by Tia Louise
Her eyes go round with surprise. “Why are they like that?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Rich people are crazy. Some rich men even get their nails polished, and they aren’t even gay!”
Air bursts through her lips, and she starts to laugh. I smile and pull her arm so she can lie down with her face on my bony, empty stomach. “Now get some sleep.”
The rain is tapering off, and my little sister is laughing instead of crying. I don’t have any idea if anything I just said is possible, but I’m going to find out. I’ll be damned if I let another foster asshole touch her. It’s what Mom would expect me to do. I’m the biggest. I have to take care of us, and I intend to do it.
* * *
Crown Prince Rowan Westringham Tate
The navy fabric of my father’s uniform coat stretches taut across his shoulders. It’s the tangible warning sign his anger is rising, and the person addressing him would do well to shut up.
“Monagasco has been an independent nation for eight hundred years.” His voice is a rolling growl pricking the tension in my chest.
The last time my father started on our nation’s history, the offending party was thrown out of the meeting room by the neck. He’s getting too old for such violent outbursts. I worry about his heart… and my future. My freedom, more specifically.
“I think what Hubert was trying to say—” The Grand Duke, my mother’s brother Reginald Winchester, tries to intervene.
“I KNOW what Hubert is trying to say!” My father (a.k.a., The King) cuts him off. “He thinks we should cede our southwestern territory to Totrington! Even though their raiders and bandits have pillaged our farms along the border for generations!”
Leaning back in my heavy oak chair, I steeple my fingers before my lips and don’t say what I want. As crown prince, I’ve attended these meetings for three years, since I turned nineteen. I’ve learned when to speak and when to discuss things in private with my father.
I could say I agree with Reggie, we should consider a trade agreement with our neighboring nation-state, but I’m more concerned about the King’s health. I’ve never seen him so worked up before.
“Independence at all costs,” he continues, his naturally pink cheeks even pinker. “We will not give those savages an open door to the control of Monagasco.”
“No one’s suggesting—”
“Shut UP, Hubert!” My father shouts, and I glance down to avoid meeting the earl’s offended eyes.
Hubert’s sniveling voice is like nails on a chalkboard, and I privately enjoy my father chastising him. I’ve always suspected him of conspiring with Wade Paxton, Totrington’s newly elected Prime Minister, from the time when Wade was only a member of their parliament.
“I’ve had enough of this.” My father walks to the window and looks out. “I’d like to speak to Rowan in private. You can all go.”
“Of course.” Reginald stands at once, smoothing his long hands down the front of his dark coat.
Tall and slender, with greying black hair and a trim mustache, my uncle embodies the Charmant line of our family. I inherited their height and Norman complexion. My father, by contrast, is a Tate through and through. Short, pink, and round.
As soon as the room is cleared, he stalks back to the table, still brooding like a thunderstorm. “Reggie’s in league with them as well,” he growls.
“Not necessarily.” My voice is low and level, and I hope appeasing. “My uncle does have an idea, and of the two, it’s the least offensive. Hubert would combine our countries and walk away—”
“Exactly!” Father snaps, turning to face me, blue eyes blazing. “My own cousin, born and reared in our beautiful land. He’s been promised a place in the new government, I’ll bet you. They’ll throw the lot of us out—behead us if they can.”
“I’m pretty sure beheading is no longer tolerated in western civilization.”
“Harumph.” He’s still angry, but at least he’s calmer. “It would break your mother’s heart. The Charmants founded Monagasco. We can’t let those Twatringtons in.”
His use of the unofficial nickname for our southwest neighbor makes me grin. Rising from my chair, I brace his shoulder in a firm grasp.
“We won’t let that happen.” Our blue eyes meet. It’s the only feature we share. He’s a few inches shorter than me, but he makes up for it in stubbornness. “We’re flush with reserves, and the economy can change at any time.”
His thick hand covers mine. “I’m doing my best to leave you a strong country to rule. The country I inherited.”
“We would do well to reduce our dependence on foreign oil reserves.” He starts to argue, but I hold up a hand as I head for the door. He’s finally calm, and I’m not interested in riling him up again. “In any event, you’ll be around long enough to see the tides turn. Now get some rest.” I’m at the enormous wooden door of the war room. “We can’t solve all our problems in one day.”
“Goodnight, son.”
The tone in his voice causes me to look back. He’s at the window, and a troubled expression mars his profile. A shimmer of concern passes through my stomach, but I dismiss it, quietly stepping into the dim hallway. It’s enormous and shrouded with heavy velvet curtains and tapestries.
I grew up playing in these halls, hiding from my mother and chasing my younger brother. I’m tired and ready for bed when the sound of hushed voices stops me in my tracks.
“Pompous ass. He’s going to kill himself with these outbursts. We need to be ready to move when that happens.” The glee in Hubert’s sniveling voice revives the anger in my chest. I step into the shadows to listen.
“By climbing into bed with Wade Paxton?”
I recognize my uncle’s voice, and my jaw clenches. Is Father right? Is Reginald conspiring with that worm against the crown?
