Some Like it Secret (Going Royal Book 4)

by Long, Heather

  “Men. Brilliantly possessive, incredibly protective, and wildly hardheaded. And you let him leave?”

  “I could hardly stop him.” What did Kate want her to do?

  “All right, I’ll grant you that. Let me ask you this, what are you doing on this plane?”

  “I’m flying home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because—”Meredith stopped. Because Sebastian made the arrangements and told her she was going home. Because Sebastian wanted her somewhere safe and far away from him while he risked his life. Because—

  “And now she’s thinking again.” Kate picked up her phone.

  Every decision he’d made with regard to their relationship was driven by the need to protect her and… to help me achieve my dreams. Isn’t that what he said? I wanted to be a tenured professor. I wanted to be published. I wanted to write my own ticket for the types of problems I wanted to solve…and I have all of those things. Her achievements came at a price—being excluded from Sebastian’s life, at least the public side of it.

  She’d never questioned his devotion to his family, but even with them, he’d buried his own dreams—his paintings—so he could help his brother. The trip to Belaria, literally walking into the lion’s den, he did for the rest of his family and for her. He put everyone else before himself. Who put Sebastian first?

  “I don’t suppose I can change the course on this flight, can I?” Would the pilot even listen to her? She and Sebastian weren’t even formally engaged, at least, she didn’t think they were.

  “Well, it’s definitely a possibility, but I didn’t tell you all of this so you’d rush to be at his side. He wasn’t wrong when he said this trip is dangerous.” Was the other woman reconsidering her suggestion? Too bad.

  “I should probably talk to Armand…” Hopefully he wouldn’t mind her calling him by his given name. “I don’t suppose you have his number?”

  After unbuckling her seatbelt, Kate rose and held out the cell phone. “Sebastian asked me to bring this for you. It has direct contact numbers for everyone in the family, including my fiancé. Before you call His Highness, I’d suggest Mr. Voldakov as this is his plane.”

  Meredith stared at the phone as though it might actually bite her and then blinked as the other woman headed down the aisle. “Where are you going?”

  “To call Peterson. If you’re heading for Belaria, we’re going to need boots on the ground.” Kate grinned wryly. “Then I have to call Richard, so he doesn’t have an aneurism about me going with you.”

  “Is he going to get mad?” She didn’t want to cause problems for Kate Braddock, no matter how beautifully she’d manipulated the argument. Although Meredith noted the manipulation, she’d give credit where credit was due—Kate’s actions jarred her out of the pit of self-despair. It was a well-deserved kick in the ass.

  “Probably, but like I said, you want to be involved, you involve yourself. Richard loves this family, and so do I. Since I lit the match, I have no problem seeing it through. We’re still going to take precautions.” Kate glanced over at Claude. “Aren’t we, Mr. Gencome?”

  “Absolutely, Miss Braddock. I would, however, appreciate it if you two never planned world domination.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Kate winked at Meredith with a grin. “We’d be great at it.” With that, she left Meredith alone to make her final decision. She could choose to call Daniel Voldakov and ask him to change the plane’s flight orders. She could head to Belaria and find Sebastian, and then park herself at his side. But I’m a professor of mathematics, not some action heroine in an Angelina Jolie movie.

  She worked with variables and equations. Everything about the trip was out of her realm of experience. It’s like when you’re in classroom. You have to be firm, but compassionate. Sebastian’s words echoed back at her. We don’t want their throne, so we have to prove we don’t to them…

  The uncertainty principle inherent in every equation relied on balancing factors. Even a decimal point off could change the whole result. Scrolling through the contact list, Meredith selected Daniel’s name and pressed dial. When he answered, she took a deep breath. “Mr. Voldakov—” She paused. They’d corresponded for months and talked on a few occasions. “Daniel? It’s Meredith Blake. I need your help to move a decimal.”

