by Millie Adams
“So he wants my... Influencer reach?”
That was ridiculous. But she could work with that. “He wants me to make the country look better.”
“Yes,” Javier said.
“Well. That’s easy. I can do that without marrying him.”
“I’m not sure that’s on his agenda.”
“Well, then I’ll just have to convince him that it’s a better agenda. I’m very convincing. I entered a very crowded market, and I managed to essentially dominate it. You know that I’m the youngest self-made billionaire in the world?”
“Yes,” Javier said. “We did in fact look at the basic headlines about you.”
“Then he should know that I’ll be of much more use to him as a business consultant.”
“You sell makeup,” he said.
She bristled. “Yes. And I sell it well. Enough that he seems to have taken notice of the impact that I’ve made on the world. So don’t belittle it.” She huffed a breath. “Anyway. All I need is a chance to get to know the country.”
“Excellent. I’m glad that you think so. Because I believe that my brother’s mouse is making an agenda for while they are away.”
“His what?”
“His assistant. We have assignments for while he is away. And I am to oversee.”
“Are you babysitting me?”
“In a sense.”
“You know,” she said, keeping her voice carefully deadpan. “I seem to recall a Saint Bernard that acted as Nana in a classic cartoon...”
“Don’t push it. I can always tell him you met with an unfortunate accident.”
“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” she said, meeting his gaze, keeping her eyes as stern as possible.
He inclined his head. “So I did.”
“Are you a man of your word, Javier?”
“I am.”
The simple confidence in those words made her stomach tighten. “Somehow I knew that.”
His eyes narrowed. “How?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m a good judge of character, I think. I was born into wealth, and I will tell you that it’s an easier life than most. But I had access to... Anything. Any excess that I wanted. Any sort of mischief that I might want to get into. Drugs and older men and parties. People were always after me to do favors for them. And I had to learn very quickly who my real friends might be. Because let me tell you... What people say and what they do are two very different things. Words don’t mean anything if they’re not backed up by actions.”
“Well, I’ve kidnapped you. What does that action tell you?”
“I didn’t think we were going with kidnap?”
“That was your call, not mine.”
“Well, you’re loyal to your brother. I also think you’re loyal to... Your own sense of honor. You might say that you aren’t good. But you have a moral code. And even if it does extend to allowing you to kidnap me if your brother says it’s the right thing to do, I do not think it would ever extend to hurting someone who couldn’t defend themselves against you.”
He inclined his head. “Fair enough. My father enjoyed inflicting pain upon the weak. He enjoyed exploiting his power. I have no desire to ever involve myself in such a thing. It is an act of cowardice.”
“And you’re not a coward,” she said confidently. “And I think that you might even want to help me prove to your brother that I don’t need to marry him so that I can get back to my real life.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I genuinely don’t care about your plan. Not one way or the other. Happiness, in that fleeting immediate sense, is quite immaterial to me. What matters is the greater good. If my brother feels the greater good is served by marrying you, then that is the goal I will help him accomplish. Not what will make you... Happier. As you said, you had a happier life than most. Drugs, parties and rich men, from the sounds of things.”
“But I had none of those things,” she said, not sure where she had lost the conversation. “It’s just that I had access to them. I haven’t experienced them. I have too much to live for. Too much experience to explore.”
“It seems to me that you had ample opportunity to do so prior to your engagement to my brother.”
“I am not engaged. I am kidnapped, as you just stated.”
“Walked onto the plane with your own two feet, I think you mean.”
“You were the one that introduced kidnap again.”
“You’re the one who seems hung up on the terminology.”
“I’ll prove it. I’ll prove that we don’t need marriage.”
“Fantastic. Feel free. In the meantime, I will set about to fulfill the items on my brother’s list. Because that is all I care about.”
He turned and began to walk away from her. “Do you have any feelings about anything?”
When he turned back to face her, his eyes were blank. “No.”
“You must be a great time in bed,” she shot back, not sure where that came from. Except she knew it made men angry when you called their prowess into question, and if she couldn’t elicit sympathy from him, then she would be happy to elicit some rage.
“Thankfully for you,” he said, his tone hard, “my bedroom skills will never be a concern of yours. You are not meant for me.”
And then he was gone. Leaving her in the oppressive silence created by those thick, wealth-laden walls.
And she had a feeling that for the first time in her life she might have bitten off more than she could chew.
Except, it wasn’t even her bite. It was her father’s. And she was the one left dealing with it.
CHAPTER FIVE
HER WORDS ECHOED in his head all through the next day, and when he finally received the memo from his brother’s assistant, his irritation was at an all-time high. Because what Violet King thought about him in bed was none of his concern. She had an acerbic tongue, and she was irritating. Beautiful, certainly, but annoying.
