The Prince’s Passion: A Fake Engagement Royalty Romance

by Styles, Peter

  “Halt!” my security chief shouted.

  Bernat took one look at us, threw the briefcase toward us and ran in the opposite direction. There was a back staircase at the end of the hall, primarily used by servants, which would take him downstairs through the kitchens and laundry to the service drive.

  “He’s out of range of the Taser,” my head of security stated.

  We both began running, only to halt when the door to the service stairs opened and the King stepped through.

  “It is over, Bernat.” Papa stood with his arms crossed, an older, grimmer version of the Crown Prince, who was also with him.

  As if he realized there was no way he could push past the royal family without digging an even deeper hole for himself, he dropped his suitcase, his shoulders slumping.

  “Take him down to the interrogation room,” I ordered. “We will be right behind you.”

  As soon as Bernat and my head of security passed, I strode forward.

  “Someone has kidnapped Daniel,” I blurted. “And Bernat seems to be behind it.”

  Papa came forward and put a hand on my shoulder. “We will get him back safely. You must trust in it.”

  “I must do something, Papa! I cannot simply stay here in the palace while Daniel’s life might be in danger.”

  The King and the Crown Prince glanced at each other, then Papa spoke. “Go after him. We will take care of Bernat and get the information you need. We’ll relay it to you.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Do not go unarmed and take members of the royal guard along with security personnel.”

  I kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Papa.”

  21

  Daniel

  The first thing that struck me when I awakened was that I was no longer inside something moving. The second thing that struck me was that whatever I was lying upon was uncomfortably lumpy. Or maybe I was feeling that way because everything from my head to my toes ached. I must have groaned because a moment later the blindfold covering my eyes was snatched off.

  “Awake, I see.” It was the same ‘tourist’ who had given me the threatening message a week and a half ago.

  I wasn’t sure how to play this. If I tried to fight them, the most likely outcome was I would get beaten. After all, with my hands tied, my defenses were somewhat limited.

  “Why am I here?” I asked trying to inject a little whining into my voice. The fear was already there. No need to fake that.

  My kidnapper smirked. “I thought the message I had already given you made that more than clear. We are tired of waiting.”

  I couldn’t be sure, but I didn’t think much time had passed since I’d been kidnapped.

  My abductor turned on his heel, leaving me on the broken down couch. When he disappeared into what I guessed must be the kitchen, I began to take stock of my surroundings. There was no door to the outside in this room, and the only window was much too small for me to try to escape through. Besides, with my hands tied, I had no way to open it. In my travels around Calonia taking pictures, I had seen huts similar to this one. People used them for hunting or ski retreats, so we were most likely in one of the dense forests on the lower slopes of the mountains surrounding the capital.

  I had to find some way to escape. My kidnapper had seemed unconcerned that I see his face. In every TV show I had ever watched, it was a sure sign the bad guys had no intention of returning their victim alive and well. If I were dead, there would be no way for me to identify him. Why else would he seem so unconcerned? Hell, he might as well have handed me his identification, or we could have introduced ourselves properly. If I were going to die when this was all over, it would at least be nice to have a conversation with someone I knew as something other than “my kidnapper.”

  I also needed to know how many of them there were. So far, I hadn’t heard any conversation to indicate more than one bad guy was inside, but it didn’t make sense to me that they would leave me with only one. Two men had thrown me into the back of a car, and it seemed to me someone else had been driving, which would make three.

  The odds were not in my favor.

  But I had battled against unfavorable odds my entire life. Despite my lack of family, I had managed to complete high school and earn an advanced college degree. I was making my living as a writer and photographer, both careers in which people faced an uphill battle to stand out.

  The biggest odds of all? I had a prince who loved me, a man who I was sure at this very moment was trying to find me. And I was going to make it out of here. However, the chances of someone rescuing me before the bad guys decided I was expendable was probably close to nil. I would have to do it on my own.

  I awkwardly pushed myself into a sitting position. Fortunately for me, they had tied my hands together in front of me. Unfortunately, they had also looped the rope through my belt, so I couldn’t get my hands high enough to try to untie the knot with my teeth.

  The distinctive chirp of a cell phone sounded from the kitchen. I stilled, straining my ears to hear, but there was no need. Mr. Not-Really-A-Tourist actually put the call on speaker phone, and if that wasn’t a big hint that I was toast if I didn’t get out of here, I don’t know what would be. The only surprise in this conversation was being able to identify the frantic caller on the other end. Bernat Masdu. Uncle Bernat.

  Holy shit.

  Events began to fall into place for me. He had seemed way too curious about me, about my relationships, where I was going. Every once in a while, I had seen a sort of smirk on his face as though he knew something none of us did. I had chalked it up to his desire to feel more important than he probably was.

  What I heard in his voice now, though, was panic. I was able to get one valuable piece of information. Mr. Tourist had sent the other bad guys to get food since they weren’t sure how long they would be there.

  It seemed my chance to escape might be closer than I anticipated. Bernat urged them to sit tight, that his connections in Tsaledonia would be in touch soon.

  I needed a diversion, and I definitely needed to be gone before any goons from another country showed up.

