Royal Chase (The Royals of Monterra)

by Sariah Wilson

  I was engaged.

  Engaged and getting married in only six short weeks. Sterling and I had agreed to get married the weekend after the show had finished filming.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Dante asked. “And why are you carrying a dress?”

  I hated that he could tell right away that something was going on. I didn’t like feeling like he knew me. “There’s a girl in the bathroom who knows you’re a prince, and I had to do something to keep her there until I could tell someone on the production team.”

  “So you disrobed her?” This amused him way too much.

  “I couldn’t think of another way to keep her away from the other girls,” I said, walking away, determined to find Taylor and leave Dante with whoever was supposed to be babysitting him.

  “Don’t be defensive. It was very clever of you.” He paused. Though I was practically running, he had no problem keeping stride with me. “Is this a new rule?”

  “Is what a new rule?” I asked over my shoulder. It was easier to control my attraction when I didn’t look directly at him. It didn’t eliminate my symptoms entirely, but it did help.

  “Does this mean that anytime you do something I don’t want you to do, I can take your clothes?” I stopped. He’d asked the question so innocently, but my skin immediately flushed in response and I couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “Ha-ha,” I replied, forcing myself to walk on now unsteady ankles. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  He gave me a half bow. “By all means, go save the day.”

  I thought I had escaped, right up until he reached out and gently grabbed my hand, forcing me to turn and look at him. Which promptly made me hold my breath and my heart stopped. “Dante, I talked to you about this . . .”

  As if realizing what he had done, he held both of his hands in the air. Like he was surrendering. “I know, I know. I’m not supposed to touch you. I try and remember that I’m not allowed, but my heart forgets.” He said it with a wink and a playful grin that made me remember the first time he ever kissed me.

  Last Christmas I had made my best friend come with me to Monterra, a small European nation between Italy and Switzerland that most people had never heard of. Some friends in my ski club mentioned that Monterra had some of the best powder and some of the cutest guys. My parents had plans to go on a cruise to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary, and I asked if I could take Kat to Monterra to go skiing for Christmas.

  The first day we were there, on the one day that Kat had promised to ski with me, she had a terrible accident. She had planned to meet me on the bunny slope. I had been skiing around waiting for her when I heard yelling and whistles farther down the mountain. Curious, I went off to see what was going on. There was Kat, strapped to a board and being pulled toward a waiting helicopter. I couldn’t recall another time when I’d ever felt so panicked or worried. I had tried frantically to get to her, to make sure she was okay, and someone grabbed me to keep me back. To hold me. To comfort me.

  It was Dante.

  He held me tight as I cried, causing my fear to dissipate while she was loaded in. Another man (Nico, I learned later) climbed in behind Kat, and Dante yelled something to him in Italian. He waved for us to join them. I sat right next to Kat, holding her hand, praying for her to be all right. She was awake, which was good. But I couldn’t seem to stop crying. I told her she was going to be okay, which I desperately hoped was true. I could feel Dante behind me, and even though I didn’t know his name then, I was so glad that he was there. He was so calm and sure while I fell apart. Kat threw up and passed out, and Dante held me again while I cried and the paramedics took care of her.

  It had been all my fault that she was in that situation. She’d only skied once before, and she’d somehow gotten onto one of the harder runs and had almost died. I shouldn’t have made her come with me. If she had died, I never would have forgiven myself.

  I was confused when we arrived at the hospital and all of the staff were bowing and scraping to the two men as Kat was rushed into an examination room. I heard someone call them “Your Highness,” which shocked me. I was told to sit in the waiting room by a nurse in broken English, while Dante and Nico spoke to some of the doctors. I pulled out my phone and did a search for “royal family” and “Monterra.”

  And found pictures of Nico and Dante. Princes.

  Charming, playboy princes from the look of things. Dante seemed to have a different girl for every occasion. I knew his type. I constantly dated and got cheated on by his type. I was well aware of how our story would end. Regardless of how considerate and nice he’d been, I wasn’t about to play his game. I planned to keep my distance. Maybe even find a different guy to lust after while I was there.

  Once Kat had recovered and had started responding awkwardly to Nico’s sweet advances, I decided I needed to let off a little steam.

  When I said as much to Dante, he told me he sometimes ran a pseudo-nightclub out of the castle’s dungeon. Which was weird, and I told him as much. He laughed, up until I asked him to invite some other friends along. Some male friends. His face fell, and he looked so sad it was all I could do to stick to my guns. I wasn’t going to let him sway me.

  Which turned out to be famous last words.

  Chapter 2

  How much does a polar bear weigh? Usually enough to break the ice.

  At the hospital Dante had introduced me to some of his friends, including his twin brother, Rafe, and several other young nobles. One in particular stood out—a man named Salvatore, who was some kind of duke. He was handsome, but nothing compared to the men of the royal family. It was a bit like a star standing next to a group of suns.

  But he was cute and had flirted with me, so I decided to focus my energy on him. Our flirtation fizzled out, but I was determined to regain his attention. If I didn’t have someone else, I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist Dante.

  And Dante turned out to be pretty irresistible.