Had he been the sort of man given to marriage, she would not be the woman that he would choose. But then, marriage would never have to be for him. He didn’t have to produce heirs.
He charged down the hall, making his way to her room, where he knocked sharply.
“Don’t come in!”
“Why not?”
“I’m not decent.”
“Are you undressed?” The image of Violet in some state of undress caused his stomach to tighten, and he cursed himself for acting like an untried boy. She was just a woman.
“No,” she said.
He opened the door without waiting for further explanation. And there she sat, at the center of the massive bed looking...
Scrubbed clean.
She looked younger than when he had first seen her yesterday, than she did in any picture he had ever seen.
Her lashes were not so noticeable now, shorter, he thought. Her face looked rounder, her skin softer. Her lips were no longer shiny, but plump and soft looking. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders in riotous waves.
“I don’t have my makeup,” she said.
He couldn’t help it. He laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt actual humor. Until now. The woman was concerned because she did not have her makeup.
“And that concerns me why?”
“It’s my... It’s my trade. I don’t go out without it. It would be a bad advertisement.”
“Surely you don’t think you need all of that layered onto your face to make you presentable?”
“That’s not the point. It’s not about being presentable, or whatever. It’s just... It’s not who I am.”
“Your makeup is who you are?”
“I built my empire on it. On my look.”
“Well. No one is here to see your look. And we have assignments.”
“Assignments?”
&n
bsp; “Yes. First, time to give you a tour of the palace. Then we are to discuss your... Appearance.”
She waved a hand in front of her face. “I have been discussing my appearance this entire time.”
“Well. I don’t mean that, precisely. Your role as Queen will require a different sort of... A different sort of approach.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve made it very clear that I’m not on board with this whole Queen thing, and you’re talking about how you’re going to change my appearance?”
“I’m only telling you what’s on the list. We also need to go over customs, expectations. Ballroom etiquette.”
“Don’t tell me that I’m going to have to take dancing lessons.”
“Precisely that.”
“This is... Medieval.”
“Tell me what it is you need from home, and I will accommodate you.” Looking at the stubborn set of her face, he realized that he could drag her kicking and screaming into completing these tasks, or he could try to meet her in the middle. Compromise was not exactly second nature to him, but sometimes different tactics were required for dealing with different enemies.
He and his brother had been covert by necessity when dealing with their father. He could certainly manage a bit of finesse with one small makeup mogul.
“I... Well, I need all my beauty supplies. I might be able to come up with a queen-level look using my makeup, but nobody’s doing it but me.”
“We’ll see.”
“I can’t wear someone else’s products.” She was verging on melodrama and he would not indulge it in the least if it weren’t for his brother.
That was all.
“My concern is not centered on your business. And anyway, yours shouldn’t be at this point either.”
“Untrue. My primary concern is my business, because I think it’s what I have to offer here.”
“Why don’t we discuss this over breakfast.”
“I told you. I can’t go out looking like this.”
He pushed a button on the intercom by the door. Moments later the door opened, and in came breakfast for two.
“Oh,” Violet said.
“You keep introducing issues that are not issues for me.”
She looked deflated. “Fine. I don’t actually care about my makeup.”
“Then why exactly are you protesting?”
“Because. I want to win. And I figured if you thought I was this ridiculous and unable to function without a full face of makeup, you might send me back.”
“Again. Whether or not you become the next Queen of Monte Blanco is not my decision. So you can go ahead and try to make me believe that you are the silliest creature on planet Earth, but it still won’t change what’s happening.”
He moved the cart closer to her bed. She peered down at the contents. “Is that avocado toast?”
“It is,” he said. “Of course, I’m told that it’s quite trendy the world over. It has always been eaten here.”
“Fascinating,” she said. “I didn’t realize that you were trendsetters.”
He picked up his own plate of breakfast and sat in the chair next to her bed. Then he poured two cups of coffee. Her interest became yet more keen.
“I’m not going to poison you,” he said. “You keep staring at me as if I might.”
She scrabbled to the edge of the bed and reached down, grabbing hold of the plate of avocado toast, bringing it onto the comforter.
Her eyes met his and held. A shift started, somewhere deep in his gut. She didn’t move. Or maybe it only felt like she didn’t. Like the moment hung suspended.
Then her fingers brushed his as she took the cup, color mounting in her face as she settled back in the bed, away from him.
The distance, he found, helped with the tightening in his stomach.
She took a sip and smiled. “Perfect,” she said. “Strong.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“I slept about as well as a prisoner in a foreign land can expect to sleep.”
“Good to know.”
“The pea under the mattress was a bit uncomfortable.” A smile tugged the edge of her lips.
