Royal Chase (The Royals of Monterra)

by Sariah Wilson

  Another one of those charged, connected, electric moments passed between us, and this time he was the one who broke it off by looking away. “I think that’s almost everyone. You fulfilled your promise, so I should probably send you home tomorrow night.”

  Unexpectedly, that was the last thing I wanted. The thought of being sent away made my stomach tie itself up in knots. “You can’t.”

  He looked shocked.

  “Abigail is out to sabotage Genesis, and she’s so sweet and innocent, I . . . I want to stay and protect her. So you should keep me for as long as you keep Abigail.”

  “Is that the only reason you want to stay?” His voice sounded low and seductive. His eyes glittered dangerously.

  What was I doing? He had given me the out I wanted, and I’d told him no. What was wrong with me? And why did I have to keep lecturing myself? I could blame Abigail and Matthew Burdette all I wanted, but the reality was that I was the one taking things a step farther than I needed to. Burdette had only asked me to pretend, and I wasn’t just pretending. I’d always had feelings for Dante, even if I didn’t want to acknowledge them. I had always been attracted to him. I had been able to quash those things down, deep inside, where they weren’t a problem. It had been even easier when he and his dangerous lips were not in close proximity. But being with him here, like this . . .

  I didn’t want it to end.

  I told him good-night, failing to answer his question. I had to get my mind straight. I had to make the right choice.

  I needed to talk to Sterling.

  Chapter 11

  Thou art to me a delicious torment.

  Another day passed, filled with boring sunbathing and trying to make conversation with women who only wanted to talk about themselves, while Dante went on a morning date with Tiffany and Michelle. It was one of those dates where one girl would get a heart pin, and the other one would be sent away. Poor Dante. It would be like being stuck between a rock and a moron.

  I managed to track Taylor down. It seemed like she had been avoiding me, but I didn’t have time for that. “I need to ask you for a favor.”

  “You don’t know me very well. I don’t enjoy doing those.”

  I ignored her prickly and sarcastic response and figured something was not going well on the show. I knew it wasn’t me she was upset with, so I didn’t take it personally. “I need to call Sterling. Like right now.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me, and I hoped she would say yes. I needed to talk to him. I was dangerously close to chucking it all and believing Dante. I hated to admit it, but he had breached my defenses and was getting so close to making me really and truly fall for him.

  “Come with me.”

  She led me into the first-floor bathroom again. “Why do we always come in here?”

  “No cameras.” She gave me her phone, and I hoped Sterling would answer. Sometimes he didn’t pick up when he didn’t know the number.

  “Can I speak to him alone?”

  “I’m sorry, you can’t. We have a deal.”

  I nodded and hoped that this bathroom would be like a Catholic confessional, and that she would keep anything she heard to herself.

  I dialed Sterling’s number, and after a couple of rings it went to voice mail. I tried it again, and thankfully, this time he picked up.

  “Sterling Brown.”

  “Hi! It’s me. Lemon. I’m using a friend’s phone to call you.” It was a little bit sad that I felt the need to identify myself, but it was understandable given our last phone call. It would have been the straw that destroyed the camel’s back if he’d failed to recognize me again.

  “I’m walking out of my office right now for a deposition. What’s going on?”

  “Could you just stop for a second and listen to me? This is important.” I thought of everything I wanted to say to him. I’m having feelings for another man. I’m considering breaking off our engagement and canceling the wedding.

  I want something more.

  “Lemon, this is a really terrible time. Can we talk later?”

  “We can’t. I need to talk to you now.” My lower back felt sweaty and my heart was stress-beating. I sat down in the tub and pulled my legs up to my chest.

  “What is it?” He sounded angry and put out.

  This was not the time for him to act this way. I needed him to be understanding and kind and steady, all those things that I had fallen for. I needed him to remind me why I had said yes to marrying him.

  Instead I was getting some angry, stressed workaholic. I admired ambition, but not at the expense of the things that really mattered. Like family. And fiancées.

