She read every line of the article. She noted the name of the man Asher was photographed with and then searched his name online. He was Asher’s cousin—Troy—and she assumed this was the cousin Asher had said was most suited to the role of king.
In the photograph, they stood side by side, dressed in official uniforms. They had traveled to six countries in three days. All reports suggested that Asher was the one doing the negotiating, while Troy was acting as an advisor. And the results were impressive—they’d secured all six aid deals, which would feed Santina for the next few years, as well as buy the King some time to lower the unemployment rate and rebuild the economy. It was no easy task, but for the first time in years, Abi felt hopeful. She believed Santina did too.
Abi sighed, closed the paper. She needed to forget about Asher. She hadn’t heard from him, and she didn’t expect to; their romance was over and Asher was busying himself with work, as was Abi.
IFRT had received information on a location were women were being held. Informants were working their circles, and Abi was waiting impatiently for an update. But she couldn’t rush this process—she had to take the information as it dribbled in, piece by piece, then put it all together. Once she’d done that, she would send in a rescue team. As far as she knew, Asher hadn’t revoked their privileges with Colonel Stevens, but she would soon find out for sure.
“Hello, Abi,” came a voice from in front of her.
Abi jumped. She looked up to see her mother and Rachel standing side-by-side. Rachel had obviously let her in. Some warning would’ve been nice.
“Mother,” Abi said. “How can I help you?”
Her mother frowned. “I’m here to pick you up for the dress fitting.”
Abi groaned. She’d totally forgotten she’d agreed to attend the charity event with her father, and the last thing she felt like doing was trying on ball gowns.
“Don’t give me that look,” Emma said disapprovingly.
“What look?” Abi asked, playing dumb. She reached for the paper, but her mother picked it up first.
“I wondered if this was the article you were reading,” she said softly, her voice now a mixture of sympathy and concern.
Abi cleared her throat. Suddenly dress shopping was looking more enticing—anything to end this conversation.
“He knows, and he’s furious I lied to him,” Abi said flatly, picking up her bag.
Emma looked to Rachel, who was chewing on her lip.
“I’m ready,” Abi said, wanting this over and done with. Abi’s mood had matched a cold winter’s day ever since she’d told Asher her surname. Rachel didn’t seem to know what to say—and there was nothing Abi wanted to hear. She bore the blame for lying to him, but he owed her an apology for the way he’d handled it. She gave him a pass, given the few days he’d had, but still, his handling of the situation was poor.
Her mother drove, and Abi happily sat in the passenger seat, her mind drifting back to Asher.
Her phone beeped and she dug through her handbag.
She inhaled a sharp breath when she saw his name next to the message. Her pulse raced and she was scared to open it.
Asher: We need to talk. Can I call you in a few hours?
Abi: Sure, give me a call when you’re free.
Her mother was saying something, but Abi wasn’t listening. The message icon was flashing, indicating Asher was typing something—and then it stopped. No message followed.
She put the phone back in her bag.
“Okay, we’re here,” her mother said brightly, her voice a stark contrast to Abi’s mood.
“Excellent,” Abi said with the excitement of a child attending the dentist.
“I’ve seen the drawings for this dress. It’s a heartbreaker,” Emma said.
Abi rolled her eyes. “It’ll suit me perfectly then,” Abi said, getting out of the car.
As they approached the shop, Abi forced a smile. The designer was likely very excited to be designing gowns for the Bennett family, and Abi didn’t want to diminish her excitement by acting like a petulant child.
Miriam, the designer, greeted them at the door with a dazzling smile. “I am so happy to meet you both. Please come in. Abi, I was just finishing off your gown. Would you like to see it?”
“Please,” Abi said, mustering as much excitement as she could. She did love to dress up, and this event could be a good distraction.
Abi followed Miriam through to the back of the store. It was love at first sight: a beaded, ice-blue—almost gray—floor-length gown, with sheer long sleeves and a deep V-neck.
“Do you want to try it on?” Miriam asked.
“Miriam, this dress is incredible,” Abi said, her mood lifting. Her fingertips trailed over the delicate beadwork.
“A dress fit for royalty,” Miriam said.
Abi swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not royalty.”
Miriam shrugged. “That’s just a title. Your family is like royalty, even if you don’t have the official deeds. When your mother called and asked me to design a dress for you, I was ecstatic. I admit, though, I had no idea your parents had another daughter.”
Abi smiled. “I like to keep out of the spotlight, unlike my siblings.”
“Well, do me a favor,” Miriam said impishly. “Make sure someone photographs you in this dress.”
Abi chuckled. “That I can do.”
She let Miriam lead her into the dressing room. She undressed and stepped into the gown, the layers of long tulle sweeping over the floor. The sheer bodice was heavily beaded, ensuring the appropriate modesty for such an event—and Santina’s culture. The beautiful beading continued over the sheer sleeves, creating clusters of silver, blue, and gray constellations. Miriam entered and zipped up the back. Abi turned, sucking in a breath as she stared at her own reflection. She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror.
“Miriam,” Abi whispered.
