reality than the jet they’d been about to board. He, Lia and Toby were family. None of the three of them had ever kept secrets from each other, as far as he knew.
Now he and Lia were secrets. Secrets of state. And he hadn’t felt this alone since his parents’ death.
‘You know what your sister wants without asking her. I see.’ The amusement lurking in Jazmine’s eyes grew to an outright twinkle. She was so pretty, with that sparkle lighting her up from within. He’d always had a thing about that rich-chestnut colour, and she had it in a double dose: her eyes and hair. No wonder she was known as the last single beautiful princess in Europe, feted and courted by all the noble bachelors within five-thousand kilometres.
I could be the one kissing her next. I could take her to bed in a matter of weeks…
And thinking about that, looking into that face, suddenly the whole prince-and-arranged-marriage gig didn’t seem so bad. The perks of unexpected royalty had never come in a more tempting package than Jazmine Marandis.
He dragged himself out of those thoughts before they turned dangerous. What had she been saying? Seeing something… ‘You see what?’ he demanded.
‘I see why you and my grandfather clash. You both believe you know what’s best for others without asking what they want. You’re more of a Marandis than you realize.’ Jazmine’s infuriating half-smile grew. ‘So you know she doesn’t want to be a princess, live in the palace, marry a young and handsome Grand Duke— Oh, and inherit the fifty million euros that is her inheritance and dowry from the duchy?’
Fifty million euros? Charlie felt a cold shiver run down his back. Good God. He hadn’t thought about the money; he’d been too furious to think. He’d concentrated on what he would lose, what he wanted.
What about Lia? Would she want the money, the lifestyle, the whole thing? What if she was attracted to the Grand Duke? Would Charlie ruin everything for her because he wanted to return to his life?
As if tapping into his thoughts, Jazmine asked conversationally, ‘Have you always made decisions for Lia? I hear she runs a successful ballet school. Do you decide what concerts she’ll do, check the accounts, or help her run it?’
‘Of course not,’ he snapped, hating that she was right. He had no right to decide for Lia. And he was really irritated that the snooty princess was holding all the cards. He knew nothing of this country, his new family or the laws. The only power he had was his independence. His ‘pig-headed pride’, as Lia put it.
He grinned suddenly, thinking of his sister as Princess Lia. Just as well his name wasn’t Luke, or this whole thing really would have been a farce.
But, much as he hated to admit it, the ‘Mona-Lisa princess’ sitting across from him was correct. The title suited her, he thought sourly, with her intriguing, frustrating little smile, and eyes that saw too much. He had no right to decide the future for Lia. His shy, family-loving, homebody sister might hanker after the fairy-tale ending most women dreamed of, and after everything she’d been through she deserved it.
‘What do you want from me?’ he growled, backed into a corner for Lia’s sake.
As if knowing she’d boxed him in, her smile turned hopeful. ‘I only want you to give this life a chance before you disappear. And, please, stop trying to be my white knight. If you’re no prince, I’m no damsel in distress.’
He felt the flush creeping up his neck. She was right. The fireman in him had crossed the world to a new kind of burning building, ready to carry out the helpless female trapped in a situation not of her making…or liking.
The muscles on her face didn’t move, but he knew she was smiling inside. That mysterious twinkle in her eyes, lurking deep, fascinated him with her unspoken secrets.
‘And?’ He could tell there was more.
‘There’s more at stake than your privacy, independence and pride, Charlie. Lives hang in the balance.’ She leaned forward in earnest entreaty as she said his name again, and a hint of soft cleavage showed through the correct folds of her silky blouse.
Was her skin as silky-soft? Would she say his name with that sweet, sexy little burr as he slipped that blouse from her shoulders and down…?
Shove it, jerk. She’s a princess. With her minders, there’s no chance of touching her before the wedding night. And a wedding night—or a wedding—just isn’t happening!
The only reason he was listening to her was because he didn’t know what Lia wanted. He knew what he wanted. And that wasn’t about to change, no matter how pretty and appealing the princess was. Because she was a princess, she came with her own set of royal chains, and he wasn’t the guy to slip his wrists into the king’s cuffs for any amount of money or power. She was bred to this life. He was here by accident of birth.
‘So whose life is at stake?’ He was proud of the even tone. Control established.
She frowned, her head tilting a little. ‘You don’t want to know what your inheritance is?’
For a moment he was tempted. Then the realization came: she’d only asked to weaken his resolve, to appeal to his greed—and when that didn’t work no doubt she’d try another tack. She’d keep gently chipping away at his walls until, deprived of a safe perch, he’d fall off. And, like Humpty Dumpty, if he fell no amount of king’s horses or men would put his life back the way it had been.
Surely she’d seen enough of him to know the only good he could do this place was to get back on that jet and return to his anonymous life in Sydney? If he hadn’t even been able to help his own sister through anorexia, how the hell could he run a country?
‘No, thanks,’ he said abruptly. ‘If I can’t take it home with me, there’s no point. So, what are the stakes? Whose lives “hang in the balance”, as you put it so eloquently?’
She’d bitten her lip as he spoke—not on the outside, no, that wouldn’t be classy enough for the perfect princess. But she’d worried the inside of her lip, and for some reason he couldn’t fathom he found the act touching…sweet, and somehow lonely.
When she spoke, it was with a kind of desperate resolve. ‘The lives and future of the people of Hellenia. Lasting peace in our nation.’
His brows lifted. ‘All that depends on me?’ he mocked, to cover the fact that he had the same sinking feeling in his gut he felt when he saw a fire gone beyond his ability to extinguish it.
‘Yes.’ Her eyes grew soft with pleading. ‘Grandfather seems almost immortal, but he’s eighty-two, and he’s had two heart attacks already. If he dies without naming a male heir, it will mean disaster for Hellenia. It’s obvious you believe you’re the wrong man for the job, Charlie.’ His body heated up again, hearing the blurry way she said his name. ‘But don’t judge Hellenia’s needs or your suitability until you know our history. Being one of the few absolute monarchies left in the world—’
Before she could finish the State of the Nation address, she appeared to think better of it; her voice dropped, and turned husky with emotion. ‘There’s been such suffering in our country since your grandfather left. It can end with us.’ Her words held entreaty and conviction—no longer the Princess dolly, but showing a bare hint of the passionate woman he’d seen before, and it