  “I . . . I have to tell you that . . .”

  “What? Jiminy Christmas, woman!” (He didn’t say Jiminy Christmas, but I substituted it because our pastor told us to not take the name of the Lord in vain, and it was at least one commandment I could keep.) “Spit it out and get to the point!”

  All I could think was that Dante would never speak to me that way. He never had, and I couldn’t imagine him ever doing it. Even when I made him angry, he was always a gentleman with me.

  I couldn’t find the words to tell Sterling the truth. About my doubts and fears. How far away he seemed, and how I needed him to help me reconnect. I needed a reason to be with him, and all he was giving me was reasons to go. “I’m staying on the show for a while. I just thought you should know.”

  “You wasted my time for that? Next time send me a text.” He hung up on me. I don’t know that I’d ever had a man hang up on me before.

  For a few minutes I just sat there, shocked. I considered calling him back and letting him have it. Telling him it was over. I shouldn’t do anything while I was this upset, though. I might regret it. I climbed out of the bathtub. I handed the phone back to Taylor and caught a glimpse of the pity in her eyes. I didn’t cry. I was too angry to be worried about crying. I thought about calling Kat, but I knew she could be right in the middle of an interview. I’d have to try her later.

  Because I had no one else to talk to about it.

  You have Dante, said some evil, scheme-y voice inside of me. Dante did know about Sterling, but that was probably the worst thing I could do. It would create more of a bond, there would be more emotions, he’d convince me to dump Sterling, and then I’d have to face reality—that Dante had never wanted a relationship with me and was only chasing me because I hadn’t given in.

  We were friends with an attraction, but that was it. He’d never said that he wanted more than that. He’d been pretty clear that he wanted to mess around, but nothing beyond that. Which wasn’t surprising, given his past.

  I didn’t need a crystal ball. Dante had proven who he was. And he would cheat on me.

  Remember that part? I told the evil little voice. Dante will cheat on me. He will.

  I said it so often that it probably should have been my meditation mantra. Dante will cheat on me. Dante will cheat on me. Ohm.

  And when it happened, I would be devastated. Totally destroyed. I knew it would be the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

  Because I could handle it from the other men. I knew how to cope and how to get over it.

  Just like I knew that it would be different with him, and I couldn’t bear it.

  I turned a corner and nearly ran into him. He must have just come back from his date. I wondered which girl he had kept. I could use the distraction. I pasted a smile on. “Michelle or Tiffany?”

  “I sent Tiffany home.” He started to return my smile and immediately stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  How did he do that? I had been struggling to keep my emotions in check, to appear normal. I didn’t want to answer a million questions from the other girls, and I most definitely did not want to tell Dante. It would just give him more ammunition. “It’s, I was, um, talking to Sterling.” The truth just came out of me.

  “And how is your insignificant other?”

  I gave him A Look.

  “What? Did I say that wron
g?”

  “Significant other,” I corrected him.

  “Right. Sorry. English.” He didn’t sound even a little bit sorry.

  “Things are . . . well, they’re . . .” How could I tell him? It wouldn’t be fair to either man.

  He put both of his hands on my upper arms, in a very soothing and calming way. Too bad it didn’t make me feel soothed or calmed. “I’m here to talk, if you need it. I only charge three hundred dollars an hour.”

  It was a sweet attempt at making me laugh, but it felt like my whole world was a gigantic mess and I didn’t know how to fix it.

  “It’s probably not okay for me to talk with you about it,” I admitted.

  He still looked so concerned. “I understand if that’s how you feel. But it doesn’t change anything for me. I’m here. Anytime and anything you need. Always.” He leaned forward to kiss me on my forehead. It was probably the same way he kissed his sisters, but I wasn’t feeling very sisterly toward him. I closed my eyes and realized how much I missed this. I was tempted to wrap my arms around his waist for a hug. I only just stopped myself.

