His Majesty's Secret Passion

by Christina Hollis

  Leo drove up the offers at lightning speed. Sara watched open-mouthed as he inspired the audience to try to outbid him. Soon the competition was between Leo and Mrs. Revere. In the end, Leo increased his bid to one hundred fifty thousand dollars for an hour of Sara’s time. At that, Mrs. Revere laughed and shook her head. The auctioneer’s gavel dropped with a bang, and the crowd erupted in applause.

  The thought of spending an hour in private consultation with Leo Gregoryan sent Sara’s internal thermostat off the scale. Alone with him for sixty minutes, it would take all her willpower to ignore his flashing dark eyes, and that generous, sensual mouth.

  A man who was so good-looking had to be trouble. A ripple of movement ran through the other side of the audience, and she saw Leo moving along his row of seats toward the central aisle. He was heading in her direction. From that moment, the auction lost its appeal for her. All she could think about was what might happen next, and how she could cope. Desperate to explain herself, she jumped up and stumbled past the other people in her row. “Leo! Can I speak to you for a minute?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing.” He summoned a waiter. “What would you like to drink, Sara?”

  “A mineral water over ice with a twist, please.”

  “That’s a good choice in this heat.” He ordered a jug of Glacier and two glasses. “You’re an unusual woman. I thought you’d want to toast my winning bid in vintage champagne.”

  “I’d rather give the extra money to charity instead. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You know you’ve paid way over the odds for an hour of my time, don’t you?”

  “That’s what all this is about. Money is the least of my worries. Besides, I’m sure you’ll give me excellent value”—his smile gave a hint of hidden meaning to his words—“so I was going to stop at nothing to win your promise.”

  Her body surged with sudden, unfamiliar need.

  “This way I can keep you under observation. And make sure you don’t work too hard.” His words were supposed to be comforting. They had the opposite effect on Sara.

  He guided her outside, and into the shade of an arbor draped with fragrant jasmine. Playing doctors and nurses with Leo would be interesting, she thought as the waiter poured her a glass of water, but I’m not going to risk asking for details.

  “I’m sorry you missed out to Mrs. Revere for my lot.” He clicked his tongue. “She made a great offer, but I can’t see her sleeping under the stars, or learning to make a fire without matches.”

  “Now you’re teasing! There’s never any danger of a lady like that getting her hands dirty. Your prize will soon be doing the rounds of the New England charity auctions.” Sara chuckled.

  “That’s a shame. It would have been fun to have Mrs. Revere travel to Spain and enter into the spirit of the thing.”

  Sara gazed at him, amazed anyone would think a woman like that would be interested in fresh air. “Mrs. Revere is no more likely to go on your expedition in the Spanish mountains than you are to lead it, Leo.”

  He flexed his body. “I’ve done it plenty of times in the past.” His shoulders dropped. “It’ll be good to do it one last time.”

  The thought of Leo astride a plunging Andalusian stallion was a big distraction. She tried to push it to the back of her mind. “My guess is it’ll be a long time before anyone cashes in your offer. I’ve been to charity auctions where the same bottle of sixty-year-old Scotch had been doing the rounds for months.”

  A strange look came over Leo’s face. “Were you serious about taking that trip of mine?”

  “Sort of. I hadn’t really thought it through. I wouldn’t have any more idea of how to light a fire than Mrs. Revere.”

  “Maybe not, but anyone can enjoy a trip like that. Why don’t I take you on a mini-expedition? It will help you forget your work.”

  Sara took a long drink of mineral water to hide her disbelief. “It must be thousands of miles from here to Andalusia. And I’ve told you—I can’t ride.”

  Leo waved aside her concerns with a lazy gesture. “I have a friend who owns an estate on the mainland here. We’ll sail over on the Neroli and borrow a couple of horses from him. It won’t take my people long to check everything out and arrange the catering.”

  “Catering?” Sara twisted her fake wedding ring.

  “You’d want to make a day of it?”

