The Royal Consort

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Well, I wasn’t there, but my source is reliable.” The playfulness has extinguished from Nicky’s eyes. It might be the first time I’ve ever seen him serious. The realization escalates my fright to a new level.

  “If this is one of your jokes, it’s not amusing,” Henry says.

  The moisture evaporates from my mouth, making it difficult to speak. I clear my throat. “I don’t understand.”

  “Unfortunately for you, I’m dead serious.” Nicky’s gaze bores into me. Gravity deepens his light gray eyes to the color of aged steel. His concern drives home the reality of my situation.

  “It’s code for when a person contracts a hit on someone,” Henry replies.

  “That’s ridiculous.” My ribs constrict, squeezing my lungs. Each breath sends shards of pain into my chest. I place a hand over my sternum to ease the tightness.

  “Maybe.” Nicky runs a finger along the fireplace mantle as if he’s checking for dust. “Believe me or don’t.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” The last vestiges of composure abandon me. I glance around the room. I’m on the fourth floor with only one exit from the apartment. If someone slipped past security, I’d have no escape, no means of protection.

  “My, my…look at the time.” Nicky shakes his head and feigns a glance at his wristwatch. “I’ve got an appointment on the other side of the city. You’ll have to excuse me.”

  “You’re leaving? Now?” The full extent of Nicky’s douchebaggery becomes crystal clear. How could I have been so blind to his lack of moral character?

  “Afraid so.” The corners of his mouth turn down in a melodramatic frown. He crosses the room at a swift pace. At the threshold to the foyer, he waves a hand. “Don’t bother seeing me out. You two can carry on with whatever you were doing when I got here.” He pauses to capture my gaze for a final time. “Oh, and I’d stay away from the windows, if I were you, young lady.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask Henry, although I already know. The thought of a sniper’s site trained on my apartment turns my blood to ice.

  “It means you need to think very carefully about your actions from here on out.”

  I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life. Always before, I’ve had friends and family around me. Aside from Rourke, I have no one. Even if I did, I wouldn’t want to draw them into this dangerous circle.

  Henry takes a seat on the sofa. The smooth fabric of his trousers stretches tight across his thighs as he leans back, spreading his knees wide, and rests an arm along the back. With his opposite hand, he pats the cushion at his side. “Everly, come sit. Pacing will only wear out the carpet.”

  “You should go.” I press my palms together to hide the way they’re shaking. “You’re an important man. You don’t want to get caught up in this.”

  “I have security in the hall and downstairs. No one is going to get to you while I’m here.”

  The quiet calm of his voice soothes my frazzled nerves. I exhale loudly, letting the tension ease from my neck and shoulders. He’s right. Now more than ever, I need to keep my wits about me. I give him a reassuring smile to cover my inner turmoil and sink warily onto the sofa beside him. “Were you really here visiting a friend?”

  “Yes.” The teasing bow of his mouth suggests he might be lying.

  “Are you sure?”

  “You doubt me? In my country, I could have you beheaded for questioning my honesty.” Amusement dances in his gaze. Thick black lashes surround irises the color of the Aegean Sea on a stormy day. From childhood vacations in Crete, I know those waters are warm, beautiful, and dangerous, a fact I vow to remember. I can’t let this man—any man—get under my skin. Nicky is proof enough of that.

  “Good thing we’re in Manhattan then.” I’ve forgotten the point of our conversation, too distracted by the fullness of his lips. A mouth like his begs to be kissed. Heat gathers between my thighs. No, no, no. I fight the attraction.

  “Yes, lucky for you.” The gap between us shrinks as he inches forward. He touches a strand of my hair, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger, before sweeping it over my shoulder. The slow, deliberation of his movements intensifies the erotic aura surrounding him. “For you, I’m willing to show leniency.”

  Lord have mercy, this man is about to set my panties on fire. Two back-to-back failed relationships, however, have proven my poor judgment regarding men. I shut down the twinges of sexual attraction. From now on, my heart is on lockdown, no matter how hot or how sexy the man in question might be. I clear my throat. “Did you have a reason for stopping by or is this a social call? You never said.”

