“I told you before. It started out one way and ended another.” He set the glass down and met her eyes.
Unnerved by how direct his gaze could be, hers flitted down to her plate, where she used her fork to push pieces of steak around. “You're here by choice.”
“Yes.”
“Someone else could have been the one to come with me, or after me, but you chose to yourself.” She needed to have it spelled out for her. Although Alannah hadn't lacked for suitors, most men didn't come back for seconds or thirds with her. One sitting seemed to be their limit. She had always blamed it on her horrible social skills, of which the jet set was so enamored. That a Prince, of all people, took it upon himself to make her well being his top priority after he'd dealt with her more than once was astounding.
“Yes, someone else could have come with you. I could call someone else in now, if I was forced to, but I like to finish what I start.”
Shifting on the chair, trying to decide whether that was innuendo she detected in the latter part of his comment, she said, “And what about the blonde?”
“What about her?”
Flustered, Alannah used her fork to make random gestures. “Well, I mean...”
“Am I going to sleep with her again?” he asked.
“...are you?”
“No.”
The fork swerved down to her plate and she stabbed a steamed chunk of zucchini. She popped the bite in her mouth, using the time to think of what to say. Something unpleasant about the woman wouldn't do.
“It's really none of my business,” she finally said, admitting the truth. Who he slept with wasn't her business. Even if it rankled her beyond reason.
“It's not, and I won't justify my actions to anyone. But I don't mind saying that I have no interest in her beyond what we mutually shared.” He sliced off a thin piece of chicken and ate it, watching her while he chewed.
“Is that how you are with most women? One night stand kind of things?” she asked.
“Do I seem like that kind of man?” he countered.
“I don't know, that's why I'm asking you.” She set down her fork and picked up her water, studying his features. Mattias, when he wanted to be, was difficult to read.
“I haven't been that man in a long time. Until recently, I was engaged, and no, before you ask, I did not sleep around while I was committed.” He sat back in his chair and tossed the napkin over what remained of his dinner. Shortly thereafter, he pushed to a stand and went to the bed where he'd laid out his clothes.
Alannah, dumbfounded that he'd been engaged to someone, stared across the room. “Engaged? What happened? Is she still in your life?”
Mattias opened the tie on the robe and peeled the fluffy material from his broad shoulders. He wore black boxers beneath, the kind that hugged his hips and thighs. Alannah, distracted by the site of him in the boxers she'd personally chosen, temporarily forgot their conversation. She snapped back to the present when he pulled a pair of jeans up his muscular legs.
“To make a long story short, I courted her because it was expected of me, and although I was fond of her at times, I never really loved her. During a hazardous situation with my family, she was framed for something she didn't do, and after a rather volatile row I ended it with her.” He drew a light gray tee shirt over his head, slid his feet into socks, and hung up the robe.
Fascinated by the story, she observed the smooth way he moved while he dressed, and missed the sight of his golden flesh once it was obscured by his clothing.
“What ever became of her?” she asked.
Mattias paused, then finished turning back to the bed. He raked a hand through his hair. “She spent time in jail until I petitioned for her release. The public believes her guilty of the crime of planning murder, and because the true perpetrator behind the crime will never be prosecuted, I had to slip her out of the country.”
“Who planned murder, if not her?” Alannah pushed her plate away, far more interested in Mattias's life than her food. Even the threat that someone was probably hunting them as they spoke could not deter her curiosity. Mattias's silence at her question only piqued her interest further.
“Mattias?”
“I'd rather not discuss it. That was a harrowing time—as is typical with my family. Remember, if you feel tired or like you might doze off, wake me. I don't want both of us asleep at the same time.” He got prone on the mattress atop the covers rather than beneath them.
Alannah wanted to press for more details. She hated not knowing the answer to a puzzle, but she could tell by the way he changed the subject and reclined to rest that she wouldn't get anything more from him.
“I will.” Glancing away from the bed, she gathered up the plates and glasses and set them on the cart. Pushing it into the hallway for staff to collect, she closed the door, engaged the locks, and clicked off the light. Late afternoon sunlight spilled in through a crack in the curtains, so she adjusted them until only light gray shadows remained.
“Thanks.”
The resonant rumble of his gratitude sent goosebumps along her arms. Taking her clothing into the bathroom, she hastily donned her own pair of jeans, a light pink tee shirt, and her new pair of sneakers. The entire time she thought about what it would be like to curl herself next to Mattias and sleep the next five hours away. Visions of them stripping out of the robes at the same time—wearing nothing beneath—brought a flush to her cheeks.
After double checking that their things were secure in the bags, lest they find the need to leave in a hurry, Alannah paced back to her chair and slumped down into it. Mattias's eyes were closed, as far as she could tell, though she wasn't sure whether he'd already fallen asleep. His breathing sounded even, but that didn't mean much.
Vexed at her alternating reaction to him, she laced her fingers across her stomach and prepared to wait it out.