“Wade Paxton would unite the kingdoms and make us both leaders in the new government.”
“Wade Paxton is a thug.”
“Not very respectful verbiage for the Prime Minister of Totrington, also known as our future partner.”
“He’s no better than one of those mob bosses on American television. Savage.” Reggie’s voice is laced with snobbery. “He’d tax the people and change the very nature of Monagasco.”
Hubert’s tone is undeterred. “Some things might change, but as leaders, you and I can help maintain the best parts, the heart of the nation. Once Philip is out of the way, of course, which could be sooner than we think.”
My fists tighten at my sides. I’m ready to step out of the shadows and shake Hubert’s traitorous neck until his teeth rattle. The only thing stopping me is my desire to hear the extent of this treachery.
“You’re right about one thing,” Reggie says. “Philip’s health is tenuous. We need to be prepared to act should a crisis arise.”
“What about Rowan? If he’s not on our side, we could end up in the same position—and with a much younger king to wait out.”
“Possibly.” My uncle pauses, and I feel the heat rising around my collar.
“Wade has a plan for managing such a contingency. Should Rowan prove… difficult.”
“I’m sure he does,” Reggie scoffs. “And Cal? Shall we wipe out the entire Tate line?”
Hubert’s voice is low and wicked. “Perhaps being in league with a ‘thug’ as you put it has its advantages.”
How dare these bastards! What they’re saying is high treason! My body is poised to move when Reggie’s words freeze me in place.
“I’m sure Wade’s tactics won’t prove necessary. When the time comes to do the right thing, we can count on Rowan.”
Count on Rowan? Is it possible he thinks I would even consider a merger with Twatrington? Their voices recede down the corridor as my level of disgust and loyalty to my father rises. The king has had a difficult evening. I’ll let him rest tonight, but I will present him with this conspiracy first thing tomorrow. Reggie is right. When the time comes, I will do the right thing.
Looking back, I
had no idea the time would come in less than twenty-four hours…
* * *
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One to Hold
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(Book #1 in the bestselling One to Hold series.)
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Chapter 1: A One-Week Stand
In the cool darkness of the semi-crowded bar, I could allow the last year to dissolve into a hazy fog, a far-off memory. Each low thump of bass that disappeared into the dull roar of voices beat it further down. With a little more alcohol, it could even become a dream—something that never occurred in real life. Something that could be brushed aside like a phantom, not a true form. Not a reality that burned shame, low and deep in my stomach.
Bars had become a thing of my past, along with flirtatious passes from unfamiliar men, but sitting alone in this hotel club, hundreds of miles from home, I felt wonderfully liberated. I could be anyone. Any anonymous woman having a drink before bed. I could pretend to be free.
My eyes traveled to the dance-floor where younger women in shiny slip dresses and chunky stilettos twisted and swayed, their smooth blonde or red hair matching their movements. They squeal-laughed when songs they liked came on, and the lines around their eyes disappeared as soon as their cheeks relaxed. They could dance all night and still make it to work tomorrow, eyes sparkling.
A bitter laugh slid from my throat as I stared back into the amber drink I’d ordered. The thought of dancing all night made me tired.
The bartender didn’t notice me. I’d stood for almost five minutes trying to get his attention to order this drink, and it was gross. “Seven and seven” was all I could remember from the days when I used to order drinks for myself. It was a popular combination then, but I never liked the flavor. Refreshing citrus dragged down by a heavy undertone of bitter syrup. I took a long pull from the tiny red straw and winced.
I should’ve gone back to the room with Elaine. My best friend since childhood said what I needed was a trip to the desert. She’d booked us a week at the Cactus Flower Spa in Scottsdale, where we could get massages, sit in steam rooms, soak in mud, and let our tensions melt away with hot-wax pedicures. She said it would break me out of my “funk,” as she called it. I didn’t have anything else to do this week.
It was with those sunny thoughts in my head that I saw him. At first I thought it was an accident, my eyes flickering across the square-shaped bar at the same time as his. Blue eyes, strikingly blue because of the way they stood out beneath his dark brow, coupled with collar-length, thick dark hair. He had a beard. I didn’t like beards—not even close-trimmed ones like his. He was huge. I could see his muscles from where I sat. His chest strained against the tight, black shirt he wore, and his biceps stretched the sleeves. I preferred smaller men, long and lean model-types.
But he didn’t look away. And like a deer caught in headlights, I couldn’t either. My breath stilled as my eyes stayed on his, as I waited for him to release me. He would release me. I knew he would. I simply had to wait.
Men in bars were after those baby-faced innocents on the dance floor, not me. They wanted energetic young ones with their tight bodies, high-pitched breasts, and even tighter vaginas. Those were the girls men wanted to fuck. They would scream and moan all night and tell them they were the best ever, the king. I wasn’t looking for a king. Still, in the next moment, when the mountain of sex holding my gaze stood and began his slow glide in my direction, all I could think was maybe…
I watched as he passed the patrons facing each other, talking and laughing. Some were more animated than others, waving their arms and putting their drinks in peril. They all shone in the yellow lights hidden above, in the recesses of the wooden shelves that held dozens of upside-down glasses in all shapes and sizes. Liquor bottles were arranged on the top shelf. For some reason, though, the lights didn’t seem to reach him. Or me. We were in our own secret, shadowy place.
