Crowning His Convenient Princess
Crowning His Convenient Princess
Maisey Yates
From choosing the Prince’s bride… To becoming his unexpected princess! Personal assistant Latika Bakshmi had one job—pick a suitable wife for playboy prince Gunnar. He’s infuriating, arrogant and far too handsome, but when shadows from Latika’s past return, he’s the only man who can save her…if he agrees to her shocking proposition! Nothing surprises cynical Gunnar, until deliciously disapproving Latika asks him to marry her! Recognizing her desperation, he’ll protect her with all his royal power. But the biggest surprise isn’t their sizzling chemistry, but how dangerously permanent his craving for his temporary princess feels…
From choosing the prince’s bride…
To becoming his unexpected princess!
Personal assistant Latika Bakshmi had one job—pick a suitable wife for playboy Prince Gunnar. He’s infuriating, arrogant and far too handsome, but when shadows from Latika’s past return, he’s the only man who can save her…if he agrees to her shocking proposition!
Nothing surprises cynical Gunnar, until deliciously disapproving Latika asks him to marry her! Recognizing her desperation, he’ll protect her with all his royal power. But the biggest surprise isn’t their sizzling chemistry, but how dangerously permanent his craving for his temporary princess feels…
MAISEY YATES is a New York Times bestselling author of over seventy-five 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).
Also by Maisey Yates (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
His Forbidden Pregnant Princess
Brides of Innocence miniseries
The Spaniard’s Untouched Bride
The Spaniard’s Stolen Bride
Heirs Before Vows miniseries
The Spaniard’s Pregnant Bride
The Prince’s Pregnant Mistress
The Italian’s Pregnant Virgin
Once Upon a Seduction… miniseries
The Prince’s Captive Virgin
The Prince’s Stolen Virgin
The Italian’s Pregnant Prisoner
The Queen’s Baby Scandal
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Crowning His Convenient Princess
Maisey Yates
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09785-7
CROWNING HIS CONVENIENT PRINCESS
© 2019 Maisey Yates
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:
Change of font size and line height
Change of background and font colours
Change of font
Change justification
Text to speech
For Mr. H, my 4th and 5th Grade teacher.
I remember you teaching us about pseudonyms,
and you said if we didn’t use one you might be
able to find us and read our books someday if we
ever became authors. Unless we wrote romance,
which you didn’t read. Now you’re mentioned
in a romance—bet you didn’t see that coming.
Contents
Cover (#u41892222-aa58-59f8-bccc-cfef0972de96)
Back Cover Text (#ue560997f-8f63-5db1-b431-477d764beed3)
About the Author (#u828a2024-c52f-5a29-95cc-aa8760017105)
Booklist (#u22f9c849-32dd-540c-8e9d-3126c5132772)
Title Page (#uece4a95e-8c23-55ba-8f6a-1f047c77c512)
Copyright (#u0ea20a04-1e93-5f1e-ac73-b6b0699e0417)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u8c2b329d-952c-5bea-9483-575ac9661171)
CHAPTER ONE (#u8931e0be-1546-5cd4-a0a1-f8d8a11f1947)
CHAPTER TWO (#u48a79205-5a13-5009-87e5-cbe39be0911f)
CHAPTER THREE (#uf085f170-dcd2-504a-97f9-6783046b1bee)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u0ffcc0e0-3153-58db-8718-56eee15d0544)
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)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
LATIKA BAKSHMI TOOK a deep breath before steeling herself to open the door. She knew exactly what she would find behind it.
Or rather, who.
Prince Gunnar von Bjornland, her boss’s brother, dissolute rake, and general disgrace to his country. A man she despised with every fiber of her being. And, a man who was her current project.
Queen Astrid, who was not just her boss, but also her friend and confidant, had asked her to take on the task of reforming Gunnar, and she was going to do it.
In a minute.
“Stop lurking outside my door.”
She jolted. “How did you know I was outside the door?”
The door swung open, revealing a man who was more Viking God than mere mortal. His blond hair was pushed back from his face, a slightly darker beard covering his jaw. His light blue eyes were the color of ice, but somehow contained heat nonetheless.
And his body.
It was an assault to all her good sense and she hated and loved it in equal measure. She both prayed he would find some sense of decorum in himself and learn to put on a shirt whenever they might encounter one another.
And prayed he would not.
Ever.
His chest was broad, and currently bare, a light dusting of hair over the toned, taut skin there. He took a breath, his well-defined abs shifting as he stepped to the side, as if allowing her entry into his bedchamber.
“How did you know I was out here?” She asked again, not making the move toward entering.
“I could feel the tension radiating through the door. And only you give off tension quite like that, Latika.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, giving a slight nod of her head. “You’re very funny.”
“I can hear you. You do not wear sensible shoes, like my sister. You wear those hard, spiky heels, and they make a very particular sound on the marble. I suppose, were I given to any great sense of shame, I would be concerned that sound can travel so freely through my bedroom door. One assumes then the sound can travel out just as well.”
“A grave concern for you,” she said, clipped. “I can only imagine.”
He shrugged a broad shoulder, making all the muscles in his body shift and bunch. “It isn’t really.”
“It should be.” She looked around the room. There were no signs of recent debauchery, at least. By that she meant, there wasn’t a redhead or a blonde lying sprawled out in his bed, or anything quite like that.
However, the bed was unmade, and he had clearly just arisen from it, and likely just pulled the jeans he was wearing on.
It made her wonder if there was anything underneath.
She gritted her teeth, angry with herself without thought. “Astrid has asked me…”
“I would like you to find me a wife,” he said, cutting her off and silencing her effectively.
“You… What?”
“I would like you to find me a wife. I understand that my reputation has become of some concern to Astrid. She’s married, had a child, and our nation is on the brink of a great and modern future the likes of which would probably make my father rotate in his grave were he not so busy burning in hell.”
“Astrid has asked me to help you reform,” she finished.
“I know,” he said. “And I think there’s only one way to do that.”
She had expected resistance. She had expected him to balk. To banter. To use excessive double entendre. She had not expected him to see her coming, to anticipate her words, and raise her.
“Why? Why are you suddenly interested in marriage?”
“I didn’t say I was suddenly interested in marriage. But I do know that a fairytale is the quickest way to capture the hearts of the people. Is it not?”
“Well, judging by your sister’s experience, I would say you are correct enough.”
“I am not the heir. That is something that has always sat comfortably with me, but the burden that Astrid carries does not. And for my part, if I can alleviate some of what she carries, then I will do it. I can see that the simplest way will be for me to find a wife.”
“A bizarre leap in logic.”
“I know you don’t respect me, Latika, and I have never asked you to. Moreover, I’ve never behaved in a way that might invite you to. Oddly, though it may seem to you, I’m not overly concerned with your approval. But, I do wish to make Astrid happy, and I do wish to bolster the standing of my country in the world. So, you must help me find a wife.”
“Is there a particular brand name you are drawn to?” she asked, her tone caustic.
“Yes,” he said, not missing a beat. “I would prefer a philanthropist. I do not require that she be in mint condition, so to speak.”
It took her a moment to catch his meaning. “You do not expect a virgin? How progressive of you.”
“Well,” he said. “As I myself am not a virgin, it seems a bit of a double standard to demand my wife come to me untouched.”
She tried to keep the flush out of her face, and tried to keep her tone sharp. “You are not untouched?”
The corner of his wicked mouth turned up. “I’ve been touched one or two times.”
“Shocking,” she returned.
“I expect that you possess ample channels through which you might find a woman interested in marrying me.”
The very idea of arranging marriages didn’t sit very well with Latika. Not given her experience surrounding such things. Of course, Gunnar didn’t know anything about her real life. Or her real identity. Fishing around in the sorts of circles that might require him to find a wife in might present a problem for her as well.
Considering she was technically in hiding.
But then, she could find ways to be discreet. Find ways to make sure that she avoided any places that might be problematic.
Just one grim corner of Europe, and the East Coast of the United States. She imagined that Gunnar wouldn’t mind her fishing around for an English debutante, rather than looking on the Upper Eastside of New York City.
“Blonde? Redheaded? Brunette? Do you have a preference?”
“None,” he said.
“You don’t have a type?” she pressed.
“Female covers it.”
She fought against rolling her eyes. Instead, she made a very officious note on her clipboard. Then treated him to a smile. “A female philanthropist. Hymen not required.”
“In fact, I would prefer that there were no hymen present at all,” he said. “I’m not a patient man. I’d rather not have to instruct a woman on how to please me.”
“Indeed,” she said flatly. And she managed to hold back: that rules me out handily then.
As if she would ever, in a million years, with flying pigs in the sky, consider being Gunnar’s bride.
He turned away from her, his broad back filling her vision. His muscles moved in very interesting ways and she attempted to study the ceiling, rather than his skin.
But it was hard, because his skin was so much more compelling.
And he began to move around the room. He opened up a dresser, pulled out a T-shirt, and shrugged it over his body.
Something about the flex of those muscles caused an answering flex between her thighs, and she did her best to ignore it.
Her emotions were so very charged in his presence, always. And it was her preference to play off the heat as anger. And to pretend that there was no other layer to it.
That there was no part of her—not even a tiny part—that wished to bite down on that insolent mouth of his.
And then bite his chest.
And then lick it.
No. No part of her at all.
She forced a smile. “Anything else?”
“No. I believe that covers it.”
“Then I shall begin putting out inquiries, Your Highness. And very soon, I will have found a wife for you.”
“It may also bear mentioning,” he said, “That I am the owner of my own multibillion-dollar company.”
Latika froze. “You… You’re what?”
“Yes. I suppose it’s about time that came out.”
“How… How did you keep that a secret?”
“No one is looking for that bit of dirt. Honestly, it isn’t dirt. Why would anyone care? My company has a name, obviously, and my name is buried beneath it. But the only thing anyone is ever interested in is who I’m sleeping with. Not the fact that I am the CEO of a multibillion-dollar corporation that deals in green building.”
“I…”
“It’s part of revamping my reputation, Latika. These things must be made public. I assume you’re the person to speak to about the press release regarding that as well.”
“I will take care of it,” she said, blinking.
“See that you do.”
Those blue eyes caught hers and held for a moment, and Latika did her best not to pay attention to the slight shift she felt in her stomach. Did her best to ignore the fact that suddenly the air felt a little bit thicker.
And she really tried not to examine what any of this new information—that he was not going into any of this kicking and screaming, that he had an endeavor that went somewhere beyond gambling and whoring—made her feel.
She was much more comfortable when she disdained Gunnar.
Anything else was unacceptable.
Prince Gunnar von Bjornland had settled into debauchery for far too long. He was at an end with it.
It had been one thing to engage in it when his father was living, and indeed it was something that he had enjoyed.
To throw in the face of his father, even as the old man attempted to sabotage Astrid. Their father was a relic of the highest order. A man who had not been able to fathom that a woman could possibly do a good job of running the country, regardless of the fact that there were many examples that proved they could, and just fine thank you.
No, his father had never gotten over the fact that his heir was a woman. And the fact that his only son had refused to take his side and engage in a coup, overthrowing his twin had been something that the old man could not accept even in the end.
Gunnar had never risen to his father’s bait, and to the contrary, had taken a perverse kind of delight in behaving in every way that Astrid did not.
As his sister had lived a serious and contemplative life, dedicating herself to service, Gunnar had waged an all-out war against propriety.
He had taken every sacred tradition and broken it at least once, had taken delight in running roughshod over deeply revered customs, and in general putting Bjornland on the world stage in the context of his behavior.
He had imagined that if nothing else he would be a rather colorful footnote in history.
But of course, it had never been enough for his mind. Hence the secret business endeavor.
But now that Astrid was Queen, and now that various and sundry accusations were being thrown at him as the narrative around his country shifted, he could see that it was time for a change.
This latest debacle had only served to highlight it.
A woman had come forward alleging that he was the father of her child. And no matter that Gunnar had never seen the woman before, there had also been a seed of doubt in him. He always used protection. But condoms weren’t entirely reliable, and he’d had to concede that there was a possibility the child could be his, no matter that he was always as responsible as a man could be while being indiscriminate.
The headlines had been scathing, the very fact that a paternity test had been conducted had been cause for scorn among the people.
And now the conversation had become that Astrid could not control her wayward brother. That her own brother despised every value held dear by the country. And when that had been aimed at his father, Gunnar had been happy enough.
