“Like archeology, history, artifacts.”
“Yes. I began to resent the pressure when I was ten or eleven. We had great rows over it, to the point I would wind up in tears. He just didn't understand. And I didn't understand him. There is a bitterness that exists to this day over all that and, as your friend Ahsan pointed out, my father still tries to portray me as someone I'm not. He arranges photo shoots that last days, all to get a 'perfect' shot. One where I look carefree and...well. Where I look like him. Like an extrovert. Someone who has the world by the tail.”
“Why was it so important to him for you to be like that?” Mattias easily put together a scene in his mind of the events Alannah painted for him. Coming from a father who demanded specific things of his children, Mattias understood what a driving force parents could be.
“He doesn't appreciate shyness. For whatever reason, it annoys him. He likes bold, brash people who crave the limelight, like he does. I do everything in my power to avoid it.”
“You're his only child, correct?”
Alannah looked up, made eye contact. “Yes. You've astutely guessed why he wouldn't just move on to another and force his personality upon them. He doesn't have any. It was me or nothing.”
“Yet you're still close to him.” Mattias didn't break the eye contact. He detected bitterness in Alannah, and a strange resignation. Whether the resignation was due to him coaxing the truth from her or whether it had to do with her past, he couldn't tell.
“Dean Astbury has some great attributes. And he's my father, so yes, we're close despite the rows and disagreements. I still want to throttle him regularly, though.” Alannah slipped her heels off and set them on the floor. When she was done, she met his eyes. Without warning, she asked, “You're not just a Prince, are you?”
He leveled a look at her and said nothing. Just when he thought they were off the topic of what he might be other than a titled member of royalty, she diverted the conversation back again.
“Nothing to say?” She arched a brow, as if challenging him.
“I'm Mattias Ahtissari, no more, no less.” Which included everything that encompassed him, except he didn't detail specifics out for her.
Exhaling an exasperated breath, she stood up. “I deserve to know more.”
“Does it matter as long as you get back safely to your family?”
“It matters to me, yes.”
“I've explained all I'm going to explain.” Mattias returned his attention to the window. Looking for shadows within shadows on the sidewalks and against other buildings across the street.
“Does your family know you do this? Help out people being targeted for murder?”
“How do you know this isn't a one off shot? Just because I know people who can get things done, and because I choose to be armed when it matters, doesn't mean this is a common occurrence. Why can't it have been that I was in the right place, at the right time?” Mattias had to derail her from that line of thought. She was too close to the truth. The Royal Elite did travel where they were needed to do exactly as he was doing. Protect their own—the royalty, elite, wealthy—of the world from nefarious acts designed to shift power or money from one hand to another. Here, he could still mingle with people of his standing while slipping behind the scenes to protect the unwary from unexpected attack. It was challenging as well as exciting—it made him feel alive. To out their group meant putting their lives in more danger. It was a risk he wouldn't take. Only a select few members of his immediate family knew he was involved, knew what he did when he disappeared from Latvala for a week or two at a time.
Alannah's scoff broke Mattias out of his reverie.
“I don't believe in that kind of coincidence,” she said.
“Most people in your position would simply be thanking the person that risked their life, or lives, to save them.” Mattias watched his blunt comment reflect in Alannah's eyes.
Instantly trite, she said, “I am thankful. Don't misunderstand me.”
“You have a strange way of showing it.” Switching gears, he said, “You should try and get some rest. We'll depart an hour before dawn if I haven't contacted my acquaintances before then.” Mattias needed that time to figure out the fastest way to get Alannah out of Spain.
“Where are we going?”
“I don't know yet.”
“You're not very forthcoming,” she said in an accusing tone. “I have a feeling that even if you did know, you wouldn't tell me.”
“Sometimes, it's in a person's best interest to know as little as possible.”
“What if I demand to know?”
Mattias regarded the stubborn look on her face, the strict set of her shoulders. “Or what? What will you do, exactly, if I don't tell you? Walk out the door? Maybe right into their arms? Put both mine and your life in jeopardy again?”
“What do you mean, again? I didn't plan it the first time,” she said, voice edging defensive.
“But you might as well blast it all over the news if you walk out now. Ring bells, flash neon signs. They'll have you back in their possession in less than an hour, guaranteed. They might not know where we are right now, but they know our general vicinity. Trust me when I say that there are men out there on the street, hunting us.” Mattias pointedly drove home the cold, hard truth; they were not safe beyond the walls of this room right now. Either one of them.
“How can you know that?”
“Because it wasn't just one person trying to kidnap you for ransom reasons. Not only were there rumors of a 'hit' on you, there were other people shooting at us on the road in front of the manor. It means this is a more organized situation than we first realized, and in that case, we would be wise to stay out of sight until we know more.”
Flashing her palms in a sign of surrender, she rounded the end of the bed.
Mattias breathed a sigh of relief when she backed down instead of becoming more aggressive with her questions and possible desire to leave. He didn't need her fighting to be free of him.
