A Royal World Apart(10)

“Is he?” She tried to sound uninterested. Unconcerned. She wanted to vomit.

“I think our father is still hoping you’ll fall head over heels in love with him.”

“Not happening. We don’t have …”

“Chemistry?” he finished when she paused for too long.

“Yes.” It went deeper than that, but that was the simplest way of putting it. She wasn’t about to start talking love again, not to Stavros. He was quite possibly the only man to rival Mak for cynicism. Or maybe cynicism was the wrong word. When it came to his family, Stavros was protective. When it came to other areas of life … his emotions seemed turned off.

“He’s a good bet for Kyonos.”

“And is that all you’ll consider when you take a bride?”

Stavros shrugged one broad shoulder. “It’s the most important thing.”

“Not … not companionship or … anything?” She wasn’t bringing up sex in the presence of her brother.

“It’s not my goal to find someone I clash with, but in the end, I’ll do what’s best.”

“For Kyonos, not for yourself,” she pressed.

“That’s what this life is about, Evangelina.”

“That’s not how Xander sees it.” Any time she mentioned their brother’s name, a sickening silence followed. Stavros preferred to pretend their brother was dead, but Eva tried to hold onto the good memories. The ones of Xander smiling, being her partner in crime. Yes, he’d been the heir, fifteen years her senior, but he had made her laugh. Had encouraged her to run across the palace lawn with the wind blowing through her loose hair.

Xander had at least felt like an ally. Stavros seemed to see Mak’s perspective as perfectly reasonable. Duty and honor, or death. Jolly good fun.

“I hear you have a new guard,” he said. The subject change was another time-honored tradition that came with the mention of Xander’s name.

“Oh yes, my nanny. Have you met him?”

Stavros shook his head. “But I imagine I’ll see him lurking tonight at the ball? In case you try to make a break for it?”

“You might. But I won’t. Make a break for it, I mean.” Even if she wanted to. “Will you be meeting possible princesses tonight?”

“No,” he said, putting his now-empty glass on the side table. “I’m in the process of hiring someone to handle it for me.”

“What?”

“I’ve found a woman who matches people for a living. I’ve hired her to go through profiles and help select the most qualified candidates.”

“A matchmaker?” she said.

“Not exactly. She’s an expert on compatibility and she has excellent connections.”

She snorted out a breath. “Only you would turn finding a wife into a job interview.”

“It works for finding the right employees. You use a good HR manager. The proper staff for the proper job. Why not for finding a wife?” He stood. “Good to see you, Eva. I’m sure I’ll see you again tonight.”

“Good to see you too, Stavros.”

“Be good. Don’t run off.” He walked out and closed the door behind him.

She thought about Bastian. About having to dance with him. It wasn’t as if he disgusted her or anything, but it was horrible to be in his arms and feel nothing. To have the idea that if she was his wife, and she was in his arms in bed, she would feel more of the same nothing.

Unbidden, her thoughts turned to Mak. To the night in the hall, when he’d pressed her against the wall, his hands strong on her. She’d been so very aware of him, so conscious of his strength, his heat. She’d wanted to lean into him when what she should have wanted was to pull away.

What would it be like to dance with Mak? To have his arms around her?

She shook her head and stood up from the couch. There was no point to thinking things like that. They would never happen.

Anyway, she had a ball to get to, and fantasizing about her bodyguard wasn’t going to help her get ready.

It was a good thing Eva was his target. Because there was no other woman in the room as far as he was concerned. Every gown, no matter how bright, every black tux, faded into an indiscernible mass. Unimportant. Inconsequential. There was only Eva.

She was wearing red. A deep, rich satin that crossed at the bodice and flowed away from her body. The neckline was low, revealing the plump, golden curves of her breasts, her glossy brown curls tumbled over one shoulder, full lips painted scarlet to match the gown. She was perfection. She was everything a man could want in a woman, a lover.

His body tightened, need, the sort he had spent a lifetime denying, coursing through him. Every tendon of his body, every muscle, held tight so that he couldn’t scoop her up into his arms and kiss the makeup from her sexy mouth. And she was all the way across a crowded ballroom.