But his entire reason for his behavior, his entire reason for being, had been to protect Astrid. Astrid was a strong woman, and always had been, but there had been a war waging beneath the surface of the polished exterior of the palace that she’d had no idea existed.
A war that Gunnar had been on the frontlines of.
He had always protected her. And if protecting his sister now demanded he behave differently, so he would.
And if it meant employing the use of his sister’s delectable, and irritating, assistant, then he would do so.
Latika might be delectable, but she was also as stiff as a plank of wood and no less bland.
She was beautiful. There was no argument to be had about that.
In fact, she was uncommonly lovely, and he had always found it a strange thing that a woman of such brilliant beauty be relegated to such a beige sort of job.
Though, he imagined a great many people would not find being personal assistant to a queen a beige sort of job. But in his world it certainly was.
A woman like her should be wrapped in silk, should be in jewels.
She should spend hours soaking in perfumed baths, readying herself for a lover.
She should not spend hours contemplating the merit of clipboards. Though, he had a feeling that was how she spent much of her time.
Her beauty was, in the end, a terrible farce anyway. She looked like a woman built for such things, with her generous mouth and beautiful curves, but she was through and through a woman of practicality and severity.
And he did his very best not to think about how much he would like to test that severity.
He did his very best not to think about just how satisfying it would be to tease that mouth out of that firm unnatural line she kept it in, and torment her until it became a soft “O” of pleasure.
Yes, he did his best not to ponder that.
His world was changing. He would need to find a wife, and he would need to be faithful to that wife.
The very idea of such a chore set his teeth on edge. He could think of no woman at all that would amuse him for the rest of his life, and if he quit engaging in risky behaviors such as racing cars around the autobahn and jumping out of helicopters, his life would likely have a longer expectancy.
Really, this was a terrible plan, but it was the only way he could see to help Astrid.
Though she did not know it, his life had been devoted to that protection.
He would not falter now.
Marriage was, in the grand scheme of things a small price to pay. And for her he would do it. Perhaps not happily, but it would be done.
Because Gunnar von Bjornland might never be King, but he was the master of his own life. And once he set his mind to something, he would damn well see it done.
This was no exception.
CHAPTER TWO (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
“HERE YOU HAVE IT,” Latika said, setting a stack of folders onto Gunnar’s desk. “Veritable binders of women.”
He looked at the stack, then back up at Latika, one elbow resting on the desk, one brow raised in an impudent manner. “I’m rather insulted you have brought me so much choice,” he said.
Latika blinked. “How is that insulting?”
“I should think that the criteria for becoming my bride would be so exacting that you would have little more than a slim volume to present me with.”
“I should have thought you would want choice,” she said, bristling against his rather pronounced lack of gratitude.
She had gone to a lot of trouble to dig up so many eligible women, lacking in scandal and in possession of beauty.
“I haven’t time to do so much reading,” he said.
“Do you find it so laborious? To read profiles on women you might marry.”
“I find it boring.”
“I have here in these folders options, for a woman that you might be tasked with sleeping with for the rest of your life. How is it you find that dull?” she pressed.
“When one turns sex into homework even that can be boring.”
He was impossible. He was impossible, and he was ridiculous, and she had half a mind to kill him where he sat. She could do it with a letter opener, a paperweight or half a dozen other items on his desk.
As solid as her friendship with Astrid was, she had a feeling that Astrid would take a dim view to Latika assassinating her brother. Just maybe. If Astrid only knew the surrounding story she might forgive her.
“Who do you think the top five are?” he asked. “Use your knowledge of me to guess who I might find the most likely five.”
“Gunnar,” she said, keeping her tone frosty. “If I had that kind of insight into who you are as a person… Well, I would probably throw myself off the nearest cliff.”
“A test then.” He folded his large hands in front of him and it didn’t escape her notice they were scarred. Odd for a man of his position, she would think. “Who do you think my top five would be?”
Latika gritted her teeth. She would lie back and think of Bjornland. She would do her very best to remind herself she worked for the palace.
And this was service to Astrid.
And for Astrid, she could do anything. The other woman had essentially saved Latika’s life. And it was something that she was not going to forget anytime soon. Or ever. She was eternally grateful for all that Astrid had done. Working with Gunnar on this marriage project was a small thing to ask.
“All right,” she said, doing her best to cover up just how aggrieved she felt. “If I had to choose, I would choose not so much to please you, but to give maximum improvement to your reputation, and to the reputation of the country. Therefore, we can set aside your personal preferences as secondary.”
He rubbed his chin, the light in his blue eyes wicked. “Can we?”
“Yes,” she said decisively. “This marriage is for the country, after all.”
“And yet, I feel that if I am to be shackled to one woman for the rest of my life, it will have to be a marriage bed that I enjoy the idea of being shackled to.” His lips curved upward. “Rather, a woman not averse to being shackled to the marriage bed for my pleasure. I’ve never been one who enjoyed being shackled. But I have nothing against doing a bit of shackling.”
Yet again, she ignored the searing heat in her body, and affected an incredibly bored expression. “Yes, yes. I and the rest of the world are aware of the fact that you are shocking, and love to engage in edgy sexual activity. I promise you that if a double entendre presents itself you do not have to be so obvious as to speak it.”
“Oh, but I enjoy being obvious.”
“Do you?” she asked. “Because I would say that the fact you own your own company was not obvious at all.”
She hadn’t intended to bring that up.
In fact, she had every intention of ignoring it completely in the conversation today, if only to spite him slightly. And herself. Because the fact that he was a secret mogul fascinated her. And the one thing she was eternally trying to ignore when it came to Gunnar was her fascination with him. And anything that seemed to foster further fascination she resented.
There was something about him that enticed her to act in ways she knew she should not. She didn’t like it. It made her feel like she was not above the rest of the female population of the world in any way at all. And she liked to think that she wasn’t that basic.
“That’s the trick,” he said. “Be obvious enough over here that you can have your secrets where you choose.”
“I see.” She took a breath. “Well. That aside.” She shuffled through the folder and plucked out one. “I would choose…these.”
“Explanations,” he demanded, taking the stack of folders in his hand. “Or do I have to do everything myself.”
“You have done absolutely nothing for yourself since I walked in,” she said.
“That isn’t true. I’ve been breathing the entire time. I’m keeping myself alive. For which you and the rest of the world should be supremely grateful.”
“I’m about to expire from gratitude,” she said. “The first candidate is Hannah Whitman, an English rose. She will compliment you well. Though, your progeny will likely burst into flames in the sun.”
He laughed, explosive and deep, hitting her in unexpected places.
“Well,” he said. “Melanin deficit aside, she is pretty. And what attributes do you suppose she would bring to our alliance?”
“She’s extremely wealthy in her own right, her family is very successful in manufacturing. She has started several charities, with a focus on educating children with special needs. She is more than willing to do the work, not simply write a check.”
“I imagine that means there are many photographs of her with grateful children.”
“You are correct. She is a light to all the world.”
“Well, I have always thought that one’s wife should be able to double as a flashlight.”
“Best of all,” Latika continued, “she’s scandal free.”
“Excellent. Because I have enough scandals for ten people. It’s one thing I do not need a wife to bring to our marriage.”
“Next is Lily Addington.”
“Another Brit?”
“Yes. Her family owns horses.”
He frowned. “That sounds like an awful lot of time spent at racetracks.”
“Would you not find that enjoyable?”
“No. I prefer my gambling to take place in a casino. It’s much more civilized.”
“All right. Bim Attah. She is a Nigerian heiress and UN ambassador for women’s rights. She has a PhD from Oxford, and has been instrumental in supplying feminine hygiene products to impoverished girls throughout the world.”
He leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. “She sounds a bit overqualified, don’t you think? PhD. I’m not sure I’m equal to that task.”
“You have a title. I suspect that in many ways that outstrips a PhD.”
“One you are born with,” he pointed out. “One you must work for.”
She arched a brow. “Shall I take her off the list?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “I feel nothing if not entitled to things that might be too good for me. Leave her on the list.”
She cycled through the rest of them quickly with Gunnar vetoing all but numbers one and three.
“Okay,” she said, sighing heavily. “I will attempt to arrange a meeting for you. Whatever you do, try not to be yourself when you meet them.”
“I never am,” Gunnar said. “Why, when there are so many other interesting people to choose to be?”
Latika gritted her teeth. “Why indeed.”
She turned away from him, and her phone buzzed in her hand. She looked down and saw that it was an unknown number.
“Oh, don’t decline the call on account of me,” Gunter said. “There’s no need to worry about manners in my presence.”
“I wouldn’t,” she said, answering the phone decisively. It had nothing to do with her anyway. She worked for Astrid, and she couldn’t afford to miss any kind of communication just in case.
“Hello?”
“Latika Bakshmi.”
The voice was strange, low and husky, and something about the accent sent a familiar sliver of dread beneath Latika’s skin.
“Yes?”
“Check your email.”
The line went dead. Latika lowered the phone and stared at it, feeling like she lost herself for a full thirty seconds. She had no sense of where she was, or what she was doing.
Until she felt the intensity of Gunnar’s gaze on the side of her face. She looked toward him. “What?”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve gone very pale.”
“No. A strange phone call. Likely a prank of some kind.” She tried to force a smile. In spite of herself, she swallowed hard and guided her thumb over the email icon on her phone.
She prayed that Gunnar didn’t notice the slight tremble in her hands.
She did indeed have a new email.
From an address she didn’t recognize. She opened the email, it had one line of text. And a photograph.
So there you are.
And beneath those words was a picture. Zoomed in tightly and cropped close. Latika could just see the edge of Astrid’s dress, and that gave her an indication of the event.
The wedding.
Astrid and Mauro’s wedding. Latika had been standing just behind the Queen, and she had been sure that she was not in any sort of limelight position. She had been with Astrid for nearly four years and never had been.
But they had found her. Finally.
She swallowed hard, fear like lead in her stomach.
The worst part was, it hadn’t been her parents who had found her. She was sure of that. Because while her parents would have happily hauled her away from her newfound life, they wouldn’t engage in this level of theatrics. That she knew.
They would still cling to the idea that this was all for her own good, for their own good as well, but also for hers. They would lie to her, lie to themselves, all the while using soft, soothing voices and telling her to think of the future.
No, this kind of threatening language was definitely the work of the man who was supposed to be her husband by now.
The man she had run away from.
The man she would rather die than find herself joined to.
Latika took a breath and put her hands down, holding her phone closely to her thigh.
“What is it?” Gunnar asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I will make the necessary inquiries, and make arrangements for you to meet these women. In fact, I think we will organize a ball.”
“A ball?”
“Yes. For all the eligible ladies in the file.”
“I said that I’m only interested in these two.”
“But why limit your options, Your Highness. You’re correct. The chemistry that you may feel with one of them is important to explore. Allow me to take care of it. I will handle everything.”
Her mind was spinning as she walked out of Gunnar’s office. On the one hand, creating such a spectacle around the country at this time was possibly unwise. But on the other hand… Well, on the other hand an event like this would necessitate an increase in security. And with so many eyes on the country, she imagined that Ragnar would be loath to attempt to take her now.
No, he preferred to do things secretly. In the dark of night, essentially.
His position as Norwegian nobility mattered far too much for him to go and create bad blood between himself and the Royals in Bjornland.
And in truth, Latika had counted on that. Always. When she had first come to Astrid for the job, it had been on her mind. The fact that Bjornland was politically involved with Norway, and that it would put Ragnar in a bad position should he cross the Queen, had mattered to her.
Because she needed protection.
The palace guards would provide it. The increased attention would provide it. She had to believe that.
The alternative was far too awful to consider.
CHAPTER THREE (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
THE ENSUING WEEK was a whirlwind. At least, it looked as though it were one for Latika.
Gunnar did nothing but sit back and enjoy the show.
Over breakfast one morning, Astrid commented on it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her work so hard at anything. And that’s saying quite a bit.”
“Yes, she has taken control of the task admirably,” he said, not rising to his sister’s bait. Because he knew there was bait. Even if he wasn’t sure what the hook buried in said bait was meant to drag him toward.
“Are you assisting her at all?” Astrid asked.
“Do you assist her in the planning of parties?”
Astrid gave him an icy look. “She is my assistant.”
