The Prince's Stolen Virgin
Maisey Yates
Awakened by his kiss…Ordinary Briar Harcourt is horrified to discover her life is a lie – she is in fact a long-lost princess, sent into hiding to escape a forced marriage to a brutal king. But now his son, Prince Felipe, has found Briar and is determined to claim her as his bride!Marriage to Briar will give Felipe the power he was born for: her compliance is non-negotiable. But his searing, uncontrollable desire for her is unexpected…and he’ll use all his formidable charisma to seduce her into surrender!Book 2 in the Once Upon a Seduction… trilogy
Awakened by his kiss...
Ordinary Briar Harcourt is horrified to discover her life is a lie—she is in fact a long-lost princess, sent into hiding to escape a forced marriage to a brutal king. But now his son, Prince Felipe, has found Briar and is determined to claim her as his bride!
Marriage to Briar will give Felipe the power he was born for: her compliance is nonnegotiable. But his searing, uncontrollable desire for her is unexpected...and he’ll use all his formidable charisma to seduce her into surrender!
“I just have to marry a monster.”
“There is that,” Felipe said, looking completely unfazed by the insult. “What sort of monster do you suppose I am, Princess?”
Briar couldn’t tell if he was asking the question with sincerity. She wasn’t sure she cared. But as she looked at him a picture began to form in her mind. His eyes were gold, glinting with heat and the possibility of a kind of cruelty she didn’t want to test. There was something sharp about him, whip-smart and deadly.
“A dragon. Clearly,” she said, not entirely sure why she had provided him with the answer.
“I suppose that makes you the damsel in distress,” he said.
“I’d like to think it makes me the knight.”
“Sorry, darling,” he said. “I kissed you awake not eight hours ago. That makes you the damsel.”
“If we’re going on fairy tales then that should make you Prince Charming, not the dragon.”
He chuckled. “Sadly this is real life, not a fairy tale. And very often the prince can be both.”
Three innocents encounter forbidden temptation in this enticing new fairy-tale trilogy by New York Times bestselling author Maisey Yates...
Once Upon a Seduction… (#u8bc81575-8f4f-51aa-8d90-18adc4777811)
Belle, Briar and Charlotte have lived sheltered lives, far from temptation—but three billionaires are determined to claim them!
Belle has traded herself for her father’s freedom—but the dark-hearted prince keeping her prisoner threatens to unleash an unknown sensuality...
Meanwhile Briar awakens to find herself abducted by Prince Felipe—who blackmails her into becoming his royal bride...
And Charlotte is reunited with the billionaire who once climbed a tower to steal her innocence—and Rafe is about to discover the secret consequences!
Find out if these young women can tame their powerful men—and have their happily-ever-after!
The Prince’s Captive Virgin
June 2017
The Prince’s Stolen Virgin
August 2017
The Italian’s Pregnant Prisoner
October 2017
The Prince’s Stolen Virgin
Maisey Yates
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
MAISEY YATES is a New York Times bestselling author of more than fifty romance novels. She has a coffee habit she has no interest in kicking, and a slight Pinterest addiction. She lives with her husband and children in the Pacific Northwest. When Maisey isn’t writing she can be found singing in the grocery store, shopping for shoes online and probably not doing dishes. Check out her website: maiseyyates.com (http://www.maiseyyates.com/).
Books by Maisey Yates
Mills & Boon Modern Romance
Carides’s Forgotten Wife
Bound to the Warrior King
His Diamond of Convenience
To Defy a Sheikh
One Night to Risk It All
Once Upon a Seduction...
The Prince’s Captive Virgin
The Billionaire’s Legacy
The Last Di Sione Claims His Prize
Heirs Before Vows
The Spaniard’s Pregnant Bride
The Prince’s Pregnant Mistress
The Italian’s Pregnant Virgin
One Night With Consequences
The Greek’s Nine-Month Redemption
Married for Amari’s Heir
Princes of Petras
A Christmas Vow of Seduction
The Queen’s New Year Secret
Visit the Author Profile page
at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/) for more titles.
For my mom and dad, who read to me always, and made me fall in love with books—most especially fairy tales—from the beginning.
My favorite stories always ended with “they lived happily ever after.” And they still do.
Contents
Cover (#u90bc72f8-3b4f-5552-a8b1-b72844e5d3c4)
Back Cover Text (#u7dcef771-d715-5081-8638-cb0fecbf818e)
Introduction (#u34cac0b8-53ae-5b08-8696-81cd2fecea77)
Once Upon a Seduction… (#u330c6dd4-7252-51a6-a636-03da691dd5b1)
Title Page (#u99a1dddd-38fe-5f9b-8f73-a03a3256dc81)
About the Author (#uf6cb3482-12d3-5355-896c-3d3f57ab2bcc)
Dedication (#uafd3dc5f-0685-5046-a1a8-407f82abdbff)
CHAPTER ONE (#ua00a7c83-60c0-5b76-8ebd-7d6c1955d5a9)
CHAPTER TWO (#u6c4416d0-0b27-50b7-a7d9-14e91b4fa471)
CHAPTER THREE (#u606e8a38-90a8-59a8-ae32-9d68f28ebc5e)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uec2ad9d6-9194-5684-9c22-6885fdd7f495)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u8bc81575-8f4f-51aa-8d90-18adc4777811)
Once upon a time...
BRIAR HARCOURT MOVED quickly down the street, wrapping her long wool coat more tightly around her as the autumn breeze blew down Madison Avenue and seemed to whip straight on through to her bones.
It was an unseasonably cold fall, not that she minded. She loved the city this time of year. But there was always a strange sense of loss and nostalgia that mixed with the crisp air, and it was difficult for her to figure out what it was.
It would hover there, on the edges of her consciousness, for just a moment. Then it would slip away, like a leaf on the wind.
It was something to do with her life before she’d come to New York; she knew that. But she’d only been three when she’d been adopted by her parents, and she didn’t remember her life before them. Not really. It was all impressions. Smells. Feelings. And a strange ache that settled low in her stomach.
Strange, because she loved her parents. And she loved her city. There shouldn’t be an ache. You couldn’t miss something you didn’t even remember.
And yet, sometimes, she did.
Briar paused for a moment, a strange prickling sensation crawling up the back of her neck. It wasn’t the cold. She was wearing a scarf. And anyway, it felt different. Different than anything she had ever experienced before.
She paused then turned around. The crowd behind her parted for a moment and she saw a man standing there. She knew, immediately, that he was the reason for the prickling sensation. He was looking at her. And when he saw that she was looking back, a slow smile spread over his face.
And it was like the sun had come out from behind the clouds.
He was beautiful. She could see that from here. Dark hair pushed back from his forehead, making him look carelessly windswept. There was dark stubble on his jaw, and something in his expression, in his eyes, that suggested he was privy to a host of secrets she could never hope to uncover.
