by Sparks, Ana
So when I got to the door, I didn’t open it immediately. Instead, I leaned forward and looked through the peephole.
And saw absolutely nothing.
Well, that’s a lie. I saw the lawn that bordered my part of the house, complete with the carefully manicured trees and bushes, and the rose garden—my favorite feature. I saw the blue sky and, in the distance, the pool area.
So… standard out-of-my-peephole sorts of things. Nothing that was out of the ordinary.
Then I saw the body lying on the doorstep.
Chapter 27
Francisco
I threw open the door and saw, to my horror, that the face with its cheek pressed to the concrete on my front step was…
“Erika?” I gasped, dropping right to my knees.
I pulled her up to my chest and felt desperately for a pulse in her neck. It was there, but she was…
Pale. She was pale and clammy and limp, and it wasn’t a ‘sleeping’ sort of limp, either, but something more serious.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I chanted in horror, scooping her into my arms and scooting back into the living room of my house.
“Erika,” I said gently, my voice getting caught in my throat, stuck on the lump that seemed to be lodged there. “Erika, can you hear me?”
No response. Not even a fluttering of the eyelashes.
Shit. Eyelashes were supposed to flutter in situations like this, weren’t they? Wasn’t that what happened in the movies? I would say her name and her eyelashes would flutter and she would come to, all rosy cheeks and parted lips?
Except precisely none of that was happening. She was just as limp as she had been before, and when I laid her down on my couch and sat next to her, she didn’t show any sign of fluttering eyelashes or parted lips.
And that was what seriously worried me and had me finally reaching for the phone—something I should have done the moment I saw her. I thumbed it to unlock it and was about to dial for the palace doctor when she twitched.
I looked up, holding my breath at the sudden movement, and waited. And then she twitched again.
Right. Twitching. It was no fluttering of the eyelashes, but it was at least something to show she wasn’t completely out of it.
I jumped to my feet and raced to the bathroom, my mind brushing past the question of what she was doing here as I grabbed a washcloth, shoved it under a stream of cold water, and then raced back to her side, setting it gently down on her forehead.
It turns out that when you get a washcloth wet with the intention of putting it on someone’s forehead, though, you should really wring it out first. Because instead of resting damply on her forehead, the washcloth sent water streaming right down her face and into her ears.
Erika woke up spluttering and sat straight up, shaking her head in confusion.
When her eyes came open and she saw me, she frowned. “What are you trying to do, drown me?”
I scooped her into my arms and held her close to me, too excited to see her awake and sniping at me to even think of a quick comeback for what she’d just said. Because she was awake. My Erika was awake, and if that quick semi-joke was any indication, then she was okay. Still thinking.
And sitting in my living room.
“Wait, what are you even doing here?” I asked, pulling back from her as I remembered the question that I’d shoved aside.
Because the last time I talked to her, it had been in the US. And I didn’t remember us having made any plans for her to come to Orlo.
In fact, when I’d tried calling her—and then her bar—earlier in the day, I’d had no luck in contacting her at all. It had been like she’d just disappeared into thin air.
Now I realized that she hadn’t been answering her phone because she’d been on a plane. Coming to see me.
“Well,” she started. “First, can I have a drink or something? It’s already been a very long day, as evidenced by my fainting on your doorstep.”
I jumped back to my feet and hustled to the bar to get her some water, and she started telling me what had happened. The planning she’d done at home after I was taken away again. Her visit to her boss, and his very quick recommendation that she come here to find me.
“Henry gave me the money, can you believe that?” she said, taking the water from me and taking a long gulp, then sighing in relief. “He gave me all the money I needed for a flight and told me to go to you. I never in a million years guessed that he’d do something like that.”
I sat down next to her. “But you told me that he’s the only one who’s believed in you as much as you believed in yourself,” I said, remembering her talking fondly about the man.
“More,” she clarified. “He thinks it should be a straightforward decision to just go into music rather than working at his bar.”
I took the empty glass from her and set it on the table. “Sounds like a smart guy,” I observed. “So, you got on a plane?”
“For the first time ever,” she said with a nod. “It was horrible. I was so scared and sick the entire time, and I didn’t know what I was going to do once I got here. I didn’t know where to find you.”
I smiled at that. “You didn’t think about the palace?”
“You,” she said seriously, “are not the king. I didn’t realize you’d still live where the king lived. We don’t have royalty in the US, you know. I don’t exactly know the rules.”
I frowned suddenly, my mind running ahead of her in the story and realizing that just knowing where I lived couldn’t have solved the problem entirely.
“So you found the place, obviously. But how the hell did you get in here? I thought our security was… well, better than that.”
She laughed, then, and told me that the cabbie—who thought she was crazy, in her estimation—had dropped her off at the front gate, and she’d gone right up to the window, told them that she knew me, and demanded that she be let in.