At that moment, Astrid’s husband came into the room holding Gunnar’s nephew. It had taken Gunnar a time to accept his brother-in-law. He had not trusted the man at first, but then, given the way that his sister had met him, Gunnar felt he could hardly be blamed.
Astrid had engaged in subterfuge, essentially tricking Mauro into getting her pregnant. And when he had discovered the ruse, Mauro had been decisive in his action. He had demanded that Astrid marry him, and that, was what Gunnar had taken exception to.
The man was common born, and it wasn’t as if Gunnar was any sort of snob, but he had grave concerns about anyone seeking to use his sister. As it had turned out, his feelings for Astrid had been genuine and their marriage had become a very happy one.
But, Gunnar was still getting used to the situation.
“That’s different,” Astrid said, rising from her seat and crossing the room, giving Mauro a kiss on the cheek before taking her son into her arms. “You should be helping her. Since she is helping you clean up your mess.”
For Astrid.
He wasn’t going to say that. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him. And were it not for his sister, he would happily go on not caring.
“I’m sorry, what exactly did you want me to do?” he asked. “Ensure that the punch is spiked?”
“I don’t know, something that wouldn’t send my assistant to an early grave. Since I am quite attached to her.”
“Yes,” he said. “Something that I’m not sure I understand. You seem more fond of her than you are of me at times. And yet, for all I can tell, Latika seems to lack a sense of fun, or humor.”
“That’s a phenomenon that only presents itself in your presence, Gunnar. I find her amusing and delightful.” His sister’s gaze was glued to him. “Perhaps it’s just you.”
“Everybody likes me.”
“Everyone thinks you can do something for them. That’s different. I don’t think Latika cares one way or the other whether or not you can do something for her.”
That wasn’t true. Everyone was an opportunist. And everyone would use a person if the need was great enough. He’d learned that early, and he’d learned it well.
Nothing could insulate you when someone decided to use you as a tool. Not even family. Not even blood.
“She works for you. If she needs a favor… You’re the one she’ll go to,” he pointed out.
“Are you implying she doesn’t actually like me?”
“Did you not just imply that none of my friends actually like me?”
“Are either of you going to threaten to have the guards shoot the other this time?” Mauro asked, his brother-in-law’s expression one of amusement.
“Probably not,” Astrid said.
“The two of you make me so sad that I was an only child,” Mauro said.
“I can see where you would be jealous,” Astrid responded serenely.
They settled in to eat breakfast then, and Gunnar was bemused by the domesticity before him. It was difficult to imagine himself settling into such a life.
And yet, he didn’t think it would make him entirely miserable. Of course, he would never feel for his wife the way that Mauro and Astrid seemed to feel for each other.
And there would be no children in his marriage.
The line was guaranteed to continue without his help, and he was not the heir. Therefore the task wasn’t his.
After the childhood he’d endured, he had no interest in exploring the relationship between a parent and child again. Even from the opposite side.
The door opened, and Latika entered, her black hair swept back into a twist, her makeup sedate. And yet, she glowed. He ignored the tightness that he felt in his stomach. In his groin.
“I do hope I’m not interrupting,” she said. “Queen Astrid, we have an appointment with your stylist. We must ensure that you are appropriately outfitted for the ball.”
“What about me?” Gunnar asked.
“You will wear a black suit,” Latika said, each word crisp.
She was like a tart apple. Then he desperately wanted to take a bite of her.
It was a shame. For with this new endeavor now before him, he never would.
For years now, his dearest fantasy had been getting down on his knees before his sister’s prim assistant, pushing one of her tight pencil skirts up around her hips and draping her legs over his shoulder, her back against the wall, as he licked his way into her center.
As if she sensed his thoughts, her gaze landed on his, locked there. She looked startled, like a deer caught in the headlights.
“It seems to me that you are avoiding having to dress me,” he said.
“I’m not avoiding anything,” she said. “Believe me, Gunnar, if you required dressing, I would accommodate. I’m sorry if that wounds your fragile masculinity in any way.”
“Good to know,” he said.
On a tightlipped smile, Latika turned and walked out of the room.
Astrid fixed her cold gaze on him. “Can you not deliberately poke at her with a stick?”
“I’m not poking her.”
“You’re a pain in the ass. She’s been through enough without you harping on her constantly. Be a decent human being.”
“That is, dear sister, the point of all of this.”
If he could not fashion himself into a decent human in the realest sense, he would make himself look like one.
In his world, facade was better than reality anyway.
Two hours after the encounter with Gunnar in the dining room had left Latika trembling and feeling hollowed out, she found herself standing in Astrid’s chamber while her friend tried on a myriad of dresses.
“It seems strange,” Astrid said, currently admiring a white gown with delicate silver beading that clung to her curves. “To draw attention to myself on what should be a ball in my brother’s honor.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “I can see that. But you know, it is about improving the way people look at all of Bjornland. We have essentially put out a call to all the eligible ladies of the world that Prince Gunnar is looking to settle down. The media attention alone demands that you shine above all else. Especially all those eligible ladies. It won’t do to have anyone in attendance be more beautiful than the Queen.”
Astrid laughed. “I imagine there will be a great many women there who are more beautiful. My brother attracts rare beauties like honey attracts bees.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “Pity he is not actually sweet.”
“I don’t think anyone would find him half so compelling if he were.”
Compelling.
That was an appropriate word for the man.
Of course, there were other words too. None of them fit for polite company.
“I think this color washes me out,” Astrid said. She looked over at the rack that was entirely filled with gowns. “And that orange would be hideous on me. It would look lovely on you.”
She gestured to a gown with a long bodice and a full, sheer skirt that gathered at the side, with a close fitted lining beneath. It was orange, with shimmering gold geometric detail over the top of it.
And, Latika knew she would look good in it.
But, she needed stay in the background. Desperately.
“I think I will opt for something black,” she said decisively.
“Well,” Astrid said. “I will not. I would look like a ghost.”
Astrid sighed and then looked over at Latika thoughtfully. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Latika said.
“You don’t look fine. In fact, you seem very tense. And not simply because you’re planning a party. Usually, you enjoy that.”
“Well, it’s just Gunnar. You know he and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. But it’s normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Except the threats to her safety. But she was choosing to handle that herself.
Astrid blinked. “Yes. I do know that the two of you get on like angry ants trapped in a jar. I also don’t think that’s the real problem.”
“Why?” Latika asked.
“Because I know you. Because we’re friends. Latika, don’t you trust me?”
Latika shifted uncomfortably. “Of course I do.”
“Are you upset about Gunnar getting married?”
Latika sputtered. “What?”
“I’m not a fool,” Astrid said. “I know that he irritates you, but I also know that there is something underneath that. I can never tell if the two of you are going to start yelling at each other, or start tearing each other’s clothes off.”
Latika stiffened, her face getting hot. The fact that Astrid had noticed that she carried some sort of shameful…fascination with Gunnar was truly alarming. It was somewhat refreshing to be able to be alarmed about something other than the email she’d received a few days ago, though, she would not have chosen this. “I can honestly say that I am not upset about Gunnar choosing to get married.”
“Then what is it? Please don’t tell me it’s to do with your parents.”
Latika sighed. “Not as such.”
“It’s related to that, though.”
“I… I have reason to believe that my former fiancé knows where I am.”
“Latika, that’s terrible. You should have told me immediately. I will do whatever I have to, to protect you.”
“And I will do whatever I need to, to protect you. You don’t need to worry about me, or the issues that I’m having. The scandals in my life were never meant to touch you.”
“That’s not how friendship works,” Astrid said. “Yes, you have been an employee, but more than that. And you know it. You are the single best friend I’ve ever had. It’s because of you that I found my husband.”
“In fairness,” Latika said, “it was highly unlikely any of that would work, and I feel it was only a stroke of incredible luck that saw it all come together. Or fate, perhaps. But either way, I cannot take credit. And had everything gone awry, I would have been responsible for your most disastrous decision ever. We could have damaged the whole of the country over a one-night stand.”
“But it was meant to be,” Astrid said. “And you trusted me. You trusted me when I said I needed your help, and believe me, the people in my life who have trusted me, who have taken me at my word, have been in short supply. For the most part, people have doubted I know my own mind because I am a woman. Really, only you and Gunnar, and my mother, ever treated me as though I had the head on my shoulders required to run a country. Or, to make any decisions on my own.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “Well.”
It was one of the difficult things about Gunnar. He had always been incredibly supportive of his sister. And though he had been angry over the incident with Mauro, and Latika colluding with Astrid to sneak her into his club so that she might engage his services in the making of an heir, in many ways, Latika couldn’t blame him. And indeed, would possibly respect him less if he’d had no issue with it whatsoever.
Latika had helped Astrid accomplish that for her own reasons, but it certainly wasn’t in the interest of her finding love with Mauro. No. It was only that she understood what it was like to feel that you had no power in your own life.
An ancient law written into the code of the land of Bjornland had stated that the Queen could declare herself the sole parent of her issue. With that goal in mind, Astrid had set out to get pregnant by the most disreputable man on the planet, thinking he would want nothing to do with the child. Of course, he had. And Astrid had not ended up with a child, and no man, but with a husband. One that she loved very dearly. Nothing had gone quite as they planned, but in many ways, it had gone better.
Latika had never seen Astrid so happy.
And that—she had concluded—was what happened when people were allowed to live. To make their own choices.
To make their own mistakes.
Sometimes even a mistake—in the end—was perfectly all right because it led you to where you had always been meant to be.
But choice, that was what Latika wanted. Eventually. A life of her choosing, with a man of her choosing.
She wanted children.
Watching Astrid with Mauro all those desires had only become more pronounced.
She was tired of surviving.
And with Ragnar coming after her those dreams seemed farther away than ever. Dreams other people took for granted.
“What can I do to protect you?” Astrid said. “Your problems are mine. Because we are friends.”
“Honestly, this ball is going to offer me a modicum of protection I would not have access to if it weren’t for my position here. We will, of course have to increase security. Seeing as we are inviting every eligible woman in the world to come and have a chance with Gunnar. And those who haven’t met him will surely jump at the opportunity.”
Astrid erupted into a peal of laughter. “You do protest too much, Latika.”
“Perhaps my protestations are honest,” she said.
“You find my brother attractive. Whether you want to admit it or not.”
“A spider can be beautiful in its web,” Latika said. “But that doesn’t mean I want it on my skin.”
Astrid shook her head. “But see, that’s where you have him wrong. He’s not a spider. Any more than you’re a fly. A predator, possibly. But maybe more like the wolves we have here in the mountains. Deadly if necessary, surely. But more than willing to put everything on the line to protect his pack. Gunnar is a true alpha. Leader and protector.”
“Perhaps that’s the problem,” Latika said. “It is difficult for two alphas to get involved.”
“That would be the story of my marriage,” Astrid said. “But what Mauro and I have learned is that sometimes it can be quite pleasurable to let the other take the lead.”
“Yes, well.” Latika firmed her lips into a straight line. “I will take the lead by finding some other woman for Gunnar to harass.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to wear this?” Astrid asked, gesturing to the orange gown again.
“No,” Latika returned. “I am not one of the women vying for your brother’s attention, and I will not dress like one. It would have to be a moment of true crisis in order for me to turn to him.”
“Well, let us hope we had don’t have any crises ahead of us.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
THE EVENING OF the ball, everything was going according to plan. Latika could find no fault with anything.
And she ignored the orange and gold gown that Astrid had sent up for her, in favor of a long, formfitting black dress and simple gold accessories. She would look appropriate, and she would blend.
And that was the idea.
She bustled around, making sure that everything was in place, pacing the length of the ornate ballroom, examining it from the gilt-edged ceilings, all the way down to the marble floors.
The massive, golden chandelier was lit, and it was like a sun burning brightly at the center of the room. Perfect. Gleaming and lovely. And in the next twenty minutes the ball would be full of fluttering flowers, all vying for Gunnar’s attention.
She heard footsteps on the marble floor, and turned.
And there he was.
He was devastating in that custom cut black suit, the one she had dismissed with a wave of her hand, saying that men needn’t be so concerned with such things.
There was nothing plain about Gunnar in a black suit. He was a weapon against all good sense, his broad shoulders waging war on every prudent thought.
His hair was still overlong, brushed away from his face, his beard just a bit unkempt.