  We were in his nightclub, dancing to a playlist that Dante had arranged himself. Someone had sprayed neon glow paint all over the stone walls, and there were comfortable benches set up with tables. The club even had a bar in one corner where everyone just helped themselves. I stayed away from the alcohol, because Dante had a predatory look in his eyes and I needed to keep my wits about me.

  I sat down on a bench, pretending to ignore Salvatore the way he was ignoring me. He was talking to two women who appeared to be models, and they chain-smoked in a corner while looking bored by everything.

  He was shunning me because of what I’d told him. Kat planned on staying a virgin until she got married, and for some reason I’d made the Lord a promise while she was in the hospital that if He would make her better, I’d do the same thing. I would give up my one-night stands and cheating boyfriends and become celibate. In that moment I would have promised anything if it had meant she would recover. In hindsight it might have been a bit rash, but it was a promise I planned on keeping. Or, at least, trying to keep. We were leaving Monterra in a little less than two weeks, and I didn’t want to sleep with a man I’d never see again. I was tired of random hookups. Tired of how gross and used they made me feel.

  And his rejection bruised my pride. I wasn’t used to men not paying me any attention. I sat there, feeling sorry for myself, but not willing to change my mind to make some boy like me. If all he wanted was someone to sleep with, he could get one of those underfed bimbos instead. I’d move on. As if he could read my mind, Dante came and sat next to me. Like he had somehow sensed my vulnerability from across the room.

  “Interesting nightclub,” I told him as he completely invaded my personal space. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “You don’t have one in your dungeon?”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t have a dungeon.”

  “Really? How strange,” he teased as he lifted his cup to his lips. His very kissable lips, by the way. I made myself look away. I could feel him, almost touching
me but not quite, a delicious heat emanating from his body.

  I should have made him go away. Instead, I asked, “Why did you create all this?”

  He shrugged. “If we go out, our security details have to go out with us. If we do it here, then we don’t take anyone away from their families.”

  My heart did a funny little flip. That was extraordinarily thoughtful and sweet. I was about to tell him so, when I stopped myself. I was supposed to be keeping my distance and not encouraging him.

  So I stayed quiet, listening to the music, watching but not watching Salvatore.

  “I don’t know why you’re making this effort. He’s not worth it. And this will never work with him.” He put one of his arms along the back of the bench, right behind me. His very strong, masculine arm. The one that had felt so nice wrapped around me earlier at the ski slope.

  “Work with who?” I forced myself to ask.

  “Salvatore. You’re pretending to ignore him. He only wants what he can’t have.”

  “That’s true of most men.” Had everyone in the room guessed what I was up to? That I was trying to get Salvatore’s attention?

  “He’s worse than most. I don’t know why you want to be with someone like him, but since you do, I have an idea.”

  Somehow he managed to get even closer to me. “You should kiss me, and that will make him crazy. He’s always been jealous of me and my brothers. He’s the two hundred seventy-sixth person in line for the throne, and I think he’s been trying to figure out how to kill two hundred seventy-five people without getting caught.”

  My body thought this was a fantastic idea, as I was already leaning toward him, face tilted up. My brain tried to run interference, but I made it be quiet. I refused to poll my heart on the matter.

  He leaned in, smelling my neck, which made me feel a bit woozy.

  “What is that scent?” he asked.

  “Lemon sugar,” I said, my heart beating too quickly.

  “Sweet and tart, like you,” he said before he planted a soft kiss at the amazing spot where my neck met my shoulder, and the earth shifted on its axis.

  I decided it had been far too long since I’d last kissed somebody if this was how I was going to react. I also thought for a moment that I should stop him, but the only thing I said was, “My lip gloss is lemon-flavored, too.”

  Which was such a blatant invitation, and from the fire in his eyes and the seductive smile on his face, he knew it.

  “I do appreciate the commitment to your name.” He set down his drink and used his free hand to run his fingers up and down my arm, which gave me chills and hot flashes at the same time.

  “Well, not everyone gets to be named after a fruit. You have to have fun with it.”

  He pressed another kiss to my throat, and I closed my eyes as a tingling warmth spread slowly through my body. Nothing had ever felt this good, ever. I wanted an excuse for behaving like a love-starved teenager. Alcohol. Loneliness. Wanting to make what’s-his-face jealous. Something to explain why I was reacting like this to Dante.

  I had nothing.

  He took my head in his hands, his fingers softly massaging my scalp, rendering me boneless. I heard something somewhere off to my right and was starting to turn when he stopped me, holding me still.

  “Don’t look at him. This will never work if you do.”

  “What won’t work?” My brain was a fuzzy haze of buzzing sparks. I felt like someone had dipped me in warm molasses and now I couldn’t move or think.

  Another smile. “Making Salvatore jealous.”

  Right. Salvatore. That was his name. We were making him jealous.

  Only I didn’t much care about making him jealous anymore.

  But I couldn’t let Dante know it.

  “That is such a total line,” I breathed. For all I knew this was his MO—telling girls he could make their potential boyfriends jealous if they would just kiss him.

  And if they were smart, they’d let him do it.

