He stepped back over to me. “You said you’ve not traveled much.”
“But I can’t up and go to Koros. I have a job. I have appointments. People depend on me to fix their hair.” And I couldn’t. How could I up and run out on everything? Things like this didn’t happen to people like me. I was just… I was just…
I looked into Hadrian’s eyes. The calmness of his amber eyes made my worries melt away. “Why not? What’s stopping you?”
I froze right there, looking back at the hotel. Through the darkness of the casino, I could see the shadow of a man coming toward the door. I had no doubt it was Jim.
If I stayed, it would be because I was afraid.
Jim made me afraid to live.
“I’m in.”
Chapter Ten
“He wanted to take you to Koros, and you’re here in freezing cold Kansas why?” Bella asked me as she put on her seat belt.
She was a pretty awesome friend. Call her out of the blue, tell her I’m landing, not at Mid-Continent Airport, where all the big, commercial jets land, but at Jabara Airport on the opposite side of Wichita, and she still comes to get me.
“Because I’m a chicken shit.” I fastened my own seat belt, tugging at the stubborn thing because it was cold and not happy about moving.
Damn it’s cold.
I was boarding the private Gulfstream jet with Hadrian and company when I had an attack of responsibility. I was supposed to go to work tomorrow, and I couldn’t possibly make my coworkers reschedule all my appointments that had been changed in the first place so I could go to the conference.
Hadrian had tried to convince me to come with him, but in the end, a change in the flight plan was made, and we landed at the small airport on the east side of Wichita.
I watched the familiar landscape of Wichita slide by as we hopped up on Highway 54 and headed west toward my apartment. Everything looked the same—same trees along the street, same billboards, same snow piles along the shoulders of the road…
It was cold, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“Well, you are a wienie,” Bella said. “I would have been on that plane in a second.”
I laughed. “Sure you would have.”
We drove in silence for a little while, and I didn’t realize how tired I was. I rested my head against the cold window of her car as we weaved in and out of traffic. The radio played in the background, and I caught myself singing along to it.
“So,” Bella asked. “How long do you think they’ll detain Jim in Vegas?”
“I have no idea,” I replied. “More than likely, they kicked him out of the hotel. He may be already on his way back.”
She made a face as we drove—the I-wouldn’t-be-surprised face. “He’s gonna be hopping mad too when he gets back.”
“He’ll get over it,” I replied. I knew there’d be a confrontation with Jim. There had to be, he couldn’t possibly let the broken camera thing go.
I will have maybe a day of peace, and then it’ll start again.
This time, bigger, badder and probably a lot uglier than him watching and following me around.
We got to my apartment. Bella helped me carry in my stuff, and then we plopped on the couch, and I uncorked a bottle of wine. It was a gift, ages ago, from a client that I’d never bothered to open.
I poured us both a glass and read the label.
“Made in Koros,” I muttered. Then I started to smile. This was one of Hadrian’s wines. Well, maybe not really, but it came from his place. Well, his country. His. In a weird way.
“What are you grinning at?” Bella asked.
“Korosian wine.”
She picked up her glass and smiled at me. “So, are you gonna tell me about him?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Is he as good in bed as his sexy voice promises?”
I laughed at her. “Better.”
“You people are aware I only have two arms and two legs, right?” I scanned down my appointment book and about crapped.
Seems everyone in the world wanted to get in. I was booked solid from nine in the morning to seven at night, every day this week.
At least they were, for the most part, people I really liked.
Kitti came over to the desk, clocking herself in on the computer. “Welcome back.” She gave me a sideways hug, and I could smell the cologne she wore, I had no idea what it was, but it was a soft musky scent that seemed to be entirely Kitti.
“I think I should have gone to Koros.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Koros? What’s in Koros?”
An image of Hadrian danced before my eyes. “A guy.”
“What’s Koros,” Teresa asked as she came in—the opposite of Kitti. Where Kitti had long, flame red hair that weighed twenty pounds and Native American heritage, Teresa had short spiky hair that could poke your eye out and an industrial piercing in her ear.
“An island off the coast of Italy,” I said.
“I thought that was Sicily.”
“This is the other island. Sicily belongs to Italy. Koros is its own nation. They have a monarchy and everything there,” Kitti said, smiling. I raised my eyebrow at Kitti.
“Is there anything you don’t know, Kitti?” I asked her.
“Why you want to go to Koros to see a guy.”
“Hardy har har,” I muttered and headed into the back.
Teresa followed me. “Okay, time for me to catch up.”
Kitti followed her and from the way they both stared at me while I put my stuff in my locker, I knew I was going to have to tell them something.
“Okay. I met a guy in Vegas. He was from Koros and was going back there, a family emergency type thing, and he invited me to go with him.”
Teresa let out a bark of laughter. “And you’re here why?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered. “I probably should have gone.”
Kitti ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t know, there’s some stuff going on over there right now. Some members of their royal family have been assassinated.”
“Jesus,” I said, and suddenly the room started to spin.