And it put her in the mind of a Norse marauder, and she found that however she tried, she could not dislike the image.
And for the first time, a strange pain hollowed out her stomach.
Another woman would dance in his arms tonight. Another woman would dance with him from tonight, possibly into forever.
And she would never know what it was like to be held by those strong arms.
She clenched her teeth. That was an empty fantasy, driven by hormones. And she was not a slave to her hormones. She was a woman who never had such a luxury. She had been driven by the need to survive. By the need to press forward, always, and make for herself a life that she could not only stand, but that she enjoyed.
She had found a way to live.
It might not be her ideal life, yet. But it was wonderful.
And she was only ever proud of herself for that fact.
Gunnar served no purpose. Attraction to Gunnar served no purpose.
She did not even like the man.
“You have done a spectacular job,” he said, and she ignored the slight thrill of pleasure that went through her midsection.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Soon, I will be like a steak put out before the dogs.” The wicked glint in his eye bade her stomach turn over. She ignored the sensation.
“You will find there are no dogs here. Only a wolf,” she said, harking back to Astrid’s earlier words.
He grinned, and Latika thought it was decidedly wolfish. “Perhaps.”
“Sheep,” Latika said. “Sheep going before a wolf.”
“Very evocative. Does that make you Little Red Riding Hood in this fairytale of a metaphor? Because I must tell you, I feel my mouth is all the better to eat you with.”
And that was when she realized, he was not simply engaging in empty banter. No, there was a gleam in his blue eyes that spoke of intent. But there was no point to him making sexual promises toward her. Not when tonight, of all nights, moved any possibility of something happening between them out of reach.
She ignored the jolt of irritation that she felt over that. The intense regret.
Every time he had ever traded barbs with her she had assumed it was simply who he was, what he did.
She had never once thought that he might… That he might actually want her.
“I am not anyone’s version of a fairytale. And you would find, that I bite back.”
He moved closer to her, and a thrill shot down her spine. “Pity for you, that what you intended as a threat only sounds like a promise to me. I like a woman who gives as good as she gets.”
“Then I suggest you find one here in the room full of them.”
“I doubt there will be one sharp as you.”
“The trade-offs you make for respectability,” she said.
She turned away from him and began to busy herself with details that did not need her attention.
“Are you not respectable?”
“That depends, I suppose,” she said, “on your definition of respectability.”
Those blue eyes regarded her with open interest. “Someday, I should like to find out.”
She locked her teeth together. So tight her jaw ached. “Oh, but there is no someday. For you are getting married. And we all know your life will end as we know it.”
“A tragedy,” he said.
“Well,” she said, brushing her hands down the front of her dress. “It’s time to bring in the staff. And then it will be time to open up the doors. I suggest you get in position.”
He arched a brow, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Missionary? Did you have something else in mind,” he said.
Latika ignored the sharp shock of pleasure that shot straight down through her core. It was wrong for them to talk like this—worse to be talking like this tonight. Though in some ways, it pushed it further out of the realm of possibility than ever. Which made it…almost less wrong maybe? Or less dangerous.
“You will look a bit silly in missionary position on your own,” she shot back, unwilling to let him see that he had affected her.
“I suppose that depends on who you ask.”
The doors opened then, and the staff began to filter inside. Latika managed to busy herself and soon her interaction with Gunnar was forgotten. She had work to do. It distracted her, both from the strange sensation she felt whenever she was around the man, and from the underlying sense of fear she’d been feeling ever since she received that email.
The many, many palace guards in attendance made her feel safe.
No one would do anything to her while she was here.
She repeated all those things to herself as she made sure the food was in place, as she made sure all was well. And then, went back to the antechamber to ensure that everything was ready for Astrid to make her appearance.
Several guests arrived before the Queen was to be seated. And Latika had the task of making sure that Astrid’s entrance went smoothly, and according to plan.
Astrid and Mauro looked beautiful, the pair of them absolute perfection. Astrid had ended up choosing a deep emerald gown, and her husband was in a black suit. Mauro was a handsome man. There was no denying it. Tall, dark and Mediterranean, with wicked eyes and a mouth that looked like it was made for sin.
And yet, it was no particular sin that called to Latika. No, there was something about the cold, wild beauty that Gunnar possessed that seemed to ignite thoughts of sin.
Sin that sorely tempted her.
She put her head down, resolutely making her way through the ballroom, now filled with women that were bedecked as tropical birds, fluttering about in bright colors.
She knew that Gunnar had expressed a preference for two women in particular, but the guests did not. And every one woman—single or not—had dressed to impress him.
Latika cued everyone to Astrid and Mauro’s entrance, and the royal couple alit, walking through the crowd and taking their positions in their honored seats.
It was all going so smoothly Latika wanted to celebrate. That was the thing. She might not have a husband or children yet. She might not be fully living the life of her choice, but she was living well.
She’d been seen by her parents as a bargaining chip. Her only value had been how she could marry. And here she was, operating in a very stressful and important career.
And she did it well.
She allowed that to buoy her mood. To take away the sour feelings that had begun to roil in her stomach earlier.
With them settled, Latika felt the need to check on the kitchen. She turned and slipped out a side entrance, heading down the hall. And what she saw there made her stomach twist. It was him.
Ragnar.
He didn’t have the decency to be hideous. No, instead he was a severe looking older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neat beard. He was handsome. And a great many women—regardless of their age—would have been thrilled with his attentions. But Latika knew how cruel he could be. And she knew that a life with him would be equal to misery.
The fact that he had come after her after all this time, likely less out of an attraction for her specifically, and more because he wished her harm, sent fear rattling through her.
“My dear, Latika,” he said. “It has been quite some time.”
“Not accidentally,” she said, stopping in her tracks and beginning to edge back toward the ballroom. There was security there. And she would be able to call for help.
“Do not think I’m so foolish as to try and take you from the palace. I simply wanted you to know how close I am. If you try to leave the country, my agents will intercept you. And I know you are here. Ultimately, as long as I can reach you, you are not safe. I will have you brought back to Norway, and married to me before you could ever protest.”
“And why would I marry you?” She asked, fighting to keep her composure.
He liked fear. He liked to cause pain.
She would allow him to see neither in her.
“Because you will find the alternatives so unpleasant. You have made for yourself a little problem here. You thought that by making yourself invisible you would become invisible to me, but you are not just invisible to me, but the whole world. And that is where you have failed yourself, my darling girl. Because when I take you, I will be able to hide you. Your Queen may miss you, but how will she mobilize forces beyond the borders of her country? The public outcry will never be sufficient enough.”
The words settled down to her bones, the truth of them making her feel fear. Real and heavy.
He continued. “I have you between a rock wall and me. And you know that it is true. For now… I will be here all night.”
“I can have you removed,” she said, craning her neck.
“I have done nothing,” he said. “And my removal would create an international incident. As you well know. I know you do not wish for an incident. You are too smart of a girl for something like that.” She swallowed hard, and turned and fled, running back into the ballroom, shutting the door behind her, pressing her hand to her chest.
And she saw Gunnar. At the center of the room dancing with a woman. The brilliant Nigerian activist.
And suddenly, she had an idea.
Times were desperate. And so was she.
She made her way across the ballroom, heading toward the opposite door she had just come in. A door that would take her away from Ragnar.
With purpose, Latika left the ballroom, and headed toward her room.
Though she didn’t know it at the time, Astrid had given her an escape. And Latika knew well enough to take it.
Gunnar was dancing with his third potential bride of the night when a hush fell over the ballroom. He turned, following the gazes of everyone in the room. And there he saw her. Standing at the entrance to the ballroom, dressed in orange and gold, her black hair a glossy wave over one side of her shoulder.
Latika.
She did not look like an assistant. She looked like a princess.
And when she began to descend the stairs, the crowd parted for her as if she was. And then she looked at him. Deliberately. Intentionally.
And a fire ignited in his gut.
He had no idea what game she was playing. He had made it plain earlier that he was attracted to her, because he had never been the sort of man to be coy about such things.
She looked completely different than she had earlier. Though, she had still been delectable in the slinky black dress she’d been wearing, it was the sort of dress designed to make her blend in. And had she been a different woman, it might have been successful. For him, Latika would never blend in.
His greatest concern in life at this moment was that she would go on always as an unanswered need.
And he was not a man who understood denial. Not in his adult life. When he’d escaped his father’s power, when it had become clear to the man that Gunnar could not be manipulated, and when it would have taken the involvement of palace guards to continue his grand experiments on Gunnar, Gunnar had taken the chance to escape into a world of sensual pleasures.
Food. Drink. Women.
Luxurious surroundings.
Most of his time spent in warm climates rather than the harsh chill of Bjornland.
He had forgotten denial. He had forgotten need.
Until her.
And while he had no moral qualms about taking Latika to his bed between now and his wedding, he did feel that perhaps the ball where he was supposed to meet his future wife was perhaps not the ideal venue for such an encounter to begin. But Latika didn’t seem to agree.
She crossed the room, heading straight toward him, the expression on her face one of seductive intensity.
He wanted her. And he had, ever since she had come into his sister’s employ. Every time they had sparred, it had only increased his desire for her.
And now, she paraded herself before him. As if she thought he would not be able to take action here. As if she thought he would be leashed.
“If you would excuse me,” he said to his partner, a woman whose name he could no longer recall.
He stepped away from her, making his way toward Latika. And much to his shock, she increased her pace and nearly flung herself into his arms. “I would be delighted to dance with you,” she said.
“What are you doing?” he murmured.
“I am sorry,” she said. “You have no idea how much. But I need you. Desperately. And I think that I will not harm your objective. I think that I will further your cause.”
“Do you?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“I need you to marry me,” she said. “And I need you to announce it now.”
“Latika…”
And then, she did something truly shocking. She launched herself forward, and captured his mouth with her own.
Gunnar was a difficult man to surprise, indeed, until this moment he would have said it was impossible.
People were boring in their predictability.
And up until this point, Latika had been scarcely different.
She had bantered with him. She had brought their exchanges of wit to the edge of propriety, but she had never crossed it. And while he found her enjoyable, she had never truly shocked him.
But in this moment, she turned the whole ballroom—maybe the world—on its head.
There was something desperate in her kiss, and he responded to it. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing her tightly against his body, forgetting they had an audience. Because what else mattered when he was finally tasting this woman that had vexed him for years.
He took control of the kiss, tightening his hold on her and angling his head, taking advantage of her surprise, of her slightly parted lips, and slipping his tongue between them.
She gasped, and he took it deeper.
And only then did he fully realize that while he might have ensnared her at this very moment, she had caught him in her trap.
“Everyone has seen,” she said. “If you were to reverse course now, no one would believe you. You have clearly staked your claim on me.”
“Minx,” he said. “Was this your game all along?”
“I promise you it was not.”
“Does my sister know that you are little more than a fortune hunter?”
“Your sister knows the truth.”
He looked over at Astrid, who was seated in her throne still, watching what was taking place before her with a surprising amount of equanimity. If Astrid suspected that Latika was trying to snare him as a fortune hunter in some way, he knew that she would be on her feet.
That she would have crossed the room, making her way to him, and to Latika, demanding that the farce be ended.
But she was not. Instead, she was sitting and watching. Waiting. Clearly.
“You must say that you’ll marry me,” she said. “Because if you do not, there is another man here. And he is going to take me away. Not from here, but if I ever set foot outside the palace, he has promised that he will take me. If I ever leave the safety of your land. And he said… He said that my anonymity is what has cursed me, and he is not wrong. If I were to go missing, no one would know. No one would care. But if I was your wife… Gunnar, if I was your wife not only would I improve your standing in the world, but you would save me from this man. If I was your wife, I could hardly go missing without notice. Then he could not force me to marry him. I need you to protect me.”
On this, Gunnar did not need a moment to think. They could work out the details later, and they would, but if what Latika said was true, she needed protection. And it was no matter to him which woman in this room he married. It might as well be the one who needed help. It might as well be the one who lit his body on fire.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/pages/biblio_book/?art=48662382) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
Maisey Yates
From choosing the Prince’s bride… To becoming his unexpected princess! Personal assistant Latika Bakshmi had one job—pick a suitable wife for playboy prince Gunnar. He’s infuriating, arrogant and far too handsome, but when shadows from Latika’s past return, he’s the only man who can save her…if he agrees to her shocking proposition! Nothing surprises cynical Gunnar, until deliciously disapproving Latika asks him to marry her! Recognizing her desperation, he’ll protect her with all his royal power. But the biggest surprise isn’t their sizzling chemistry, but how dangerously permanent his craving for his temporary princess feels…
From choosing the prince’s bride…
To becoming his unexpected princess!