He was... Well, he was a man. Nothing like the boys that she had been exposed to either at school or at various functions put on by her parents. Christmas parties at their town house, summer gatherings in the Hamptons.
He wouldn’t stumble around, bragging about conquests or his beer pong score. No, never. Of course, she also wouldn’t be allowed to talk to him.
To say that Dr. Robert Harcourt and his wife, Nell, were old-fashioned was an understatement. But then, she was their only child, and she had come to them late in life. Not only were they part of a different generation than many of her friends’ parents, they had always made it very clear that she was precious to them. An unexpected gift they had never hoped to receive.
That always made her smile. It made the ache go away.
It didn’t feel like a chore to do the best she could for them. To do her best to be a testament to all they’d put into raising her. She had always done her very best to make sure they were happy they’d made that decision. She’d tried—so very hard—to be the best she could be. To be perfect.
She had done her deportment lessons and her etiquette. Had done the debutante balls—even though it hadn’t appealed to her at all. She had gone to school close to home, had spent every weekend back with her parents so they wouldn’t worry. She’d never even considered rebelling. How could you rebel against people who had chosen you?
Except, right now, she felt a little bit like disregarding their concern. Like moving toward that man, who was still looking at her with those wicked eyes.
She blinked, and just as suddenly as he had appeared he was gone. Melted back into the crowd of black and gray coats. She felt an unaccountable sense of loss. A feeling that she had just missed something important. Something extraordinary.
You wouldn’t know if it could have been extraordinary. You’ve never even kissed a man.
No. A side effect of that overprotectiveness. But then, she had no desire to kiss Tommy Beer Pong or his league of idiot friends.
Tall, sophisticated-looking men on bustling streets were another matter. Apparently.
She blinked then turned back around, heading back in the direction she had originally been going. Not that she was in a hurry. She was on break from school, and spending the days wandering her parents’ town house wasn’t terribly appealing. So she had decided she was going to go to the Met today, because she never got tired of wandering those halls.
But suddenly, the Met, and all the art inside, seemed lackluster. At least, in view of the man she had just seen.
Ridiculous.
She shook her head and pressed on.
“Are you running away from me?”
She stopped, her heart slamming against her breastbone. Then she whirled around and nearly ran into the object of her thwarted feelings. “No,” she said, the word coming out on a breath.
“You seemed to be walking quickly, and with great purpose.”
Oh, his voice. He had an accent. Spanish, or something. Sexy and like the sort of thing her brain would weave out of thin air late at night when she was trying to sleep, concocting herself the perfect mystery dream date that she would likely never find.
He was even better-looking up close. Stunning, even. He smiled, revealing perfect teeth. And then, he relaxed his mouth. There was something even more compelling about that. About being able to examine the shape of his lips.
“I wasn’t,” she said. “I just...” Somebody bumped into her as they walked by quickly. “Well, I didn’t want to be in the way,” she said, gesturing after the person, as if to prove her point.
“Because you had stopped,” he pressed. “To look at me?”
“You were looking at me.”
“Surely you must be used to that.”
Hardly. At least, not in the way that he meant. Nobody likes to be different, and she was different in a great many ways. She was tall, first of all. Which was one refreshing thing about him. He was at least five inches taller than her height of five eleven, which was a rare and difficult thing to come across.
But yes, that was her. Tall. Skinny. All limbs. Plus, her hair was never going to fall in the effortless, silken waves most of her friends possessed. It took serious salon treatments to get it straight and she often questioned if it was worth it. Though, her mother insisted it was.
She was the opposite of the typical blonde beauty queen in her sorority or at any of the private schools she had attended growing up.
She stood out. And when you were a teenager, it was the last thing you wanted.
Though, now that she was in her early twenties, she was beginning to come to terms with herself. Her first instinct still wasn’t to assume someone was staring because they liked what they saw. No, she always assumed they were staring because she was out of place.
“Not especially,” she said, because it was honest.
“I don’t believe that,” he said. “You’re far too beautiful to walk around not having men snap their necks trying to get a look.”
Her face grew warm, her heart beginning to beat faster, harder. “I’m not really... I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”
That earned her a chuckle. “Then perhaps we should make sure to become something other than strangers.”
She hesitated. “Briar. My name is Briar.”
A strange expression crosssed his face, though it was fleeting. “A nice name. Different.”
“I suppose it is.” She knew it was. Yet another thing that made her feel like she stood out.
“José,” he said, extending his hand.
She simply stared at it for a moment, as if she wasn’t quite sure what he intended her to do. But of course she did know. He wanted to shake her hand. That wasn’t weird. It was what people did when they met. She sucked in a sharp breath and allowed her fingers to meet his.
It was like she’d been hit by lightning. The electricity was so acute, so startling, that she immediately dropped his hand, taking a step back. She had never felt anything like that before in her life. And she didn’t know if she wanted to feel it again.
“I have to go.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, insistent.
“Yes. I do. I was on my way to... I was just going to...to a hair appointment.” A lie easily thought of because she’d just been pondering her hair. But she could hardly tell him she was going to the museum. He might offer to walk with her. Though she supposed he could offer to take her to a salon, too.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I have to go.” She turned away, walking away from him quickly.
“Wait! I don’t even know how to get in touch with you. At least give me your phone number.”
“I can’t.” For a whole variety of reasons, but mostly because of the tingling sensation that still lingered on her hand.
She turned again, taking too-long strides away from him.
“Wait!”
She didn’t. She kept on walking. And the last thing she saw was a bright yellow taxi barreling down on her.
* * *
Warmth flooded her. The strangest sensation assaulted her. Like she was being filled with oxygen, her extremities beginning to tingle. She felt disembodied, like she was floating in a dark space.
Except then it wasn’t so dark. There was light. Marble walls. White. With ornate golden details. It was so clear. A place she’d never seen before, and yet...she must have.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she felt like she was being brought back to herself.
First, she could wiggle her fingertips. And then, she became aware of other things. Of the source of the warmth.
Lips against hers. She was being kissed.
Her eyes fluttered open, and in that instant she recognized the dark head bent over hers.
The man from the street.
The street. She had been crossing the street.
Was she in the street still? She couldn’t remember leaving it. But she felt... Tied down.
She opened her eyes wider, looking around. There was a bright, fluorescent light directly above her, monitors all to her side. And she was tethered to something.
She curled her fingers into a fist and felt a sharp, stinging sensation.
She looked down at her arm and saw an IV.
And then, all her focus went straight back to the fact that she was still being kissed. In a hospital bed, presumably.
She put her hand up, her fingers brushing against his cheek, and then he pulled away.
“Querida, you’re awake.” He looked so relieved. Not like a stranger at all. But then, he was kissing her, which was also unlike a stranger.
“Yes. How long was I...? How long was I asleep?” She posed the question to the nurse that she noticed standing just behind him. It was weird that he had kissed her. And she was going to get to that in a moment. But first she was trying to get a handle on how disoriented she felt.