Kitti grabbed my arm, and the next thing I knew a chair was underneath me.
“Breath in, then out.”
I put my head down between my legs, doing as I was told. Someone was rubbing my back a bit.
“I didn’t realize you were so into the royals in Koros,” Kitti said.
I sat up a bit, the room still swimming, but this was from me leaning over with my head down. “I wasn’t until I met one.”
“You’re making that up,” Teresa said with a laugh. “You didn’t meet a prince in Vegas. That’d be right out of a romance novel.”
Kitti walked back to the desk, and started messing with the computer.
“I did,” I said. “It sounds stupid. At least, I think he’s a prince. He’s a duke, anyway. The Duke of Bozo.”
“Bozo? Honey, I think someone was taking you for a ride.”
“He is, he’s famous,” I replied. “Have we got this week’s People Magazine?” I hopped up and started going to all the little magazine racks we had littered around the shop for clients to read. “I’ll prove it.”
“I don’t think you have to,” Kitti said. “Come here.”
I walked over to the computer, Teresa right behind her. She’d found a newscast, and she reached for the volume control and turned it up.
It was one of those celebrity tabloid magazine shows, and the perfectly painted lady was talking about Koros.
“In the wake of the attack, the royal family of Koros was pulled together, all under the protection of the palace this week. The last to arrive, Hadrian Drake, from the television show, The Pasta Prince, is rumored to be en route to the island now.”
Images of Hadrian appeared, promo shots, short video clips of him on the red carpet walk, smiling and waving.
“As the Duke of Bouzio, Hadrian Drake is next in line behind the Crown Prince Michel Drake and Princ
e Dante Drake. While little is known about the Crown Prince’s health, it has been confirmed that Prince Dante Drake was killed in the gunman’s attack.”
I felt like I was going to be sick. “Jesus,” I muttered.
“Wow, what a way to become king,” Teresa said.
I backed away from the computer screen, the nausea hitting me again. I felt so horrible for Hadrian.
“That’s who you met, isn’t it?” Kitti said.
I nodded, trying to calm my upset tummy. I made myself swallow a few times, and that seemed to help. Teresa appeared, handing me a few saltine crackers.
Darla, my boss, came out of her office. “What’s wrong with you, are you sick?” she asked, staring at me.
I shook my head. “Just, uh, kinda freaked out.”
Darla walked over to the open and closed sign and flipped it. “Well, get over it, you have a full book.”
I nodded. I wanted to do one thing before I started working. I headed back to my purse and pulled out my cell phone. It took me a couple of minutes to type out the text message. My finger hovered over the “send” button.
I really didn’t want to bother Hadrian during such a big crisis.
Yet at the same time, I wanted him to know that I was here for him if he needed it. Not that I could do much here in Kansas, but still…
I pressed “send.”
Even the nausea seemed better.
Now I could work.
Hadrian’s cell phone went off as he climbed into the car to head for the palace. They’d only landed a few minutes before, and after wading through press and mourners, he’d jumped into the car to get out of the noise.
He was about ready to throw the phone across the car when it went off.
It had been going off non-stop for the last six hours. All the people he’d ever given the number to, the people who never called him were calling wanting to know all the sordid details about what was going on.
Alicia held out her hand. “Shall I take care of it?”
He shook his head. “I’ll get it.” He clicked the icon to show the new text message.
And his frustration melted away.
It was from Sydney. He couldn’t help the smile on his face.
I’m sorry for this tragedy, and I wish I could do something to help. If you need someone to talk to, know that I’m here.
Sydney.
“What is it? Who would be sending you jokes right now?” Alicia snapped.
“It’s not a joke,” he replied. “It’s from Sydney.”
Alicia shook her head. “I can have the number blocked. It won’t take a moment.”
“Why would you block the number?” Hadrian asked as he typed in a text reply.
“Some random woman mooning over you right now is not what you need. You are His Royal Highness, Prince and Duke of Bouzio. You don’t need some commoner in your way.”
He raised his eyebrow as he sent the message. “You are aware that you are a commoner too.”
“I am no such thing,” Alicia replied. “I will have you know, I am the Baroness von Östermann, a province of Germany.”
Hadrian stared at her. “You are not.”
“Yes, I am. Why do you think the king and queen hired me? I am of royal blood, and understand the importance of lineages.”
He wasn’t sure how to take that information. Now at least he understood why she was such a bitch about his titles and why it made her so mad that he hid his.
Which made him think. “You’ve been working for me for five years. Why are you telling me this?”
“Would it have made a difference if you knew I was of royal birth?”
“No.”
“Then I chose not to tell you. It mattered to the king and queen, so they know, of course. But it is not wide spread.”
“So why do you work for me? Surely there’s some money in being a baroness.”
“It isn’t for the money.”
“So why?”
She blinked. “For you, Hadrian.”
Chapter Eleven
By the time I collapsed in the back room for a break, I was damn near exhausted.
“I should have booked some time out today for recovery time.” I ran a hand over my face, feeling like I could drop.