  His eyes haven’t left me once since he sat on the couch. I want to look away, but I can’t. Instead, I lean back. The incline of his torso ghosts my move, inching forward to keep the distance between us negligible. “I heard about your recent situation and thought I could be of assistance.”

  “I don’t think anyone can help me.” The sickening sensation of defeat returns to my stomach. Needing a reprieve from the magnetic pull of his body on mine, I return to the window. I hover behind the curtain, safely obscured from sight as Nicky’s warning repeats through my head. The police have erected barriers along the sidewalks to keep the crowd out of the street.

  “I could get you out of here. Provide a place to stay until the media storm dies down.” He stands beside me. The sleeve of his blazer brushes my arm, sending tingles to my fingertips. Together, we stare at the circus down below.

  “I appreciate your generosity, but I’m pretty sure this mess is going to follow me to my grave.” With sickening clarity, the extent of my punishment reveals an ugly future. My father is a bulldog when it comes to revenge. He’ll never give up until he’s satisfied. I’ll never be safe.

  “What if I could guarantee your welfare? Would you accept my help?”

  I study his strong profile. His blue-blooded pedigree shows in the sharp right angle of his jaw, his straight nose, and the height of his cheekbones. “You’re serious?”

  “Absolutely.” He turns to face me, clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m leaving for Androvia tomorrow. Come with me. Take refuge at the palace. The borders of my country are ironclad. No one will bother you there. Stay as long as you like. As my honored guest, of course.”

  A warning shiver runs down my back. His offer sounds too good to be true. Nothing in this world comes without a price, a price I might not want to pay. “You don’t know me.”

  “I know enough.”

  “I couldn’t possibly leave. I have my family, my job, and Rourke…”

  “We both know that’s not true.”

  His words steal my breath. My mother is the head of the charitable foundation where I work. I can’t possibly continue under her direction. As for Rourke, she’s found her happily-ever-after with Roman. I have nothing, no one to hold me here. The thought brings the sting of tears to my eyes. I blink them back, lifting my chin, unwilling to show my devastation to the proud man in front of me.

  “There’s nothing left here for you, Everly.” Quiet confidence underscores his voice. He glides a fingertip along the side of my face then captures my chin in his hand. “Come to Androvia. Your every wish will be my command. I’ll make sure of it.”

  A summer at leisure might be the answer to my problems. The situation might change a lot in a few months. I’ve never been to Androvia, but I’ve heard it has high mountains, green pastures, and rustic thatched cottages. It might be fun. And the company of the crown prince would be a welcome distraction. Before I accept, it occurs to me that he never finished his previous train of thought. “You said two reasons brought you here. What was the second one?”

  “I have a proposition for you—an alternative to your life here.”

  Before I can respond, we’re interrupted by the vibration of my phone on the coffee table. We glance at it. I wave my hand. "It's probably another reporter. Just ignore it."

  Prince Heinrich picks up the phone, reads the screen, and hands it to me. �
�It’s your father.”

  Fear and dread dance in my chest. “No.” I shake my head, backing away like the phone might jump out of his hand and attack me.

  “Have you spoken with him at all since your press release?”

  “No, and I don’t intend to.”

  He palms the phone. A frown wrinkles his brow. “Maybe you should. Tidy up your loose ends before you leave with me tomorrow. At least you’ll know where his head is at.”

  “You’re certainly confident of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Arrogance is one of my best and worst traits.” The phone falls silent for a few seconds before resuming its annoying buzz. I stare at it. One of his eyebrows lifts in question as he puts the phone to his ear and accepts the call. “Hello, Don. Prince Heinrich here. How are you?”

  "What are you doing?" I make an unsuccessful swipe for the phone. The prince smiles, dimples dancing, and sidesteps my attempts to regain control. “Give that to me. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

  “What am I doing here? Visiting your lovely daughter.” His eyes meet mine, brimming with mischief. “In fact, I’m glad you called. I’m going to ask her to marry me, and I’d appreciate your blessing.” A string of profanity carries through the air. The prince holds the phone away from his ear. His smile broadens with each passing second. He’s joking, of course, but his words make my stomach flip. He lifts a finger, gesturing for me to be patient. “Really? I knew you didn’t like me, but I had no idea your hatred ran so deep.”

