Talos Claims His Virgin

by Michelle Smart

  A heavy cream-coloured A4 envelope with ‘Amalie Cartwright’ written on it with a penmanship that resembled a slash.

  Her heart thundering erratically, it was clear her body knew who the sender was before she’d torn it open.

  In the top right-hand corner was Talos’s full name, including his royal title and the palace address.

  Dear Mademoiselle Cartwright

  This letter is written to confirm the cancellation of the contract between us dated tenth March. All penalties stipulated in the contract are hereby revoked, and the Orchestre National de Paris shall continue in its current form.

  Sincerely,

  Talos Kalliakis

  Her head swimming, Amalie read it a number of times before the words sank in.

  Her stomach dived, nausea clutching her throat.

  One hand over her mouth, the other pressed against her heavy, thundering heart, she swayed into a table, fighting to stop the deluge of misery knocking her from her feet.

  He didn’t believe she could do it.

  He really had given up on her.

  It was over.

  Everything.

  His belief in her.

  Her reignited dreams of playing on a stage.

  All gone.

  But before the despair could crush her in its entirety, a thought struck her.

  Why now, on the day of the gala—the day they’d spent a month preparing for...?

  She rubbed her eyes, frantically trying to stem the tears pouring out of them, and read it one more time.

  It didn’t make any sense.

  She looked at her watch. Nine a.m. The gala would be starting in six hours. She was due onstage to perform the solo and close the gala in eleven hours. The schedule had been released to the media, who were crawling all over the island in preparation for the day’s events. At that moment heads of state were preparing to descend on the island.

  And Talos was allowing her to leave.

  No, it really did not make any sense.

  Since their last encounter she’d done nothing but think of him and his words. She’d known from the beginning that her playing his grandmother’s final composition was important to him—you didn’t blackmail and threaten someone for something trivial. Dining with his grandfather had brought the true importance of the gala to life for her. This was King Astraeus’s swansong. This was the final celebration of his life.

  And now Talos was prepared to scrap what he’d fought so hard to attain.

  His grandparents had raised him and his brothers since he was seven. His family meant everything to him. This piece of music meant everything to his entire family. Of all the things the gala represented, this was the performance that meant the most. It wasn’t just the icing on the cake; it was the sponge and filling too.

  She thought back to that evening three days ago, and the contempt in his voice when he’d ordered her to leave his villa. She’d thought then that the contempt was directed at her, but suddenly she realised it had been directed inwards, at himself.

  And suddenly she realised something else.

  For Talos to release her from the contract now meant he was putting her emotional well-being above everything.

  Talos Kalliakis was a warrior. He would fight to the bitter end, even if it meant frogmarching her onto the stage and holding her upright while she played. Their time together had proved she could play when she was with him—something he would use as a weapon in his arsenal He would carry on their affair until she’d outlived her use. He wouldn’t have lost faith in her because faith didn’t exist in his vocabulary. For Talos it was all about spirit and belief.

  She thought back to the rehearsal earlier in the week, when his presence had enabled her to play the whole piece without having to hide behind a screen. There had been pride in his brown eyes, but mingled with it had been something troubled. Now she understood what that had meant—her distress had troubled him on a personal level.

  She scrambled for her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found the gala coordinator’s name. She pressed the call button.

  ‘Has the schedule been changed?’ Amalie asked without preamble.

  ‘I was told an hour ago that the final orchestral piece has been changed,’ the coordinator replied. ‘I’m still waiting to hear what it’s been changed to.’

  ‘But my orchestra will still be performing the final piece?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Disconnecting the call, Amalie rubbed a hand over her mouth, then dialled Melina’s number. The kickboxing instructor’s froideur towards her had thawed over time—enough so that she’d given Amalie her number.

  ‘Melina? I need your help...’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE GALA WAS proving to be a huge success. The open-air theatre was filled; not a single seat was free. The day had started with Helios announcing his engagement to Princess Catalina of Monte Cleure, and then the guests had been treated to a variety of acts—from a children’s choir to a world-famous circus troupe—and each in turn had been given rapturous applause.

  Talos was too keyed up to enjoy it.

  He’d sat down with his grandfather that morning and explained that Amalie would not be performing after all. He’d told him that the orchestra had rehearsed in Paris with another violinist before flying over, and how that violinist was prepared to take the role.

  His grandfather had looked him straight in the eye and replied, ‘An understudy won’t do. We both know Amalie is the one.’

  Talos had responded with a sharp nod, refusing to think of the undertone in his grandfather’s words or the expression in his eyes as he’d said them.

  The penultimate act was on stage now; Agon’s Royal Ballet School, performing a condensed version of the Nutcracker Suite with the accompaniment of Agon’s Royal Orchestra. Ballet bored him at the best of times, but tonight he didn’t notice a single thing about it. As hard as he tried to concentrate, his mind was with Amalie.