And I heard a soft beep.
“There it is again,” Kitti said, marching into the back room. “I swear if I don’t find that beeping pretty soon someone is going to get strangled.”
I smirked at her because Kitti was the least violent person I knew.
She leaned over and whispered in my ear. “And it might be old Mrs. Rodgers if she doesn’t stop with her attitude today.”
I burst out laughing. The beep sounded again, and I opened my locker. “Crap, it’s my cell phone,” I said, pulling the thing out of the holder on the side of my purse.
“Then turn the thing off,” Kitti said. “Because I’m ready to throw it out the back door.”
I laughed and pulled it out. I had a new text message. When I opened my phone, it read “New Message from Hadrian.”
I grabbed my coat and a smoke and unlocked the back door. “I’ll be right back,” I said, cigarette dangling from my lips.
Just as I stepped outside, the wind picked up and I had to practically stick my head back in the door to get the smoke lit.
Ahh, the taste of nicotine. I could feel the tension slipping out of my shoulders. I took a long puff and let the smoke out. All the air that came out was white in the cold, and I didn’t know where the smoke ended and my own breath started.
Already my teeth were chattering and I got out my cell phone to see what the message was from Hadrian.
Thank you, Sydney. I wish you’d come. Stay in contact. I might need a friend.
Hadrian
I couldn’t help smiling at that. It made my long-assed day bearable. I typed a quick response, and stuffed the phone in my pocket.
Two more puffs on the cigarette, and I was done, the cold too much for even a dedicated smoker like me.
I had come inside and locked the back door when my phone went off again.
Hadrian, silly boy, I thought to myself when I pulled my phone out again.
Bitch, you owe me for the camera.
Add that to your tally.
I will be collecting.
My hands started to shake. Goddammit. Why did Jim do that to me? I turned the phone off then shoved the damn thing in my locker. I had changed my cell phone number twice, and he still managed to get a hold of it.
How did he do that?
“What’s wrong?” Teresa asked as she came around the corner.
“Jim.”
She nodded. “I swear, you should get rid of your cell phone.”
“Then he’d probably show up here all the time.”
“I can’t believe that they can’t use the phone records against him. He texts you so much, surely they can get records.”
“They can get the phone number he texts, but not the message. I have to save all the messages. And my phone only holds about twenty-five messages.”
“You need a new phone. Something you can prove he’s doing this shit.”
“Tell me about it. Unfortunately, all the cool ones cost too much money.”
“Have your prince buy you one,” Teresa said.
I laughed at her. “You’re not right.”
She shrugged. “I am what I am.”
Michel Drake, Crown Prince of Koros, had been found, left for dead, on the northern most shore. He’d been pushed or dropped off one of the high cliffs.
Though his injuries from the fall weren’t enough to kill him, the gunshot wound to his stomach certainly was trying its damndest.
Hadrian stood in the doorway of the suite Michel and his wife Heather shared at the royal palace, staring at his oldest cousin. Michel had always been the responsible one, strong and devout. He was a great crown prince. Lying there in the bed, his usual large and robust form looked small and weak. Monitors beeped and glowed, and IV’
s hung around him, making the old-fashioned bed look like a warped holodeck scene from Star Trek—too much old with the new.
An old wingback chair had been pulled to the side of the bed, the fabric on the back brighter and more detailed than the front, the splash of blue a contrast to the otherwise neutral room. Only when one went to sit, would he see how faded the chair was on the front, bleached from decades of time in the sunlight.
Not that anyone could sit in the seat, since Her Royal Highness Heather Holmes-Drake had taken up residence. She hadn’t left her husband’s side since they found him, and only because the doctor put his foot down had she not been in the operating room when they did all they could to save Michel.
Now it was a waiting game.
Gauze wrapped Michel’s head because of some lacerations and concealed most of his face. Only one eye peaked out of the wrappings, and it had remained closed since they found him.
A nurse stepped over to Heather, one that Hadrian hadn’t even noticed was around.
“Your Royal Highness,” the nurse whispered, “I need to check the bandages.”
Heather nodded, waving her hand as if to encourage the lady to get on with it.
“Will Her Royal Highness want to leave while I attend to this?” the nurse asked.
“I am not leaving this chair. Do what you need to do.” She scooted the chair away from the bed a bit to give the nurse room.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hadrian stepped closer to the chair, putting his hand on the back of it. Heather didn’t take her eyes off of the nurse, or rather, what the nurse was doing to her husband.
“You know, you can get up. I don’t think he’d fault you for it,” Hadrian whispered to her.
“If I could figure out how to use the bathroom without leaving this spot, I would,” Heather muttered. “Without resorting to bed pans, anyway.”
Hadrian smirked. “Get up. Stretch your legs. At least try a different chair.”
“This is his favorite chair.” She stroked the arm of it.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t leave it,” Hadrian replied.
Heather didn’t say anything, and as the nurse checked over the wound on Michel’s stomach, she inhaled a breath, but wouldn’t turn away.
The Reluctant Prince Page 12