  Unable to rescue the phone from Prince Heinrich’s grasp, I snatched my laptop from the desk and initiated a Skype call. My father answered immediately. “Everly, have you lost your ever-loving mind?” He’s sitting in his office, behind the big mahogany desk that once belonged to my grandfather. If he’s been stressed by the events of the previous twenty-four hours, he doesn’t show it. I suppose two terms in the White House teaches a man to remain composed during the most harrowing events.

  The self-righteousness in his tone raises my defenses. “My mind is better than ever, Daddy. Thank you for asking.”

  He drops his phone, ending the call to Prince Heinrich. ”What is that man doing in your house?”

  “It’s none of your business.” Nausea builds in my stomach. He knows I’m at home, making me a sitting duck for anyone wishing me harm. In the back of my head, a countdown clock begins to tick. One of his minions might be on their way here, as we speak, ready to cash in my ticket to the “late show.”

  “Your mother says you’ve refused to make a statement on behalf of the family. Tell me that’s not true.” Lines of anger deepen around his mouth and eyes. The little girl inside me, the one who always sought her father’s approval, wants to bend to his will. But I’m not a child anymore. I know the difference between right and wrong, and what he’s done goes beyond evil.

  “I’m done protecting you. This is your mess. You clean it up.”

  “Well done.” The prince bends to whisper in my ear. His breath tickles my skin, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

  Father’s tone softens, assuming the silkiness of a Svengali. “The crown prince is not your friend, my dear. You can’t trust him.”

  “That’s funny, coming from you.”

  He’s silent for so long, I think he’s forgotten me. My mind flits through memories of his kisses on my skinned knees, his strong hands holding me in the saddle of my first pony, the delight in his eyes at my college graduation. Did those moments mean nothing? I don’t know how to separate the hero of my youth from the monster of my present.

  “I apologize for not taking you seriously before. You’re not a fool and never have been.” The springs of his high-backed leather chair creak as he shifts to lean toward the laptop camera. “It’s not too late. We can still minimize the damage of what you’ve done. Just come home, Everly. We’ll face this situation as a family, the way we always have.”

  More than anything, I want to run into his arms, have him squeeze me tight, and tell me I’ve been a good girl. I open my mouth to speak, but my thoughts catch on his prior statement. We can still minimize the damage of what you’ve done. Those are the words that stick in my head. I haven’t done anything wrong. He doesn’t consider his actions objectionable. The truth hurts, stabbing me through the center of my heart, dealing a final deathblow to our relationship.

  I’ve never been a mean person, but right now, in the heat of the moment, I want to hurt this man the way he’s hurt me. I run the tip of my tongue around my dry lips, gathering the courage. “No, Daddy. I can’t. You’ve chosen your path, and I’ve chosen mine.”

  “Everly!” He roars at the camera, leaning close enough to reveal the fine broken capillaries around his nose. I snap the laptop lid closed, ending the call, and snip the final threads of connection to my father. The pain in my chest recedes, leaving a dull ache, like I’ve plucked an arrow from my heart and left behind an empty hole in its place. Adrenalin roars through my veins.

  “Well, I’ve either fucked myself completely or won the lottery. I’m not sure which.” I give the prince a small smile. “What’s your opinion?”

  He studies me in silence. No matter how hard I try, I can’t break the pull of his enigmatic gaze. After a few agonizing seconds, he rests a hip on the desk behind him and folds his arms over his broad chest. “You might be the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”

  I head toward the attached dining room to gain much needed breathing space. Henry follows but keeps a respectful distance. The aura of power and sexual prowess surrounding him makes coherent thought difficult. He hovers near the credenza. The way his protective gaze follows me elicits warring emotions of desire and rebellion. Whatever his reasons for coming here, I can't deny that I like his attention.

