by A. C. Arthur
“You know what I mean.”
Roland shook his head. “I don’t, Valora. So why don’t you just come straight out and say what you’ve planned to say to me? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing in the time since you left me naked in your bed? Planning how this conversation was going to go?”
“There’s nothing wrong with planning,” she argued.
“To each their own,” Roland replied with a shrug. Yes, he was really agitated now.
“This was good, Roland. But it will never work.”
“I’m sure you have reasons for coming to that conclusion. I’d like to hear them,” he said, knowing his voice sounded stern, possibly even cold. He wasn’t in the mood to care right now.
“Well, for one, like I said, you’re a prince. You’re the brother of the first prince I was supposed to be engaged to.”
He shook his head. “We’ve already been down this road. You know as well as I do that you and Kris were never really engaged. Try again.”
For a moment she looked shocked. That quickly changed to irritation. Good, he thought. Let her see how she liked this feeling.
“I do not walk in the same social circles as you and your family. I’m not used to royal dinners, expensive gowns and traveling the world.”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t aware that I’d requested you do any of those things.”
She folded her arms across her chest again, only to drop them quickly in a move that looked like it would only be complete if she stomped a foot and screamed. She did not, of course, which was a relief to Roland. She did, however, laugh.
It was an odd sound, considering the tone their conversation had taken, but Roland was past the point of surprise by now.
“The most obvious reason, if you even cared to know one thing about the type of person I am,” she told him, “is that I don’t do one-night stands. I’m not cut out to be a mistress or your chick on the side. When I begin sleeping with a man, I expect there to be some sort of commitment on both ends. I do not expect to wake up one morning a week later and see my lover in the arms of another woman. His next flavor of the week, so to speak.”
And there was that. Roland hadn’t given any thought to his other dalliances, not since seeing Valora topless and vulnerable in her father’s house. He hadn’t even considered how she must feel about that part of his reputation, because up until this moment, she’d never mentioned it. When he’d brought it up on the picnic, she’d brushed it right under the rug with the false rumors that were traveling around about her. Now she was voicing her concern, a very real and deep one, from the change in her tone.
“And another thing, I don’t want to be kept a secret,” she continued, and this time she crossed the distance between them to stand toe-to-toe with him. “I don’t want to have to sneak around with the man I’m sleeping with, not anymore. If I’m going to be in a relationship with someone, it’s going to be all-in or nothing. We’re both going to work on a real and healthy relationship, or I’m not getting involved. That’s what I deserve and that’s all I’ll accept.”
He was quiet because he had no idea what to say. Of all the ways this conversation could have gone, Roland wasn’t sure he’d imagined it going this way. Yes, he knew she was aiming at a “this has been nice but let’s not kid ourselves” sort of speech, but in his own casual way he’d been prepared to tear that to shreds. The real, deep and valid reason she’d just stated for not wanting any part of him was something totally different. At least, for him.
“Exactly,” she finally said with a shake of her head. “You don’t know what to say because this is not your territory. You’re not used to being the one left alone in bed, nor are you used to being approached with parameters and demands. It’s always been Roland’s way. Well, Your Highness, I’m sorry to inform you that I will not be taking any more trips on the Prince Roland Simon DeSaunters fun train. This is where I get off.”
He was almost positive this hadn’t been part of her plan, so when Valora stormed out of the room and he heard her bedroom door slam, Roland did not move.
He did not chase women. He’d never had to.
He did not give in to demands or make any concessions for the women in his life. Again, that hadn’t been in his repertoire. So Roland did what he was used to doing. He made sure he had his car keys and his wallet in his pants pocket and his jacket still in hand, and he walked out her front door, closing it quietly behind him.
She didn’t want him there anymore. That had come through all that she’d said and done loud and clear. So he would leave and he wouldn’t come back, because Prince Roland Simon DeSaunters didn’t have to convince a woman to want him.
Now, however, he did have to figure out a way to not to want Valora Harrington as badly as he still did.
* * *
“You look tired, son,” Rafe said to Roland as they sat together by the pool.
He was actually exhausted.
After leaving Valora’s house yesterday morning he’d returned to his cliff house to take a long hot shower. When that failed to ease the turmoil inside him, he’d gone into his home gym and worked out for almost two hours. That was when his body screamed in agony and threatened to completely shut down if he didn’t stop. Another shower, a bowl of rice pudding that had been left over from his picnic and a half gallon of water later and he’d felt somewhat normal.
He’d spent the remainder of the afternoon going through spreadsheets and financial projections, taking notes and trying desperately not to think of Valora. That evening, he hadn’t fared as well. He’d lain in bed, wide-awake, until he was tired of lying there and not sleeping. For the duration of the night hours he’d sat in a recliner staring out at his mountains and thinking about his life.
The next morning, Roland had decided that he definitely needed to get out of the house. He’d taken a long drive, ending at the beach where he’d stood and watched the waves rolling in, remembering the day Valora had sat next to him, smiling and enjoying crab salad. Eventually, he’d ended up at the palace, where he lay back on a lounge chair across from his father, staring at the sparkling chlorinated water in the infinity pool.