“You were unconscious. Only for an hour or so.”
“Oh.” She pushed down on the mattress, trying to sit up.
“Now be careful,” he said. “You might have a concussion.”
“What happened?”
“You crossed the street right in front of a taxi. I was unable to stop you.”
She vaguely remembered him calling after her, and her continuing to walk on. Feeling slightly frantic as she did. Logically, she knew that her parents were overprotective. She knew that they had been hypervigilant in instilling the concept of stranger danger to her, but she had taken it on board, even knowing that it was a little bit over the top.
They had told her that she had to be particularly careful because Robert was a high-profile physician who often worked with politicians and helped write legislation pertaining to the healthcare system, and that made him something of a target. She had to be extra vigilant because of that, and because of the fact that they were wealthy.
It had made her see the bogeyman in any overly friendly stranger on the street as a child, but she supposed it had kept her safe. Until she had met him and run out in front of a car.
Her parents. She wondered if anyone had called them. They wouldn’t be expecting her home until evening.
“Excuse me...” But the nurse had rushed out of the room, presumably to get a doctor? She didn’t know why the woman hadn’t stopped to check her vitals.
“My father is a doctor,” she said, looking back up at José. That was his name. That was what he had said his name was.
“That is good to know,” he said, a slight edge in his voice that she hadn’t heard earlier.
“If he hasn’t been called already, somebody should get in touch with him. He’s going to want input on my treatment.”
“I’m sorry,” José said, straightening.
Suddenly, his face looked different to her. Sharper, harder. Her heart thundered dully, a strange lick of fear moving through her body.
“You’re sorry about what?”
“It isn’t going to be possible for your father to have input on your treatment. Because you’re going to be moved.”
“I am?”
“Yes. It seems to me that you are stable, and that has been confirmed by my nurse.”
“Your nurse?”
He sighed heavily, lifting his hand and checking his watch. Then he adjusted the cuff on his jacket, the mannerism curt and officious. “Yes. My nurse,” he said, sounding exasperated as though he was explaining something to a small child. “You do not have to worry. You will be treated by my doctor once we arrive in Santa Milagro.”
“Where is that? I don’t understand.”
“You don’t know where Santa Milagro is? I do question the American school system in that case. It is truly a shame that you had to be brought up here, Talia.”
Something niggled at her, something strange and steep. As deep as those wistful feelings she often felt when the air began to cool. “My name isn’t Talia.”
“Right. Briar.” His smile took on a sardonic twist. “My mistake.”
“The fact that I don’t know where Santa Milagro is is not the biggest issue we have. The biggest issue is that I’m not going to see your doctor. You’re just a crazy man that I met on the street. For all I know you stole that coat—it is a really nice coat—and you’re actually an insane vagrant.”
“A vagrant? No. Insane? Well. That matter is fully up for debate. I won’t lie.”
“José—”
“My name isn’t José. I’m Prince Felipe Carrión de la Viña Cortez. And you, my dear Briar, are mine by rights. I have spent a great many years looking for you, and now I have finally found you. And you’re coming with me.”
CHAPTER TWO (#u8bc81575-8f4f-51aa-8d90-18adc4777811)
PRINCE FELIPE CARRIÓN DE LA VIÑA CORTEZ had yet to lose sleep over any of his actions. As long as he steered clear of covert murders to further his political status, he was better than his father.
A low bar, certainly. But Felipe liked a low bar. They were so much easier to step over.
And while this might be the lowest he’d stooped, it was also going very well. Surely if he wasn’t supposed to have Princess Talia she wouldn’t have delivered herself quite so beautifully to him.
Well, the part where she was hit by a taxi was perhaps not ideal, but it had certainly made the second half of his scheme easier. Because she was now confined to a hospital bed, being wheeled through an empty corridor—something he was pleased he’d arranged, because she was yelling for help, and it was much nicer to not have to deal with anyone trying to come to her aid—and he was going to have her undergo a quick check by a privately hired physician before having her loaded onto the plane.
He was covering all his bases, and truly, being quite generous.
Though he supposed the kiss hadn’t been wholly necessary. But remembering the way she had jolted when she’d seen him on the street, he had wondered. Wondered if there was enough electricity between them to shock her awake.
It had worked, apparently.
Other men might feel some guilt over kissing an unconscious woman. Not this man.
Not with this woman.
She was owed to him. Owed to Santa Milagro. She should be thankful that he was the one who had found her. Had it been his father...
Well. Yet more reasons Felipe would be losing no sleep over this. Life with him would be a kindness by comparison.
Though it was clear to him that his princess did not see it now.
“Are you insane?” She was still shouting, and he was becoming bored with it.
“As previously mentioned, it is entirely possible that I’m crazy. However, hurling it around like an epithet is hardly going to help.”
She looked up at him, her dark eyes blazing, the confusion from earlier cleared from them. Even now—in a hospital gown—she was beautiful. Though her rich skin tone would be better served in golds, colors like gems. Not the sallow, white and blue cloth her slight curves were currently covered by.
No, he would see her dressed like a queen, which she soon would be. His queen. Once his father died and Felipe assumed the throne.
He had a feeling his father would be distinctly unhappy to know that Felipe had managed to track down the quarry his father had spent so many years searching for. Good thing the old bastard was bound to his bed.
Though, even if he was not, Felipe had the support of the people, and at this point, the support of the military. He supposed considering treason in the form of dispatching his own father was probably not the best course of action.
Though, if the old man was healthier, the likelihood of him considering it would be much higher.
There would be no need to do that. No. Instead, he would bring Talia back to the palace, and he would parade her before his father like a cat might deliver a bird to its master. Except the old king was not Felipe’s master. Not anymore.
He passed the nurse a large stack of US dollars after she helped load the princess into the back of the van he had hired. He would not be paying anyone with anything traceable. No. He wanted all of this to go off without a ripple in the media.
Until he decided to make the tidal wave.
This would be one of his grandest illusions, and he was a master of them. Sleight of hand and other trickery so that he would be consistently underestimated on the world stage. Because it suited him. It suited him endlessly.
Well, that wasn’t true. The end was coming.
Talia was a means to it.
“To the airport,” he said to his driver as the van was secured.
“The airport?” She was sounding quite shrill now.
“Well, we aren’t swimming to Santa Milagro. Not in your condition, anyway.”
“I am not going with you.”
“You are. Though I appreciate your spirit. It’s admirable. Particularly given that you’re currently in a hospital bed. I will have you undergo a preliminary examination before we get on the plane.”
The physician he’d hired moved from his seat over to where Talia was. He proceeded to examine her, taking her blood pressure, looking at her eyes. “You may want to order a CT scan once you get back to your country,” the older man said. If he was feeling any compunction about being involved in this kidnapping, he was hiding it well.
But, considering the amount of money that Felipe was throwing at him, he should hide it well.
“Thank you. I will make sure she has follow-up appointments. I do not want her broken, after all.”
