by Maisey Yates
Heat flooded her cheeks. “I don’t care what you want my curves to do. They aren’t yours. I’ll put on a show for you, but you don’t get access to my body.”
The air between them suddenly seemed to freeze; then it heated again. He stood from his chair, moving over to where she was sitting. He leaned in and he reached out slowly, drawing his fingertip across her cheek. She was mesmerized, held captive by his face. By every groove and imperfection in his skin, by the twist at the corner of his mouth and that slash that ran over his right eye. With him this close, she could see that it didn’t impact his vision. No, he saw. She had a feeling he saw so deeply into her that he could see just how fast her blood was rushing. How hard her heart was pounding.
“I will have access to whatever I like,” he said, his tone soft. “And you would do well to remember that.”
“I already told you—”
“You have a boyfriend. Yes. But, I have taken you prisoner in my castle, Belle. Ask yourself, do I seem like the sort of man who is concerned about whether or not someone has a boyfriend?”
“Given that...” She swallowed hard, trying to fight the fluttering in her stomach. “Given the fact that you have taken two people prisoner in the space of forty-eight hours, I imagine you don’t care about things like boyfriends, no.”
“You are correct.” He settled back into his chair, and a wave of relief washed over her. But, she also felt a lingering chill from his withdrawal. “You see, it is an interesting thing, having everything taken from you. When you shrink your world down to a palace, to the grounds, it gives you a lot of time to reflect.”
“Yes,” she said, “clearly, you had your own Eat, Pray, Love moment and emerged extremely enlightened.”
“Not entirely. Instead, I had a lot of time to think about what matters. And what doesn’t.”
“What matters to a man like you?”
“Survival. That’s all that matters. That’s the beginning and end of it. There are no rewards given for the manner in which you live, Belle. It would do you well to remember that.”
“You have the audacity to comment on what my father does for a living while you say morality doesn’t matter?”
“Because it hindered my survival. And, as previously stated, that is the only thing that matters to me. When you have nothing else, the elemental need to breathe is all that keeps you going. Yes, survival is the beginning and end of everything. When everything else falls away, the only thing that remains is that indrawn breath, and the seconds that stretch between it and the next. Sometimes, it is simply all you have to live for.” He took another bite of his dinner. “The living. Not the manner in which you live, not anything you possess. We are all creatures driven by that need.”
She shook her head. “Not me. I like books. And I like the ocean. The sun on the sand, and how warm it feels against my skin.” She saw something flicker in his dark eyes, and for some reason she felt her cheeks heat. “Those things are deeper than survival. And they matter. Because they’re what make survival matter.”
He laughed, but the sound carried no humor. “You would be surprised. There was a point in my existence when I looked around, and there was nothing. Nothing but an empty palace, dark, void of life. When every part of my body hurt, when I could barely get out of bed. And I would ask myself why I was still breathing. The answer was not books or the sun on the sand.”
“What was the answer, then?” she asked, in spite of herself.
“Because I’m simply too stubborn to allow death to win. Sometimes, that’s all the reason you have. So it is the reason that suffices.” He stood then. “I am finished. Come. I will show you back to your room.”
“I don’t need you to.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice uncompromising, “you do. Because, I need to establish a few...ground rules.”
She bristled. She wasn’t accustomed to being told what to do. That simply wasn’t the way her father had raised her. No, her father had seemed perpetually out of his element with a small child. But, he had loved her, and Belle had given him as little trouble as possible because she could see how hard he tried. Because from what she could remember of her life with her mother, she was much better off with her father.
He kept her on a very long leash. He had never imposed much in the way of strictures. She fixed her own dinner, chose her own clothes, decided when she would go out at night and when she would stay in.
Having this man suggest that she would be following anything like rules burrowed underneath her skin and prodded her.
Not that she’d ever done much with that freedom. But it was the principle.
Somehow, she managed to bite her lip and keep from saying something. But, the minute she did that fear crept back over her. A reminder that she didn’t know who he was, not really. And didn’t know what he was capable of.
It was so hard to take it all in; it kept hitting her in fits and starts, in little snatches. Probably because if it all landed on her at once, like a ton of extremely archaic bricks, she would lose her mind completely.
“If ever you are hungry, just let Athena know. She will feed you.”
“I can’t just...get my own food?”
“I never do,” he said.
“Well,” she said, “that is not particularly surprising.”
She followed him down the long corridor, back to the stairs. “There is an exit that way,” he said, gesturing to the left. “It will take you out to the gardens. You’re welcome to explore anyplace you want on the grounds. Also, the ballroom, the libraries, all of that is open to you. But my quarters are not.”
“Okay,” she said, feeling a strange sense of relief. Really, she did not want to go to his quarters. Just the thought made her stomach clench up tight.
“My chambers encompass the east quadrant of the palace.”