  “Could be,” he agreed. “Only one way to find out.”

  I waited for him to kiss me. Wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything. Instead he caressed my face and looked at me. I scooted closer. I was tempted to kiss him, but I’d never kissed a man first. It was kind of a rule.

  A rule I was seriously considering breaking.

  His breath washed over me. He had been drinking, but his breath smelled like mint. Like he knew he was going to kiss me or somebody else. Maybe I should have been outraged, but he was way too good at what he was doing.

  He had turned me into putty in his hands.

  “Are you ready?”

  I practically jumped out of my skin at the sound of his voice. I wanted to speak, but my mouth had gone so dry I couldn’t. Every other sight and sound had faded, and I could see and feel only him.

  He leaned forward and nibbled gently at my lower lip. His prelude to his kiss was making me go just a tad insane.

  Then his warm and surprisingly soft lips were fully on mine, and I half expected to hear the “Hallelujah” chorus as a jolt of excitement and heat slammed into me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close.

  I had planned on keeping my eyes slightly open to see if Salvatore was watching. But they fluttered shut of their own volition the second Dante’s lips touched mine. Like his lips were drugging me and it was all I could do to stay coherent.

  His hands weren’t just holding me where he wanted me—they were caressing my face, my neck, leaving fiery trails of yummy goodness everywhere he touched. Somehow I had gone from sitting next to him to pressing close against him, my hands moving from his neck to his hard warm chest, where I could feel his rapid heartbeat against my palms.

  All of my nerve endings were wriggling in delight as his mouth slowly and sensuously moved against mine. I was giddy and light-headed.

  And then it was over. When he stopped kissing me, it felt like a physical pain and all I wanted to do was grab him and kiss him again and again and again.

  My cheeks were flushed, and I put a hand against one, just to cool it down. Dante smiled at me.

  “Don’t look now, but somebody’s coming over here.” He whispered the words into my ear and an actual shiver ran down my spine, making me want to turn my head and finish our too-short kiss.

  “Do you think he’s jealous?” I asked, not really caring right then, but liking the opportunity to whisper back, to be close again.

  “Definitely. But be careful—there’s jealous and then there’s Othello.”

  I wanted to laugh, but I was still so caught up in all the sensations he had caused that I only looked at him. There was something in his eyes, something I couldn’t explain, but it made my heartbeat do triple time.

  Then Salvatore was there, and in his heavily accented English he asked, “Do you want to dance?”

  Part of me wanted to tell him to forget about it, that I was just fine where I was, but some random model-esque woman sat next to Dante, kissing him on the cheek. She threw one of her legs on top of his and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. He laughed.

  This. This was why I wanted to stay away from Dante and focus my attention on Salvatore. He had just given me one of the most amazing kisses of my life and ten seconds later he had another girl draped all over him. It made my stomach turn. I didn’t need this.

  I didn’t need him.

  Dante flashed me a satisfied grin as if to say, “See? I told you it would work.”

  I’d never wanted to punch somebody so badly in my life. But I didn’t know whether I wanted to hit him or her. Both, probably.

  I refused to look at or talk to Dante for the rest of the night. And just as he had predicted, Salvatore didn’t leave my side. Before I hadn’t even existed, but now I was the center of his universe. He was funny and charming, but not as funny and charming as Dante. But it didn’t matter. I refused to go down that road. Tonight was a spectacular example of why.

  That soft, sweet kiss had very nearly made me spontan
eously combust. I wondered what would happen if he ever kissed me and meant it.

  I wouldn’t have to wonder for long.

  I explained the situation with the girl in the bathroom to Taylor Hodges, my former sorority sister and recently promoted field producer of Marry Me. She was on a headset faster than a hare with a hot foot, talking to whoever was in charge, and the decision was quickly made that the girl in the bathroom would have to be let go. They ascertained that her name was Brittney, and they located her luggage, returned her stained dress even though I didn’t get the chance to clean it, and had her in a taxi and on her way to the airport before I even knew what was happening.

  And she took my blazer.

  An order went out to sequester all of the girls in their hotel rooms so the production team could find out who knew what. As far as the team was concerned, the show would be ruined if even one girl suspected Dante had a title.

  An emergency meeting was called in the conference room, and Dante was invited. He nodded his head toward the door, letting me know that he wanted me to come too. The room was crowded with executives and crew members, all talking at the same time on their phones and to each other.

  Assistants ran in with reports from each of the girls. Brittney had told two other girls about Dante, and they were sent home just as quickly. The other women still appeared to be in the dark.

  Unfortunately, the show only had two alternates, which left them with one slot open.

  “We could just do it with twenty-four women,” said one of the executives.

  Another executive, a woman with a severe silver bob, shook her head. “But we always have twenty-five! Always! Not only will it upset the viewing audience, but the other girls will wonder why we’re one short. It will tip them off that something’s going on. We can’t risk it.”

  “We’re filming the first episode tonight,” said a heavyset man with a baseball cap. “Everything’s been set up and ready to go, the permits have been pulled, and if we delay things even a day, it will mess up the entire schedule.”