Flinging back the covers on the bed, apparently prepared to rest as he'd suggested—or sulk—she lurched back with a gasp. Sitting in the middle of the white sheets was a bug. An inch long, at least, and black. Probably a roach. Mattias waited for her to climb into a chair or demand another room or do something equally female.
Instead, she leaned back over, hooked the pad of her thumb onto the nail bed of her middle finger, and flicked the roach across the room. It flew far and fast, hitting the wall with a small thud.
For the first time since this whole ordeal began, Mattias wanted to laugh. Especially when she muttered incoherently and gave the covers a firm shake, then climbed gingerly between the sheets.
He couldn't help himself. He said, “You should have checked under the pillows.”
She laid there for a full ten seconds, staring at the ceiling. With a sudden rustle, she scrambled out of bed, picked up both pillows, and shook them with vicious determination.
“It's not funny,” she said, as if she sensed his mirth.
“Yes, it is,” he countered.
“You have to sleep here, too.” She got back in once it was debugged.
“I won't be sleeping in that bed tonight.”
“What, is my hair not blonde enough?”
Mattias's lips thinned at her waspish retort. Alannah had a way of setting the mood right back on edge with one well placed quip.
Silence, he decided, would be her only answer.
Alannah didn't know why she continued to bait the Prince. Aware that her stinging retorts annoyed him, she wasn't able to prevent a few from popping out at inopportune times. In all honesty, she knew she was sometimes difficult to work with and be around. Driven by her hobbies and passions, she often had little patience for those too slow to keep up with her processes and ideas. Mattias was not slow by far, yet she still managed to drive little wedges between them. A quip here, a quip there.
The reality was that she would have preferred to sink into his embrace and
feel the strength of his arms around her. To have his breath brush her cheek, to breathe in his pleasant scent. That she still wanted that after being denied answers to her questions surprised her. Or did it? She hadn't imagined the pull between them on the giant chessboard, and later, in front of her suite. Just because he wouldn't spell everything out didn't change her attraction to him.
And she was attracted. To a distracting degree. Even now, where he leaned against the window frame, looking out over the dark streets, she was drawn to his easy masculinity and something else she couldn't define. Something dangerous.
He'd flipped the sleeves up on the white button down, the black straps of the holster cutting around his shoulders and across his back. She should be trying to sleep. Instead, she let her gaze follow the line of his body to his hips, and from there to his thighs. Although muscular, Mattias was more honed than bulky. Sleekly defined, she could just make out the flex of muscle beneath the lay of the material. When he turned from the window, she forgot to close her eyes. He approached the rickety bed with slow, almost considering strides. Like a panther, she thought, in total control of himself.
Bearing his weight on a knee, he leaned onto the mattress, hovering above and to the side. Alannah knew it was useless to pretend to sleep now, not after he'd probably seen her watching him. His features were lost in shadow for the moment, obscuring his expression. Holding her breath, she waited to see what he would do. Or say. Maybe he meant to confide in her now.
Instead, his fingers touched her hair above the brow, trickling through as if he was afraid he might wake her. She had the sense that he was staring down, thoughtful and considering. Pensive.
His fingers made another pass, almost too light to feel.
Shifting just so, the weak glow from the window washed across his face. And her own. Then they were eye to eye, and there was no hiding that they watched each other. He still looked contemplative, sober. Serious. But he said nothing.
Alannah wanted to lift her hand and skim a touch along his forearm, feel the flexing muscle under his skin. She didn't. Wary of breaking the peace of the moment, she remained quiet. After another full minute, he leaned down. Alannah held her breath, thinking he might kiss her. Should she let him? She wanted him to. Wanted him to—right up until she remembered that he was engaged in some sort of fling with the blonde. Echoes of lusty cries and the sound of bedsprings surfaced at a bad time, and she turned her head away. Feeling him pause his descent, Alannah cursed herself for holding a grudge. But it wasn't just the blonde, it was also what he wouldn't tell her. She knew there was more to his story. How could she build anything with a man who had so many secrets?
The graze of his lips against her brow went unanswered. She didn't reach out, didn't acknowledge him or his brief affection.
Then he was gone, back to the window, pushing a shoulder against the wall to watch the night. She felt him go, watched his silhouette shift through the shadows. Conflicted, she rolled onto her other side and tried to sleep. Tried to put the Prince from her mind.
It was much harder than she thought it would be.
For the third time, Mattias picked up the handset of the phone and dialed Ahsan's cell phone number. Nothing. No ring, no voicemail. Just dead air. He tried Chayton's and got the same thing. Last, he phoned the main line at Morano's, only to get a constant busy signal. The power hadn't yet been restored. He was going to have to wing it for now until he had more information.
Setting the receiver in the cradle, his gaze skimmed the curve of Alannah's shoulder. She'd fallen asleep some three hours past after an hour or so of restless tossing and turning. Whatever rest she could get now would be better for her later, should they need the energy.