  Chapter Twelve

  A headache pulsed behind Sebastian’s right eye and fatigue weighed him down like the chains of Marley’s ghost, but the Canadian ambassador seemed far from done with his long-winded explanation of how negotiations would proceed. Jacobs, it seemed, was a thorough man. For a split-second, Sebastian’s gaze collided with the Kachusov’s who served as diplomatic secretary for the Belarian government and host to their back-room talks.

  The faint smile accompanied by a roll of eyes united them on this issue. They both wanted the ambassador to be quiet. An illuminating moment considering the window dressing set around the opportunity for a member of the Andraste family to negotiate directly with the Kachusovs. A whisper of fabric behind him and motion warned Sebastian of Vidal’s approach. Each representative was allowed one bodyguard or personal aid.

  “Please forgive the intrusion, Your Highness, but there’s been a development.” The man’s low-voiced warning was interrupted when the doors to the darkened conference room opened and Sebastian’s heart hurtled to his feet.

  Meredith stepped inside with Gencome a single pace behind her. Every man at the table rose. If Vidal hadn’t tapped his arm, Sebastian would have circled the table to rush Meredith right the hell back out of the room.

  The Canadian ambassador turned with a wide smile. “Oh, excellent. I was worried I would have to further bore my audience. Forgive me, gentleman,” the ambassador continued. “Please allow me to introduce Doctor Meredith Blake. She’s a professor of mathematical theory and I think you will find her insights are invaluable to our negotiations, particularly with regard to the variables we’re discussing. Also, I hear congratulations are in order. Since we’re all discreet here, I would like to welcome the next member of the Andraste family to the table.”

  If his heart had been attached to a yo-yo string, it couldn’t have rebounded from the ground to chest and back again with greater alacrity. Meredith met his gaze with a smile, but instead of walking straight to him, she paused to shake hands with each of the attendees and accept their congratulations. Others spoke to him, and he must have nodded and responded correctly, but he never took his attention away Meredith, not when she stopped right in front of the Kachusov attaché.

  “I was not aware the grand duke announced an engagement to such a lovely American.” The man’s hand lingered on Meredith’s, but she shrugged.

  “We are waiting to the end of the semester. I’ve been exceptionally busy teaching and am mentoring several doctoral candidates. Couple my academic responsibilities with His Highness’ public schedule, and we thought it best to wait. Once his calendar is free, he can take a step back. It’s lovely to meet you.” And then she was on the move again.

  What the hell is she up to?

  It was an agonizing three minutes before she’d reached his side. When she tilted her chin up and gave him an expectant look, he obliged her with a kiss to her cheek. Violently aware of their audience, he paused to murmur against her ear. “What are you doing?”

  “Making a choice,” she replied and slipped out of her jacket. Sebastian helped her and pulled out her chair. Once she was seated, everyone resumed their places and Gencome took a stance directly behind her.

  “What choice?” He clasped his hands together and directed the low-whisper to her.

  Instead of answering, Meredith glanced at their audience. “Now, gentlemen, please forgive His Highness. I’ve caught him rather off guard. Surprising him is half the fun, but onto more serious matters…after conversations with Mr. Jacob and Mr. Hannah,” she gestured to the Canadian and Australian ambassadors, “as well as my own research, I realized this is more of a trade negotiation. You’re all looking to make the most
equitable arrangements possible which means the biggest question on the table is how to get what each of you wants without giving up things you don’t want to lose.”

  Her gaze fixed on the Kachusov attaché, and he leaned back in his chair. “Indeed, Doctor Blake. That is exactly what we all want, though I doubt any of us would put it so boldly.”

  “Because you’re diplomats and business people. I’m a teacher. I know my students can’t answer a question if they don’t know what the actual question is.”

  “Well said.” Hopkins, the British Ambassador smiled. “With Dr. Blake’s wisdom in mind, gentleman, let’s take the time to address what we want and then see who has the power to make it happen.”