  Mr. Tourist ended his phone call, I began to cry hysterically. “I don’t want to die! Just send me home. I’m sure Prince Amand will pay whatever you want. Please. Don’t kill me!”

  Whatever I thought of to whine about, I did…and at the top of my lungs. I channeled my inner drama queen. My kidnapper charged through the doorway.

  “Shut the hell up!” He was making a beeline for me, whether to punch or kick me I would never know. As soon as he was within striking distance, I sprang from the couch and head-butted him in the face so hard I thought for a moment that I was going to knock myself out. Instead, he went down like a rock, blood spurting from his nose.

  I didn’t waste any time. As soon as I burst into the kitchen area, I looked for something to cut the rope holding my hands. After opening every drawer, I finally found one with a knife inside. I prayed it would be sharp enough to at least get my hands loose from my waist. I maneuvered it into a position where I could wedge it in the edge of the drawer and angle my body so it would saw at the rope, but after a couple of minutes, I had made almost no headway.

  From the other room, I heard groaning and outside, the sound of a car. Time was up. I dashed to the door and fumbled with it for a few seconds until I managed to throw it open. The car I had been thrown into earlier was weaving its way along the road.

  I ran.

  As fast as my feet would carry me, I raced toward the thick cover of what looked like rhododendrons. Go me! Even with my hands tied and bad guys chasing me, I was noting the flora for my next travel book.

  Something whistled past me right before I heard the sharp report of a pistol. Holy crap! They were shooting at me. Several factors worked in my favor. They were running, I was running, there were plenty of trees to provide cover, and the sunlight was waning. None of those factors would help their aim. On the other side, I was trying to run over rough ground and through thick foliage w
ith my hands confined at my waist.

  And yep, I tripped. Trying to remember what I had learned years ago in a college self-defense class, I tucked my shoulder and rolled coming right back up to my feet with only a few scrapes. I didn’t dare stop. I wanted to know if they were still behind me, but I was afraid if I gave them any chance to catch up, I’d be a dead man. So I ran as far as I could until I thought my lungs were going to burst into flame.

  Just ahead, was an outcropping of rock. As soon as I rounded it, I stopped. Ducking down, I stuck my head around the corner far enough to see and hear.

  Silence.

  I slid down against the rock while I tried to control my breathing. The reality of my situation was grim. I couldn’t run any more. My head was throbbing, probably the aftereffects of whatever they had used to knock me out—not to mention that little head-butt action—and I would soon be dehydrated, if I wasn’t already, but damn it, I was not going to surrender without a fight. Finding a nearby rock with a sharp edge to it, I once again began sawing at the ropes on my wrists while keeping one ear out for my captors.

  The sunlight was fading faster, the temperature beginning to drop along with it. It might be summer lower down at sea level, but halfway up the mountains, the air was cool. Back and forth, back and forth. I kept sawing at my bindings with nearly mindless persistence. At the point I thought I would have to continue on my way with my hands still bound, something gave.

  “Yes!” It came out as a hoarse whisper, and I continued to saw with renewed energy. A couple more minutes, and the remaining rope fell from my hands. I plucked the frayed pieces from my wrists and my belt then rubbed the circulation back into my hands.

  Hands free. Check. Lost in the woods. Check. I still needed help, and the problem was I had no idea which way to travel. I could wait for it to get dark enough I might be able to see lights from the city or from a house, or I could circle back toward the hut and try to follow the road out. As far as I was concerned, the second option was not even under consideration. It looked like I would be sitting tight for at least a while longer. I would have to play a waiting game, but at least now, if my kidnappers were able to track me, I could move freely...and faster.

  Wrapping my arms across my chest to preserve body heat, I waited for dusk to fall. Maybe I dozed off. I must have. The next thing I remember was opening my eyes to near total darkness. I fought back a moment of panic. It wasn’t that I was scared of the dark, it was the split second of disorientation before rational thought returned.

  I squinted through the trees, tilted my head, and shifted a bit to my left. Yes. There were lights. I could see the twinkling of what I hoped was the edge of the capital city. All I needed to do was get down to a road, hitch a ride, and get back to the palace. As I stood, a flash of vertigo forced me to reach out and balance against the rock. I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since breakfast.

  I would have to go slow, and not just because of my physical condition. Darkness also inhibited my travel over the uneven terrain. When I was beginning to doubt my progress, I stumbled onto the edge of a paved road. It only made sense to me to continue going downhill.

  The last thing I wanted was to have anything to do with people or a vehicle coming down that mountain. I’m not sure how far I had gone when I heard the unmistakable sound of cars coming from behind. Cars. Plural. The bad guys had only one car. I turned and saw a convoy of bright lights heading my way. I was tired and hungry, but still cautious, so I slipped behind a tree just before the headlights caught me in their beam.

  Relief poured through me as I spotted the Calonian royal crest and saw a uniformed security officer in the lead car.

  “Here!” I shouted and jumped out into the road, waving my hands frantically.

  The lead car slammed on its brakes and the rest followed suit. Dizziness overcame me and I swayed on my feet.

  “Daniel? My God! Daniel. You’re alive!”