  His grandfather, sitting to his left with a blanket snug over his lap, was thoroughly enjoying it all, nodding along to the more upbeat performances and snoozing his way through those that failed to capture his attention.

  If Helios and his new fiancée were enjoying it they were doing a fine job of pretending otherwise, the atmosphere between them decidedly frosty. And Theseus... He might as well not be there, for all the attention he was paying to the acts.

  Finally the ballet finished and the curtains closed so that the Orchestre National de Paris could set up with privacy. Talos could not care less what piece they chose to play as a replacement. His only stipulation was that it must not be the ‘Méditation’ from Thaïs.

  The compère, a famous American comedian, came onstage and told some jokes to keep the crowd entertained. They’d been sitting in the amphitheatre for over five hours but showed no sign of restlessness.

  The audience burst into a roar of laughter at a joke the compère had told but Talos hadn’t heard a word of it.

  Grinning hugely, the compère pressed a finger to his ear, listening to his earpiece, then raised a hand for silence.

  ‘It is now time for the final performance,’ he said, becoming solemn. ‘As this is such a special occasion only the most special performance can be allowed to finish it. Ladies and gentlemen, performing the final composition of this beautiful island’s Queen Rhea, I give you the Orchestre National de Paris and their celebrated violinist, Amalie Cartwright.’

  What...?

  Loud applause broke out, and the curtains were drawn back to reveal the orchestra already seated.

  Heart thumping, Talos’s first thought was that someone had forgotten to tell the compère about the change. It had been too late to alter the programmes, so they’d agreed that the
compère would inform the audience that Amalie had been taken ill.

  He got to his feet, ready to find out what had gone wrong.

  Then he spotted the figure standing at the front left-hand side of the stage.

  His heart twisted into a clenched fist. He couldn’t move; his feet seemed rooted to the floor until his grandfather took hold of his wrist and gently tugged it.

  Unable to move his eyes away from her, he sat back down, breathing heavily.

  Amalie looked beautiful. Divine. She wore a snug-fitting mid-thigh-length dress, with a scooped neckline and short sleeves. Its red wine colour set her apart from her orchestra, who all wore black. It highlighted the paleness of her skin, and with her hair swept up in an elegant knot she looked fragile. Incredibly fragile. And scared—like the rabbit caught in the headlights he’d found in the Parisian practice room all those long weeks ago.

  Her eyes searched his side of the crowd until she found the royal box. It was too dark for her to pick him out but he swore that she found him.

  The conductor stood before the orchestra and silence fell. The first pluck from the string section echoed out, then the whisper of the flutes.

  Amalie’s teeth bit into her lip before she placed her violin under her chin and put her bow in position. She straightened, visibly strengthening. Then she closed her eyes, listened for her cue and played the first note.

  Talos held his breath. Beside him, he heard his brothers and grandfather hold their breaths too. It had been an open secret around the palace that the star soloist was suffering from a severe case of stage fright.

  Their worry was unfounded.

  Her eyes scrunched tightly shut, Amalie began to play.

  When she’d played the piece for him in the bedroom the beauty of the underlying melody had made his heart expand. Coupled with the accompanying orchestral arrangement it was taken to a whole new level of beauty, heightening the sensation he’d experienced that first time, pulling him into a swell of emotion.

  Watching her, the sway of her hips as she played with the whole of her body, the marvel of her finger-work, the purity of her vibrato...

  The child prodigy was reborn—a virtuoso of such melodic stature that he was certain there couldn’t be a dry eye in the amphitheatre.

  As she approached the climax of the piece—the part that tore his heart into shreds—her eyes flew open and found the royal box. She was crying, he realised, huge tears falling down her cheeks.

  His grandfather tugged at his sleeve for attention.

  Blinking away the burn at the back of his eyes, Talos felt his chest constrict to see his grandfather’s face also swimming with tears.

  ‘Surely my fighter of a grandson isn’t so scared of a woman’s love that he would throw away his one chance of true happiness?’ he asked in a choked voice.

  It was as if his grandfather had stared right into his heart and read what was there. And in that moment the truth hit him with full force.

  Suddenly it was there, as if he’d always known. There in his head. In his heart.

  He’d fallen in love with her.

  As epiphanies went, it beat them all.

  He loved her.

  Gazing back at the beautiful woman who held the thousands in the audience in silent captivation, he had never felt so full; as if his heart and chest had expanded so much they could explode out of him.

  Theos, she was magnificent...holding her composure right until the final note played out.

  The applause was instantaneous.

  Everybody got to their feet, orchestra and crowd alike.

  Wiping her face with shaking hands, Amalie bowed to the royal box, then bowed again to the audience at large. The conductor strode over to her, clapping hard, then put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheeks, then bowed to her. She laughed and put a hand over her mouth, so clearly overwhelmed at the reaction that Talos wanted to run on to the stage and scoop her into his arms.

  But this was her moment, and she needed to cherish it.

  She found the royal box again, kissed her hand, then pointed it at his grandfather, more tears falling down her cheeks.