  Pockets of conversation erupted around the room and Meredith glanced at him finally, her nut-brown eyes filled with utter sobriety. “Talk to him,” she said quietly. He didn’t have to ask who she meant. Like him, the attaché was there for just such an opportunity and all the smoke and mirrors in the room were designed to allow him to liaison directly with the family who wanted his dead.

  Sebastian wasn’t sure whether to be furious with her or grateful. The last place in the world she should be was exactly where he’d always wanted her—at his side. “Meredith…” Words failed him.

  “I know, but the variable of time is not going to wait for us. Tick tock, make peace, Your Highness.”

  Catching her hand, he lifted it and kissed her knuckles once before he turned to face Kachusov. By silent agreement, they both rose and moved away from the others. Up close and personal, Mikael Kachusov was an inch shorter than him and he possessed thinning hair on his pate, but he wasn’t more than a decade older.

  “So, we shall put our cards on the table. That was quite the gamble, bringing the professor.” Kachusov half-smirked. “Interesting ploy with the woman.”

  “Have a little respect for her.” Sebastian folded his arms. “She’s got more sense than the two of us put together. But she’s right, we do need our cards on the table. No more half-truths, innuendo or polite, political discussions.”

  “Very well.” Mikael nodded once. “You and your family should cease any and all efforts within Belaria and go away. We do not want you here.”

  “Your party doesn’t want us here. The royalists do. But you’ve never bothered to find out what the Andrastes want.” He’d been trained for as long as he could remember to avoid direct statements. To couch terms in the expedient, if polite, terms and to avoid committing to any one true course. Suggestion, his father often said, allowed listeners to draw their own conclusions, favorable or not.

  The other man studied him with a frown. Reaching into his pocket, he brought out a half-crushed pack of cigarettes. “Do you care if I smoke?”

  “Not at all. One good thing about closed door sessions is we can smoke, drink or dance around naked.” The last earned a half-smile and Sebastian waited a beat while the other man lit his cigarette. Vidal was nearby, as was Kachusov’s man, but both guards kept a discreet distance.

  “An odd turn of phrase for a prince,” Mikael said on the exhale.

  Sebastian shrugged. “I’m an odd kind of prince.”

  “Are you?” The tip of the man’s cigarette flared. “You all seem rather the same to me. A mere accident of birth places you ahead of others.”

  “The only thing my birth granted me was a life surrounded by bodyguards and a target on my back from families like yours who assume our genetics predispose us to ruling.” There was something freeing about addressing this entire topic in blunt form.

  “Then perhaps a different life would be more suitable—and safer—for you and your brothers. One well beyond the limelight.” Mikael straightened.

  Negotiation had been Armand’s idea, as he wanted a peaceful settlement. Sebastian, however, was done with being threatened, especially with Meredith sitting less than a half-dozen steps away. “And less thuggish tactics might benefit your family because you realize there are only really two ways to respond to the way you’re playing the game.”

  He had the man’s full attention. “That sounds very much like an implied threat.”

  “Well, then let me restate myself so I’m explicitly clear.” Sebastian hardened his tone and his heart. “Mikael, you’re a minor functionary in your family. You have no military record and no real pull with your grand-uncle, the colonel. However, what you do have is a family of your own—a wife and children. Your uncle keeps coming after my family because he’s worried we’re a threat to your political control. The consistent and regular attempts on my family’s lives stops or our lack of interest in the throne is going to evaporate.”

  He paused for a moment to let the man absorb the information. “And I’m going to walk out those doors and announce the return of the Grand Dukes of Andraste to Belaria. We just donated seven million dollars to the health care fund, and another ten million to house orphans and single mothers, a really rampant problem in the declining economy of your nation. Who do you think the people will want? A dictator or a King?”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  Any other time, Mikael might have been right. “Why should we bluff? You’re going to try to assassinate us no matter what we do, so why shouldn’t we satisfy the people? We’ll leave it to the people of Belaria to vote. How do you think they’d like it if your family ended up on the wrong side of this issue? It’s not like radicals would take offense to your trying to kill us.” Sebastian let his smile chill because while he’d never asked for this life, he was through running. “Or try to even the score?”