I laughed at that. “You must have given them a heart attack.”
“Actually, no,” she said, her head tipping a bit. “The girl told me that other girls come to that window and say they know you quite often.”
“Ah,” I said, wondering just how I should respond to that. Because while it was no doubt true, that didn’t mean I actually knew the girls who came to the gate asking for me.
“Well, I don’t know them,” I finally said. “I might have traveled the world. That doesn’t mean I fall into bed with every girl I meet.”
To my surprise, Erika simply shrugged. “I figure it’s probably one of the hazards of being the local prince. You get lots of girls with crushes on you and plans to be the next princess.”
I just stared at her, so surprised at this reaction that I didn’t have a response, for once, and she kept talking.
“Anyhow, the girl called security on me—as I should have expected, really—and the next thing I know, some anonymous guy in sunglasses is showing up and saying he’s got orders to take me inside. He walked me to your door, but he must have gone before I passed out, because the next thing I remember is waking up on your couch.”
I nodded, processing all of that, but getting stuck on one major point.
“Who would give him those orders?” I asked after a moment. “It certainly wasn’t me. I didn’t receive any call about a girl at the gates saying she knew me.”
She gave me a long, considering look, and then said, “Your brother was the one who told them to let me in.”
I gulped. So Javier knew she was here.
I wondered what he thought of that. I wondered if he had any thoughts at all… or if he was just waiting in his wing of the palace, biding his time and wondering whether I was going to come explain myself.
Because I was overjoyed to see Erika, and I knew for a fact—beyond all doubt, now that she’d come halfway across the world for me—that she was the one. She was who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I wanted to make a family with her. Settle down and build a life.
But I still
had a very big hurdle to get over before I could do that. A hurdle who wanted to virtually sell me to another bidder—and who didn’t, as far as I knew, believe for one second that I could settle down with some girl from America I’d knocked up, really. No matter how much I promised I would.
That hurdle’s name was Javier. And if this was going to work, if I was going to get to keep Erika now that she was here—assuming she even wanted to stay—then we needed to convince him that this was the real deal, and not just another scheme from the troublesome younger brother.
Chapter 28
Erika
I woke up early the next day, having fallen asleep early due to a long day of travel and an almost complete lack of sleep, and when I turned over in bed, I saw Francisco dreaming. His eyelids were twitching, his lips moving like he was having a conversation with someone, and I had to work hard to stop myself from reaching out to touch him.
God, he was beautiful. All that dark, smoldering handsomeness—even without the tousled curls I’d first fallen in love with.
And yes, he might have woken me up from my fainting spell by nearly drowning me yesterday, but that didn’t change the look of absolute joy in his eyes when he’d seen me coming awake again. It also didn’t change how tightly he’d held me when I was fully conscious. It didn’t change the grin he’d been wearing when I told him that I’d come for him, the same way he’d come for me when I’d sounded upset on the phone.
I did reach out and touch him, then. Just a light brush of my pointer finger against his lip.
I smiled softly to myself. And then I got out of bed and went to have a shower. Because if I stayed in bed, I was going to end up waking him, and I didn’t want to wake him from such a sound sleep. We had a lot to talk about, and I wanted him fully rested when we did that talking.
* * *
Half an hour later, after stepping into the largest shower I’d ever been in and some of the hottest water I’d had the privilege of soaking in, I slipped into jeans and a T-shirt and padded out of the bedroom, intent on using the kitchen I’d seen yesterday, and what that fridge might hold.
I wasn’t going to risk coffee, since I didn’t know if Francisco had decaf in, but if I could get my hands on some tea and several carb-loaded items, I would be happy as could be.
I moved quickly through the hall, already figuring out how this suite/house situation worked, and barely glanced at the rooms as I passed, though I saw enough to see that there was an office and something that looked like a media room, complete with cushy seats and a larger-than-life screen on one of the walls. I also passed what must have been a games room, given the pool table, and a library that I promised myself I’d come back to later.
After I’d had food. Because one of the things I was quickly finding out about pregnancy was that when my body got hungry, it needed food immediately. Not in an hour, and not even in ten minutes. If it wanted food, it needed it now.
I got to the living room and turned left toward the kitchen, already cooking breakfast in my head. Satisfying my growing hunger—and the hunger of the baby—with ideas about what we could have to eat.
I came skidding to a stop, of course, when I saw a man in the kitchen.
He was leaning against the counter, looking at me like he’d been expecting me, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. And the eyes were the exact same eyes I’d looked into last night when I woke up on the couch.
One guess who this was, then.
“Good morning, Javier,” I said, without asking who the man was. “I believe I owe you some thanks for letting me into the palace yesterday.”
I moved past him, intent on getting to the kettle and whatever tea I could find, and equally intent on not letting this man intimidate me. I knew that he was in charge of the entire country, and that he and Francisco didn’t see eye-to-eye on many things. I knew that he’d put out an international arrest warrant for his own brother.