She did not look relieved by that news, though in his opinion she should.
“If you have any integrity at all,” she said, reaching out and grabbing the doctor by the arm, “then you’ll tell somebody where I am. Who I’m with.”
The older man looked away from her, clearly uncomfortable, and withdrew his arm.
“Talia,” Felipe said, “he has been paid too well to offer you any help.”
“You keep calling me Talia. And I’m not Talia. I don’t know who Talia is.”
Well, that was certainly an interesting development. “Whether or not you know who Talia is—and that I question—you are her.”
“I think maybe you’re the one who hit your head,” she said.
“Again, sadly for you, I did not. While I may not be of sound mind, I certainly know my own mind. This... Well, this has been planned for a very long time. You think it accidental that I encountered you on a busy street in New York City? Of course not. The most random of encounters are always carefully orchestrated.”
“By some sort of higher power?” she asked, her tone wry.
“Yes. Me.”
“I have no idea who you are. I have never heard of you, I have never heard of your country, so I can only imagine that it is the size of a grain of rice on a world map. While we’re talking size, I can only assume that plays a factor in a great many things, since you seem to be compensating.”
He chuckled. “If I were not so secure I might be offended by that, querida. Anyway, while I am a believer in the idea that size matters in some arenas, when it comes to world events, often the size of the country is not the biggest issue. It is the motion of the... Well, of the cash flow. The natural resources. And that, my country has in abundance. However, we are going through a few structural changes. You are part of those changes.”
“How can I be part of those changes? I’m a doctor’s daughter. I’m a university student. I don’t have a place on the world stage.”
“And that is where you’re wrong. But we’re not going to finish having this discussion here.”
He had paid the good doctor for his silence, that much was true, but he did not trust anything when a larger payday had the potential to come into play. And when news of Briar Harcourt going missing hit the media, there was a chance that the man would go forward with his story.
That meant that the details revealed in the van needed to be limited. Soon, however, they arrived at the airport, and the vehicle pulled up directly to Felipe’s private plane.
“Don’t we have to go through customs? I don’t have... Well, I don’t have a passport.”
“Darling. You’re traveling with me now. I am your passport. Does she need the IV any longer?” He posed that question to the doctor.
“She shouldn’t,” came the grave reply.
“Then remove it,” Felipe commanded.
The doctor did so, carefully and judiciously, putting a Band-Aid over where the needle had been.
“She is not hooked up to anything else?”
“No,” the doctor replied.
“Excellent.” Felipe reached down, wrapping his arms around Talia and hoisting her up out of the bed. “Good help is all very well and good, but in the end it’s always better to do things yourself.”
She clung to him for a moment, clearly afraid of falling out of his arms and getting another head injury, and continued to hold on to him while he got out of the van and began to stride across the tarmac toward the plane.
And then she began to struggle.
“Please do not make this difficult,” he said, tightening his hold on her, not finding this difficult at all, though he would rather not end up with a bruise if it could be helped. If he was going to be marred, he preferred for it to happen in the bedroom. At least then, there would be a reward for his suffering.
Hell, sometimes the suffering was just part of the reward.
“The point is to make this difficult!”
“I have never had a woman resist getting on my private plane quite so much.”
“But you’ve had them resist. That says nothing good about you.”
He sighed heavily, taking them both up the steps and into the aircraft. His flight crew immediately mobilized, closing the door and beginning the process of readying for takeoff. As they had been instructed prior to his and the princess’s boarding.
“You say that as though it should bother me,” he said, setting her down in one of the plush leather chairs on the plane before sitting down in the chair across from her. “Don’t bother to try and get up and unlock the door. It can only be unlocked from the cockpit now. I made arrangements for some high-security additions to be added to the plane before coming to get you.”
“That seems stupid,” she said. “What if we need to get out and the pilots can’t let us out?”
He chuckled, reluctantly enjoying the fact that she seemed so comfortable running her mouth even though she had absolutely no power in the situation. “Well, I can actually control it from my phone, as well. But don’t get any ideas about trying to do it yourself. It requires fingerprint and retina recognition.”
“Fine. But if the plane catches fire and we need to get out and somehow your fingerprints have melted off and you can’t open your eyes and we die a painful death because of your security measures...”
“Well,” he said. “In such a case I will feel terribly guilty. And, I imagine continue the burning in hell.”
“That’s a given.”
“Are you concerned for the state of my eternal soul?”
“Not at all. I’m concerned for the state of my present body.” She looked around, and he could tell the exact moment she realized she had nothing. That she was wearing a hospital gown, that she had no identification, no money and no phone.
“I do not intend to harm you,” he said, reaching down and straightening his cuffs. “In fact, that runs counter to my objective.”
“Your objective is to...improve my health?”
“Does it need improving? Because if it does, I most certainly will.”
“No,” she laid her head back, grimacing suddenly. “Okay. Well, right now it needs slight improvement because I feel like I was hit by a taxi.” She sat upright, slamming her hands down on either side of her, her palms striking the leather hard, the sound echoing in the cabin. “Oh, yes! Because I was hit by a taxi!”
“Regrettable. While I orchestrated a great many things, that was not one of them. I would never take such a risk with you.”
“Maybe now is a good time for you to explain yourself. Since we’ve established I’m not going anywhere. And I assume that Santa Milagro is not a quick and easy flight. I suppose we have the time.”
“In a moment.” The engines fired up on the plane, and they began to move slowly. “I like a little atmosphere. And I don’t want to be interrupted by takeoff.”
The aircraft began to move faster and he reached across to the table beside him, opening the top and pressing a button. An interior motor raised a shelf inside, delivering a bottle of scotch, along with a tumbler.
As the plane began to ascend he opened the bottle and poured himself a generous measure of the amber liquid. He did not spill a drop. That would be a mistake. And he did not make mistakes.
Unless he made them on purpose.
“And now?” she pressed.
“Do you want to change first?” He took a sip of his drink. “Not that the hospital gown isn’t lovely.”
Her face contorted with rage. “I don’t care what I’m wearing. And I really don’t care what you think of it.”
“That will change. I guarantee it.”
“You don’t know very much about women, do you?”
He set his glass down on the table. “I know a great deal about women. Arguably more than you do.”
“You don’t know anything about this woman. I don’t know what kind of simpering idiots you normally capture and drag onto your plane, but I’m not impressed by your wells, by your title, by your power. My father did not raise a simpering, weak-willed idiot. And my mother did not raise a fool.”
“No, indeed. However, they were raising a princess.”
“I’m not a princess.”
“You are. The Princess of Verloren. Long-lost. Naturally.”
“That is... That is ridiculous.”
“It is the subject of a great many stories, a great many films... Wouldn’t you think that something like that, a story so often told, might have its roots in reality?”
“Except this isn’t The Princess Diaries and you are not Julie Andrews.”