“I’m fine, Dad,” Roland replied to his father’s keen observation. “It’s good to see you up and around.”
Rafe waved away Roland’s words as he reached for the glass of lemonade on the small table between their chairs. He took a sip and returned the glass to the table.
“I told them I feel fine, too,” he said. “But they insist I sit here and do nothing but stare out at the water. The sun does feel good on my skin after being cooped up in the hospital these past couple days.”
His father did look better. It seemed he’d lost a pound or two, but that could be because today he wore slacks and a polo shirt instead of the suit and tie Roland was used to seeing him in. Rafe was a stickler for being dressed for success at all times. A leader should always look like he’s prepared to lead, he would say. Today, however, his father was the epitome of relaxation.
“The beach is so much better,” Roland said.
He’d already admitted that today he was unwilling to stop thinking about Valora. Yesterday he’d sworn he was unable to stop the thoughts, but in the light of a new day he’d reconciled with the truth.
“Your mother thought so, too,” Rafe replied. Then after a few seconds he continued. “Malayka doesn’t like the sand.”
“Two very different women,” Roland told him. “Very, very different.”
“I love her anyway,” his father said.
Roland looked over to him. He wore sunglasses and his dark brown skin had a glossy sheen, which Roland figured was from the sunscreen his father wore.
“How do you know you love her?” Roland asked him.
Rafe folded his hands over his stomach.
“Because I can’t stop thinking about her,” h
is father replied simply. “The night after we met, I thought about her until the early-morning hours. I only knew her name but I had to see her again. It took hours for my assistant to find her in that hotel in New York. We had a late lunch that next day and dinner that night. That’s how it started.”
“Yes,” Roland replied. He thought of a poker game, a sucky hand of cards and a misbuttoned blouse. “That’s how it starts.”
“I knew Malayka was not who anyone expected me to choose,” Rafe continued. “She was everything your mother wasn’t and as far from the royal palace as any woman could be. Yet she laughed at my jokes. Her nose didn’t wrinkle at the smell of my cigar. Her hand fit perfectly into mine.”
“Does it matter to you that we don’t think she’s going to fit perfectly here in the palace?” Roland asked his father the question that had been bothering him and his siblings the past months.
“Yes,” Rafe answered. “Just as it bothers me that someone has been trying to harm us and is now on the loose. All of this bothers me, Roland. I know you may not understand how I deal with things, but it does bother me.”
“I understand,” Roland told him. “You just never thought I did.”
“No, you’re wrong, son,” Rafe said as he turned his head in Roland’s direction.
Roland met his father’s gaze.
“I always knew you had the capacity to understand everything that went on in this palace. You were always a bright child. And unlike your brother and sister, you were adventurous and courageous to a fault. Every time I turned around you were jumping off some piece of furniture, riding your bike down the grand foyer stairs, breaking your arm and almost drowning when you were three and jumped into five feet of water.”
Rafe chuckled.
“Your mother and I thought we’d surely die of fright each time you got out of bed in the morning. We had no idea what you were going to do, no matter how many nannies were hired to watch over you.”
Roland smiled as he recalled some of his nannies.
“I always felt different than Kris and Sam,” he admitted.
“You were different,” Rafe told him. “Each of you were different and special. Your mother and I loved you so. When you lost her, I lost her, too.”
“I know, Dad.”
“These past few months have been really good to watch Kris and Sam find love. I know there’s no other feeling like it.”
“And you’ve found it again,” Roland stated.
“Yes. I have.”
He wondered how his father was going to feel when they proved that Malayka had something to do with the incidents that had taken place in the past few months. Would he feel as bereft as Roland did right now?
“You can find love, too, Roland,” Rafe’s words interrupted his thoughts.
“Excuse me?”
Rafe chuckled. “You heard me correctly,” he said. “You can fall in love, too. There’s a woman out there for you. If only you’d stop running long enough for her to catch up to you.”
Roland frowned. “I’m not running.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” Rafe said as he turned back to staring at the water. “You’ve been running all your life. But I think it’s about time you slowed down. If you do, you might be surprised at who ends up standing next to you.”
* * *
Nobody was standing next to Roland. Not a half hour after he’d left his father and was walking down one of the long hallways in the palace. He’d been looking at the paintings that hung in heavy gold frames throughout the fortress he’d once called home. Studying each portrait and landscape, looking for that burst of energy he’d seen in Valora’s paintings. He hadn’t found it.
Yet he did hear a sound toward the end of the hallway. Stepping away from the wall, Roland stared down to where the hall split in two directions. One went to the kitchens and the staff’s quarters, and the other went to the doors leading to the palace storage facility. Considering a bomber had made his way inside the palace in the guise of a construction worker, Roland didn’t think he was being silly at all when he saw a shadow going toward the storage area and decided to follow it.