She was a strange sort of being, this woman. She had spirit, because God knew in this situation, many other people would have fallen apart completely. But she hadn’t. She was attempting to needle him. To manipulate him. From calling him a Saint Bernard to pretending she was devastated by her bare face.
And now she was drinking coffee like a perfectly contented cat.
“Why don’t you go ahead and say what’s on your mind. I can tell you’re dying to.”
“I will complete your list,” she said. “Down to the dancing lessons. But I want you to show me around the country. Not just the palace.”
“To what end?”
“I’ve been thinking. Your brother wants to bring this country into the modern era. Well. I am the poster child for success in the modern era. And I believe that I can bring some of that to you. I can do it without marrying your brother.”
“As far as I’m concerned it’s not up for negotiation.”
“Fine. We’ll table that. But I want you to give me the tools to make it a negotiation with him.”
“Perhaps,” he said, taking a long drag of his own coffee.
“Look. Even if I do marry your brother, you’re going to want me to do this.”
“He didn’t leave orders to do it. I have no personal feelings on the matter.”
“If you get your way, I’m going to live here for the rest of my life,” she said, her voice finally overtaken by emotion. “You don’t even want me to see the place? Don’t you think that I should be able to... Envision what my life will be?”
This was not a business negotiation. Finally. She wasn’t playing at being sharp and witty, or shallow and vapid. Not holding a board meeting curled up in her canopy bed. This, finally, was something real.
And he was not immune to it, he found.
“I’ll see what I can accomplish.”
She picked up her toast and took a bite of it with ferocity. “Well. At least I approve of your food.” She set the toast back down on the plate and brushed some crumbs away from her lips.
She managed to look imperious and ridiculous all at once.
He could not imagine his brother wrangling this creature. She was as mercurial as she was mystifying, and Javier had never been in a position where he had to deal with a woman on this level.
When it came to his personal relationships with women, they weren’t all that personal. They were physical. Suddenly, he was in an entanglement with a beautiful woman that was all... All too much to do with her feelings.
“Finish your toast,” he said briskly. “I will send a member of staff to escort you downstairs in roughly an hour. And then, it is time we begin your training.”
* * *
Violet muttered to herself as she made her way down the vast corridor and toward the ballroom. “Begin your training... Wax on. Wax off.”
This was ludicrous. And she was beginning to get severely anxious. She had been in Monte Blanco for more than twelve hours. She had not seen the mysterious King—who had vanished off on some errand, if Javier was to be believed—and she didn’t seem to be making any headway when it came to talking herself out of her engagement.
But she was the one who had decided she was better off trying to take the bull by the horns, rather than running and hiding in California. She supposed she had to own the consequences of that rash decision, made in anger.
The castle was vast, and even though she had received rather explicit instructions on how to get to the ballroom, she was a bit concerned that she might just end up lost forever in these winding, glittering halls. Like being at the center of a troll’s mountain horde. All gems and glitter and danger.
And as she walked int
o the vast ballroom and saw Javier standing there at the center, she felt certain she was staring at the Mountain King. She knew he wasn’t the King. Javier was acting on his brother’s behest; he had said so many times. Except it was impossible for her to imagine that this man took orders from anyone.
It took her a moment to realize there was someone else in the room. A small round woman with an asymmetrical blond haircut and a dress comprised of layers of chiffon draped over her body like petals.
“The future Queen is here,” she said excitedly. “We can begin. My name is Sophie. I will be instructing you in basic Monte Blancan ballroom dance techniques.”
“They could be anyone’s ballroom dance techniques,” Violet said. “They would still be completely new to me.”
“You say that like it should frighten me,” Sophie said. “It doesn’t. Especially not with the Prince acting as your partner.”
Violet froze. “He dances?” She pointed at him.
“I have been part of the royal family all of my life,” he said. “That necessitated learning various customs. Including, of course, ballroom dancing. There is nothing that you will be subjected to over the course of this training that I was not. And a great many things you will be spared.”
There was a darkness to that statement that made a tremor resonate inside of her. But before she could respond to it, he had reached his hand out and taken hold of hers, drawing her up against the hardness of his chest.
He was hot.
And her heart stuttered.
And she felt...
She felt the beginnings of something she had read about. Heard about... But never, ever experienced before.
When he looked down at her, for a moment at least, it wasn’t nice what she saw there in his dark eyes. No. It was something else entirely.
She looked down at the floor.
“I will start the music. Javier is a very good dancer, and he will make it easy by providing a solid lead.”
He was solid all right. And hot. Like a human furnace.
His hand down low on her back was firm, and the one that grasped hers was surprisingly rough. She would have thought that a prince wouldn’t have calluses. But he did.