Chapter Eleven
Pulled into awareness by bitterness stinging her taste buds, Alannah scraped her tongue against the edge of her teeth and groaned when her neck protested her shift into a new, straighter angle. It felt a lot like she'd fallen asleep in the chair, head lolled to the side for too many hours. Horrified at doing exactly what Mattias warned her not to, she jolted awake, disconcerted by the utter blackness that met her gaze. There should have been some light spilling in through the crack of the curtains, enough to make out dim shapes and shadows. Blinking furiously, she experienced a stab of ice cold fear that she'd somehow been rendered blind. Her eyes were open, yet...nothing. She saw nothing. The faint pressure of material on her skin made her realize a moment later that a blindfold covered her eyes. When she tried to reach up and remove it, a soft yet strong binding held her wrists tight together behind her.
Shaking off disorientation, she pulled in a deep breath and took stock of the situation. Upright in a chair, lacking a cushion like the ones in the hotel, coupled with the fact she was bound and blindfolded told her that somehow, she and Mattias had been the victims of another attack. She didn't remember any kind of trauma, no kicking in of the hotel door or some other subterfuge, suggesting she'd been drugged before being moved. Her fear of being discovered by those who wanted her dead proved to be real and justified. She and Mattias were safe nowhere, a fact driven home by this most unpleasant display. If she thought too long and hard about what had just happened, she knew it would incapacitate her. Instead, she forced herself to concentrate and focus on how to escape.
The scent in the place she now occupied smelled different than the hotel as well. Leather, flowers, and clean linens tickled her senses opposed to the more sterile cleanliness of the hotel room.
What had happened between the time she closed her eyes and now? Alannah couldn't tell if an hour had passed or one whole day. She also couldn't tell if she was alone. So far, she detected no other sounds of movement or breathing. The pressing need to use the ladies room became more urgent the longer she was awake, making her think she'd been 'out' a lot longer than she realized.
“Mattias?” she whispered.
Nothing. Dead silence. What a thought, she chided herself. Dead silence. She hoped it wasn't accurate in the Prince's case.
“Can you hear me? Mattias?”
Still no answer. No rustle of clothing or shifting of a body coming to.
“Hello?”
No one answered.
She stretched one foot out in front of her, thankful whoever tied her up didn't think to secure her ankles. Her shoe came into contact with nothing. No furniture, no wall. She angled it to the left, then used the other leg to feel around the chair. As far as she could tell, the space must be big enough that she couldn't reach walls or other objects. Leaning forward as far as her arms would allow, bent at the waist, she put her feet flat on the ground and lifted the legs of the chair up. Scuttling an inch at a time, she moved to the right until the chair bumped into a wall. That no one shouted out at her, demanding she stop, encouraged the idea that she was alone. Scooting again in the same manner, biting back pain that shot along her spine, she continued that pattern until the leg of the seat bumped against something less solid. Like a door. Sitting again, she leaned toward it and listened. The faint strains of conversation drifted from somewhere else in the building. Men's voices, too low to make out distinct words.
Skittering forward, she bumped into a heavy piece of what she thought was furniture. Leaning, balancing precariously on two chair legs with one foot braced so she didn't topple over, Alannah attempted to hook the edge of the blindfold on something, anything, with a sharp edge. Maybe the handle of a drawer. If she could see, it might help her find a way to remove the bindings.
Every surface her cheek came into contact with was smooth and polished. Rounded, not square, and well made. The handle, when she found it, wasn't the type with jutting ends. It was the kind shaped like a horseshoe with smooth edges.
No good.
She thought about using her teeth to open the drawer, then dismissed the idea. Angling her head in there to root around for a sharp object did her little good when she couldn't use her hands.
Frustrated and worried about Mattias, Alannah maneuvered the chair past the dresser, scooting until she came into contact with a nightstand. Using her foot, she swiped it across the top, hoping to knock a phone out of its cradle.
Not only wasn't there a phone atop the nightstand, there wasn't anything at all except a lamp. Her shoe thumped against the base, creating a mild, tinny sound. Not loud enough to be heard beyond what she thought must be a large bedroom suite. If she broke the lamp for sharp pieces, she risked cutting herself in the process.
A click and swoosh of the bedroom door startled a gasp out of her. Footsteps crossed the tile in her direction.
“Hello? Where am I? What are--” Alannah yelped when two strong hands grasped the back of her chair, tilted it back on its rear legs, and dragged her across the room.
“Don't move again, and shut your mouth, or I'll shove a gag so far down your throat you won't be able to breathe,” a menacing voice said near her ear.
The man stood in front of her for several minutes, causing Alannah to shift in her seat. What was he doing? Just staring at her? Gloating at his superior prowess? Finally, the sound of footsteps retreated and the door closed with a decisive bang.
Trembling and disturbed that she couldn't currently find a way out of her bindings, her thoughts turned to Mattias. Alannah hoped the Prince of Latvala was having better luck than she.
How ironic, Mattias thought, that a glass paned pagoda in the middle of a tropical jungle should be his prison. Hands shackled behind him on an elegant chair, he stared at the octagon shaped room with floor to ceiling windows and a pointed roof made of beams and screens to allow air and sound inside. Two doors sat at either end; one led outside, and the other gave access to a small, neat bathroom.