  Mikael put out the cigarette. “It would broker civil war in my country. My country.”

  “Call it mutually assured destruction. You keep bringing this war to my family, we’ll bring it to yours.” Sebastian glanced over at Meredith where she spoke with an assistant to the British ambassador. “Play the numbers, Mikael. You have lot more to lose and we’ve been surviving your attempts for a lot longer.”

  Pivoting, Sebastian let him chew on the threat and returned to the table. Meredith gave him a small smile and reached for his hand. Her fingers were like ice, but he took it gratefully. It took hours, but the conversations begun in earnest with Meredith’s arrival finally began to wind down. Seeing his opportunity to withdraw, he leaned over to murmur, “When we’re done here—”

  She squeezed his hand. “I have a flight to catch.” Her reply caught him by surprise. “You have three more days of events, and I have an appointment I need to keep.”

  He frowned. “What appointment?”

  “Your mother invited me for tea.” Meredith smiled. “Besides, you have work to do.”

  Utterly dissatisfied with her response, he made their excuses and escorted her to the door. Once in the hallway, his security team—and apparently hers, since the number present seemed to have doubled in size—fell in around them. He found a quiet corner and rounded on her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you. I made my choice.” Despite her pallor, she wore a smile. “You told me I had the power to decide, so I did. I spoke to your brother. I spoke to your mother, and I spoke to Kate. You needed an opportunity. I wanted to help make it happen. I know what I want and where I want to be. I also know I’m done letting you dictate all the terms.” She glanced at her watch. “Now, forgive me, but I do have to go.” She kissed him and he dragged her back when she would have walked away.

  “You have to leave right now?”

  “Actually,” Kate interrupted. “She needed to leave fifteen minutes ago. We have a secure window and we’re taking it.”

  Without another word, Meredith gave him another kiss and then she was off with a remarkably tight security formation guarding her. Sebastian stared after her before looking at Vidal. “You knew.”

  “Of course,” he nodded. “But you told me you didn’t want to hear it.”

  “Three days ago, on the yacht.” Sebastian glared.

  “You didn’t change your orders.” Vidal grinned. “And she’s good for you
. Shall we go?”

  It was a plot—his whole family and his security were conspiring with Meredith. It infuriated him and, at the same time, filled him a private kind of joy. She’d come for him. Damn right, she was good for him.

  By the end of the second night of official duties, Sebastian was ready to do the assassin’s jobs for them. He’d shaken more hands, made small talk in more languages, and drank nearly a cask’s worth of wine in small digestible sips along with a permanent headache, and aching hunger to speak to Meredith. Yet, each time he’d called her, she’d taken over the conversation, told him she loved him and gotten off the phone before he managed three sentences.

  “Thirty minutes,” Vidal reported quietly. “The French ambassador is scheduled to meet with his mistress, and we’ll leave with him.”

  “Excellent.” He glanced at the wine glass and avoided the impropriety of checking his watch.

  “We have company.” Vidal adjusted his stance and Sebastian glanced at the etched mirror. Mikael Kachusov approached and he wasn’t alone. The shift rippling through the room was subtle, but unmistakable. The arrival of the colonel, the most senior member of the Kachusov family and the head of their political party—and current senior minister to Belaria—would make such a ripple.

  Setting the wine glass down, Sebastian observed their progress from across the room. They were heading straight for him, a fact his security paid close attention to as three members of his detail joined Vidal. The diamond formation closed around Sebastian and, one-by-one, the conversations around the room dragged to a halt.

  Catching the Swiss ambassador’s eye, Sebastian shook his head once and the man inclined his head. The ambassadorial junket provided the necessary cover and security arrangements to bring Sebastian into the country, but the whole point was to meet with the Kachusov family. To go from attaché to colonel demonstrated a remarkable success.