Collier?”
Though it was midafternoon and there were other people around, she suddenly felt nervous. “Yes?”
They flashed her their photo ID cards.
FBI?
“If you’ll come with us, we’ll take you to a place where you can meet with the king of Valleder in private.”
Darrell was convinced she was hallucinating. After the balmy temperatures in Switzerland, this long walk in the sweltering one hundred degree July heat must have gotten to her.
“The king is here? In Denver?”
“Yes, ma’am. He’s made it possible for you to discuss a certain private matter with him.”
The other federal agent handed her the envelope containing the photos she’d left with the police in the capital city of Bris.
So he had recognized the ring.
After giving up all hope, she was incredulous this was happening now. In a daze she slowly shut the trunk lid.
“The king is waiting. We’ll bring you back to your car later.”
The next few minutes passed in a blur as she was helped into the back seat of an unmarked car. One of the agents sat next to her. The other sat in front next to the driver. At a glance she realized there were several unmarked cars with agents forming a cortege.
The driver left the airport and took the E470, a toll road that eventually led to the Centennial Airport where the private jets landed. They wound around to a gleaming white jet with the Valleder royal coat of arms on the side.
She saw the stairs being lowered. Security people were everywhere.
One of them greeted her after she’d gotten out of the car. Another stood at the bottom of the stairs.
“His Majesty is just inside. Go ahead.”
Feeling she was in some sort of trance, Darrell climbed the steps, wondering if she’d wake up before she reached the opening.
“Oh—” she cried softly when a well honed male who stood six foot three stepped out from the interior.
He was a stranger, yet because of certain physical traits that reminded her of Phillip, he looked familiar, too.
A relentless afternoon sun gilded the natural highlights of his wavy dark-blond hair.
The Internet pictures of the king of Valleder could never do justice to his rugged masculine appeal, let alone capture the intensity of his unique hazel eyes.
His gaze traveled over her classic features that hadn’t seen makeup in twelve hours. It lingered on her puffy, tear-swollen eyes the color of drenched pansies. With her shoulder-length ash-blond hair needing a shampoo, and her aqua blouse and skirt looking less than fresh, she’d never felt a bigger mess.
The realization that she was standing before the king she’d risked a great deal to meet was so surreal, she couldn’t think clearly.
He had her at a distinct disadvantage. As his gaze swept over her feminine attributes, heat rose through her body from her curling toes to the crown of her head.
Compelled by a force stronger than her will, her gaze took in his white sport shirt covering a well-defined chest. He wore tan chinos that molded his rock-hard legs, hinting at powerful thighs.
Looking at him made her realize that one day her tall, lanky son would resemble his attractive father in quite a few ways.
“Ms. Collier, I presume?”
Still in disbelief that he’d flown all this way, she was too tongue-tied to think with any coherence. She cleared her throat. “Yes. I know you’re the king, but I—I don’t know what to call you,” she stammered in embarrassment.
“I realize the situation is foreign to you. Under the circumstances just call me Alex. It appears we have something important to discuss. Please come in.” He spoke impeccable English with virtually no trace of accent.
Once over the threshold, she entered a world where only the privileged conducted business thousands of miles above the earth. Besides everything else, the air-conditioning was heavenly.
He led her to a room with a grouping of furniture much like an elegant den. The second she sat down on one of the couches, a steward appeared with a tray of drinks. She chose cola, then sat on the edge of the luxurious white upholstery unable to relax. Again she had the feeling she was existing in another state of consciousness.
He took a chair opposite her, the picture of urbane sophistication while he drank coffee.
“Why don’t we start by you telling me how you came by that ring.”
He’d come straight to the point, not appearing worried about the history behind it.
Her heart pounded so hard she was certain he could hear it in the confines of the room.
“My sister entrusted it to me.”
He put the coffee cup on a side table and leaned forward. “What’s her name?”
How strange to be talking about her sister, the woman he’d enamored to the point she would have done anything for him, and did.
“Melissa Collier. Does that mean anything to you?”
He eyed her with an enigmatic expression. “I’m sorry to say it doesn’t.”
His response came as no surprise to Darrell. After thirteen years, how many men in his position remembered the names of the girls they’d been with for a one-night stand? Particularly a rebellious yet vulnerable teen like Melissa. She’d probably made up a fake name so she wouldn’t get into trouble with the management where she worked.
He rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, mesmerizing Darrell. “Why didn’t she come to Bris?”
Darrell drew in a shaky breath. “Because she died twelve years ago.”
Lines darkened his striking features. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, sounding surprisingly sincere.
“So am I.” Her voice faltered.
“How did she die?”
There’s your opening, Darrell.
Yet oddly enough she found herself unable to go on. No matter how long she’d prayed for this moment for Phillip’s sake, what the king was about to hear was going to change his life. She found she couldn’t do this to him. The shock would be too enormous to any man, let alone a king—What had she been thinking?
“It doesn’t really matter. All I know is, she wanted you to have the ring back because she knew it was valuable.”
“The ring has gotten my attention. Now I want to know what’s behind it.”
Darrell felt ill. “I—I made a mistake coming to Switzerland.