  “Well...yes.” She had serious doubts about the horse riding part of Leo’s fantasy, but a day in the mountains with him would be the ideal way to make her enforced holiday fly by. She’d deal with the riding when, and if, it happened.

  “Good. Then we’ll go tomorrow. I’ll get someone on it straight away. What time would you like to leave here?”

  Sara fizzed with nervous anticipation, but she was careful to speak as if she was arranging a site meeting with a client. “How about eight a.m.?”

  “Fine. We can breakfast on the Neroli.”

  Sara tried not to think what it would be like to eat anything on board a boat that wasn’t as big and stable as a cruise liner.

  Leo signaled to his bulky security man, who was now roaming the perimeter of the room. After giving him a few murmured instructions, he turned back to Sara with a smile. “It’s all fixed. My escape into the mountains and your first riding lesson all arranged, as requested.”

  “That was impressive.”

  He looked puzzled. “What?”

  “You’ve sorted out the trip of a lifetime for me in minutes, and there’s going to be catering too!”

  “All it takes is a dedicated team.”

  “I know. It’s just that I’m usually the one running the show.”

  “Then it’ll be a great way for you to experience life on the other side of the velvet rope, for once.” In a smooth movement he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Until we meet again. Tomorrow, at eight a.m., sharp.” His smile told Sara she might have a lot more to worry about in the morning than seasickness and horses.

  A few hours later, Leo was picking out tunes on a grand piano in the café bar of the Paradise Hotel.

  “Our country spent too many years speculating who your late brother would marry. You shouldn’t encourage the media by having a holiday romance, Your Majesty,” his bodyguard said, lounging against the instrument.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Any woman who is as obsessed with her career as Sara Astley has her hands far too full to juggle a crown as well. And stop calling me ‘Your Majesty.’ You know the rules while we’re here. I’m Leo Gregoryan. That’s all.”

  “You don’t want to have anything to do with that woman, Leo. I’ve checked her out online. She works for a firm boasting they’ll ‘arrange anything legal’ for its clients. That sounds a very risky prospect to me.” Krisia’s mouth was a tight line of disapproval.

  Leo slammed his hands onto the piano keys with a discordant crash. He looked at his PA in disgust. “I’m supposed to be getting away from everything, Krisia. Why bring it all back to me?”

  “There’s less than a month until your coronation,” she hissed. “I’ve got the best interests of our country, and you, at heart.”

  “Then stop reminding me how fast my time as a free man is disappearing. I’m amazed you haven’t installed an electronic countdown clock ready for the off, like they put in Trafalgar Square before the London Olympics.’

  “It’s funny you should say that, Your Majesty. One of those went up in the public square outside the palace yesterday,” the security man said.

  Leo groaned. “Then that’s another reason not to hurry home. How many more times do I have to remind you? I’m here incognito.”

  “We are yours to command, Your Maj—I mean...sir.” Krisia blushed.

  Leo’s attention had been grabbed by a woman walking into the room, so he never noticed his PA’s slip. While waiters fussed around the newcomer, Leo took the opportunity to study her. It took several seconds to realize it was Sara. Tonight, the toned legs he remembered so well
were hidden beneath a long, shimmering evening dress. He’d been intending to get Krisia to confirm with Sara the arrangements for their trip to the mainland the next day. Seeing his quarry sashay across the room, her rich auburn hair flowing loose around her shoulders, he had a better idea. Once Sara finished dinner, he would stroll over and ask her himself.

  Leo wasn’t the only one watching Sara’s every move. “She’s a looker, but she’s got quite a prison pallor,” Leo’s bodyguard said.

  “That’s probably something to do with the amount of Factor 50 she got all over His Majesty’s clothes this morning,” Krisia said.

  Leo gave a deep, throaty chuckle. “That didn’t worry me. And this glorious Greek sun will soon toast her like an almond.” He said, “Long Journey” whispering from his fingers to accompany Sara all the way to her table in the restaurant.