He chuckled. “No, indeed.” He took another sip of his scotch. Funny, alcohol didn’t even burn anymore. Sometimes he missed it. Sometimes he simply assumed it was a metaphor for his conscience and found amusement in it. “A cursory internet search would corroborate what I’m telling you. King Behrendt and Queen Amaani lost their only daughter years ago. Presumed dead. The entire nation mourned her passing. However, in Santa Milagro it was often suspected the princess had been sent into hiding.”
“Why would I be sent into hiding?”
“Because of an agreement. An agreement that your father made with mine. You see, sometime after the death of his first wife, the king fell on hard times. His own personal mourning affected the country and led the nation to near financial ruin. And so he borrowed heavily from my father. He also promised that he would repay my father in any manner he deemed acceptable. He more than promised. It is in writing.” Felipe lifted a shoulder then continued, “Of course, at the time King Behrendt felt like he had nothing to lose. His wife was dead. His heir and spare nearly grown. Then he met a model. Very famous. Originally from Somalia. Their romance stunned all of Europe for a great many reasons, the age gap between them being one of them.”
“I know this story,” she said, her voice hushed. “I mean, I have heard of them.”
“Naturally. As they are one of the most photographed royal couples in the world. What began as a rather shocking coupling has become one of the world’s favorites.”
“You’re trying to tell me that they are my parents.”
“I’m not trying to tell you that. I am telling you that. Because when it came time to collect on the king’s debt... My father demanded you.”
“He did?”
“Oh, yes. Verloren, and indeed the world, was captivated by your birth. And when you finally arrived, a great party was given. Many gifts were brought from rulers all over the world. And my father—not in attendance because he was any great friend of yours, but because your father was obligated—came, but it was not with a gift. It was a promise. That when you were of age he would come for you. And that you would be his wife.”
Her skin dulled, her lips turning a dusky blue. “Are you... Are you taking me to your father? Is that what this is?”
He shook his head. “No. I am not delivering you to my father. For that, you should be thankful. You will not be his wife.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I will not be.”
He looked up at her then, his eyes meeting hers. She looked fiery, determined. Anger glittered in those ebony depths, and perversely he ached to explore that rage. Sadly, it would have to wait.
“You will not be my father’s wife,” he repeated, pausing for just a moment. “You will be mine.”
CHAPTER THREE (#u8bc81575-8f4f-51aa-8d90-18adc4777811)
SHE LOST CONSCIOUSNESS after that. And really, she was somewhat grateful for that. Less so when she woke up feeling disoriented, cocooned in a bed of soft blankets in completely unfamiliar surroundings.
At least when she woke up this time it wasn’t because he had kissed her.
Though, he was standing on the far side of the room, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his expression one of dark concern. Perhaps that was an odd characteristic to assign to concern, but she had a feeling the concern wasn’t born out of any kind of goodness of his heart, rather over the potential thwarting of his schemes.
His schemes to make her his wife. She remembered that with a sudden jolt.
She sat up quickly, and her head began to throb.
“Be careful, Princess,” came a slow, calming voice. “You do not have a concussion, but you have certainly been through quite a lot in the past twenty-four hours.”
She became aware that a woman was standing to the left of her bed. A woman who had that kind of matter-of-fact bedside demeanor she typically assigned to physicians.
“Are you a doctor?” she asked.
“Yes. When you lost consciousness on the flight, Prince Felipe called and demanded that I make myself available to him as soon as the plane landed. I told him it was likely stress and a bit of dehydration that caused the event.” She sent him a look that carried not a small amount of steel.
“I have indeed been placed under stress,” Briar said. “Since he kidnapped me.”
The woman looked like she was about to have an apoplexy. “Kidnapped. Lovely.”
“Did you have a criticism, Dr. Estrada?” Felipe asked, his tone soft but infinitely deadly.
“Never, Your Majesty.”
“I thought not.”
“Perhaps you ought to criticize him,” Briar said.
“Not if she would like to retain her license to practice medicine here in Santa Milagro. Also, not as long as she would like to stay out of the dungeon.”
“He would not throw me in the dungeon,” Dr. Estrada said, her tone hard. “However, I do believe he might strip me of my license.”
“Do not think me so different from my father,” he said, his tone taking on a warning quality. “I will have to assume control of the country soon, and I will do whatever I must to make sure that transition goes as smoothly as possible. I would like to give you all that I have promised,” he said, directing those words to the doctor, “but I cannot if you don’t help me in this. I am not evil like my father, but I am entirely focused on my goals. I will let nothing stand in my way.” He rolled his shoulders backward, grabbed the edge of his shirtsleeve and pulled it down hard. “I am hardly a villain, but I am...morally flexible. You would both do well to remember that.”
“You can’t exactly issue threats to me,” Briar said, “as I’ve already been kidnapped.”
“Things can definitely get worse,” Felipe said, a sharp grin crossing his lips. “I’m quite creative.”
A shiver ran down her back and she thought wildly about what she could do. There was no hope of running, obviously. She wasn’t feeling her best, even if she didn’t have a concussion. She was also stranded in a foreign country with no ID, no money, nothing but a hospital gown.
“Help me,” she said to Dr. Estrada, because she had no idea what else she could do.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” the woman said. “Except when it comes to your medical well-being. You can take a couple of these pain pills if you need them.” She set the bottle on the nightstand.
“I might take the whole thing,” Briar responded.
“I will not tolerate petulant displays of insincere overdoses.” Felipe walked across the room, curling his fingers around the pill bottle and picking it up. “If you need something I am more than happy to dispense it. Or rather, I will entrust a servant to do so.”
He was appalling. It was difficult to form an honest opinion on his personality, given that he had kidnapped her and all. That was the dominant thing she was focused on at the moment. But even without the kidnap, he was kind of terrible.
“That will be all, Dr. Estrada,” he said, effectively dismissing what might have been Briar’s only possible ally. “She would not have helped you,” Felipe said, as if reading her mind. “She can’t. You see, my father has had this country under a pall for generations. People like Dr. Estrada want to make a difference once the old king is dead—and he is closer and closer to being dead with each passing moment we spend talking. I would prefer that he live for our marriage announcement, however. Still, if he does not, I won’t lose any sleep over it. The sooner he dies, the better. The sooner he dies, the sooner I assume the throne. And change can begin coming to the country.”
“There’s nothing you can do until some old, incapacitated king dies?”
He waved a hand. “Of course there is. If there was nothing that could be done, Dr. Estrada wouldn’t have been here at all. In fact, she’s somebody that I’ve been meeting with for the past couple of years, getting a healthcare system in place, ready to launch the moment I assume power. I have pieces in a great many strategic places on this chessboard, Princess. And you were the last one. My queen.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. But you will. Ultimately, this will benefit your country. Your parents.”
“My parents live in New York,” she said, gritting her teeth. “I don’t care about anybody else.”
He made a tsking sound. “That’s quite heartless. Especially considering the king and queen assumed great personal cost to send you to safety.”