Personal assistant Latika Bakshmi had one job—pick a suitable wife for playboy Prince Gunnar. He’s infuriating, arrogant and far too handsome, but when shadows from Latika’s past return, he’s the only man who can save her…if he agrees to her shocking proposition!
Nothing surprises cynical Gunnar, until deliciously disapproving Latika asks him to marry her! Recognizing her desperation, he’ll protect her with all his royal power. But the biggest surprise isn’t their sizzling chemistry, but how dangerously permanent his craving for his temporary princess feels…
MAISEY YATES is a New York Times bestselling author of over seventy-five 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).
Also by Maisey Yates (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
His Forbidden Pregnant Princess
Brides of Innocence miniseries
The Spaniard’s Untouched Bride
The Spaniard’s Stolen Bride
Heirs Before Vows miniseries
The Spaniard’s Pregnant Bride
The Prince’s Pregnant Mistress
The Italian’s Pregnant Virgin
Once Upon a Seduction… miniseries
The Prince’s Captive Virgin
The Prince’s Stolen Virgin
The Italian’s Pregnant Prisoner
The Queen’s Baby Scandal
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Crowning His Convenient Princess
Maisey Yates
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09785-7
CROWNING HIS CONVENIENT PRINCESS
© 2019 Maisey Yates
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:
Change of font size and line height
Change of background and font colours
Change of font
Change justification
Text to speech
For Mr. H, my 4th and 5th Grade teacher.
I remember you teaching us about pseudonyms,
and you said if we didn’t use one you might be
able to find us and read our books someday if we
ever became authors. Unless we wrote romance,
which you didn’t read. Now you’re mentioned
in a romance—bet you didn’t see that coming.
Contents
Cover (#u41892222-aa58-59f8-bccc-cfef0972de96)
Back Cover Text (#ue560997f-8f63-5db1-b431-477d764beed3)
About the Author (#u828a2024-c52f-5a29-95cc-aa8760017105)
Booklist (#u22f9c849-32dd-540c-8e9d-3126c5132772)
Title Page (#uece4a95e-8c23-55ba-8f6a-1f047c77c512)
Copyright (#u0ea20a04-1e93-5f1e-ac73-b6b0699e0417)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u8c2b329d-952c-5bea-9483-575ac9661171)
CHAPTER ONE (#u8931e0be-1546-5cd4-a0a1-f8d8a11f1947)
CHAPTER TWO (#u48a79205-5a13-5009-87e5-cbe39be0911f)
CHAPTER THREE (#uf085f170-dcd2-504a-97f9-6783046b1bee)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u0ffcc0e0-3153-58db-8718-56eee15d0544)
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)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
LATIKA BAKSHMI TOOK a deep breath before steeling herself to open the door. She knew exactly what she would find behind it.
Or rather, who.
Prince Gunnar von Bjornland, her boss’s brother, dissolute rake, and general disgrace to his country. A man she despised with every fiber of her being. And, a man who was her current project.
Queen Astrid, who was not just her boss, but also her friend and confidant, had asked her to take on the task of reforming Gunnar, and she was going to do it.
In a minute.
“Stop lurking outside my door.”
She jolted. “How did you know I was outside the door?”
The door swung open, revealing a man who was more Viking God than mere mortal. His blond hair was pushed back from his face, a slightly darker beard covering his jaw. His light blue eyes were the color of ice, but somehow contained heat nonetheless.
And his body.
It was an assault to all her good sense and she hated and loved it in equal measure. She both prayed he would find some sense of decorum in himself and learn to put on a shirt whenever they might encounter one another.
And prayed he would not.
Ever.
His chest was broad, and currently bare, a light dusting of hair over the toned, taut skin there. He took a breath, his well-defined abs shifting as he stepped to the side, as if allowing her entry into his bedchamber.
“How did you know I was out here?” She asked again, not making the move toward entering.
“I could feel the tension radiating through the door. And only you give off tension quite like that, Latika.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, giving a slight nod of her head. “You’re very funny.”
“I can hear you. You do not wear sensible shoes, like my sister. You wear those hard, spiky heels, and they make a very particular sound on the marble. I suppose, were I given to any great sense of shame, I would be concerned that sound can travel so freely through my bedroom door. One assumes then the sound can travel out just as well.”
“A grave concern for you,” she said, clipped. “I can only imagine.”
He shrugged a broad shoulder, making all the muscles in his body shift and bunch. “It isn’t really.”
“It should be.” She looked around the room. There were no signs of recent debauchery, at least. By that she meant, there wasn’t a redhead or a blonde lying sprawled out in his bed, or anything quite like that.
However, the bed was unmade, and he had clearly just arisen from it, and likely just pulled the jeans he was wearing on.
It made her wonder if there was anything underneath.
She gritted her teeth, angry with herself without thought. “Astrid has asked me…”
“I would like you to find me a wife,” he said, cutting her off and silencing her effectively.
“You… What?”
“I would like you to find me a wife. I understand that my reputation has become of some concern to Astrid. She’s married, had a child, and our nation is on the brink of a great and modern future the likes of which would probably make my father rotate in his grave were he not so busy burning in hell.”
“Astrid has asked me to help you reform,” she finished.
“I know,” he said. “And I think there’s only one way to do that.”
She had expected resistance. She had expected him to balk. To banter. To use excessive double entendre. She had not expected him to see her coming, to anticipate her words, and raise her.
“Why? Why are you suddenly interested in marriage?”
“I didn’t say I was suddenly interested in marriage. But I do know that a fairytale is the quickest way to capture the hearts of the people. Is it not?”
“Well, judging by your sister’s experience, I would say you are correct enough.”
“I am not the heir. That is something that has always sat comfortably with me, but the burden that Astrid carries does not. And for my part, if I can alleviate some of what she carries, then I will do it. I can see that the simplest way will be for me to find a wife.”
“A bizarre leap in logic.”
“I know you don’t respect me, Latika, and I have never asked you to. Moreover, I’ve never behaved in a way that might invite you to. Oddly, though it may seem to you, I’m not overly concerned with your approval. But, I do wish to make Astrid happy, and I do wish to bolster the standing of my country in the world. So, you must help me find a wife.”
“Is there a particular brand name you are drawn to?” she asked, her tone caustic.
“Yes,” he said, not missing a beat. “I would prefer a philanthropist. I do not require that she be in mint condition, so to speak.”
It took her a moment to catch his meaning. “You do not expect a virgin? How progressive of you.”
“Well,” he said. “As I myself am not a virgin, it seems a bit of a double standard to demand my wife come to me untouched.”
She tried to keep the flush out of her face, and tried to keep her tone sharp. “You are not untouched?”
The corner of his wicked mouth turned up. “I’ve been touched one or two times.”
“Shocking,” she returned.
“I expect that you possess ample channels through which you might find a woman interested in marrying me.”
The very idea of arranging marriages didn’t sit very well with Latika. Not given her experience surrounding such things. Of course, Gunnar didn’t know anything about her real life. Or her real identity. Fishing around in the sorts of circles that might require him to find a wife in might present a problem for her as well.
Considering she was technically in hiding.
But then, she could find ways to be discreet. Find ways to make sure that she avoided any places that might be problematic.
Just one grim corner of Europe, and the East Coast of the United States. She imagined that Gunnar wouldn’t mind her fishing around for an English debutante, rather than looking on the Upper Eastside of New York City.
“Blonde? Redheaded? Brunette? Do you have a preference?”
“None,” he said.
“You don’t have a type?” she pressed.
“Female covers it.”
She fought against rolling her eyes. Instead, she made a very officious note on her clipboard. Then treated him to a smile. “A female philanthropist. Hymen not required.”
“In fact, I would prefer that there were no hymen present at all,” he said. “I’m not a patient man. I’d rather not have to instruct a woman on how to please me.”
“Indeed,” she said flatly. And she managed to hold back: that rules me out handily then.
As if she would ever, in a million years, with flying pigs in the sky, consider being Gunnar’s bride.
He turned away from her, his broad back filling her vision. His muscles moved in very interesting ways and she attempted to study the ceiling, rather than his skin.
But it was hard, because his skin was so much more compelling.
And he began to move around the room. He opened up a dresser, pulled out a T-shirt, and shrugged it over his body.
Something about the flex of those muscles caused an answering flex between her thighs, and she did her best to ignore it.
Her emotions were so very charged in his presence, always. And it was her preference to play off the heat as anger. And to pretend that there was no other layer to it.
That there was no part of her—not even a tiny part—that wished to bite down on that insolent mouth of his.
And then bite his chest.
And then lick it.
No. No part of her at all.
She forced a smile. “Anything else?”
“No. I believe that covers it.”
“Then I shall begin putting out inquiries, Your Highness. And very soon, I will have found a wife for you.”
“It may also bear mentioning,” he said, “That I am the owner of my own multibillion-dollar company.”
Latika froze. “You… You’re what?”
“Yes. I suppose it’s about time that came out.”
“How… How did you keep that a secret?”
“No one is looking for that bit of dirt. Honestly, it isn’t dirt. Why would anyone care? My company has a name, obviously, and my name is buried beneath it. But the only thing anyone is ever interested in is who I’m sleeping with. Not the fact that I am the CEO of a multibillion-dollar corporation that deals in green building.”
“I…”
“It’s part of revamping my reputation, Latika. These things must be made public. I assume you’re the person to speak to about the press release regarding that as well.”
“I will take care of it,” she said, blinking.
“See that you do.”
Those blue eyes caught hers and held for a moment, and Latika did her best not to pay attention to the slight shift she felt in her stomach. Did her best to ignore the fact that suddenly the air felt a little bit thicker.
And she really tried not to examine what any of this new information—that he was not going into any of this kicking and screaming, that he had an endeavor that went somewhere beyond gambling and whoring—made her feel.
She was much more comfortable when she disdained Gunnar.
Anything else was unacceptable.
Prince Gunnar von Bjornland had settled into debauchery for far too long. He was at an end with it.
It had been one thing to engage in it when his father was living, and indeed it was something that he had enjoyed.
To throw in the face of his father, even as the old man attempted to sabotage Astrid. Their father was a relic of the highest order. A man who had not been able to fathom that a woman could possibly do a good job of running the country, regardless of the fact that there were many examples that proved they could, and just fine thank you.
No, his father had never gotten over the fact that his heir was a woman. And the fact that his only son had refused to take his side and engage in a coup, overthrowing his twin had been something that the old man could not accept even in the end.
Gunnar had never risen to his father’s bait, and to the contrary, had taken a perverse kind of delight in behaving in every way that Astrid did not.
As his sister had lived a serious and contemplative life, dedicating herself to service, Gunnar had waged an all-out war against propriety.
He had taken every sacred tradition and broken it at least once, had taken delight in running roughshod over deeply revered customs, and in general putting Bjornland on the world stage in the context of his behavior.
He had imagined that if nothing else he would be a rather colorful footnote in history.
But of course, it had never been enough for his mind. Hence the secret business endeavor.
But now that Astrid was Queen, and now that various and sundry accusations were being thrown at him as the narrative around his country shifted, he could see that it was time for a change.
This latest debacle had only served to highlight it.
A woman had come forward alleging that he was the father of her child. And no matter that Gunnar had never seen the woman before, there had also been a seed of doubt in him. He always used protection. But condoms weren’t entirely reliable, and he’d had to concede that there was a possibility the child could be his, no matter that he was always as responsible as a man could be while being indiscriminate.
The headlines had been scathing, the very fact that a paternity test had been conducted had been cause for scorn among the people.
And now the conversation had become that Astrid could not control her wayward brother. That her own brother despised every value held dear by the country. And when that had been aimed at his father, Gunnar had been happy enough.
But his entire reason for his behavior, his entire reason for being, had been to protect Astrid. Astrid was a strong woman, and always had been, but there had been a war waging beneath the surface of the polished exterior of the palace that she’d had no idea existed.
A war that Gunnar had been on the frontlines of.
He had always protected her. And if protecting his sister now demanded he behave differently, so he would.
