dated. An air of gravity clings to him.
“What are you doing here? We’re not exactly in a high traffic area of Europe.”
He ignores my question. “You’ve upgraded considerably. Congratulations. Your Manhattan apartment was nice, but this is on a different level.” He meanders through the apartment, opening doors, pulling out drawers, and running his fingers over the furniture. “A little dusty for my taste but most palaces are.”
“Seriously, Nicky.” I slam the credenza drawer shut, almost catching his fingers. “Shouldn’t you be in Manhattan deflowering virgins or something?”
“Virgins are overrated,” he says with a smirk more like his former self. “And the last time I tried to steal someone’s wife, she broke my heart.” His confession, although spoken lightly, reminds me of his undying devotion to Rourke—Rourke, who married his adopted brother. He must have a thing for emotionally unavailable women. “As for being angry with me—this upgrade in your status is really all because of me, isn’t it? I mean, if I hadn’t taken you to the Devil’s Playground, you might never have met Henry. You should be thanking me.”
“Don’t twist things around. We both know you were a dick. I don’t feel sorry for you. Not in the least.”
“Ouch.” He places a hand over his heart like I’ve stabbed him. “So mean. You’re going to make a great queen.”
“You cheated on me then splashed the pictures all over social media. I can be as mean as I want. And—” I pause for dramatic effect. “I know about you and Lady Clayton. Not that I’m surprised you would screw your best friend’s fiancée.”
“Did he really say I was his best friend?” His expression brightens. He plops onto the sofa and props his feet on the coffee table, crossing his long legs at the ankle. “Tell me more, Auntie Everly. I like this story.”
“Why would you do something like that? It’s shitty even by your standards—which are extremely low, I might add.”
“And the hits keep coming.” When I continue to glare, he shrugs. “Not that anyone cares, but Lady Clayton came on to me. I was drunk, and she took advantage of me when I was emotionally vulnerable.”
“Bullshit.” Despite his cavalier attitude, Nicky is one of the shrewdest men I know. No one takes advantage of him.
“Are you going to be like this the whole time during my visit?” he asks.
“It depends. How long are you staying?”
“I don’t know. A week. Maybe longer.”
“That will give you plenty of time to rekindle your relationship with Lady Clayton. I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic to know you’re here.”
“Hmmph.” His snort suggests they parted on poor terms. Not a surprise. He’s incapable of nurturing a relationship of any kind. “Again, I did Henry a favor. She’d been cheating on him the entire time. I was just one of many. And if I hadn’t come along, he’d be married to Kitty right now instead of you. See? Winning.”
“Oh, right. You did it for Henry. How selfless of you.”
“It’s not like he was in love with her or anything. He’s never been monogamous in his life.” He covers his mouth with his hand. “Oh, wait. I’m sorry. You didn’t think he’s going to be faithful to you, did you? I can guarantee he’s not sleeping alone in Zurich tonight.”
The idea of another woman in Henry’s bed cuts deeper than I care to admit. To keep Nicky from reading my thoughts, I begin shuffling through the rack of dresses that arrived today for my approval. If he can’t see my face, he won’t know how jealous his words have made me. “Don’t play your petty mind games with me. I’m on to you.” Rourke’s many warnings pop into my head. Nicky never does anything without a motive. If he’s here in Androvia, there’s a reason. “Why are you really here?”
“Ask your husband. He’s the one who invited me.”
This isn’t the answer I’m looking for. I remove a long, beige gown from the rack and hold the hanger to my shoulders. The color brings out the unattractive yellow tones in my skin, making me look haggard and older than my age. Instead of baiting Nicky, I decide to hold my questions for later. Although my feelings are uncertain about Henry, I have a sense of loyalty toward him. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”
“Maybe he wants me to keep you busy while he shags his way around Switzerland.” He shakes his head. “That dress is hideous. You should fire whoever chose it.”
“I know, right? They want me to dress like I’m someone’s grandma.”
“You
should call that one guy. What’s his name?”
“Christian.” Now more than ever, I need my former stylist to help me. We haven’t spoken since the wedding. Maybe I can convince Madame Chantelle to meet with him. For once, Nicky has a good idea.
“I’m sure he would jump at the chance to style the future Queen of Androvia for her coronation.”
“I’m not a queen.” Even though princess is a high-ranking title, it somehow sounds lacking. “Queens of foreign nationality are rare. Since I’m an American—” My voice trails off. Nicky yawns, like he’s just woken from a nap. “Henry will have to approve the title. I’m not sure we’ve reached that point in our relationship.”
“Sorry. I feel asleep in the middle of that boring info dump. Call your wardrobe guy. Get him over here. You’ve certainly got the money behind you.” He stretches out and clasps his hands behind his head, wrinkling the front of his flawless suit.
“Who dresses you?” Only a man as masculine as Nicky could pull off such an unconventional color palette. Although his wardrobe choices are unusual, the crisp lines of his suit are perfectly tailored to fit his broad shoulders and slim hips. He’s masculine and stylish.
“None of your business.” With long, elegant fingers, he smooths the length of his silver paisley tie.
For a long moment, we fall silent. The quiet is broken by the sound of the hangers sliding on the rods as I shuffle through dress after boring dress. My hands tremble. I shift the topic to something less troubling. “Have you spoken to Rourke? I talked to her last week.”
“She hates me, so that would be a no.” There’s no mistaking the wistfulness in his eyes.
“What about Roman? Surely you’ve spoken to him?”
He rolls his eyes. “He’s in Zurich with your husband. And he’s not exactly agreeable company right now, considering everything your father put him through.”
“Right.” My face falls. The repercussions will be long lasting for all of us. His unsubtle reminder sours my mood further. When I don’t supply more details, he picks up a new line of interrogation.
The Rebel Queen Page 14