The woman’s smile grew. “And your measurements were almost spot on,” she said, her assessing gaze looking over the gown. She added a few pins, adjusted the length of the sleeve, and smiled, appearing satisfied. “This color is perfect for you,” she said, taking a moment to meet Abi’s gaze in the mirror. “I’ll have it ready for you to collect in the morning.”
“I will make sure everyone gets a shot of this dress. Thank you, it’s spectacular. I’ve never worn such a special gown,” Abi said, smiling for the first time in days.
She surprised herself—she was actually excited. It had been years since she’d attended such an event. Maybe this was exactly what she needed: a distraction from IFRT and Asher.
Asher
Asher adjusted his bow tie as Jesse drove. It had been a last-minute scramble, but Alistair had brought Asher’s suit to meet the plane. He’d quickly changed, and they were on their way.
“Tell me again why we’re going to this event?” Asher asked.
“Because it’s an important charity event, and right now, with the aid deals you brokered, we need to ride the wave of the people believing we care,” Alistair said.
Asher stole a sideways glance, surprised by the tone in his brother’s voice.
“We do care,” Asher said carefully. “It’s not a pretense.”
“Of course,” was all Alistair said.
Asher paused, not sure what to make of Alistair’s mood. His eyes met Jesse’s, but he didn’t say a word.
By the time they arrived, Asher had his bow tie on and his shoe laces tied.
“Wow,” Asher said at the rows of media lining the red carpet. It looked like a Hollywood award show, not a Santina charity event, but then, the foundation was run by an American couple who were doing business with William Bennett—and at that thought alone, Asher wondered again why they were attending. He assumed the Bennetts would not be there, otherwise his father never would have agreed to attend the event.
Cameras flashed as Asher exited the car, followed by Alistair. He could barely see for the blinding lights. Jesse was in front, guid
ing them.
They paused, the two princes side by side, appearing united—for the cameras. But that was all smoke and mirrors. Jesse had a lead on Noah’s case, but was reluctant to provide information until he could verify it. He said if Asher knew it would increase the risk to him. Asher didn’t care; he just wanted the murderer to be held responsible.
Jesse allowed the photographers a few minutes, then they were escorted inside. The winter wonderland theme was a stark contrast to the Santinian desert—and as beautiful as it was, and as much as he knew an event like this would raise millions, he again wondered why they had to throw such costly, expensive events to draw in donations.
As they moved through the crowd, guests greeted them, and Asher became uncomfortably aware that most guests were stopping to greet him, not Alistair—something that had never happened before.
Asher exchanged pleasantries, but kept things moving along. He wondered if Alistair had noticed, or if he was too self-absorbed to. For once, Asher hoped it was the latter.
Words of congratulations followed them as they worked through the crowd, surrounded by security. He was relieved when he saw his parents sitting together at a long table. His mother’s face lit up, and she waved when she saw them. His father nodded and gave a small smile. The Queen always loved family appearances—she said the only time Santina saw their king as a real person was when he was with his family.
Alistair sat next to the King, while Asher took a seat beside his mother—a seating arrangement that reflected their status within the royal family. Asher happily settled into his seat.
It took him a minute to realize who was sitting at the table opposite them.
“Is that—” Asher asked quietly.
“Yes,” the Queen said, giving Asher a look that indicated it should not be discussed further. And then she smiled her brilliant smile, greeting someone behind her.
Asher looked up to see William Bennett looking at the King, and Asher knew his father was not the only one holding a grudge.
“Asher,” the King said.
Asher slid into his mother’s seat while she stood behind them, talking to another guest. Even still, he struggled to hear his father’s wheezy voice over the loud music.
“Is this seating arrangement uncomfortable for you?” Asher asked, wondering how many years it had been since his family and the Bennett family had been in the same room. Asher didn’t know who was responsible for such a faux pas.
The King raised an eyebrow. “No.”
It was a complete sentence, and one Asher knew should not be delved into.
“Okay,” Asher said. His father might not be uncomfortable, but Asher certainly was. He looked over the family opposite him, assuming the women seated farther down the table were his daughters. One chair toward the end was empty. He wondered if it was for Abi, but given she was the eldest daughter, she should’ve been seated next to her father. Maybe a guest had accompanied them? Asher knew Abi didn’t attend events like this with her family—otherwise Asher would’ve known who she was, because her family was photographed almost as much as his.
He had meant to call her back, but one meeting had led to another, and with the change of plans to attend the charity event he’d barely had time to put his suit on, let alone make the call.
Asher blocked Abi from his mind as his mother drew his attention. He stood and she introduced him. Slowly they worked the floor, and suddenly Asher found himself opposite Emma Bennett. Asher looked to his mother, who wore a sad smile. She nodded politely and said, “Hello, Emma. Thank you.”
Emma nodded, seeming to understand. She wore a smile to match the Queen’s. “Your Majesty. Prince Asher,” she said before moving on.
Asher leaned into his mother. “What was that about?”
“What was what about?” she echoed cryptically, conveniently stopping to talk to another guest.
Asher was promptly introduced to their daughter. He refrained from rolling his eyes at the looks she gave him.
“What did you thank her for?” Asher asked when they continued on.