  Amand was there, his arms wrapping around me and holding me up. The suit was gone, replaced with a plain black uniform and a sidearm strapped to his thigh.

  “How did you get here?” I asked in wonder as I spied his security chief along with what seemed like an entire platoon of uniformed and armed men.

  Amand guided me to the open door of a paramilitary vehicle. “Get in. We can talk about it on the way back to the palace.”

  As soon as we were both in, a guard in the front seat handed back a couple bottles of water. I opened one with a word of thanks and drank slowly, even though what I actually wanted to do was guzzle it down.

  Amand’s hand stroked my cheek. “Once I calmed down a bit, I realized you had your backpack with you and might still have the tracker in it. We began following its movements and were able to track it to a cabin in the mountain. We caught one man there. An older guy with a broken nose. He’s in custody in one of the cars toward the back right now.”

  “What about the car and the other two guys?”

  Amand shook his head. “No one else was there, Daniel.”

  “They must have taken off. Maybe they realized it was all over with,” I said.

  “Everything is all right now, my love,” Amand whispered, leaning over to press a brief kiss to my lips. “We’ll get you home soon.”

  I leaned my head against his shoulder, feeling safe for the first time in what seemed like forever.

  22

  Daniel

  Amand had taken hold of my hand. In the darkness of the back seat, I finally relaxed, secure in the knowledge that everything was going to be all right. The security forces had the bad guy in custody. The other two must have run for the hills, and I was on the way back to the palace—our home—relatively safe and sound.

  “Your Highness, there appears to be an accident blocking the road.”

  Amand had leaned slightly to the left to see what was going on when the first bullet slammed into the outside of the vehicle.

  “We’re under fire!” the driver shouted. “Get down! I’ll try to get us out of here.”

  “Amand?”

  “It’s all right, Daniel. We’ll be safe.”

  There was a note in his voice, though, that told me he wasn’t entirely sure about that. The gunfire continued to pepper all the vehicles while our driver attempted to maneuver to get our car free from the convoy and turned around.

  Over the radio, the chatter was fast-paced and difficult for me to follow since it was in Calonian. From what I could understand, the vehicles ahead of us were taking extremely heavy fire.

  “Make sure everyone knows they may fire at will…and shoot to kill.” Amand’s voice was harsh with fury. He gazed at me, his eyes bright and hard. “It would seem our enemies are more serious than anyone thought…and better prepared.”

  “Who are they?” I asked, beginning to wonder exactly how we were going to get out of what appeared to be an ever-increasing hail of gunfire.

  “Mercenaries, I believe, from Tsaledonia. They have made a serious mistake firing at a member of the royal family. We will not take this lightly. Neither will our allies.”

  “Your Highness, we have three of our security forces down.”

  “Damn it! Radio for reinforcements.”

  As Amand spoke, he reached under the seat and pulled out a bulletproof vest. “Put this on. There’s a helmet as well.”

  “I won’t take your protection, Amand,” I said, horrified that he would think of giving it to me and put himself at risk.

  “I have a vest on already.” Even as he spoke, he was grabbing an additional helmet and strapping it on. “Stay here, Daniel. Come on, men. We need to see if we can move forward to provide additional support.”

  “Amand!”

  He glanced back at me as he opened the door. “It will be all right. Sit tight.”

  Before I could protest any more, he was out of the car with his armed guards, their weapons at the ready. The last thing I wanted to do was to stay inside the car like an idiot…or a sitting duck. However, I had no weapon, and I h
adn’t exactly dressed to sneak around through gunfire. My faded jeans would be as bright as day amidst the darkness and bursts of light from the automatic weapons.

  I watched in growing frustration, listening to the radio chatter as the royal security forces fought valiantly to defeat their ambushers and protect the prince. And me. This was all because of me. I had been naïve and stupid enough to fall for the message delivered to the castle.

  Amand had warned me to be on my guard, and I should have suspected something was amiss when Georg supposedly delivered a message instead of either calling or texting me. Instead, I had put everyone at risk, and if the radio traffic was to be believed, I had cost at least some of them their lives.

  I couldn’t take it any longer. There had to be some way to help. Someone who had a gun I might use. I hadn’t fired one in years, but my grandfather had taken me hunting when I was a kid, so I had a basic working knowledge of rifles and shotguns.

  As I opened the door to exit the vehicle, the radio chatter started again. I struggled to translate. Reinforcements were on the way. The second thing I heard made my heart skip and took my breath away.

  “The Prince is down!”

  Screw caution. I rushed from the vehicle, crouching and running forward in the direction I had seen him take earlier. A small knot of dedicated guards surrounded him where he was on the ground bleeding.

  “Let me help!” I hissed. “You have the weapons. Keep them at bay and let’s get him into the forest where there is more cover. While two guards remained behind with the remainder of the security force, the rest moved with us. I had Amand’s arm slung around my shoulder while his left he kept tucked close to his body.

  I couldn’t have come this far, fallen so hard for this man only to lose him now to whatever assholes were threatening us and the entire kingdom of Calonia.

  “Hang in there, Amand,” I urged as we moved as swiftly as possible into the dense cover of the forest.