If she were to come near him, if she were to touch him, his control, control he had held onto for twenty-nine years, might break beneath the strain of his desire.

He needed release. The kind he had sought in the gym for the past ten years, punishing his body, pushing it to the limit until he was too exhausted to dwell on the needs that went unsatisfied night after night.

He tightened his hands into fists and watched as she was approached by a man. He was tall, Eva only coming up to his shoulder, which put him near Mak’s own height. He looked familiar too.

When he leaned down and kissed Eva’s hand, recognition hit him. He was Bastian Van Saant, the man who was, in all likelihood, Eva’s future husband. Assuming the man didn’t find some fatal flaw in her as a choice.

Which would be impossible with her in a gown like that. She was simply flawless tonight.

Van Saant took her into his arms and swept her to the dance floor. Eva’s face looked strained as they moved in time to the music, her posture stiff.

Mak moved around the edge of the crowd of people, behind the pillars that bordered the edge of the dance floor, circling to keep tabs on Eva and her suitor. King Stephanos had been concerned that Eva might try to sneak out during the ball. Or to sneak off with someone unsuitable. Though Mak doubted she would do that.

She’d been with men at the casino, but he believed her when she said it hadn’t gone farther than having them on her arm. He believed her, because her brown eyes shone with sincerity, transparence. And also because it made him grit his teeth so tightly he feared they might shatter when he thought of the alternative.

Eva turned her head and her brown eyes locked with his. Her mouth opened slightly and the tip of her tongue darted out, sliding across the full surface of her bottom lip. He felt it, felt it hit him hard in the gut, sending a rush of heat down to his groin.

He had no control over his body, not now. A cruel joke.

He’d had nothing but control over himself and his baser urges for more than a decade. He’d had beautiful clients, women he’d been forced into close proximity with before, and he’d never felt the rush of temptation.

The few times he had felt tempted, he’d turned away without so much as a pang of regret.

And those times had been with women who’d been trying to seduce him, women with a lot more experience than Eva had. And yet, he felt on edge now, more than he could remember being since he was a teenager. Since Marina.

He’d managed to cap his passion then, to wait in the interest of doing what was right, and with so much practice at doing it since, he ought to be able to do it now. Eva was under his protection, which meant that the dark, predatory feeling rushing through him had to stop.

What was it about her? Was it her body? Those perfect curves? Or was it the challenge that lit her eyes when she looked at him? Her lightning-quick wit, her misplaced bravado? She certainly wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever met.

Eva kept her eyes locked with his as she moved with Bastian. Her petite hand was rested on his shoulder. She flexed her slender fingers and Mak felt a kick in his stomach, as though she’d slid her hands over him.

He leaned against one of the heavy marble columns, never taking his eyes off her. And she kept her focus on him as well. She never looked at her partner. He took a kind of sick satisfaction in that that he had no business feeling. That he was the man who held her focus. That no matter how close Bastian held her, she was not with him. Not truly.

The song ended and Eva pulled away from Bastian. She said something to the other man, inclined her head and made her way off the dance floor. She paused for a moment, her eyes sweeping the crowd of people before locking with his again. She inhaled a sharp breath and moved toward the back door of the ballroom. Mak pushed off from the pillar and followed her, ignoring the hot pumping of his blood.

He was doing his job. He was keeping track of her. Nothing more.

She walked out of the room and went left, toward the exit of the castle. Mak wove through the crowd as quickly as possible, making it to the vacant corridor just in time to see Eva slip out the door that led outside.

He followed her, closing the door behind him. The garden was empty, light from the ballroom casting rectangular spots of light onto the grass. Eva was standing at the center of the lawn, just out of reach of the lights, her red dress visible in the dark.

“Where are you running off to?” he asked.

“Nowhere,” she said, turning to face him. Her expression, her eyes wide, her lips parted slightly, full and inviting, drew him in closer. “I just needed some air.”