  I shouldn’t compare. I shouldn’t. But here was Dante, the center of a television show, so many jobs dependent on him, a member of a royal family with responsibilities that most people couldn’t even begin to imagine, and he had never made me feel like I was bothering him or like he didn’t have time for me.

  Maybe I wasn’t being fair. But it wasn’t fair how Sterling had talked to me, either.

  “Is that offer part of your knight-errant quests?” I asked as he pulled away from me. He stayed put for a moment, looking at me, and then he began walking up the stairs.

  “A knight, Indiana Jones, whichever hero you need.”

  I gasped. Now that, without a shadow of a doubt, had definitely been deliberate.

  New Year’s Eve. Monterra. The royal family had a costume ball to celebrate. I had gone as Scarlett O’Hara, and Kat had been Elsa from Frozen, which had been Serafina’s idea. It had been our last night in their country, and we were scheduled to return to the United States the following morning.

  I had pretty successfully dodged Dante’s attempts to talk to me about what had happened in his room. I dragged Rafe along with us whenever we went somewhere and made sure that we were never alone. It all seemed particularly pointless to talk things out, considering that I’d never see him again.

  Kat and I walked into the ballroom, and I saw Dante immediately. He had dressed up like Indiana Jones, including the scruff, and he was the hottest man I’d ever seen. I was so glad a fan was part of my costume, as I immediately tried to cool my flushed skin.

  Rafe had dressed up as Dr. Who—the Eleventh Doctor, he made a point of telling me later that evening—and Nico had on a Mr. Darcy costume that made Kat more excited than I’d ever seen her.

  “There’s Dante,” she pointed out, after Princess Caitlin, who was married to England’s crown prince, had joined us in her geisha costume. As if I didn’t know exactly where he was and exactly which girl he was flirting with at that very moment. “He looks great in his costume.”

  “It’s all right, I guess.” I was striving for nonchalant.

  Kat saw through it and said, “Please. Like you wouldn’t let him raid your lost ark.”

  I wanted to protest, but we started talking about Nico instead. Then Nico came to claim Kat, swirling her onto the dance floor.

  At some point in the evening everyone seemed to have disappeared. Leaving me by myself.

  I couldn’t believe how sad I felt about going home. I had thought I would be fine, but I had come to care about the entire family, and I would miss them.

  Much as I didn’t want to admit it, I would miss Dante the most.

  I started searching through the dancing couples to see if I could figure out where everyone had gone. I didn’t see them.

  At least the time spent in Monterra had been fruitful professionally. I had finished everything up, and there were no more meetings, nothing that I had to do. I just had to get on a plane back to Brighton University, where I would complete my very unique and sure-to-be-amazeballs thesis, and then graduate. No more distractions for me.

  But I wished for those distractions when I accidentally found Salvatore. The noble Duca di Brista sat in a darkened corner with one girl in his lap, and another kissing him. Ugh. He was repulsive. I couldn’t believe I ever let him touch me.

  Salvatore, as a man, didn’t matter to me. I’d never really cared about him. It was more of what he symbolized. He was every stupid guy who got my pulse racing and turned me dumb. Every jerk who didn’t know how to be faithful. Every dog who pursued me relentlessly to get what he wanted and then moved on, leaving me brokenhearted.

  It made me feel old and tired. I wanted so badly for things to be different. I didn’t want to keep falling into the same trap over and over again. I was like Charlie Brown, running down the field toward that football, and even though Lucy had yanked it out of my way a million times before, I convinced myself that this time would be different. This time she would let me kick it.

  I needed to stop running for the ball. She’d never hold it in place. I would always, always fall flat on my back.

  I was going back to my room, packing my things, and vowing that it would all be different when I got back to Colorado. No more of this. No more letting men treat me like dirt. No more mistakes.

  Dante stood on the other side of the massive ballroom doors. “Why are you crying?”