Following the slim line of her body beneath the covers with his eyes, he pivoted back to the window where he'd held vigil through the night. His thoughts kept returning to those few minutes of eye contact between them before she'd purposefully turned away. He wanted to know what she'd been thinking, and whether she'd wanted to kiss him as badly as he'd wanted to kiss her. The stinging retorts and tension prevented either of them from acting, as far as he could tell, and he couldn't decide if he thought it was a blessing or a curse.
She'd made it plain she would hate his lifestyle, and he wasn't in a position to tell her what she wanted to know. Nothing good would come of a relationship between them.
Whatever chemistry existed would have to fizzle of its own accord. Eventually, when he returned her to her father, distance and time would take care of that.
It didn't mean he had to like it.
Movement on the side street below snagged Mattias's attention. Focusing in, he watched the shadow of a man—tall and big and bulky—creep from a light pole to a dumpster and finally closer to the side of the hotel. Straightening, tension flashing across his shoulders, Mattias reached for his tuxedo jacket and pulled it on, all without losing sight of the man. At four-something-o'clock in the morning, the odds of someone walking the streets was slim. A man skulking around could only mean trouble.
Checking his weapon, he tucked it back into the sheath, glancing down at the street in time to see the stranger disappear around the side of the hotel. Toward the back entrance, where he'd parked the SUV.
It was definitely time to go.
Alannah hadn't expected to sleep at all. Not one wink. Her mind was too busy fretting over her predicament, over Mattias, and the fact someone wanted her dead. Because of her father's high profile life, she had come to expect a certain amount of danger in day to day living. As the years passed without incident, her vigilance became more lax until she dismissed the danger altogether. No one had ever attempted a hit on her or her father, as far as she knew. It was all well and good to take precautionary measures, but Alannah refused to let it rule her. She lived as she saw fit, acquiescing to the presence of a bodyguard just to keep her father quiet. Otherwise, she flitted here and there on her artifact gathering missions, paying scant attention to who might be watching or waiting.
“Alannah, get up,” a masculine voice insisted.
Disturbed from slumber, Alannah surfaced into a state of confusion. She focused on Mattias's face instead of the blurry ceiling, not quite awake yet. “What?”
“It's time to go.” He yanked the covers off her body with quick, decisive motions.
It all came rushing back as she sat up and glanced around the gloomy hotel room. The kidnapping, the car chase, their clandestine disappearance into the hotel. Sliding her legs to the side of the bed, she wiggled her feet into her shoes and stood.
“Where are we going?” she asked on the way to the bathroom.
“Away from here.”
Alannah exhaled. Mattias was the king of understatement. She couldn't get an in depth answer out of him no matter what. After taking care of business, she washed her hands, splashed water on her face, and left the small bathroom. Her gaze ticked to the phone sitting on a nightstand.
“Why don't we just call my father from here and have him send some men?” Alannah thought that was the best idea, rather than keep running. Her attention switched to Mattias as he closed the distance and cupped his hand under her elbow. He looked fresh, as if an entire night awake hadn't bothered him at all. He also seemed intent and in a hurry.
“Because someone might be monitoring the phones, which will lead them here.” He escorted her to the door, scanning the hallway beyond before allowing her to exit the room in his wake.
“But if they know which phone—or which room—to monitor, then why haven't they shown up?” Alannah followed Mattias to the far end of the hall and down the back stairs. The heels, although moderate, would become a problem soon if they had to move fast.
“They don't know which room, or which hotel. I should have said they're probably monitoring all calls coming in and out of this area. Certain keywords will tip them off, maybe even the sound of my voice or yours. That's why I was only testing Ahsan's phone line and the one at Morano's house. Any actual message I would hav
e left from a payphone somewhere else.” He surveyed the night as they stepped from the hotel to the back lot, body tense.
“They have that capability?” she asked, surprised. It didn't dawn on her just how wary Mattias was until she saw him draw his gun.
“Voice recognition is a cakewalk for them. Now shhh.” He silenced her as they broke from the cover of shadow into the moonlight.
Alannah wanted to ask if 'they' had facial recognition, too, and what devices they might use to perpetrate spying. She knew the technology existed, of course, but seeing the effects firsthand made it more real. For now she honored his request to remain quiet.
Coming up to the SUV, Mattias scoured the entire parking lot, dark eyes darting from one position to another.
If Alannah didn't know better, she would have thought they were being stalked.
“Mattias--”
“Shh.” He paused at the back of the vehicle, then peered around the passenger's side, gently pulling her by the hand.
Chilled by more than the early morning mist, Alannah held tighter to Mattias's hand, suddenly paranoid at every flickering shadow. She didn't see anything amiss in the night, but she also wasn't trained where to look. Moving forward at the tug to her hand, she followed Mattias with quick, quiet steps to the passenger door. He opened it, guarding her back, apparently expecting her to get in. She did so, pulling the door closed with a thump that sounded much louder than she anticipated.
Mattias circled the front of the vehicle, weapon out at his side, eyes constantly scouring the lot. It unnerved her to realize that something must have happened to put him on edge this way and that there might be danger lurking in the lot with them.
Breathing easier once he was inside with her, she fastened her seat belt and said, “What was that all about?”
The Royal Elite: Mattias Page 10