  I cross my arms over my chest and linger near the long French Provincial dining room table. This is my favorite room, a place for friends and family to gather on starry summer nights or chilly wintry evenings. Contrary to the misery of my day, bright sunlight spills through the glass to form bright yellow puddles on the hardwood floor. I linger to let the sun warm my face.

  As much as I want to take Henry’s offer of protection, I can’t. Not until I see the small red laser dot crawl along the wall beside me. My heart stops. Henry’s gaze follows mine. Real fear drains the color from his face. He's at my side within seconds. His fingers encircle my bicep. With a firm tug, he pulls me to his side, into the shadows of the hallway.

  "It's okay," he says, as much to himself as to me. From this perspective, it's evident that the red dot is actually a refracted beam of sunlight through one of the leaded glass trim surrounding the center window.

  “I’ll never be safe.” Seeking comfort from the ugly truth, I wrap my arms around my waist. I repeat the four words over and over. I’ll never be safe. Although this incident was a fluke, the next time could be real.

  As if he’s reading my thoughts, Henry tightens his grip on my arm. “Pack a bag. We’re getting out of here.” Because he’s unfamiliar with the layout of my home, he waits for me to show the way to my bedroom. “Just grab the necessities. I’ll send someone to pack the rest of your things.”

  He talks on his phone in German while I toss an armload of dresses, toiletries, and a photo of Rourke into a suitcase. I’m too rattled to translate his conversation, but I pick up on words like urgent, danger, and security. Within minutes, we’re being escorted to the parking garage by his security team. He speaks to me in a soothing, confident tone as we’re hustled into one of three waiting SUVs. “Do you have your phone? Give it to me.” Numbness blankets my thoughts and feelings. I place the phone in his hand. He gives it to one of his bodyguards.

  “Wait. What are you doing?” I reach for the phone, but it’s too late. The man crushes it beneath his boot heel.

  Henry takes my outstretched hand into his. “We’ll get you another one.”

  The cavalcade races toward his hotel—or crawls, according to the whims of midday traffic. Streets and buses and stor
efronts blur into streaks of color. I can feel my old life slipping away with each passing city block.

  “You’re trembling.” Henry slips out of his blazer and drapes it around my shoulders. “Don’t be frightened. You’re safe with me. I give you my word.”

  Something tells me, he doesn’t give his word often, but when he does, he means it. Although we're strangers, my instincts tell me that I can count on him. What choice do I have? Even my personal assistant has ditched me—via a voicemail this morning—claiming she's too overwhelmed by the media storm to continue. I clutch the edges of the blazer, wishing I could curl up into a ball and lick my wounds. The scent of his cologne clings to the linen. The lining still holds his body heat. "Thank you. You're very kind. I don't know why you're so nice to me.”

  “I could never turn my back on a damsel in distress, especially one as beautiful as you.” His knee brushes mine when he leans back in his seat. Gooseflesh ripples along my thigh at the incidental contact. The size of his tall frame overpowers the spacious interior of the vehicle.

  Once we’re safely inside his suite at the Waldorf Astoria, I’m overcome with nerves. My suitcase is taken to the smaller guest bedroom. Through the open door of Henry’s master suite, the king-size bed beckons. A blush heats my cheeks. What price will I have to pay for my life? A night with the Crown Prince of Androvia wouldn’t be the worst thing to ever happen.

  “Everly?” The way Henry says my name suggests, he’s called me more than once.

  “Yes?” I pray he can’t read my thoughts.

  “I’m going to meet with my staff. Will you be alright?” Concern warms his voice. “I can send someone in to sit with you.”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” I nod and smooth my hands over my skirt. His thoughtfulness stirs unwelcome desires.

  “Make yourself at home. We’ll dine in the suite tonight.” An air of command swirls around him as his broad back turns toward me.

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a bath. A long, hot soak sounds heavenly.” Despite my frazzled nerves, I managed to notice the enormous jetted tub on my brief tour of the suite. Nothing heals the soul like the heat of a good bath.