And if it meant employing the use of his sister’s delectable, and irritating, assistant, then he would do so.
Latika might be delectable, but she was also as stiff as a plank of wood and no less bland.
She was beautiful. There was no argument to be had about that.
In fact, she was uncommonly lovely, and he had always found it a strange thing that a woman of such brilliant beauty be relegated to such a beige sort of job.
Though, he imagined a great many people would not find being personal assistant to a queen a beige sort of job. But in his world it certainly was.
A woman like her should be wrapped in silk, should be in jewels.
She should spend hours soaking in perfumed baths, readying herself for a lover.
She should not spend hours contemplating the merit of clipboards. Though, he had a feeling that was how she spent much of her time.
Her beauty was, in the end, a terrible farce anyway. She looked like a woman built for such things, with her generous mouth and beautiful curves, but she was through and through a woman of practicality and severity.
And he did his very best not to think about how much he would like to test that severity.
He did his very best not to think about just how satisfying it would be to tease that mouth out of that firm unnatural line she kept it in, and torment her until it became a soft “O” of pleasure.
Yes, he did his best not to ponder that.
His world was changing. He would need to find a wife, and he would need to be faithful to that wife.
The very idea of such a chore set his teeth on edge. He could think of no woman at all that would amuse him for the rest of his life, and if he quit engaging in risky behaviors such as racing cars around the autobahn and jumping out of helicopters, his life would likely have a longer expectancy.
Really, this was a terrible plan, but it was the only way he could see to help Astrid.
Though she did not know it, his life had been devoted to that protection.
He would not falter now.
Marriage was, in the grand scheme of things a small price to pay. And for her he would do it. Perhaps not happily, but it would be done.
Because Gunnar von Bjornland might never be King, but he was the master of his own life. And once he set his mind to something, he would damn well see it done.
This was no exception.
CHAPTER TWO (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
“HERE YOU HAVE IT,” Latika said, setting a stack of folders onto Gunnar’s desk. “Veritable binders of women.”
He looked at the stack, then back up at Latika, one elbow resting on the desk, one brow raised in an impudent manner. “I’m rather insulted you have brought me so much choice,” he said.
Latika blinked. “How is that insulting?”
“I should think that the criteria for becoming my bride would be so exacting that you would have little more than a slim volume to present me with.”
“I should have thought you would want choice,” she said, bristling against his rather pronounced lack of gratitude.
She had gone to a lot of trouble to dig up so many eligible women, lacking in scandal and in possession of beauty.
“I haven’t time to do so much reading,” he said.
“Do you find it so laborious? To read profiles on women you might marry.”
“I find it boring.”
“I have here in these folders options, for a woman that you might be tasked with sleeping with for the rest of your life. How is it you find that dull?” she pressed.
“When one turns sex into homework even that can be boring.”
He was impossible. He was impossible, and he was ridiculous, and she had half a mind to kill him where he sat. She could do it with a letter opener, a paperweight or half a dozen other items on his desk.
As solid as her friendship with Astrid was, she had a feeling that Astrid would take a dim view to Latika assassinating her brother. Just maybe. If Astrid only knew the surrounding story she might forgive her.
“Who do you think the top five are?” he asked. “Use your knowledge of me to guess who I might find the most likely five.”
“Gunnar,” she said, keeping her tone frosty. “If I had that kind of insight into who you are as a person… Well, I would probably throw myself off the nearest cliff.”
“A test then.” He folded his large hands in front of him and it didn’t escape her notice they were scarred. Odd for a man of his position, she would think. “Who do you think my top five would be?”
Latika gritted her teeth. She would lie back and think of Bjornland. She would do her very best to remind herself she worked for the palace.
And this was service to Astrid.
And for Astrid, she could do anything. The other woman had essentially saved Latika’s life. And it was something that she was not going to forget anytime soon. Or ever. She was eternally grateful for all that Astrid had done. Working with Gunnar on this marriage project was a small thing to ask.
“All right,” she said, doing her best to cover up just how aggrieved she felt. “If I had to choose, I would choose not so much to please you, but to give maximum improvement to your reputation, and to the reputation of the country. Therefore, we can set aside your personal preferences as secondary.”
He rubbed his chin, the light in his blue eyes wicked. “Can we?”
“Yes,” she said decisively. “This marriage is for the country, after all.”
“And yet, I feel that if I am to be shackled to one woman for the rest of my life, it will have to be a marriage bed that I enjoy the idea of being shackled to.” His lips curved upward. “Rather, a woman not averse to being shackled to the marriage bed for my pleasure. I’ve never been one who enjoyed being shackled. But I have nothing against doing a bit of shackling.”
Yet again, she ignored the searing heat in her body, and affected an incredibly bored expression. “Yes, yes. I and the rest of the world are aware of the fact that you are shocking, and love to engage in edgy sexual activity. I promise you that if a double entendre presents itself you do not have to be so obvious as to speak it.”
“Oh, but I enjoy being obvious.”
“Do you?” she asked. “Because I would say that the fact you own your own company was not obvious at all.”
She hadn’t intended to bring that up.
In fact, she had every intention of ignoring it completely in the conversation today, if only to spite him slightly. And herself. Because the fact that he was a secret mogul fascinated her. And the one thing she was eternally trying to ignore when it came to Gunnar was her fascination with him. And anything that seemed to foster further fascination she resented.
There was something about him that enticed her to act in ways she knew she should not. She didn’t like it. It made her feel like she was not above the rest of the female population of the world in any way at all. And she liked to think that she wasn’t that basic.
“That’s the trick,” he said. “Be obvious enough over here that you can have your secrets where you choose.”
“I see.” She took a breath. “Well. That aside.” She shuffled through the folder and plucked out one. “I would choose…these.”
“Explanations,” he demanded, taking the stack of folders in his hand. “Or do I have to do everything myself.”
“You have done absolutely nothing for yourself since I walked in,” she said.
“That isn’t true. I’ve been breathing the entire time. I’m keeping myself alive. For which you and the rest of the world should be supremely grateful.”
“I’m about to expire from gratitude,” she said. “The first candidate is Hannah Whitman, an English rose. She will compliment you well. Though, your progeny will likely burst into flames in the sun.”
He laughed, explosive and deep, hitting her in unexpected places.
“Well,” he said. “Melanin deficit aside, she is pretty. And what attributes do you suppose she would bring to our alliance?”
“She’s extremely wealthy in her own right, her family is very successful in manufacturing. She has started several charities, with a focus on educating children with special needs. She is more than willing to do the work, not simply write a check.”
“I imagine that means there are many photographs of her with grateful children.”
“You are correct. She is a light to all the world.”
“Well, I have always thought that one’s wife should be able to double as a flashlight.”
“Best of all,” Latika continued, “she’s scandal free.”
“Excellent. Because I have enough scandals for ten people. It’s one thing I do not need a wife to bring to our marriage.”
“Next is Lily Addington.”
“Another Brit?”
“Yes. Her family owns horses.”
He frowned. “That sounds like an awful lot of time spent at racetracks.”
“Would you not find that enjoyable?”
“No. I prefer my gambling to take place in a casino. It’s much more civilized.”
“All right. Bim Attah. She is a Nigerian heiress and UN ambassador for women’s rights. She has a PhD from Oxford, and has been instrumental in supplying feminine hygiene products to impoverished girls throughout the world.”
He leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. “She sounds a bit overqualified, don’t you think? PhD. I’m not sure I’m equal to that task.”
“You have a title. I suspect that in many ways that outstrips a PhD.”
“One you are born with,” he pointed out. “One you must work for.”
She arched a brow. “Shall I take her off the list?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “I feel nothing if not entitled to things that might be too good for me. Leave her on the list.”
She cycled through the rest of them quickly with Gunnar vetoing all but numbers one and three.
“Okay,” she said, sighing heavily. “I will attempt to arrange a meeting for you. Whatever you do, try not to be yourself when you meet them.”
“I never am,” Gunnar said. “Why, when there are so many other interesting people to choose to be?”
Latika gritted her teeth. “Why indeed.”
She turned away from him, and her phone buzzed in her hand. She looked down and saw that it was an unknown number.
“Oh, don’t decline the call on account of me,” Gunter said. “There’s no need to worry about manners in my presence.”
“I wouldn’t,” she said, answering the phone decisively. It had nothing to do with her anyway. She worked for Astrid, and she couldn’t afford to miss any kind of communication just in case.
“Hello?”
“Latika Bakshmi.”
The voice was strange, low and husky, and something about the accent sent a familiar sliver of dread beneath Latika’s skin.
“Yes?”
“Check your email.”
The line went dead. Latika lowered the phone and stared at it, feeling like she lost herself for a full thirty seconds. She had no sense of where she was, or what she was doing.
Until she felt the intensity of Gunnar’s gaze on the side of her face. She looked toward him. “What?”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve gone very pale.”
“No. A strange phone call. Likely a prank of some kind.” She tried to force a smile. In spite of herself, she swallowed hard and guided her thumb over the email icon on her phone.
She prayed that Gunnar didn’t notice the slight tremble in her hands.
She did indeed have a new email.
From an address she didn’t recognize. She opened the email, it had one line of text. And a photograph.
So there you are.
And beneath those words was a picture. Zoomed in tightly and cropped close. Latika could just see the edge of Astrid’s dress, and that gave her an indication of the event.
The wedding.
Astrid and Mauro’s wedding. Latika had been standing just behind the Queen, and she had been sure that she was not in any sort of limelight position. She had been with Astrid for nearly four years and never had been.
But they had found her. Finally.
She swallowed hard, fear like lead in her stomach.
The worst part was, it hadn’t been her parents who had found her. She was sure of that. Because while her parents would have happily hauled her away from her newfound life, they wouldn’t engage in this level of theatrics. That she knew.
They would still cling to the idea that this was all for her own good, for their own good as well, but also for hers. They would lie to her, lie to themselves, all the while using soft, soothing voices and telling her to think of the future.
No, this kind of threatening language was definitely the work of the man who was supposed to be her husband by now.
The man she had run away from.
The man she would rather die than find herself joined to.
Latika took a breath and put her hands down, holding her phone closely to her thigh.
“What is it?” Gunnar asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I will make the necessary inquiries, and make arrangements for you to meet these women. In fact, I think we will organize a ball.”
“A ball?”
“Yes. For all the eligible ladies in the file.”
“I said that I’m only interested in these two.”
“But why limit your options, Your Highness. You’re correct. The chemistry that you may feel with one of them is important to explore. Allow me to take care of it. I will handle everything.”
Her mind was spinning as she walked out of Gunnar’s office. On the one hand, creating such a spectacle around the country at this time was possibly unwise. But on the other hand… Well, on the other hand an event like this would necessitate an increase in security. And with so many eyes on the country, she imagined that Ragnar would be loath to attempt to take her now.
No, he preferred to do things secretly. In the dark of night, essentially.
His position as Norwegian nobility mattered far too much for him to go and create bad blood between himself and the Royals in Bjornland.
And in truth, Latika had counted on that. Always. When she had first come to Astrid for the job, it had been on her mind. The fact that Bjornland was politically involved with Norway, and that it would put Ragnar in a bad position should he cross the Queen, had mattered to her.
Because she needed protection.
The palace guards would provide it. The increased attention would provide it. She had to believe that.
The alternative was far too awful to consider.
CHAPTER THREE (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
THE ENSUING WEEK was a whirlwind. At least, it looked as though it were one for Latika.
Gunnar did nothing but sit back and enjoy the show.
Over breakfast one morning, Astrid commented on it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her work so hard at anything. And that’s saying quite a bit.”
“Yes, she has taken control of the task admirably,” he said, not rising to his sister’s bait. Because he knew there was bait. Even if he wasn’t sure what the hook buried in said bait was meant to drag him toward.
“Are you assisting her at all?” Astrid asked.
“Do you assist her in the planning of parties?”
Astrid gave him an icy look. “She is my assistant.”
At that moment, Astrid’s husband came into the room holding Gunnar’s nephew. It had taken Gunnar a time to accept his brother-in-law. He had not trusted the man at first, but then, given the way that his sister had met him, Gunnar felt he could hardly be blamed.
Astrid had engaged in subterfuge, essentially tricking Mauro into getting her pregnant. And when he had discovered the ruse, Mauro had been decisive in his action. He had demanded that Astrid marry him, and that, was what Gunnar had taken exception to.