As far as he could tell, the pagoda sat by itself in the middle of an expansive garden. 'Garden' was putting it lightly. Cobbled walkways meandered into and around lush, tropical palms. Cleverly stacked boulders added a rougher texture into the flowered landscape, where Lily of the Nile and Bird of Paradise plants ran rampant. The soothing roar of a waterfall in the near distance made him think he'd been transported to Hawaii, exacerbated by the colorful birds that streaked by in flashes of blue, yellow and red.
For all intents and purposes, this was paradise.
What he'd been subjected to the past twenty-hours was more like hell.
After waking up early this morning already secured to a chair, he had endured two rounds of 'questioning'. Mostly it involved how many men were in Spain on his security detail, how well trained they were, and whether they were expected to come after him or wait for word.
Mattias gave them nothing. He had switched up his answers every time, falsely leading the two men along only to hark back to answers that contradicted ones he'd already given. And he'd paid a dear price. Swollen from several backhands, his face sported a minor cut above the brow and a small abrasion along his jaw.
Any second now, he expected the men to return with 'toys' that would make things so much more interesting. Along with that, he figured to be video recorded demanding Sander pay the men ransom for his safe return. Whoever was ultimately behind the plot had gone to extraordinary lengths to trap him while advancing their strike against Alannah.
All his queries about her had been answered with either silence or violence. It concerned him greatly that they might have killed her already and dumped her body God knew where. The lack of information was partly to blame for some of his more churlish responses, which never failed to earn him some sort of payback or punishment.
A jiggle of the lock drew his attention to the door leading out.
This time, unlike the last, the gentleman that stepped into the glass room sported a pristine suit, polished dress shoes and silver hair slicked back from his temple. The last two men had been brutes well versed in torture. Mattias understood this man was the driving force behind those who delivered the pain. He didn't recognize him as someone who ran with the elite of the world, but that didn't mean much. Some of the more eccentric members of the gentry steered clear of the gatherings and social parties, preferring to live out their lives in semi-seclusion.
“I see you're finally awake,” the silver haired man said. He reached to unbutton his suit coat, letting it fall open.
“Again,” Mattias added.
The gentleman strolled to one of the tall windows overlooking the jungle-like surroundings. He rocked on the soles of his shoes, appearing deep in thought.
Mattias waited him out, tonguing a split in his lip.
“You've resisted giving up information today, I understand.”
“I want to know what you've done with the girl,” Mattias said instead of addressing the comment about information.
“Would it coerce you to cooperate if you knew she won't be harmed if you simply tell us what we want to know?”
Mattias's stomach twisted. Using someone else in the game of torture was not a situation he wanted to be in. At the same time, it gave him a glimmer of hope that she was still alive.
“Nothing will coerce me to give up my men,” Mattias said.
“I'm not talking about your security team this time, although you made sure to confuse my men enough over that. I'm talking about the members of the 'Royal Elite'.” The silver haired man snapped a hard look directly at Mattias.
Hiding his surprise, Mattias said, “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“The only reason we wanted to know about your security was to judge how much of a threat they'll be once we go after the members of your supposedly illustrious group. I know, from personal experience, that guards can be tenacious.”
Mattias said nothing.
“Please, Prince Mattias. We both know what I'm talking about. Do you think this little plan came about overnight?” The gentleman gestured with his fingers as if encompassing everything that had happened at House Morano. “You and your brethren have bee
n a thorn in many people's sides, as I'm sure you realize. After all, breaking up kidnappings, murders and disappearances is what your group specializes in, isn't that right?”
Mattias sat in stony faced silence, listening as the details of the Royal Elite spilled forth. Of all the things Mattias had expected of this entire escapade, this wasn't one of them. That this stranger tossed around the Royal Elite name so cavalierly unsettled Mattias in ways he didn't expect.
“I applaud your resolve, really I do. I didn't want my men to beat you unrecognizable because we might need the clarity of your features for recording purposes later. You know what that means, yes?”
Mattias knew what it meant, but said nothing.
“I want a list. The whole list, of every person in the group. I'd heard impossible rumors that royalty and the wealthiest of the wealthy might be involved, though I admit, until you dropped into our net, that I didn't believe it. A Prince, no less. It makes me think there might actually be some truth to the rumors after all.” The silver haired man faced Mattias fully, hands in the pockets of his slacks.
Licking the split in his lip, Mattias rumbled a laugh. “You have it all wrong, unfortunately. I'm unsure how you think I dropped into your net. The only thing I did was what any other man would do seeing a woman being kidnapped right before his eyes. I helped out.”
The man clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Mm, I don't think so. We set the trap ever so carefully. Only someone on the inside, one of the Royal Elite, would have responded to the threat.”
“What you got instead was a man who had been courting a woman into his bed. You must have resources at the gala. Surely they've told you I've been living up that aspect of the party to the hilt the last few days.” Mattias arched a brow, negligent and casual. He wanted to make the man believe his interest in Alannah had been for one thing only. That he'd just been in the right place, at the right time, and of course acted on her behalf. The way the stranger's eyes narrowed assured Mattias that he'd at least caught the man off guard.
The Royal Elite: Mattias Page 13
