A Royal World Apart(3)

Still, the outright refusal burned in her throat. Desperate to escape. Words she knew she could never speak.

“Am I dismissed?” she asked.

“You may go,” her father said, nodding his head.

She turned on her heel and walked out into the hall, covering her face with hands, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to keep tears from falling. She wasn’t weak. She didn’t have time for weakness. Even more importantly, she couldn’t afford to show it.

Not to her father, certainly not to the press. Least of all to Makhail, her brand-new jailer. The only person who understood her, even a little bit, was Stavros, her brother. And at the moment, he had his own problems.

She stalked down the long, empty corridor of the palace, making each step count, her high heels clicking loudly on the marble floor. If she had any idea what she wanted, things would be so much easier.

Making scandal, derailing her father’s plans to find her a suitable husband, that had kept her busy for the past few months, but she had no end plan with it.

What else could she do?

She knew what she wanted. She also knew she would probably never have it. A man who loved her, just her. A man she loved just as madly in return. A marriage that had nothing to do with politics or trade.

It was nothing more than a fantasy. Some little girls dreamed of being princesses. She’d just dreamed of being. Of living on her own terms, making her own goals, goals she could aspire to. It wasn’t possible, but she’d clung to the hope. For too long.

And any freedom she had had a timer ticking on it. The marriage was being arranged. And when she was married … it would all be gone, any hope squashed beneath the weight of it. She would go from being beneath her father’s control to being beneath her husband’s.

It was bleak.

“Princess.”

The deep, rich voice, flavored by a Russian accent, could only belong to one man. She turned and saw Makhail standing there, looking every inch the secret agent in his black suit.

“Yes?”

“I have finalized arrangements with your father.”

“Have you?” she asked, stiffly. “He says you have six months.”

She tried to ignore the sick, sinking feeling in her stomach. “So I’ve been sentenced, then?”

“Is that how you feel about it?”

She laughed, and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t feel amused. Far from it. “How would you feel? Being offered as commodity to a total stranger? To bear his children and … sleep with him.”

“I imagine I would not enjoy it,” he said, his tone wry. “But then, I have never been interested in sleeping with men.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Listen, Princess …”

“Eva. Just Eva, please. If we have to deal with each other for the next few months it will be easier.”

“Then you can call me Mak.” It wasn’t a friendly offer. More like a prisoner exchange.

“I don’t want to,” she returned, keeping her tone intentionally tart.

He chuckled. “Why is that?”

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “It humanizes you. I would prefer to stay angry with you for as long as possible.”

His lips curved into a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took a step, then another, slowly circling around her, like a predator who had found some very tempting prey. “I am certain I will find many ways to make you angry, Eva. You won’t need to manufacture reasons.”

“On that we can both agree.” She turned to face him as he moved to her side. “Stop circling me, I’m not a gazelle.”

He paused. “Excuse me?”

“You look like … like you’re stalking me or something. But I am no one’s prey.”

“I believe it.”

“Tell me then, Mak,” she said his name with as much disdain as she could muster. “What is on the agenda? Has my father lined out every single activity I’m approved for over the six months? Galas and tea parties?”

“Something like that.”

“Lovely,” she said dryly.

“Not for either of us and I see no reason to pretend otherwise. I am not a babysitter, so unless you want me to be incredibly irritable during our time together, I suggest you stop acting like a child.”

She stiffened, anger coursing through her veins, her temper, quick at the best of times, ready to snap. “I am not acting like a child. I’m being treated like one.”

“What do you think, Eva, that you’ll find the answers to life in a casino? In a bar? That somehow that sort of freedom means more than doing your duty to your country? If so, you really are a child.”

He turned his back to her and for some, strange reason, she felt compelled to ask him to stay. To make him stay. “Wait.”

He turned back to her. “Yes?”

“Where are you staying? Do you … do you have a home on Kyonos?”

“I shall be staying here.” He smiled slowly. “All the better to protect you.”

“Are you supposed to remind me of the big bad wolf?”

He arched one dark eyebrow. “Do I?”

Come to think of it, he did. “What big teeth you have,” she said, forcing her voice to stay in a monotone.

His dark eyebrow arched. “I won’t say the rest. It would hardly be appropriate.”

A little thrill zinged through her. It certainly would not. And what was happening? Had he … flirted with her? Had she just flirted with her bodyguard?

He was gorgeous. In a very understated sort of way. He certainly wasn’t pretty, he was far too rugged for that. But he was … masculine. And somehow, just being near him, made her feel very, very aware of her own femininity. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw and she imagined it would feel rough beneath her palm.

She found herself brushing her fingertips lightly over her own cheek in response to the thought, feeling the smooth skin there. Craving its opposite.

She dropped her hand to her side, flexing her fingers, trying to get rid of the phantom impression of his scruff, and took a deep breath, attempting to clear her head.

“Hardly,” she said, trying to swallow. Her throat felt tight. Too tight.

“This doesn’t have to be hard, Eva,” he said, his accent shaping her name differently than she’d ever heard it before. It was … intriguing.

“It can’t be anything but. You and I have opposing goals, Mak.”

“What is your goal, Princess?” he asked, his eyes hard on her. Far too perceptive. He made her want to wrap her arms around herself, to try and cover as much as she could. Because she felt as though he could see beneath her filmy dress. More disturbing, she felt that he could see inside of her. See her fears, her desires. Things she’d never shared with anyone. “And be honest. None of this talk about you not telling me. Do you intend to take yourself out of the running for a dynastic marriage by ruining your image?”

“It had crossed my mind. Or perhaps, I simply wanted to start as I intend to go on.”

“Meaning?”

“The lucky royal who takes me as a wife should have an idea of what he’s getting into. He should know I’m not simply some docile piece of arm candy.”

He treated her to that look again. Cool. Assessing. Penetrating. He spoke slowly, as though each word was chosen carefully. For the purpose of irritating her, she imagined. “I doubt anyone could possibly believe you’re docile.”

“Then my job is at least half done,” she said, trying to play it a whole lot cooler than she felt. “I’m tired now. I think I’ll go to my quarters.” She turned away from him and started walking back down the hall.

She could hear heavy footfalls behind her. She turned and saw Mak following behind her. “I said I’m going to my quarters. You aren’t invited,” she said, even as her stomach tightened, thinking of inviting him in.

“I’m simply ensuring you arrive as you should,” he said, completely unperturbed by her prickly responses. She was usually very good at putting her guards off. The palace guards had given up on her, Makhail’s guards hadn’t been able to keep up with her.

And Makhail was … calm. Maddeningly so. As though he felt nothing. Nothing more than a mild amusement over the disaster area that was her life. As though the idea of her being sold into marriage was nothing.

“Think I’m going to knot the bedsheets together and rappel out the window?”

“You’ve done it before.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks. “Once. And I was fourteen. Did you read my file? Oh, theos, have I got a file?” She’d never, ever felt more like one of her father’s assets in her life. Not a person, a thing. A thing that was catalogued, like the antiquities, like the artifacts from the temples of Kyonos. She was another item from the royal collection.

“Of course you have a file. And considering you burn through guards at such an accelerated rate, it’s a good thing too. It made it much easier for me to know you.”

She gritted her teeth, tightening her hands into fists. “You can study that file all you like, read it cover to cover. You still won’t know me.” She turned her back on him and took short, quick steps down the hall, ignoring the sound of him still behind her.

When she reached the door to her quarters, her hands shook as she entered the code that would unlock the door.