“I might feel something more if I knew them,” she said, ignoring the slight twinge of guilt in her chest. “As it is, I’m concerned that the mother and father I know are going to be frantic, looking for me.”
“Likely they will be. But soon, very soon, I will be ready to announce to the world that we are engaged.”
“And what’s to keep me from flinging myself in front of the camera and letting everybody know that I’m not your fiancée, I’m a kidnap victim? And you are dangerously delusional.”
“Oh,” he said, “you’ve got me there. Something I didn’t think of. I’ve only been planning exactly how my ascendance to the throne would go for the past two decades. But here, you have completely stumped me with only a few moments of thinking.” He laughed, the sound derisive. “Your country, your father’s country, owes mine an astronomical amount. I could destroy them. Bankrupt them. The entire populace would spend the remainder of their days in abject poverty. A once great nation toppled completely. I, and I alone, have been the only thing standing in the gap between my father and his revenge on Verloren. My own had to go neglected so that I could protect yours. I spent every favor on that. Used every ounce of diplomacy to convince him that it was not the time to move on Verloren. I placated him with ideas that I had gotten leads on your whereabouts.” He shook his head. “I did a great deal to clinch this. If you think you’re going to thwart me with a temper tantrum then you are truly delusional.”
“Well, I was hit by a taxi.”
He laughed again. “True. I should have given the driver a tip. He made this all that much easier. Anyway, you will be well taken care of here.”
“I just have to marry a monster.”
“There is that,” he said, looking completely unfazed by the insult. “What sort of monster do you suppose I am, Princess?”
She couldn’t tell if he was asking the question with sincerity. She wasn’t sure she cared. But as she looked at him, a picture began to form in her mind. His eyes were gold, glinting with heat and the possibility of a kind of cruelty she didn’t want to test. There was something sharp about him, whip-smart and deadly.
“A dragon. Clearly,” she said, not entirely sure why she had provided him with the answer.
“I suppose that makes you the damsel in distress,” he said.
“I’d like to think it makes me the knight.”
“Sorry, darling,” he said. “I kissed you awake not eight hours ago. That makes you the damsel.”
“If we’re going off fairy tales then that should make you Prince Charming, not the dragon.”
He chuckled. “Sadly, this is real life, not a fairy tale. And very often the prince can be both.”
“Then I suppose a princess can also be a knight. In which case, I would be careful, because when you go to kiss me again I might stab you clean through.”
He lifted one dark brow. “Then the same goes for you. Because the next time I go to kiss you, I might decide to swallow you whole instead.”
There was something darkly sexual about those words, and she resented the responses created in her body. No matter that he was... Well, insane almost by his own admission, he was still absurdly beautiful.
And that, she supposed, was ultimately what he meant about the dragon and the prince being one and the same. On the outside, he was every inch Prince Charming. From his perfectly tailored jacket and dark pants, to his classically handsome face and picture of exquisite masculinity that was his body.
But underneath, he breathed fire.
“I am announcing our engagement tomorrow. And you will not go against me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m going to allow you to call your parents tonight. At least, the people you know as your parents.”
“They’ll send someone for me. They’ll contact that... They’ll contact the president if they have to.”
“They won’t,” he said, his voice holding an air of finality. “And you know why? Because they do know the whole story of how you came to be theirs. They know exactly who you are, and they know why they cannot interfere in this. They were charged with keeping you safe from me, and they failed. Now, there is nothing that can be done. Once you have passed into the possession of the dragon... Well. It is too late. Tell them everything that I told you. And they will confirm what I’ve said. You don’t have a choice. Not if you want to keep your homeland from crumbling. Not if you ever hope to see things actually fixed. This is bigger than you. When you speak to them, you’ll know that’s the truth.”
Then he turned, leaving her alone with nothing but a sense of quiet dread.
* * *
“I will be having an engagement party in the next week or so,” Felipe said, staring fixedly out the window at the view of the mountains.
“That seems sudden,” his friend Adam said on the other end of the phone.
Adam was recently married to his wife, Belle, after years of isolating himself on his island country, lost in grief after the death of his first wife, and hiding the terrible scars he had received from the accident that had made him a widower. But now things had changed. Since he had met Belle, he had come back into the public eye, and he seemed to have no issue with public appearances. All the better as far as Felipe was concerned, because he wanted to have as much public support as possible.
“It isn’t,” Felipe said. “Believe me.”
“Why do I get the feeling this is the sort of thing I don’t want to know the details about?” his other friend Rafe said, his tone hard.
“You likely don’t,” Felipe said. “But I would happily give them to you. You know I have no shame.”
He didn’t. Though he was hardly going to engage in unbridled honesty and a heart-to-heart with his friends about the current situation. That wasn’t how he worked. It wasn’t the function he fulfilled in the group.
He’d cultivated the Prince Charming exterior long ago. Out of necessity. For survival. Image had been everything to his father, and the older man had always threatened Felipe and his mother with dire consequences if Felipe were to reveal the state of their lives in the palace.
The consequences of behaving otherwise were dire, and he had discovered that the hard way.
So he had learned, very early on, not to betray himself. Ever. He kept everything close to his chest, while appearing to give the whole world away.
“I would like details,” Adam said, “before I know what sort of circus I’m bringing my pregnant wife to.”
“Congratulations,” Felipe said. “Please make the announcement before you come to my party. I don’t want the impending arrival of your heir to overshadow my engagement.”
“I suppose that’s about all the sincerity I can expect out of you,” Adam said, his tone dry.
“Probably. But you see, I have found a long-lost—presumed dead—princess. And, I’m making her my wife. This is good for me for more than one reason. All political things, I won’t bore you with them. Suffice it to say, this party is going to be quite the affair.”
“I see. And how exactly did you find this princess?”
“Well, there’s an app. I just opened it up and trapped her inside a little ball.”
Adam snorted. “I wish that were true, Felipe. But I have a feeling that a lot more skullduggery was involved.”
“There was skullduggery. I cannot deny the existence of skullduggery. Ultimately, I consider that a good thing since skullduggery is a sadly underused word.”
“I do not need details,” Rafe said. “But is my support of you going to damage the value of the stock in my company? That, I do need to know.”
“And I need to know if she is the princess of any country possessing nuclear weapons. Because again, my support cannot endanger my people,” Adam added.
“If the actual details of how I came in to possession of the princess were released, it might in fact cause you both trouble. But they won’t. First of all, her parents owe an astronomical amount of money to my country. As much as they might want to contest the marriage, they won’t be able to. And, once she is more familiar with the situation, she will feel the same way.”
“So, you’re forcing her into marriage?” Adam asked.
“Do I detect a hint of judgment in your voice?” Felipe returned. “Because if I remember correctly you came into possession of your wife when you took her prisoner.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“Because I did it,” Adam said. “Plus, I wouldn’t do it now.”