The Queen hesitated, and Asher was surprised when she answered him honestly. “Because she messaged me her condolences after Noah’s death. I appreciated that.”
Asher’s eyes narrowed. “So you speak to her?”
“Rarely. My child died. That is it,” she said, but Asher didn’t believe her.
“I’m flying around the world, trying to make aid deals, while Santina’s wealthiest businessman could help us—could be our greatest ally—if not for this stupid feud.”
Whatever the Queen thought, though, her allegiance was to the King. “You don’t understand, Asher.”
Asher gritted his teeth and swallowed his verbal retaliation—now was not the time nor place, but he wasn’t going to let this go. “No, I don’t, because no one will discuss it. I’m going to the bar to get a drink.” If the feud didn’t exist between his family and the Bennett family, could . . .? His thoughts trailed off as Abi stepped into his view. His pulse spiked. His eyes raked over her, unable to look away. She looked . . . like everything he’d ever wanted.
He took a step toward her, not thinking. Then he stopped himself. She saw it, and he saw her resolve crumble.
He didn’t know what to do, or what to say—and he wasn’t given any time to think about it.
She fled, moving between guests, but his eyes managed to follow her to a door at the back of the room.
A few guests came up to him. He made polite talk and then excused himself, moving in her direction. He didn’t know what he was doing. He should’ve stopped, he should’ve gone to the bar—but he wanted one minute alone with her.
His anger had faded, and his resolve had gone with it. Her damn dress was doing nothing to help.
Asher slipped through the door, aware he’d unintentionally given Jesse the slip. There was going to be hell to pay for that. And he wondered if anyone had seen him exit after Abi.
He found himself in a hallway. The music was muted, but the building seemed to hum. Every door was closed, but he looked into each room as he walked the length of the hallway. When he got to the end, he realized the door opened to a courtyard lit with hanging lanterns. He saw Abi in the corner, leaning against one of the old trees.
Go back to the party.
He opened the door.
Her head snapped toward him and her eyes widened.
He closed the door behind him, wondering what the fuck he was doing.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know your family was attending. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have come,” Abi said quickly, and he believed her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. He didn’t know if that was a combative gesture or if she was cold. He’d left his dinner jacket on the back of his chair and had nothing to offer her.
“I met your mother a few minutes ago,” Asher said, recalling the conversation between Emma and the Queen.
Abi raised her eyebrows. “She knows you’ve been helping me with IFRT.”
“I see,” Asher said. Emma hadn’t indicated as much, but her focus had been on the Queen. “She contacted my mother after Noah’s death,” he went on, watching Abi carefully.
She nodded, not seeming surprised at all. “I figured she might have.”
“Why would you figure that?” Asher asked, tucking his hands into his pants pockets to stop himself from fidgeting.
“Because I know how close they were,” Abi said. Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t?”
Asher hadn’t tried to hide his surprise. “No, I didn’t. How close were they?”
“Best friends, I think. My mother has a box of photos I found one day. She refuses to look at them, but she’s never discarded them. I don’t know what that means exactly. But they are both loyal to their husbands.” Abi met his gaze. “I’m sorry, Asher. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you my surname, but I thought you would withdraw your support for IFRT. And I thought . . . if we could mend the relationship between our fathers, somehow we would have a
chance. I thought—”
“How did you think you were going to fix it?” Asher asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head and looking away.
Asher took a step closer.
“Don’t, please,” Abi said, moving to take a step back, but she was already against the tree. “This is hard enough already.”
“I’m sorry, Abi,” Asher said tiredly. “I don’t want to make this harder for you, and I’m sorry for how I handled it at your apartment. I was grieving; I wasn’t prepared for what I heard. I don’t want to make excuses, but I—”
Abi shook her head. “I appreciate that, but I always knew we were going to end that way. I know we can’t be together. I know you don’t trust me, but please don’t hate me, Asher.”
“Abi,” Asher said, his voice a thick whisper, “I don’t hate you. I didn’t mean what I said. I truly didn’t, and I’m so sorry. You’re a good person: brave, kind, and selfless. I want to say that if the situation had been reversed, I would’ve told you straight up, but I’m not sure I would have,” he admitted.
Go inside, Asher.
“I rationalized it,” Abi said quietly. “I told myself you wouldn’t care, that I was just another woman falling at the feet of Prince Asher, and that what we had wasn’t any more special than you would’ve shared with someone else. I thought it could be over next week, so what did one more night with you matter?”
“You rationalized that, or you believed that?” Asher asked.
He saw the resignation in her eyes fade. “I rationalized that. I need to go,” she said, not meeting his gaze. She rushed past him, but he couldn’t let her go. He reached out, grabbing her waist.
His chest burned, his body ached for her. He’d missed her more than he’d realized.
“Please don’t do this. Let me leave. Don’t break my heart,” she whispered.
“Mine is already broken,” Asher said.
If the feud could be resolved, could he make it work with Abi? Could he trust her?
His thumb brushed over her cheek, and she closed her eyes. Her chest rose as she inhaled.
“Asher, please don’t make this harder—”
BLOOD, LOVE AND LIES (THE ROYALS Book 1) Page 15