The man was common born, and it wasn’t as if Gunnar was any sort of snob, but he had grave concerns about anyone seeking to use his sister. As it had turned out, his feelings for Astrid had been genuine and their marriage had become a very happy one.
But, Gunnar was still getting used to the situation.
“That’s different,” Astrid said, rising from her seat and crossing the room, giving Mauro a kiss on the cheek before taking her son into her arms. “You should be helping her. Since she is helping you clean up your mess.”
For Astrid.
He wasn’t going to say that. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him. And were it not for his sister, he would happily go on not caring.
“I’m sorry, what exactly did you want me to do?” he asked. “Ensure that the punch is spiked?”
“I don’t know, something that wouldn’t send my assistant to an early grave. Since I am quite attached to her.”
“Yes,” he said. “Something that I’m not sure I understand. You seem more fond of her than you are of me at times. And yet, for all I can tell, Latika seems to lack a sense of fun, or humor.”
“That’s a phenomenon that only presents itself in your presence, Gunnar. I find her amusing and delightful.” His sister’s gaze was glued to him. “Perhaps it’s just you.”
“Everybody likes me.”
“Everyone thinks you can do something for them. That’s different. I don’t think Latika cares one way or the other whether or not you can do something for her.”
That wasn’t true. Everyone was an opportunist. And everyone would use a person if the need was great enough. He’d learned that early, and he’d learned it well.
Nothing could insulate you when someone decided to use you as a tool. Not even family. Not even blood.
“She works for you. If she needs a favor… You’re the one she’ll go to,” he pointed out.
“Are you implying she doesn’t actually like me?”
“Did you not just imply that none of my friends actually like me?”
“Are either of you going to threaten to have the guards shoot the other this time?” Mauro asked, his brother-in-law’s expression one of amusement.
“Probably not,” Astrid said.
“The two of you make me so sad that I was an only child,” Mauro said.
“I can see where you would be jealous,” Astrid responded serenely.
They settled in to eat breakfast then, and Gunnar was bemused by the domesticity before him. It was difficult to imagine himself settling into such a life.
And yet, he didn’t think it would make him entirely miserable. Of course, he would never feel for his wife the way that Mauro and Astrid seemed to feel for each other.
And there would be no children in his marriage.
The line was guaranteed to continue without his help, and he was not the heir. Therefore the task wasn’t his.
After the childhood he’d endured, he had no interest in exploring the relationship between a parent and child again. Even from the opposite side.
The door opened, and Latika entered, her black hair swept back into a twist, her makeup sedate. And yet, she glowed. He ignored the tightness that he felt in his stomach. In his groin.
“I do hope I’m not interrupting,” she said. “Queen Astrid, we have an appointment with your stylist. We must ensure that you are appropriately outfitted for the ball.”
“What about me?” Gunnar asked.
“You will wear a black suit,” Latika said, each word crisp.
She was like a tart apple. Then he desperately wanted to take a bite of her.
It was a shame. For with this new endeavor now before him, he never would.
For years now, his dearest fantasy had been getting down on his knees before his sister’s prim assistant, pushing one of her tight pencil skirts up around her hips and draping her legs over his shoulder, her back against the wall, as he licked his way into her center.
As if she sensed his thoughts, her gaze landed on his, locked there. She looked startled, like a deer caught in the headlights.
“It seems to me that you are avoiding having to dress me,” he said.
“I’m not avoiding anything,” she said. “Believe me, Gunnar, if you required dressing, I would accommodate. I’m sorry if that wounds your fragile masculinity in any way.”
“Good to know,” he said.
On a tightlipped smile, Latika turned and walked out of the room.
Astrid fixed her cold gaze on him. “Can you not deliberately poke at her with a stick?”
“I’m not poking her.”
“You’re a pain in the ass. She’s been through enough without you harping on her constantly. Be a decent human being.”
“That is, dear sister, the point of all of this.”
If he could not fashion himself into a decent human in the realest sense, he would make himself look like one.
In his world, facade was better than reality anyway.
Two hours after the encounter with Gunnar in the dining room had left Latika trembling and feeling hollowed out, she found herself standing in Astrid’s chamber while her friend tried on a myriad of dresses.
“It seems strange,” Astrid said, currently admiring a white gown with delicate silver beading that clung to her curves. “To draw attention to myself on what should be a ball in my brother’s honor.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “I can see that. But you know, it is about improving the way people look at all of Bjornland. We have essentially put out a call to all the eligible ladies of the world that Prince Gunnar is looking to settle down. The media attention alone demands that you shine above all else. Especially all those eligible ladies. It won’t do to have anyone in attendance be more beautiful than the Queen.”
Astrid laughed. “I imagine there will be a great many women there who are more beautiful. My brother attracts rare beauties like honey attracts bees.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “Pity he is not actually sweet.”
“I don’t think anyone would find him half so compelling if he were.”
Compelling.
That was an appropriate word for the man.
Of course, there were other words too. None of them fit for polite company.
“I think this color washes me out,” Astrid said. She looked over at the rack that was entirely filled with gowns. “And that orange would be hideous on me. It would look lovely on you.”
She gestured to a gown with a long bodice and a full, sheer skirt that gathered at the side, with a close fitted lining beneath. It was orange, with shimmering gold geometric detail over the top of it.
And, Latika knew she would look good in it.
But, she needed stay in the background. Desperately.
“I think I will opt for something black,” she said decisively.
“Well,” Astrid said. “I will not. I would look like a ghost.”
Astrid sighed and then looked over at Latika thoughtfully. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Latika said.
“You don’t look fine. In fact, you seem very tense. And not simply because you’re planning a party. Usually, you enjoy that.”
“Well, it’s just Gunnar. You know he and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. But it’s normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Except the threats to her safety. But she was choosing to handle that herself.
Astrid blinked. “Yes. I do know that the two of you get on like angry ants trapped in a jar. I also don’t think that’s the real problem.”
“Why?” Latika asked.
“Because I know you. Because we’re friends. Latika, don’t you trust me?”
Latika shifted uncomfortably. “Of course I do.”
“Are you upset about Gunnar getting married?”
Latika sputtered. “What?”
“I’m not a fool,” Astrid said. “I know that he irritates you, but I also know that there is something underneath that. I can never tell if the two of you are going to start yelling at each other, or start tearing each other’s clothes off.”
Latika stiffened, her face getting hot. The fact that Astrid had noticed that she carried some sort of shameful…fascination with Gunnar was truly alarming. It was somewhat refreshing to be able to be alarmed about something other than the email she’d received a few days ago, though, she would not have chosen this. “I can honestly say that I am not upset about Gunnar choosing to get married.”
“Then what is it? Please don’t tell me it’s to do with your parents.”
Latika sighed. “Not as such.”
“It’s related to that, though.”
“I… I have reason to believe that my former fiancé knows where I am.”
“Latika, that’s terrible. You should have told me immediately. I will do whatever I have to, to protect you.”
“And I will do whatever I need to, to protect you. You don’t need to worry about me, or the issues that I’m having. The scandals in my life were never meant to touch you.”
“That’s not how friendship works,” Astrid said. “Yes, you have been an employee, but more than that. And you know it. You are the single best friend I’ve ever had. It’s because of you that I found my husband.”
“In fairness,” Latika said, “it was highly unlikely any of that would work, and I feel it was only a stroke of incredible luck that saw it all come together. Or fate, perhaps. But either way, I cannot take credit. And had everything gone awry, I would have been responsible for your most disastrous decision ever. We could have damaged the whole of the country over a one-night stand.”
“But it was meant to be,” Astrid said. “And you trusted me. You trusted me when I said I needed your help, and believe me, the people in my life who have trusted me, who have taken me at my word, have been in short supply. For the most part, people have doubted I know my own mind because I am a woman. Really, only you and Gunnar, and my mother, ever treated me as though I had the head on my shoulders required to run a country. Or, to make any decisions on my own.”
“Yes,” Latika said. “Well.”
It was one of the difficult things about Gunnar. He had always been incredibly supportive of his sister. And though he had been angry over the incident with Mauro, and Latika colluding with Astrid to sneak her into his club so that she might engage his services in the making of an heir, in many ways, Latika couldn’t blame him. And indeed, would possibly respect him less if he’d had no issue with it whatsoever.
Latika had helped Astrid accomplish that for her own reasons, but it certainly wasn’t in the interest of her finding love with Mauro. No. It was only that she understood what it was like to feel that you had no power in your own life.
An ancient law written into the code of the land of Bjornland had stated that the Queen could declare herself the sole parent of her issue. With that goal in mind, Astrid had set out to get pregnant by the most disreputable man on the planet, thinking he would want nothing to do with the child. Of course, he had. And Astrid had not ended up with a child, and no man, but with a husband. One that she loved very dearly. Nothing had gone quite as they planned, but in many ways, it had gone better.
Latika had never seen Astrid so happy.
And that—she had concluded—was what happened when people were allowed to live. To make their own choices.
To make their own mistakes.
Sometimes even a mistake—in the end—was perfectly all right because it led you to where you had always been meant to be.
But choice, that was what Latika wanted. Eventually. A life of her choosing, with a man of her choosing.
She wanted children.
Watching Astrid with Mauro all those desires had only become more pronounced.
She was tired of surviving.
And with Ragnar coming after her those dreams seemed farther away than ever. Dreams other people took for granted.
“What can I do to protect you?” Astrid said. “Your problems are mine. Because we are friends.”
“Honestly, this ball is going to offer me a modicum of protection I would not have access to if it weren’t for my position here. We will, of course have to increase security. Seeing as we are inviting every eligible woman in the world to come and have a chance with Gunnar. And those who haven’t met him will surely jump at the opportunity.”
Astrid erupted into a peal of laughter. “You do protest too much, Latika.”
“Perhaps my protestations are honest,” she said.
“You find my brother attractive. Whether you want to admit it or not.”
“A spider can be beautiful in its web,” Latika said. “But that doesn’t mean I want it on my skin.”
Astrid shook her head. “But see, that’s where you have him wrong. He’s not a spider. Any more than you’re a fly. A predator, possibly. But maybe more like the wolves we have here in the mountains. Deadly if necessary, surely. But more than willing to put everything on the line to protect his pack. Gunnar is a true alpha. Leader and protector.”
“Perhaps that’s the problem,” Latika said. “It is difficult for two alphas to get involved.”
“That would be the story of my marriage,” Astrid said. “But what Mauro and I have learned is that sometimes it can be quite pleasurable to let the other take the lead.”
“Yes, well.” Latika firmed her lips into a straight line. “I will take the lead by finding some other woman for Gunnar to harass.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to wear this?” Astrid asked, gesturing to the orange gown again.
“No,” Latika returned. “I am not one of the women vying for your brother’s attention, and I will not dress like one. It would have to be a moment of true crisis in order for me to turn to him.”
“Well, let us hope we had don’t have any crises ahead of us.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#uf02e7aa5-0e8f-5c31-b9c3-4387dbaab367)
THE EVENING OF the ball, everything was going according to plan. Latika could find no fault with anything.
And she ignored the orange and gold gown that Astrid had sent up for her, in favor of a long, formfitting black dress and simple gold accessories. She would look appropriate, and she would blend.
And that was the idea.
She bustled around, making sure that everything was in place, pacing the length of the ornate ballroom, examining it from the gilt-edged ceilings, all the way down to the marble floors.
The massive, golden chandelier was lit, and it was like a sun burning brightly at the center of the room. Perfect. Gleaming and lovely. And in the next twenty minutes the ball would be full of fluttering flowers, all vying for Gunnar’s attention.
She heard footsteps on the marble floor, and turned.
And there he was.
He was devastating in that custom cut black suit, the one she had dismissed with a wave of her hand, saying that men needn’t be so concerned with such things.
There was nothing plain about Gunnar in a black suit. He was a weapon against all good sense, his broad shoulders waging war on every prudent thought.
His hair was still overlong, brushed away from his face, his beard just a bit unkempt.
And it put her in the mind of a Norse marauder, and she found that however she tried, she could not dislike the image.
And for the first time, a strange pain hollowed out her stomach.
Another woman would dance in his arms tonight. Another woman would dance with him from tonight, possibly into forever.
And she would never know what it was like to be held by those strong arms.