“An entire quadrant?”
He arched a brow, pausing midstride. “I take up a lot of space.” Then he turned away from her and continued walking. That simple statement was truer than he probably realized. He most definitely took up a lot of space. And all the air in whatever room he was in.
“Can I at least...?” She took a breath. “You won’t give me my phone. I need something. I need some way to get in touch with people.”
“That is impossible. Not at the moment. I have my own agenda, and my concern is that you have your own, as well. I cannot have them conflicting.”
He didn’t sound the least bit regretful. “So you just intend to keep me cut off from the world?”
“It isn’t so bad.”
It was dawning on her, creeping up over her like a chill, that she was committed to staying here with a man who had not been outside palace walls in several years. A man who clearly didn’t understand why anybody would have an issue being so isolated. It wasn’t even an issue of him lacking sympathy or humanity.
He had no understanding. For why she might want more. For why she might need more.
A person could shrivel up into a husk and die here, and the master of the manor would never even have had the slightest inclination she was in danger of doing so.
“I don’t...” It suddenly dawned on her when they approached her bedroom door that she had nothing with her. No clothes. “I don’t have anything to wear.” She had been wearing the same jeans and jacket since she had embarked on her journey yesterday.
“I can have something procured for you. You will get it tomorrow. Tonight, however, there is nothing I can do for you.”
“But... I... I have nothing to sleep in.”
He looked at her, his coal-black eyes burning through her skin, leaving her feeling hot, restless. “Then sleep in nothing. It is what I do.”
For some reason, those words forced an image of him with acres of golden skin exposed. She wondered where his scars extended to. If all of him was so rough and tragically torn, or if parts of him were still whole.
And once more that strange sensation overwhelmed her. Made her scalp prickle, made her hear
t beat faster.
She gasped and jerked away from him.
He regarded her closely for a moment, and she sensed a strange current arcing between them; for some reason she was incredibly conscious and aware of the amount of restraint and strength it was taking for him to hold himself there, still and steady. She had no idea just what he was restraining himself from doing, or why she was so confident in her assessment of him.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to either thing.
“I will leave you,” he said, his tone hard.
Then he turned away to go, and she found herself strangely wanting to stop him. To prolong the moment.
So she took another step away from him, holding her hands down at her sides and keeping herself resolutely still.
He walked away from the room, and back down the corridor. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. And then she sprang into action. She forced the door shut, and locked it, hoping that it would hold. Then thinking it was probably silly because if anybody had the key to the door, it was her captor.
Her heart began to thunder hard, and she placed her hand against her breast, trying to catch her breath. She was shaking, shaking and trying not to cry. But then she wondered why she was bothering.
She let out a gasping sob, one tear trailing down her cheek. She turned and threw herself on the bed. She was alone. Really alone. Her father didn’t know where she was, Tony didn’t know where she was.
She had no way to reach them. She had no way to get help if she needed it. She simply had to trust the man holding her here.
Her wounded, strangely beautiful captor, who seemed to bring ice with him whenever he entered a room.
She closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to claim her. And as her thoughts began to swirl around in a confusing circle, she kept picturing his dark eyes. Dark eyes, set in a ravaged face, that were windows to an even more ravaged soul.
Thoughts of him made her restless. Made it impossible for her to breathe.
I will present you to the world as my mistress.
Memories of those words, of that voice, set off a quiver low in her belly. And her final thought before drifting to sleep was that if this was fear...if it was anger, it was unlike anything she had ever felt before in her life.
With those words still resonating inside her, she was forced to recognize, as sleep claimed her utterly, that she felt neither fear nor anger toward him.
But she refused to name the things she did feel. Which were far more monstrous than he could ever be.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE CASTLE FELT DIFFERENT. Adam had to wonder if it was because of the woman who was currently residing in it. He did not like to give her presence that much weight. There were often women and residents here in the castle, various staff members who he did his best not to interact with. Plus Athena, who had been with him for more than a decade.
Belle’s presence should make no difference at all. And yet, it was as though he could feel her in the air. He gritted his teeth. Perhaps Felipe was right. Perhaps he was starting to get a little bit too close to insanity thanks to his years of isolation.
To be so much a part of a place that he could sense the presence of a new person...yes, that was perhaps a bit close to crazy.
Though, crazier perhaps, was that flash of heat that had flared up when he had placed his hand on her last night. He should not have done so. It had touched something inside him, awakened something. Something that was far better left asleep.
For the first time in recent memory, he felt restless. Usually, he was content to conduct his business within the confines of the palace walls, or, if he was feeling like a change of scenery, on the grounds. Often, a burst of energy could be dealt with in his gym.
This was different. He didn’t like it.
He prowled the halls of the palace, his staff members making themselves scarce the moment he approached. He was clearly radiating his foul mood.