When he rounded the final corner and I could see him in full, my breath caught. My eyes traveled quickly from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist, down his grey pants ending in sleek, black loafers. Just as fast, they were back to his face, and he was in front of me. I’d never been confronted with so much male presence focused on me in my life. He had to be six-two and twice my size.
“Can I buy you a drink?” The low vibration of his voice shot a pleasing charge right between my legs, and my cheeks warmed.
Blinking back to my glass, I poked the half-empty contents with the straw. “I have this,” I said, my voice softer and higher in contrast to his.
“But you don’t like it.” A small smile was on his lips. It made him the slightest bit less intimidating.
“How do you know?”
He leaned against the bar in front of me, bringing his face closer to my level, his body almost touching mine. A faint scent of warm cologne swirled around me, tightening my chest.
“You make a face every time you sip it,” he said. “I’ve been watching you since you walked in with your friend earlier.”
My brows drew together. “Why?”
His tongue touched his bottom lip, and my jaw dropped. I quickly closed it, thinking how insane it was the way my body responded to him.
This was not me. I did not fantasize about hooking up with strange men in bars. And a cocky alpha who studied me like I was a frontier landscape he was ready to conquer had never been my type. He probably wanted to tie me up or handcuff me to something. A delicious shiver passed through me at the thought. I put my eyes on my drink.
“Maybe I should introduce myself,” he said, holding out a large palm. I stared at it a moment. “Derek.”
My eyes lifted to his blue ones, which were still holding me in that intense gaze. He had a small nose and a full mouth. A million pornographic images flooded my brain of that nose nudging into my dark spaces, of that mouth kissing areas long-neglected. That beard scratching the insides of my thighs as I moaned and twisted in white sheets, threading my fingers in his silky hair. I cleared the thickness in my throat, feeling heat everywhere in my body.
“Melissa,” I said, placing my noticeably smaller hand in his. His fingers closed over mine, and instead of overwhelming, it felt… right.
“Sweet Melissa,” he said with a little grin. The side of his mouth lifting the way it did made me want to kiss him.
“I’m not so sweet,” I said, taking my hand back.
“Aren’t others supposed to make that judgment?” His eyes never left me as he motioned to the bartender, who immediately came to us. Apparently it wasn’t only the perky blondes who got instant service.
“Two glasses of your best cava,” Derek said, giving the boy a quick glance before turning back to me.
“Cava?” I did love the crisp, Spanish sparkling wine. Why I hadn’t thought to order that instead of my tan cocktail-disaster?
“That’s sort of a celebratory drink, isn’t it?”
“So let’s celebrate.”
“Did you get a promotion or something?”
He leaned closer, bringing his eyes to my level. My throat tightened, but I didn’t move away. “I met you,” he said in that low tone I felt in all the right places.
Two slim glasses were placed in front of us, but I wasn’t sure I could lift mine without my hand trembling. Derek picked up both and handed one to me. I took it and carefully sipped, watching as he did the same.
“Are you here on business?” I asked, trying to diffuse the ridiculous amount of sexual tension between us. I considered the possibility I was the only one feeling it.
“Banker’s conference this week,” he said, taking another, longer drink and then setting the glass back on the bar. His muscles fought against the thin fabric restraining them with every movement.
“You’re in banking?” I hated the tremor in my voice.
It made me sound like a little girl, when I was striving
to be an independent woman. A strong woman who was bigger than her past.
For once, I wanted to forget what happened last year. Let it go and be somebody else. I was out of town, in the desert, in a bar being hit on by a gorgeous stranger. Fate was giving me my chance.
“More like upper management,” he said, not seeming to notice my distraction. “I’m doing a workshop on international trade and finance tomorrow. You?”
“Spa vacation,” I said. “My friend Elaine said it would be a week to change my life. Or at least my outlook.”
A little spark hit his eyes, and I bit my lip. Did I just proposition him? Did I want to? It had been a long time since I’d wanted to be close to anyone in that way. Was I brave enough to let him in?
Internally I shook myself. Yes. If that was what I wanted, of course I was. I had always been strong before, and I was still strong. I wouldn’t let that be taken from me, too.
“Elaine is who you’re here with?” he asked.
I nodded, taking another, longer sip. I allowed my mind to release the past and return to better thoughts, like those of him removing that shirt and setting that massive physique free. My desire to see what was under it grew stronger by the minute.
“Will she worry if you’re out late?” he asked looking directly into my eyes.
I barely shook my head No. Elaine wouldn’t mind. She might even throw a party if I got laid. My breathing had become shallow, and all rational thought was quickly taking a backseat to desire.
“I have a key to the conference room,” he said quietly. “There’s a small, outdoor patio just off the side. It’s very private.”
“Why do you have a key?”