I also knew, based on my research, that Francisco had probably brought that upon himself.
What I didn’t know was how Javier himself was going to react to me. Or my sudden presence in his house.
I heard the smile in his voice when he answered. “I’ve already sent for breakfast for you, from the main kitchen. It’s my experience that my brother does not keep much useful food in this one. I think you’ll be more pleased with what our larger kitchen can offer.”
I turned back toward him, an answering smile on my face. Because food.
“Are they also sending the strongest green tea they can manage? Because if I’m going to eat—and I’m not going to turn you down on that offer—then I also need tea.”
He took out his phone and made a call. “Please send the strongest green tea you have, as well,” he said, his voice all command. “Yes, we’re ready now.”
As he hung up, he raised an eyebrow at me. “Will that do?”
Evidently, I thought, the charm was a family trait.
“So you’re a feeder too, eh?” I asked, moving to sit at the kitchen table, which looked like it had seen very little use.
“A feeder?” he asked, sliding into the chair across from me.
Oh. Maybe that was an American thing. Or maybe the word didn’t translate.
“Someone who enjoys feeding other people,” I clarified. “Your brother ordered food for me, too, the first day we met. Did he tell you that?”
His face changed from charming to serious so quickly that I almost missed the transition, and when he spoke again, the warmth was gone from his voice. “He’s told me very little about your relationship. In fact, I didn’t even know your name until you arrived yesterday.”
“Well, thanks for letting me in, all the same,” I responded. “Why did you?”
That won me a ghost of the smile he’d been wearing earlier. “I wanted to meet the woman my brother claims he wants to settle down with.”
My heart jumped into my mouth, and then abruptly descended into my stomach at that news. Settle down? I mean yeah, we’d talked about the baby and about telling my parents and everything, but…
We’d never gone beyond that. We’d certainly never talked about what it might mean for our future together. Something about Francisco having said that to his brother made the whole thing suddenly more solid. More real.
And something on my face must have told Javier exactly what I was thinking, because he tipped his head slightly and the smile grew.
“You didn’t know?” he asked. “That my brother wanted to settle down? Or you didn’t know that he wanted to settle down with you?”
I tipped my head back at him, trying to get a read on what answer he expected there… and then I saw something flash through his eyes. It wasn’t aggression, though his words were blunt. It was something deeper than that. Suspicion. Mistrust.
“You don’t believe I love him back,” I said, suddenly understanding. “You believe I’m just in it for the position. Because he’s royalty.”
He just stared at me for a long moment, not answering me, like he was searching his brain for what he wanted to say. And I saw that flicker again. Concern. Love for his brother.
Protectiveness.
“I don’t know if I believe either one of you,” he finally said.
I reached out and grabbed his wrist lightly. “Well, you can believe this,” I told him firmly. “We didn’t mean to find each other, and it was an accident that we did. But I don’t think either of us doubted what it was once that happened.
“I mean enough to your brother that he falsified a passport to come to me when he thought something was wrong. And he means enough to me that I dropped everything, borrowed all the money I could, and flew all the way here when I thought I wasn’t going to get to see him again. I don’t know how he feels about having a future with me, and I don’t know what it will take to convince you. But you can take one thing for a certainty: I love Francisco, and nothing you say or do is going to change that. And if that’s what you wanted to hear, then I’ll repeat it as often as
you need me to.”
Look. I’m not usually so dramatic. But something about Javier—something about the way he’d said that he didn’t trust either one of us—made me immediately defensive.
And if nothing else, I guessed this was my chance to lay it all out on the table for him.
Javier stared at me for another long moment, sizing me up. Then he put a hand over mine, where it was still resting on his wrist, and leaned forward. “I hope that’s true,” he murmured. “Because I’ll be watching to make sure.”
Then he got up and left, leaving me sitting behind him and passing someone at the door to the kitchen. Someone with a tray full of food and the promised tea.
I watched him go… and then tucked into the food, my mind on Javier’s visit—and the fact that it was obviously meant for me, and not for Francisco himself.
Not as a warning, I didn’t think. But because Javier wanted to see whether he thought I actually loved his brother. That was what I’d seen in his eyes. The possessiveness of an older brother over his younger sibling.
He wanted to make sure I wasn’t just using Francisco for a title. He wanted to be sure that I actually loved his brother. And he would be, I had no doubt, watching.
I didn’t know how long we would have to prove ourselves for. But I knew that the pressure was most definitely on. If I’d thought that getting here would be the end to this particular journey, I’d been incredibly wrong.
I still had to jump through the right hoops, evidently. And I had to get Francisco to jump with me if we were going to convince his brother and get him on board with the idea of our relationship.
Chapter 29
Erika