If there was business to take care of as far as the country was concerned, Fos would have approached him already. But, he had not seen his adviser today at all, so that meant he lacked for specific direction.
Given the circumstances, he disliked that greatly.
A maid scuttled by, and Adam stopped her with a warning look. “Have coffee sent to the library,” he ordered.
“Forgive me, Your Highness, coffee is already there,” she returned, bowing slightly.
“Why?”
“For...the lady. Was that not... Athena told me to serve her when she asked, and where she asked.”
Of course she had. Obviously, his housekeeper had seen fit to override his handling of his own captive. “You did nothing wrong,” he said. “You may go.”
He continued on his way to the library. And there he found her. She was sitting in an armchair, her legs tucked beneath her, wearing the same clothes she’d had on yesterday. Yes, that was right; she’d told him she had nothing else to wear. He would have to ensure that something was procured for her.
Her attention was so focused on the book that was sitting in her lap that she didn’t look up when he came in.
“Enjoying the story?”
She jumped, looking up, her blue eyes wide. “I was,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. Her pale cheeks had a rosy flush to them, and he wondered if she was embarrassed about something. Or, if she was angry. Likely, it was anger.
“What is it?”
“Nothing you would be interested in,” she said, closing it, keeping her finger tucked between the pages, holding her spot. She reached over to the table that was placed next to the armchair and picked up a mug that he assumed contained coffee.
Next to that mug was another, and beside that was an insulated carafe. He moved nearer, picked it up and helped himself to a cup.
“I was told I would find you here, along with the coffee,” he said.
“And so you did.” She gave him a sideways glance, her lips pressed against the edge of her mug, poised as though she was about to take another drink. “You said that I could go in any room I wanted, as long as I didn’t invade your quarters.”
“I did say that.”
“Then why are you...prowling around looking vaguely disapproving? You’re the one that wanted me here.”
“Yes, agape, and you’re the one who offered the trade. So a little bit less outrage from you would perhaps benefit us both. I gave you what you wanted.”
“Well, preferable would have been to free both my father and myself.”
He laughed and set his mug back down on the table. “But, that would benefit me in no way. You cannot expect me to do something simply because it is the right thing, can you?”
Adam had lost touch with what was right and what was wrong long ago. He would hardly allow this little waif to come in and lecture him when she had no idea what sort of man he was. No idea of the realities of the life he had lived. And the weight of his responsibility that was beginning to crush him now.
The simple truth was, he did have to get back out into the public eye. The more he pondered what Felipe had said, the more he realized his friend was delivering him the salvation that Adam had been looking for.
He had been mired in the darkness for too long.
But, for the sake of his country—because he certainly didn’t give a damn for his own sake—he needed to change course. He had to take control, and he had known it was coming but...
Since the discovery that photographs of him had been taken it had been like he was walking out of a thick fog. The reality of the fact that the outside world still existed hitting him harder than it had in the past three years. The arrival of Belle and the phone call from Felipe had only cemented those things.
It had driven home what he’d known already: That it was time. That there was no question about whether or not he would take his rightful place.
“Well, I always hope that people will do the right thing,” she said, her tone stiff.
“Come now, this
facade doesn’t suit either of us. Surely, you must assume that people will do what benefits them. Your father makes a living off that principle, does he not?”
She shifted, the color in her cheeks darkening. Yes, it was definitely anger. “I suppose.”
“We talked about this already. Survival. That is why we’re all here. To make it to the end. To prolong the distance between that moment of our birth and the moment we take our last breath, as best we possibly can. And if in between those moments we can find ways to thrive, then I suppose we will.”
“I suppose,” she said again, the words muttered darkly.
“But you must understand that it is not my own self-interest that pushes me here. But the interest of my country. Viceroy Kyriakos is a good man. But he is not a Katsaros. It is not his legacy.”
“Obviously.”
“It is time for me to make a stronger show for my country. For a while, I thought that a ruler such as myself would seem like a weakness to my people. That no one would want to see me so diminished. So, I was content to rule from behind the scenes. I did what I could to ensure that my people would not be a laughingstock, with a ruler who is disfigured as I am.”
She winced at his words, but she didn’t correct him. There was no dancing around the truth. He was disfigured. There had been a time when he and Ianthe had been media darlings in Europe, when they had been the most beautiful royal couple, the most photographed. But now he found himself without his princess, and without any appeal whatsoever.
It wasn’t about vanity. It was about control. About the unknown. About giving this tragedy over to the world. He was reluctant to do so. For a great many reasons. But, his reluctance could carry on no more.
“And, as an added bonus, you will get to experience what it means to be on the other end of the photographer’s lens.”
She winced. “What do you mean?”
“Well, surely you have deduced that we will make the news—that was why you protested so last night, told me about your boyfriend.”
“Well,” she said, “yes.”