  I reached up to feel a couple of tears on my face. I hadn’t even realized that I was crying. “It’s dumb, and it doesn’t matter,” I told him, wiping them away. I couldn’t explain that I wasn’t crying over Salvatore but about how my life was turning out. He took me by the hand and led me over to an alcove, where a stone bench was covered by a red seat cushion. We sat down.

  “It matters to me.” He took both of my hands in his. The concern in his eyes was enough to make me start crying again. Which made me inexplicably angry, and something shattered inside me.

  I didn’t want him to touch me, and I pulled my hands away. “You were right, okay? I should have listened to you when you told me about Salvatore. Do you know how humiliating it feels? To be constantly cheated on? What’s wrong with me?”

  He grabbed me and made me look at him. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re amazing.”

  I was taken aback by the force behind his words. “Then why do I keep letting this happen? Why do I keep choosing men who will hurt me?”

  “Because you haven’t found the right man.”

  I let out a laugh. “Much like Babbo Natale and La Befana, he doesn’t exist.”

  “He does. You need someone like me. I would be your hero, if you’d let me. I would never, ever hurt you.” I wanted so badly for him to be telling the truth. I wanted to believe him.

  I just couldn’t.

  Without warning, he kissed me. I should have stopped him or told him no. But his kisses were to comfort me, to reassure me. His thumbs wiped the leftover tears from my cheeks, soft and delicate in a way that made me want to cry all over again. I felt an aching sweetness that made me want to surrender. A melting tenderness that turned my insides to jelly.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said before he kissed me again. “So smart, so wonderful, so beautiful.” He kissed, nibbled, and teased me in between each phrase.

  “You said beautiful twice,” I murmured against his mouth.

  He pulled back with a dazzling smile. “That’s because you’re extraordinarily beautiful.”

  Said the prince who dated the most beautiful women in the world. I mean, I knew I was pretty, but in comparison? “Uh-huh,” I replied.

  “You are.” That definitive tone was back. He held me close. I loved when he touched me like this, the electrical current buzzing between us, making me forget everything else. He smoothed my hair, caressing my face. “You are. Inside and out. I wish I could show you. That you could see yourself the way I see you.”

/>   No one could have denied that Dante had game. That he always knew the right thing to say and when to say it. But before I could call him on it, he set out to prove his words true and the world exploded as he pressed his lips forcefully against mine.

  If he had been gentle and reassuring before, that was all gone. Now there was only heat and need and desire. Wanting to taste and be tasted. It was like being caught up in the most intense lightning storm, as the flashes of electricity crashed inside me over and over again. My heart beat so hard in my chest, like it was struggling to get closer to him.

  A mixture of hormones, all that pent-up passion and frustration, had been swirling around inside me, as if waiting just for this moment, and they burst to life, racing through my bloodstream, making my stomach feel hollowed out. I really did want to swoon.

  The stubble from his unshaven beard moved across my jaw and my cheek, stinging as he went, but I loved the way it felt. He smelled so good that I took the chance to press kisses to his strong neck, breathing his cologne in deeply. Yummy. His skin tasted like faint salt and . . . Dante. I moved up to his earlobe, and it was like pouring kerosene on a fire.

  He made a noise like a combination of a growl and a groan—right before his mouth ravaged mine, escalating the already intense kissing that had been going on. I started shaking, overwhelmed, clinging to him like a raft in a storm. He was the only solid thing in a world that had gone hazy. His lips enveloped my lips, like he owned them. And me.

  My stupid hoop skirt kept getting in the way of me getting closer to him. It was all I wanted, to be as close to him as possible, in every way imaginable. He had possessed me with his hands and his mouth, and I wanted more.

  We kissed and kissed as the blood roared through my ears, as I dissolved from his tantalizing promises, worried that I might never feel satisfied again, that it wasn’t enough—it could never be enough.

  Then he somehow managed to make the kiss deeper and more intense, and tremors rocked my entire body. I felt like I might suffocate from the lack of oxygen, but I didn’t care.

  When he kissed my throat, down to my collarbone, I finally said in a strained voice, “I can’t remember how to breathe.”