  Sara had planned to eat in her room, but whenever she was alone, there could be no hiding from the truth. The company of other people stopped her thinking too hard about all the mistakes she’d made. A staggering view of the Aegean, chilled orange juice on tap, and full air-conditioning didn’t make up for the buzz of conversation she could find in the restaurant.

  She was dimly aware of a piano playing in the bar area as she entered. After she was seated, she had time to look around. The waiter fussed over lighting the display of candles in the centre of her table, but Sara’s eyes were drawn toward the Steinway. With a jolt, she recognized the player.

  It was Leo Gregoryan.

  He sat in shirtsleeves, his jacket and tie draped over the chair beside him. The contrast between his gleaming white shirt, dark halo of hair and golden skin almost took her breath away.

  Sara was impressed, and so was Krisia. She leaned against the piano drooling over Leo as he idled through a slow, romantic tune. Then he glanced up from the keys. His eyes locked onto Sara’s. He smiled, and her heart flipped. Before she could get it under control, he began to play a mesmerizing version of “What Makes You Beautiful.” Krisia shot her a look of catlike disdain.

  Dining alone didn’t feel like such a good idea any more. Inviting Leo and his PA to join her was the obvious solution. It would thank him for fixing her leg that morning, and give them all a chance to get to know each other before she embarrassed herself the next day.

  With that woman breathing down his neck, Sara felt Leo would be distracted, and she wouldn’t be tempted by him. Taking out one of her business cards, she scribbled a note on the back. Leo, would you and Krisia like to join me for dinner? Ordering a Cinderella, she asked the waiter to deliver the card.

  While his hands occupied themselves on the piano keys, Leo watched Sara out of the corner of his eye. When she passed something to a waiter, he went back to concentrating on his music. Probably a message to her PA, he thought, and started to dream up arousing ways of distracting Sara from her work.

  The waiter beelined for the group at the piano. As he reached Leo’s elbow, he held out a business card. Krisia snatched it, read the message then pushed it at Leo with a scowl. “It’s from your new conquest.”

  Puzzled, Leo took it from her, then exclaimed. “That’s the first time a woman’s ever asked me to dinner. What an opportunity!”

  “You’re not going to accept are you, Your—I mean, Leo?”

  “Why not? It’ll be fun. Much better than sitting around killing time. You can both take the rest of the evening off,” he told his staff. “I’ll be fine for a few hours.”

  His bodyguard sniffed. “Are you sure, sir? I mean, Miss Astley doesn’t look to be a threat, but other people might be.”

  Krisia pounced on the argument. “Yes, what’s the point of having a bodyguard if you don’t let him do his job?”

  Leo cleared his throat in a warning. “That’s enough, Krisia. I’ve told you before. You’re my PA, not my mother. I’m capable of fending off an attack with a loaded dessert spoon, which is the only danger in a place like this. Good night!”

  With a face like thunder, Krisia swept off. The security man slouched along in her wake. Once his entourage had vanished, Leo wrote a quick note of his own and then summoned a waiter.

  Sara saw the flurry of activity over at the piano as she sipped her drink. She tried not to notice, but couldn’t help wondering if it was her note that threw the stick of dynamite into their little fishpond.

  As she studied the menu, her mobile rang. Grabbing it into silence, she whispered into the mic.

  “Sara?” Leo’s honeyed tones sent a tingle straight through her body. “Thanks for your offer, but I must refuse. I never accept invitations from strange women in bars. And I’ve told you before, Krisia is my PA, not my companion.”

  She looked up. On the other side of the room, he inclined his head toward her.

  “Yes, but does she know that?” she replied.

  There was a pause. They watched each other across the busy restaurant. Sara dodged about to keep him in sight as waiters and diners went to and fro across their sightline. Leo was motionless. “Of course.”

  “Are you sure?” Sara said.

  “About dinner? Yes.”

  “That isn’t what I meant—”

  “Now, please go back to your room, Sara.”

  She couldn’t believe her ears. Who was this guy, thinking he could give her orders? Men always tried it on, but he was different—or so she thought. “How dare you?” she asked, but Leo had already cut the call.

