watched with satisfaction as she paled. That prim little smile on her face disappeared and her eyes rounded.
‘Reye—Prince Navarre!’
Was that a tremble of fear? Good.
‘You will address the prince as Your Highness.’ His ambassador spoke sharply from beside him.
Jasmine’s gaze swung from him to the short, fatherly figure, and back to him. Noting for the first time that they had an audience, she blinked. Reyes noted her drawn features.
If she had a conscience, he hoped it was eating away at her. But he knew women like her possessed no conscience. They seduced and betrayed with no thought for anyone else but themselves.
His jaw tightened as her lashes swept down in a false gesture of apology.
‘Of course. My apologies, Your Highness. I wasn’t...expecting you here.’ Her hand shook as she clutched her handbag. When she bit her lip, Reyes smothered the memories threatening to awaken.
Turning to where his bodyguards hovered, he waved one forward. ‘I have confidential business with Miss Nichols. Take her down to the basement. Until I say so, she’s not allowed to contact anyone or leave the premises under any circumstances.’
‘What? You can’t do that!’ She’d paled further and her breaths jerked out in shallow pants.
Reyes smiled. ‘You’re on Santo Sierran soil. I can do whatever I please with you.’
‘But I came here to help. Please, Reyes—Your Highness!’ she screeched as Reyes stepped back. Her fear was very real.
Reyes steeled himself against it and walked away. Never again.
He’d failed his people because of this woman.
Remembering brought a burn of pure white rage that obliterated any lingering mercy.
Even before he’d come fully awake the next morning on the yacht, he’d known something was wrong. The silence had been deafening. Complete. Where he should have heard the soft breathing and felt the warm, supple body of the lover he’d taken to his bed, there’d been a cold, empty space.
His instinct hadn’t failed him. Even faced with the discovery of the theft, he’d hoped he was hallucinating. For endless minutes, he hadn’t believed what he’d let happen. How much he’d let his guard down.
How spectacularly he’d failed in his duty to protect his people. That was what made the burn sting that much deeper. The full realisation that he’d taken a stranger to bed, a stranger who’d turned out to be a thief, had pointed to a singular lack of judgement, preyed on his mind like acid on metal for the last four weeks.
In the time since then Reyes could’ve hired a team of investigators to find and bring her to justice. But that would’ve served no purpose besides granting him personal satisfaction. Seeking personal vengeance, although tempting, had been relegated very low on his list. Rescuing the trade talks with Valderra had been paramount.
Of course, Mendez, handed the perfect opportunity to sink his hands deeper into the Santo Sierran coffers, had sought to do exactly that.
Relentless greed had threatened to destabilise the economy. Jasmine Nichols’s actions had accelerated the process as surely as if she’d lit a fuse to a bomb.
Reyes breathed in and out, forced himself to focus through the rage and bitterness eating at him. There was no time for recriminations. For the sake of his father, for the sake of his people, he had to put personal feelings aside.
First, he would salvage the economy.
Then he would deal with Jasmine Nichols.
* * *
Jasmine pushed away the tray of tea and sandwiches. The thought of eating or even taking the smallest sip of tea made her stomach churn. She took a deep breath, folded her hands in her lap and silently prayed for strength.
The room she’d been brought to was comfortable enough. Sumptuous sofas were grouped in one corner, centred round a low antique coffee table. A conference table took up a larger space and, mounted on the far end of the wall, a large screen TV and a camera.
The red light blinked, telling her she was being observed. The memory of Reyes’s cold rage slammed into her mind. Unable to sit, she jumped up. She’d been shown into this room two hours ago. Luckily, her nausea had abated but her shock and anxiety had risen in direct proportion as the realisation of what she’d walked into ate at her.
She paced, twisting her hands together. Reyes was angry and disappointed with her. No doubt about that.
She’d foolishly thought she, a junior mediator in a small-sized firm, could help rectify the situation she’d caused. Make amends for what she’d done...
Jasmine’s heart lurched, a feeling of helplessness sliding over her. Reyes was probably laughing his head off at her audacity. And for all she knew, he could’ve already left London. The newspaper article had mentioned he was visiting several European countries to garner economic support for Santo Sierra.
If he’d truly left her to be dealt with to the fullest extent of the law, she would probably be prosecuted for treason and thrown in a Santo Sierran jail.
Her legs threatened to give way, but she forced herself to walk towards the camera. Swallowing, she looked up at the black globe.
‘Can I speak to His Highness, please? I won’t take up much of his time, I promise. I just... I need five minutes. Please...’
The light blinked at her.
Feeling foolish, she whirled about and paced some more. Another hour passed. Then another.
Jasmine was ready to climb the walls when the door swung open. Breath stalling, she rushed towards it. Only to stop when confronted by yet another bodyguard bearing a tray.
It held several tapas dishes, fragrant rice and a tall carafe of pomegranate juice.
‘Your lunch,’ the guard said in heavily accented English.
As violent as the nausea had been, the hunger cloying through her now, when the appetising smells hit her nostrils, was equally vicious. But she forced herself to shake her head. ‘No. I won’t eat until I speak to His Highness.’
The thickset guard blinked. Pressing home her advantage just in case she was being watched on camera, she pushed the tray away, sat on the far end of the sofa, and crossed her legs.
The door shut behind the guard. Hearing the lock turn, her insides congealed. Another half an hour passed in excruciating slowness before the handle turned again.
Reyes stood in the doorway.
The shock of seeing him again slammed into her. But she took advantage of the wider distance between them to observe him.
His face had grown haggard since Rio; perhaps it was the short designer beard he sported, his hair a little longer, shaggier. But his body was just as masculine and breathtaking as before, or even more so with the added angle of danger thrown in.
Or