“Because love has changed you and softened you. I understand. Sadly, I’m not looking for love.” The very idea almost made him laugh. “No chance of softening. But I do believe that in the end this is going to be the best thing for Santa Milagro. If it isn’t the best thing for one woman, when all of my people could be benefited, I have to say I’m going to side with my people.”
“So,” Rafe said, slowly. “You are asking us to attend your engagement party, where you will announce your intention to marry a woman that you kidnapped, who doesn’t want to marry you, but who will have to pretend as though she does so that you don’t bring terrible consequences down on her mother and father, and her entire country.”
“Yes,” Felipe said.
“That sounds about right,” Rafe responded.
“My wife will be...unhappy,” Adam said.
“Then don’t tell her. Or, tell her that’s how all the girls meet their husbands these days. Stockholm syndrome.”
Adam growled. “I’m not going to keep it from her.”
“Fine. But I do expect that she fall in line,” Felipe said, having not considered that his friend’s potential loose cannon of a spouse might be an issue. Who knew what Belle might say to the press?
“Belle does not fall in line,” Adam said. “It isn’t in her nature. However, I will explain the sensitive political situation. I know she would not wish to cause harm. And while I don’t trust that you won’t cause any harm, Felipe, I do trust you’re trying to prevent greater harm.”
“Of course. Because I’m an altruist like that. Details will be forthcoming, but of course I had to call and give you the good news myself.”
“Because you’re such a good friend,” Rafe said, the words rife with insincerity.
No, the truth was, they were friends. True friends, the kind that Felipe had never expected to have. The kind that, he imagined, had prevented him from becoming something entirely soulless.
They had some idea about his upbringing. About the way that he was. But mostly, he showed them the face he showed the world. Prince Charming, as he had just discussed with Talia.
The dragon, he kept to himself.
Usually.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u8bc81575-8f4f-51aa-8d90-18adc4777811)
BRIAR WAS ABOUT to give in to despair when there was a knock on the door. She knew immediately that it wasn’t Prince Felipe, as she had a feeling he didn’t knock. Ever.
She was proven correct when a servant came through the door after she told her to come in.
“This phone is programmed so that you may call your parents,” the woman said. “I will give you some privacy.”
She turned and swept out of the room, leaving Briar there with the phone. The first thing she tried to do was call 911, which was stupid, because she knew that it wasn’t an emergency number in Santa Milagro. The phone wasn’t connected to the internet, so she couldn’t search any other numbers, but she had a feeling that even if she could it was programmed to only connect to one other number.
She should dial them immediately. After all, except for when she was at school, this was the longest she’d gone without contact with them. And even when she’d been at university it had been...different. She’d been in an approved location, doing exactly what they’d asked her to do.
Right now she was...well, somehow rootless, even as she learned the truth of where she’d come from. On her own, in a way she never had been before, even while she was being held captive.
For one moment, she thought about not calling. It was a strange, breathless moment, followed by her stomach plummeting all the way to her toes, even as she couldn’t believe she had—for one moment—considered something so selfish.
They were probably sick with worry. And it was her fault, after all. She was the one who had approached Felipe. She was the one who had opened herself up to this. She had failed them. After trying so hard for so much of her life to make sure she could be the daughter they deserved to have, now they were going through this.
With shaking fingers, she dialed her parents. And she waited.
It was her father who answered, his tone breathless in rush. “Yes?”
“It’s me,” she said.
“Briar! Thank God. Where are you? Are you okay? We’ve been searching. We called the police. We’ve called every hospital.”
“I know,” she said. “I mean, I knew you would have. But this is the first chance I’ve had to call. I wasn’t... I’ve been kidnapped,” she said. As much as she didn’t want to cause her parents any alarm, kidnapped was what she was; there was no sugarcoating it.
Her father swore violently, and a moment later she heard the other line pick up. “Briar?” It was her mother.
“I’m okay. I mean, I’m unharmed. But I’m in...”
“Santa Milagro,” her father said, his tone flat.
The world felt like it tilted to the side. “You know? How do you know?” He had told her they would. But she realized that up until that moment she truly hadn’t believed him.
“Perhaps it was a mistake,” her father said slowly, “to keep so much from you. But we saw no other way for you to have a normal, happy life. It wasn’t our intention to keep your identity from you, not really. But we didn’t know what kind of life you would have if you knew that you were a princess that couldn’t live in a palace. If you knew that you had parents who had given birth to you across the world, who didn’t want to give you up but had felt forced into it.”
“It was selfish maybe,” her mother said, her tone muted. “But your mother and father did agree. They agreed that it would be best if you knew only us. They agreed it would be best if you didn’t feel split in your identity. But we all knew it couldn’t go on forever. We simply hoped this wouldn’t be the reason.”
Briar felt dizzy. “Am I Talia? Princess Talia. That’s what he keeps calling me. Is that true?”
“It is true.” Her father said it with the tone of finality.
“How? How can everybody just keep something like this from me? This is my life! And yeah, you were always overprotective and everything, but I didn’t realize it was because I was in danger of actually being kidnapped by some crazy prince from half a world away.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t realize it was because I was...a princess.”
It felt absurd to even think, let alone say.
“It lasted longer than we thought it would,” her mother said, her voice soft. “And I can’t say that I’ve been unhappy about it. You’re all we have, Briar. And to us, that’s who you are. Our daughter. We wanted so badly to protect you.” She heard the other woman’s voice get thick with tears. “We failed at that.”
Briar felt...awash in guilt. A strange kind. They were distressed because of her. Because they had been embroiled in this and probably hadn’t a clue what the best way to handle it was. Of course there wasn’t exactly a parenting book called So You Have to Keep an Endangered Princess Safe While Raising Her as Your Own. It might hurt, to find all this out now, but she certainly couldn’t blame them.
“He says I have to marry him,” she said, her voice hushed.
“The king?”
“Prince Felipe,” she said.
The sound of relief on the other end of the phone was audible. “At least he’s not... His father is a devil,” her father said. “That was why your birth parents, the king and queen, sent you away from your country. Because they knew a life with him would destroy you.”
“I don’t want to marry Felipe, either, though,” she said. “I don’t want to be a princess. I just want to go back home.”
There was a pause. A silence that seemed to stretch all the way through her.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. Now that he has you... It would be catastrophic to your birth parents...if any of this were to get out. The money that was borrowed by Verloren. Because any business done with King Domenico would be considered a blight on your mother and father. They would never recover from it. And the consequences to the country would be severe if Santa Milagro decided that the terms of the deal had been violated. The national treasury would be drained. People would have nothing. No food, no housing. No healthcare.”
As he spoke those words, she felt weight settling on her shoulders. A new one added with each thing he listed would be denied to the citizens of her home country—a home country she couldn’t even find on a map—if she chose not to comply.
“So I have to... I have to marry him?”
“Unless you can convince them there is some other alternative,” her father said. “I’m not sure what else can be done. You are beyond our reach. This is something we never wanted for you.”