She clenched her teeth. That was an empty fantasy, driven by hormones. And she was not a slave to her hormones. She was a woman who never had such a luxury. She had been driven by the need to survive. By the need to press forward, always, and make for herself a life that she could not only stand, but that she enjoyed.
She had found a way to live.
It might not be her ideal life, yet. But it was wonderful.
And she was only ever proud of herself for that fact.
Gunnar served no purpose. Attraction to Gunnar served no purpose.
She did not even like the man.
“You have done a spectacular job,” he said, and she ignored the slight thrill of pleasure that went through her midsection.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Soon, I will be like a steak put out before the dogs.” The wicked glint in his eye bade her stomach turn over. She ignored the sensation.
“You will find there are no dogs here. Only a wolf,” she said, harking back to Astrid’s earlier words.
He grinned, and Latika thought it was decidedly wolfish. “Perhaps.”
“Sheep,” Latika said. “Sheep going before a wolf.”
“Very evocative. Does that make you Little Red Riding Hood in this fairytale of a metaphor? Because I must tell you, I feel my mouth is all the better to eat you with.”
And that was when she realized, he was not simply engaging in empty banter. No, there was a gleam in his blue eyes that spoke of intent. But there was no point to him making sexual promises toward her. Not when tonight, of all nights, moved any possibility of something happening between them out of reach.
She ignored the jolt of irritation that she felt over that. The intense regret.
Every time he had ever traded barbs with her she had assumed it was simply who he was, what he did.
She had never once thought that he might… That he might actually want her.
“I am not anyone’s version of a fairytale. And you would find, that I bite back.”
He moved closer to her, and a thrill shot down her spine. “Pity for you, that what you intended as a threat only sounds like a promise to me. I like a woman who gives as good as she gets.”
“Then I suggest you find one here in the room full of them.”
“I doubt there will be one sharp as you.”
“The trade-offs you make for respectability,” she said.
She turned away from him and began to busy herself with details that did not need her attention.
“Are you not respectable?”
“That depends, I suppose,” she said, “on your definition of respectability.”
Those blue eyes regarded her with open interest. “Someday, I should like to find out.”
She locked her teeth together. So tight her jaw ached. “Oh, but there is no someday. For you are getting married. And we all know your life will end as we know it.”
“A tragedy,” he said.
“Well,” she said, brushing her hands down the front of her dress. “It’s time to bring in the staff. And then it will be time to open up the doors. I suggest you get in position.”
He arched a brow, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Missionary? Did you have something else in mind,” he said.
Latika ignored the sharp shock of pleasure that shot straight down through her core. It was wrong for them to talk like this—worse to be talking like this tonight. Though in some ways, it pushed it further out of the realm of possibility than ever. Which made it…almost less wrong maybe? Or less dangerous.
“You will look a bit silly in missionary position on your own,” she shot back, unwilling to let him see that he had affected her.
“I suppose that depends on who you ask.”
The doors opened then, and the staff began to filter inside. Latika managed to busy herself and soon her interaction with Gunnar was forgotten. She had work to do. It distracted her, both from the strange sensation she felt whenever she was around the man, and from the underlying sense of fear she’d been feeling ever since she received that email.
The many, many palace guards in attendance made her feel safe.
No one would do anything to her while she was here.
She repeated all those things to herself as she made sure the food was in place, as she made sure all was well. And then, went back to the antechamber to ensure that everything was ready for Astrid to make her appearance.
Several guests arrived before the Queen was to be seated. And Latika had the task of making sure that Astrid’s entrance went smoothly, and according to plan.
Astrid and Mauro looked beautiful, the pair of them absolute perfection. Astrid had ended up choosing a deep emerald gown, and her husband was in a black suit. Mauro was a handsome man. There was no denying it. Tall, dark and Mediterranean, with wicked eyes and a mouth that looked like it was made for sin.
And yet, it was no particular sin that called to Latika. No, there was something about the cold, wild beauty that Gunnar possessed that seemed to ignite thoughts of sin.
Sin that sorely tempted her.
She put her head down, resolutely making her way through the ballroom, now filled with women that were bedecked as tropical birds, fluttering about in bright colors.
She knew that Gunnar had expressed a preference for two women in particular, but the guests did not. And every one woman—single or not—had dressed to impress him.
Latika cued everyone to Astrid and Mauro’s entrance, and the royal couple alit, walking through the crowd and taking their positions in their honored seats.
It was all going so smoothly Latika wanted to celebrate. That was the thing. She might not have a husband or children yet. She might not be fully living the life of her choice, but she was living well.
She’d been seen by her parents as a bargaining chip. Her only value had been how she could marry. And here she was, operating in a very stressful and important career.
And she did it well.
She allowed that to buoy her mood. To take away the sour feelings that had begun to roil in her stomach earlier.
With them settled, Latika felt the need to check on the kitchen. She turned and slipped out a side entrance, heading down the hall. And what she saw there made her stomach twist. It was him.
Ragnar.
He didn’t have the decency to be hideous. No, instead he was a severe looking older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neat beard. He was handsome. And a great many women—regardless of their age—would have been thrilled with his attentions. But Latika knew how cruel he could be. And she knew that a life with him would be equal to misery.
The fact that he had come after her after all this time, likely less out of an attraction for her specifically, and more because he wished her harm, sent fear rattling through her.
“My dear, Latika,” he said. “It has been quite some time.”
“Not accidentally,” she said, stopping in her tracks and beginning to edge back toward the ballroom. There was security there. And she would be able to call for help.
“Do not think I’m so foolish as to try and take you from the palace. I simply wanted you to know how close I am. If you try to leave the country, my agents will intercept you. And I know you are here. Ultimately, as long as I can reach you, you are not safe. I will have you brought back to Norway, and married to me before you could ever protest.”
“And why would I marry you?” She asked, fighting to keep her composure.
He liked fear. He liked to cause pain.
She would allow him to see neither in her.
“Because you will find the alternatives so unpleasant. You have made for yourself a little problem here. You thought that by making yourself invisible you would become invisible to me, but you are not just invisible to me, but the whole world. And that is where you have failed yourself, my darling girl. Because when I take you, I will be able to hide you. Your Queen may miss you, but how will she mobilize forces beyond the borders of her country? The public outcry will never be sufficient enough.”
The words settled down to her bones, the truth of them making her feel fear. Real and heavy.
He continued. “I have you between a rock wall and me. And you know that it is true. For now… I will be here all night.”
“I can have you removed,” she said, craning her neck.
“I have done nothing,” he said. “And my removal would create an international incident. As you well know. I know you do not wish for an incident. You are too smart of a girl for something like that.” She swallowed hard, and turned and fled, running back into the ballroom, shutting the door behind her, pressing her hand to her chest.
And she saw Gunnar. At the center of the room dancing with a woman. The brilliant Nigerian activist.
And suddenly, she had an idea.
Times were desperate. And so was she.
She made her way across the ballroom, heading toward the opposite door she had just come in. A door that would take her away from Ragnar.
With purpose, Latika left the ballroom, and headed toward her room.
Though she didn’t know it at the time, Astrid had given her an escape. And Latika knew well enough to take it.
Gunnar was dancing with his third potential bride of the night when a hush fell over the ballroom. He turned, following the gazes of everyone in the room. And there he saw her. Standing at the entrance to the ballroom, dressed in orange and gold, her black hair a glossy wave over one side of her shoulder.
Latika.
She did not look like an assistant. She looked like a princess.
And when she began to descend the stairs, the crowd parted for her as if she was. And then she looked at him. Deliberately. Intentionally.
And a fire ignited in his gut.
He had no idea what game she was playing. He had made it plain earlier that he was attracted to her, because he had never been the sort of man to be coy about such things.
She looked completely different than she had earlier. Though, she had still been delectable in the slinky black dress she’d been wearing, it was the sort of dress designed to make her blend in. And had she been a different woman, it might have been successful. For him, Latika would never blend in.
His greatest concern in life at this moment was that she would go on always as an unanswered need.
And he was not a man who understood denial. Not in his adult life. When he’d escaped his father’s power, when it had become clear to the man that Gunnar could not be manipulated, and when it would have taken the involvement of palace guards to continue his grand experiments on Gunnar, Gunnar had taken the chance to escape into a world of sensual pleasures.
Food. Drink. Women.
Luxurious surroundings.
Most of his time spent in warm climates rather than the harsh chill of Bjornland.
He had forgotten denial. He had forgotten need.
Until her.
And while he had no moral qualms about taking Latika to his bed between now and his wedding, he did feel that perhaps the ball where he was supposed to meet his future wife was perhaps not the ideal venue for such an encounter to begin. But Latika didn’t seem to agree.
She crossed the room, heading straight toward him, the expression on her face one of seductive intensity.
He wanted her. And he had, ever since she had come into his sister’s employ. Every time they had sparred, it had only increased his desire for her.
And now, she paraded herself before him. As if she thought he would not be able to take action here. As if she thought he would be leashed.
“If you would excuse me,” he said to his partner, a woman whose name he could no longer recall.
He stepped away from her, making his way toward Latika. And much to his shock, she increased her pace and nearly flung herself into his arms. “I would be delighted to dance with you,” she said.
“What are you doing?” he murmured.
“I am sorry,” she said. “You have no idea how much. But I need you. Desperately. And I think that I will not harm your objective. I think that I will further your cause.”
“Do you?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“I need you to marry me,” she said. “And I need you to announce it now.”
“Latika…”
And then, she did something truly shocking. She launched herself forward, and captured his mouth with her own.
Gunnar was a difficult man to surprise, indeed, until this moment he would have said it was impossible.
People were boring in their predictability.
And up until this point, Latika had been scarcely different.
She had bantered with him. She had brought their exchanges of wit to the edge of propriety, but she had never crossed it. And while he found her enjoyable, she had never truly shocked him.
But in this moment, she turned the whole ballroom—maybe the world—on its head.
There was something desperate in her kiss, and he responded to it. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing her tightly against his body, forgetting they had an audience. Because what else mattered when he was finally tasting this woman that had vexed him for years.
He took control of the kiss, tightening his hold on her and angling his head, taking advantage of her surprise, of her slightly parted lips, and slipping his tongue between them.
She gasped, and he took it deeper.
And only then did he fully realize that while he might have ensnared her at this very moment, she had caught him in her trap.
“Everyone has seen,” she said. “If you were to reverse course now, no one would believe you. You have clearly staked your claim on me.”
“Minx,” he said. “Was this your game all along?”
“I promise you it was not.”
“Does my sister know that you are little more than a fortune hunter?”
“Your sister knows the truth.”
He looked over at Astrid, who was seated in her throne still, watching what was taking place before her with a surprising amount of equanimity. If Astrid suspected that Latika was trying to snare him as a fortune hunter in some way, he knew that she would be on her feet.
That she would have crossed the room, making her way to him, and to Latika, demanding that the farce be ended.
But she was not. Instead, she was sitting and watching. Waiting. Clearly.
“You must say that you’ll marry me,” she said. “Because if you do not, there is another man here. And he is going to take me away. Not from here, but if I ever set foot outside the palace, he has promised that he will take me. If I ever leave the safety of your land. And he said… He said that my anonymity is what has cursed me, and he is not wrong. If I were to go missing, no one would know. No one would care. But if I was your wife… Gunnar, if I was your wife not only would I improve your standing in the world, but you would save me from this man. If I was your wife, I could hardly go missing without notice. Then he could not force me to marry him. I need you to protect me.”
On this, Gunnar did not need a moment to think. They could work out the details later, and they would, but if what Latika said was true, she needed protection. And it was no matter to him which woman in this room he married. It might as well be the one who needed help. It might as well be the one who lit his body on fire.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/pages/biblio_book/?art=48662382) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
Maisey Yates
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 23.04.2024
Отзывы: Пока нет Добавить отзыв
О книге: From choosing the Prince’s bride… To becoming his unexpected princess! Personal assistant Latika Bakshmi had one job—pick a suitable wife for playboy prince Gunnar. He’s infuriating, arrogant and far too handsome, but when shadows from Latika’s past return, he’s the only man who can save her…if he agrees to her shocking proposition! Nothing surprises cynical Gunnar, until deliciously disapproving Latika asks him to marry her! Recognizing her desperation, he’ll protect her with all his royal power. But the biggest surprise isn’t their sizzling chemistry, but how dangerously permanent his craving for his temporary princess feels…