  The crowd were calling for an encore.

  * * *

  Amalie, the rest of the Orchestre National de Paris and all the other performers were whisked back inside the palace for the after-gala do.

  She took the offered champagne and drank it with gratitude, still dazed at what she had accomplished.

  She had done it.

  Her parents had both messaged her.

  Her father’s message had read: I’m very proud of you, sweetheart—maybe the old dream of playing together at Carnegie Hall might one day come true xxx, while her mother’s had been much longer and more rambling, but filled with just as much pride.

  On impulse, she’d messaged them both back, suggesting the two of them celebrate together. Life was too short to be miserable, and far too short to be alone. They’d been divorced from each other almost as long as they’d been married, and still neither of them was happy without the other. If there was one thing Amalie had learned during her time on Agon it was that it was time to forgive the past. They needed to forgive it too.

  A gong rang out, which brought everyone in the ballroom to attention. A courtier entered the room and announced the arrival of His Majesty King Astraeus and the Princes Helios, Theseus and Talos.

  Her stomach somersaulted as a different courtier approached to lead her over to the royal family. She’d been warned that she would be the first one to be addressed by them.

  Taking a deep breath, she finished her champagne and followed him to where the royal family were lined up, awaiting her. The other guests were forming an orderly queue, and she was taken to the head of it.

  The King, frail in his wheelchair, broke into a smile to see her and grabbed her hands with surprising strength to tug her down to him. A tear trailed down his cheek. ‘Thank you, despinis. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

  Her own eyes filled. Hadn’t she cried enough for one evening? Having not cried in years, her life being too safe for anything emotional to pierce her, it was as if her tear ducts were now making up for it.

  ‘It was an honour,’ she whispered.

  This time it was the King who breached protocol, planting a kiss to her cheek, and then he indicated for his nurse to wheel him out, leaving the queue of people behind her staring in disbelief as the King left his own party.

  Theseus was next in line, and surprised her by ignoring her hand and clumsy curtsy to kiss her on both cheeks. His eyes were a darker brown than Talos’s, and rang with a strong emotion he didn’t have to put into words.

  Helios was even more demonstrative, pulling her into his arms for a tight embrace and whispering in her ear, ‘My family honours you—our island is your home for as long as you want it to be.’

  And then it was Talos’s turn.

  Jaw clenched, he shook her hand formally—his own had a bandage wrapped tightly around its forefinger and index finger—and bowed as she made her curtsy.

  She met his eyes. ‘You’ve hurt your hand...’ She thought back to the punch he’d given the wall of his office, and to the time she’d found him thumping that punching bag without protective gloves on.

  ‘It’ll heal.’ A pulse throbbed beneath his ear, the black pupils of his eyes thick and dilating as he gazed at her without speaking any further.

  She didn’t know what to say. She knew he cared for her, but that didn’t mean anything had changed. No matter how his feelings for her had developed, it didn’t change the fact that he was a lone wolf.

  Did lone wolves ever pair up?

  Aware of the other performers jostling next to her, eager to have their audience with him, she turned to walk away but a huge arm hooked around her waist.
r />   ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he said roughly, pulling her away from the line.

  Joy filled her so rapidly she felt her toes lifting with the extra air it generated. ‘I was letting the others have their audience with you.’

  ‘I don’t want an audience with anyone but you.’ He steered her further away from the line approaching the Princes, now a good two hundred people deep.

  ‘Shouldn’t you stay with your brothers?’

  His massive shoulders lifted into a nonchalant shrug. ‘They can handle it.’

  She couldn’t prevent the smile that broadened across her face so widely she felt it pull at every muscle in her face.

  Talos wanted privacy for them. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his brothers and hundreds of guests watching.

  Gripping her hand firmly, he steered her out of the ballroom and through all the corridors they’d travelled together three weeks before. He hadn’t expected her to agree so readily to his request to talk. After the way he’d spoken to her the other night he hadn’t expected much more from her than a possible slap around the face.

  He also hadn’t expected that she would hold his hand as tightly as he held hers—so tightly it was as if she didn’t want to let it go...

  Punching in the security code for his private apartment, he led her inside. Dropping his hold on her hand, he strode to the high window of his living area, braced himself, and then turned around to face her properly.

  ‘Before I say anything further I need to apologise for forcing you to come here to my island. The contract I made you sign and the pressure I put you under was unforgivable.’

  She smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  What was she smiling for? ‘There is no excuse.’

  ‘Maybe not, but I forgave you ages ago.’

  ‘I treated you abysmally. I refused to take you or your fears seriously because I am an arrogant bastard who thinks only of himself.’

  ‘The arrogant bit is true...’ She nodded, her eyes ringing with what looked startlingly like compassion. ‘But the rest of your self-assessment is wrong. If you had blackmailed me for your own needs I would never have forgiven you, but it wasn’t for selfish reasons. You did it for your grandfather...because you love him.’