Fury filled her anew. “But you knew it could happen. You knew all along, and I didn’t.”
“We never wanted you to be afraid of your own shadow,” her mother said.
“Well, I don’t want to be afraid of my own shadow. But I should have been warned to be afraid of charming Spanish men who tried to talk me up on the street.” She hung up, and as soon as she did the door swung open. And there was Felipe.
Immediately, she was filled with regret.
He crossed the room, taking the phone from her hand. Why had she hung up? Who knew how long it would be before she was able to speak to her parents again.
“I assume everything that I said would be confirmed was?” he asked.
“I assume you were listening in, based on your perfect timing.”
He smiled. “You know me so well already. We’re going to be the perfect married couple.”
“I don’t understand. Marry somebody else. Why does it have to be me?”
He reached out then, grabbing hold of her hand and tugging her up out of bed. She was still wearing nothing more than the hospital gown, and she felt a breeze at her backside. She gasped, realizing that there was nothing but a thin pair of white cotton panties separating her from being bare back there.
His golden eyes were blazing then, blazing with that kind of fire and intensity she had sensed was inside him. And more than that. Fire, and brimstone. She had the sudden sense that there was hell contained inside this man. And whether it was just the shock wearing off, or a sudden connection with the reality she found herself in, for the first time she was afraid of him. Really afraid.
She found herself being dragged over to a window. Heavy drapes obscured the view, and he flung them back, roughly maneuvering her so that she was facing the vista before them. A large, sprawling city, nothing overly modern. Villas with red clay roofs, churches with tall steeples and iron bells hanging in the towers. And beyond that, the mountains.
“Do you see this?” he asked. “This is my country. For decades it has been ruled by a madman. A madman more concerned by power—by shoring up all of the money, all of the means through which he could blackmail—than caring for the people that live down there. And in that time I have spent decades doing what I can do in order to change things once I assume the throne. Working toward having the military on my side. Toward earning as much money as I could personally to make a difference the minute I had control. I have been making contacts and arrangements behind the scenes so that the moment my father’s body is put into the dirt a new dawn will rise on this country. I never wanted to take it by civil war. No, not when the cost would be so dear in terms of life. At least, I didn’t want to take it in an open civil war. But that is exactly what I have been fighting for years. Playing the part of debauched playboy while I maneuvered in the background. You are part of that plan. And I will be damned if I allow you to do anything to mess it up. There is no amount of compassion that could move me at this point, Princess. Nothing that will stir me to change my path. I will be the King of Santa Milagro. And you... You can be the queen. You can help fix all the evil that has befallen my people, and you can improve the lives of yours, as well. Or you can go back to life as a bored sorority girl in the city. I’m sure that’s an existence, as well. And all of these people... Well, they can slide into the sea.”
She had to smooth her fingers over her eyebrows to make sure they hadn’t been singed off during that fiery tirade. “Am I really so important to your plans?”
“Everybody knew that you were supposed to marry my father. And the things he would have done to you... But if you marry me, and you do so willingly...it will mend the fences between Santa Milagro and Verloren. It will do much to fix the image of my country—and me—in the media. I need everything in my power. Absolutely everything. All the pieces that I have set out to collect. I will let nothing fall by the wayside. Including you.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I didn’t think I could possibly make that more clear. If you don’t there will be destruction. For everyone. Everyone you love. Everyone you will love.”
She blinked. “Are you going to have people killed?”
“No. I’ll only make them wish they were dead.”
“And how will that help your improve your image attempt?” she asked with a boldness she didn’t feel.
“I’m not so stupid that I would go about it in the public view. But your New York parents...they are vulnerable. And suitably low visibility. Nonetheless, I can ruin them financially. He works with American politicians. And believe me, if I offer the right incentives, I can decimate his patient base, his reputation. Because far better to have an alliance with a prince than continue to support a specific physician.”
Ice settled in her stomach. She believed him. Believed he would do that. Harm her parents. And if she allowed that...what sort of daughter would she be? They had protected her all her life. The least she could do was protect them in kind.
He smiled, and something in that smile made it impossible for her to doubt him. And then his expression shifted, and he returned to being that charming-looking man she had seen on the street in New York. “Now, you can’t possibly meet my people in that hospital gown. Rest for tonight. Tomorrow... Tomorrow we shall set about fashioning you into a queen.”
* * *
Felipe walked into his father’s room. It was dark, the curtains drawn, none of the lights on.
“Good evening, Father,” he said, sweeping toward the bed.
“Your jacket is crooked,” his father said by way of greeting.
Felipe lifted his arm, tugging his sleeves down, hating the reflex. “It is not,” he returned. “And you’re very nearly blind, so even if it was, there would be no way for you to tell.”
It was a strange thing, seeing this man in this state. He had always been fearful to Felipe when he’d been a child. And now, here he was, drained, shrunken. And still, something twisted with something sour whenever he looked at him.
This man, who had abused and tortured him and his mother for years. A slap across her face when Felipe was “in disarray.”
He could remember well his mother being hit so hard it left an instant bruise beneath her eye. And then her makeup artist had been charged with making it invisible before they went to present themselves in the ballroom as the perfect royal family.
A facade of perfection. Something his father excelled at. He had convinced his country of the perfection of his family and the perfection of his rule. The citizens of Santa Milagro slowly and effectively stripped of their freedom. Of art, education and hope.
All things Felipe would see restored. Though he would never be able to fix what had become of his mother, at least he could restore Santa Milagro itself.
There had always been the temptation to try and claim the country by force, but that would only entail more loss of life.
There was enough blood shed already. Blood that felt as if it stained his hands.
“Is that any way to talk to your dying father?”
“Probably not. But since when have I cared? I only wanted you to know something.”
“What is that?”
“I found her. The princess.”
His father stirred. “My princess?”
A smile curved Felipe’s lips. “No. She’s mine now. I’m going to make her my wife. There is nothing you can do about it. Not from your deathbed.”
“You’re a bastard,” his father said, his voice thin, reedy and as full of venom as it had ever been. But he had no power now.
“Don’t I wish that were true,” Felipe said, twisting his voice into the cruelest version of itself he could manage. Projecting the sort of cruelty that he had learned from the man lying before him. “If only I were a bastard, rather than your flesh and blood. You have no idea how much I would pay to make that so.”
“The feeling,” his father said, the words broken by a ragged cough, “is mutual.” He wiped a shaking hand over his brow. “I never was able to break you.”
“Not for lack of trying,” Felipe said. “But I do hope that I will go down in history as one of your greatest failures. The only truly sad thing is that you will not be here to see it.”
He turned to leave his father’s room. Then paused. “However, if you’re still alive by the time the wedding rolls around I will be sure to send you an invitation. I’ll understand that you won’t be feeling up to attending.”
He continued out of his father’s room then, striding down the hall and on to the opposite wing of the palace where his rooms were. It was only then that he acknowledged the slight tremor in his own hand.
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