  How could anyone say that? She wasn’t going to miss her dinner for him. Stuffing the phone back into her bag, Sara made a big show of updating her list of contacts, then checked her makeup—anything rather than do what Leo Gregoryan told her to do.

  When the waiter returned to take her order, he brought a message as well. “A bouquet has been delivered to your suite, Miss Astley.”

  Flowers? Sara caught her breath. No one had ever sent her flowers before. She ought to feel excited. Instead she felt sick. They must be from Jason, her ex. Sara’s PA had promised not to tell him where she was. The girl must have buckled under his pressure. Sara had told Jason often enough how she wished he’d make a romantic gesture like this, but he’d never taken the hint. Why did he have to pull such a stunt now, when she was feeling so vulnerable?

  “They are from the gentleman at the piano, madam,” the waiter added, while Sara was still wondering how to put her horror into words. When he said that, she almost stopped breathing. She looked up. Leo was busy putting on his tie. It was a relief to know he’d sent the flowers, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. Did that make him less dangerous, or more?

  “W-was there a message?”

  “Oh, yes, madam. I shall fetch it for you.” The waiter bowed, and left. He came back with a small card.

  In my country, the man does the asking. Would you like to join me for dinner, Miss Astley?

  Sara smiled, ready to give the waiter her reply. There was no need.

  Leo Gregoryan was heading straight for her table, like a cat about to get the cream.

  Chapter Four

  “Have you ordered, Sara?” Leo eased out the chair beside her and sat.

  “Not yet. But when I do, I’ll do it myself. Please don’t order for me.”

  He accepted a menu from the waiter. “Do you expect me to overrule you?” he asked.

  “It’s been known.” Sara struggled to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  He closed his menu and reached for hers. “The beef here is superb, and so are the sorbets. You’ll love it all. I speak from experience.”

  Sara had such a grip on her menu that he let it go. “I’ll have the fish,” she told him. “And I never touch dessert.”

  “But you accept flowers from strangers.” His words were terse.

  “They were a wonderful gesture. I’m sure they’re lovely,” Sara said with dignity, although she couldn’t wait to find out what had been delivered to her suite.

  He leaned low across the table, toward her. “That’s the first of many gestures, Sara.” His
voice was as seductive as the candlelight.

  She made a performance of closing her menu and placing it down on top of his. “Let’s get a couple of things straight right now, Leo. One: You’ve paid for an hour of my time, so I’m assuming that’s why you’re here. You’ve got about fifty-five minutes of your time left. Two: I don’t do one-night stands. So save the charm, and your money, and start talking.”

  He drew back with a poise she envied. “You make me glad I didn’t have the florist deliver the bouquet straight to your table. You might have smacked me with it. There’s something you should know, too, Sara. In my country, women trample over each other to win my favor. Those I choose enjoy the best of everything, and make no secret of their enjoyment.”

  “It doesn’t sound as if your country goes much on women’s lib.”

  “It is not like Docklands, that’s true.”

  “You’ve obviously been checking up on me.”

  “In my position, it pays to be careful.” His eyes were thoughtful. He didn’t speak again until they had given their order to the waiter. Then he leaned forward a second time, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’ve made the right choice in you. It may have been for the wrong reasons, but a man like me must be adaptable. So, let’s get down to business in what remains of our time together. While I was busy with the auctioneer, my PA was looking you up online. Apis Concierge Solutions is an interesting prospect. I’ve been wondering about your firm’s claim to take on anything legal. You say you pride yourself on your discretion. We’re both busy people. You need a relaxing time, and I could do with bouncing a few ideas around. When you sent your card to me, I decided to combine a delightful dinner with the consultation I secured with you.”

  Sara had been in business for too long to let a client see her excitement bubble up at the prospect of an hour’s work. “That suits me,” she said, then jumped, her eyes wide. For the second time, the unmistakable sound of a ring tone floated from the floor under her chair. “Oh, no! What can I say, Leo—how unprofessional!” She snatched up her bag and scrabbled inside it for her phone.