He jogged down the length of the hallway, coming to a stop just in time to see one of the doors closing. Roland immediately moved in that direction, taking the three stairs that led to a lower level with ease. The scent of perfume alone was enough to alarm him. It was familiar. Expensive, abrasive with its tangy floral aroma. Malayka.
He wasn’t just a man who loved women, he was a man who knew women very well. Even down to their perfume. Roland followed the scent.
She moved past the first couple of rooms, stopping at the very end of the space and opening the last door. She stepped inside. Roland was only a few steps behind. It was dark in the room, but Malayka had not turned on the lights. Roland did that for her.
She gasped as she turned in surprise to stare at him.
“Did you forget something?” he asked.
Moving a hand to her chest—to cover her heart, Roland supposed—Malayka looked at him with irritation clear on her face.
“You’re not funny,” she told him. “Don’t you have a poker game to play or some woman to screw? What are you doing down here?”
And so the gloves were off. Roland smiled. He was totally okay with that.
“Sure I do,” he replied. “But I’d much rather see what you’re up to.”
She brushed down the front of her clothes—a pale blue jumpsuit with a gold chain belt at her waist—as if there were something on her. There wasn’t, but he suspected she needed to do something, anything to keep his focus off what she was doing down there.
“I’m walking around my house, that’s what I’m doing. Do you have a problem with that?”
When Roland only arched a brow at her she shook her head.
“Look, I don’t care what you, your brother or your sister think. Your father and I are getting married, so the three of you might as well get used to it. You’re all supposed to be adults. This running and telling Daddy that I’m the wicked stepmother is childish and unnecessary,” she told him.
“Is it really?” he asked, keeping his gaze fixed on her.
She’d begun moving through the space. There were dozens of boxes stacked high along one wall. On the opposite side were shelves, five rows of them. More boxes and what looked like filled garbage bags were stored there.
“Yes, it is. Just like you sniffing around behind the woman your brother was supposed to marry is unscrupulous and just plain nasty.”
After that insult, she pulled down a box and acted as if she were looking for something inside of it. Roland wasn’t fooled for a minute. The last place in this entire palace that Malayka Sampson would willingly go was into these storage rooms. They were dank and cool and full of stuff they either no longer wanted or just couldn’t figure out what to do with. So, what was the real reason she was down here? He planned to find out.
“You’ll find that I can take insults just as well as I can dish them out,” he said, and moved so that he was once again only a few inches away from her.
She looked up at him, her lips upturned and eyes narrowing.
“What do you want, Roland? Why are you down here?” she snapped.
“I want to know what you’re up to,” he told her.
“I’m looking for something if you don’t mind.”
“What would that be, Malayka? A detonator to the next bomb? Or perhaps your gloves, so you can tamper with another one of our cars?”
She shook her head and replaced the box she’d been going through. Grabbing another box, she didn’t spare him a glance. “You don’t even know how silly you sound. Why would I try to kill the man I’m going to marry?”
“That’s a good question,” he said, and was very proud of himself for resisting the urge to simply sha
ke the truth out of this conniving woman.
“Right,” she said, and whirled around to face him once more. “It is a good question and I’ve got one for you, too. You and your siblings think I’m after your father for his money and the title, but if that were the case, why would I try to kill him before I could get my hands on either?”
Roland didn’t even blink. He, Kris and Sam had thought of that before. They hadn’t come up with an answer. He wondered if Malayka was about to provide him with one.
“Why don’t you explain that part to me,” he told her. “And while you’re at it, tell me how it is that your hairstylist, the man who was only allowed into the palace because of you, also turned out to be the mastermind behind the car accident, the bombing and the shooting, which was aimed at my sister?”
She didn’t immediately respond.
Roland laughed.
“Come on, Malayka. I know you’ve got to have an answer for that one. A woman like you is all about planning. You don’t leave out a detail or allow for any scenario changes. So why don’t you go ahead and clear this up, once and for all.”
There was silence for a few seconds. A sort of standoff was taking place and Roland wasn’t going to be the first to buckle. Malayka was first as she closed the distance between them and lifted a hand to lightly touch his cheek.
“What’s the matter, Roland? You jealous because nobody’s giving you any attention? Well, let me remedy that for you,” she said, a slow smile spreading across her face.
Roland grabbed her wrist. “Don’t. Touch. Me,” he said through gritted teeth.
It was Malayka’s turn to laugh. “Oh, don’t kid yourself, baby. I would never make a move for a guy like you. Too insecure and immature for my tastes. That’s why I fell in love with your father. Rafe’s a real man. He not only knows how to lead a country, but he also knows how to treat a woman. That means he’s not into sneaking in and out of a woman’s house in the early-morning hours so that nobody will see him, and he certainly doesn’t resort to meals on a dirty beach instead of taking me to a fine restaurant. Rafe gives me nothing but the best, from his personal and physical attention, to making sure that everyone, and I mean everyone, including his spoiled and selfish children, show me the respect I deserve.”
