that, little princess, I am more sorry than you will ever know.
Your father is torn between the two sides wanting control of Vernonia. The Separatists first wanted to split into their own country, Sachestia, with your grandfather as king. Now they want to wrest full control from King Dmitar and take over the entire country, but your father would rather remain loyal to the throne and Vernonia. Your marriage, however, has unexpectedly antagonized both factions and made it impossible for him to support either side now. We must leave Vernonia as soon as possible. Your safety is our utmost concern. Once this craziness ends, we will happily return.
We do not dare leave the country together so we are sending you first. We are entrusting you to the care and protection of Franko Miroslav. He is your father’s chauffeur, and our dearest and closest friend. He will do whatever is necessary to keep you from harm. We have arranged passage and paperwork so the two of you can escape to the U.S. We will follow the next day.
No one knows of our plan, including the king. He’s a good man, but the fewer people who know your whereabouts the better. Your departure and location will remain a secret until it is safe.
Your father is telling me it’s time for you to go. I must sign off now, Isabel.
We love you, our darling Izzy, and hope to be with you soon.
Love,
Mommy and Daddy
Izzy took several deep breaths as the words sunk in. She’d never felt anything toward the woman in the photo Uncle Frank had shown her, a woman who wasn’t really her mother. But this letter written in her mother’s own hand provided Izzy with a connection to the woman who gave birth to her. Something she’d longed for since she was little. Something she’d hoped to find by looking for the key.
“True.” She sat back in the chair. The girl more comfortable in Shop class than Home Ec was a real-life princess with both a mother and a father. Everything the prince had said … “It’s all true.”
“I’m sorry,” Niko said.
Izzy believed him. No one wanted to discover they were married to a stranger.
Married.
Her stomach roiled.
Marriage was only part of this. Everything she thought she knew about herself was wrong. Izzy wrapped her arms around her stomach. She wasn’t who she thought she was. She had money. A title. A father.
Izzy recalled her parents’ smiling faces from the wedding photograph. A mother and a father who had loved her. A mother and a father who had been killed before she could get to know them.
Emotion clogged Izzy’s throat.
But it wasn’t too late to fulfill one of their wishes. Her parents had planned on returning to Vernonia. That must have meant Uncle Frank planned on going back, too.
Come to Vernonia with me. We will appear in front of the High Court and have this matter resolved quickly.
Maybe seeing the place where she came from would help her figure out who she was and what her future held. She could get the marriage annulled and receive her inheritance. Forget going to pit crew school. She could buy her own racing team.
Izzy rose. “When do you want to leave for Vernonia?”
CHAPTER THREE
When do you want to leave for Vernonia?
Sooner rather than later. Niko sat at the table in the recreational vehicle, also known as an RV, where Isabel lived. His concern over the press discovering the reason behind his unannounced trip to the U.S. continued to grow. But Isabel still had to shower, dress and pack. That would take time. They would be leaving later whether he liked it or not.
Isabel stood in front of the small refrigerator still wearing her bulky, stained coveralls. She rubbed her hands together as if nervous. “Would you like something to drink or eat?”
He appreciated her hospitality. Twenty-three years away from Vernonia hadn’t erased centuries of innate good breeding. “No, thank you.”
With a hesitant expression, she glanced toward the back of the RV. “It won’t take me more than a few minutes to get ready.”
A lump on the faded brown-and-orange plaid cushion behind his back made him shift positions. “The plane will not take off without us.”
As she closed a partition that separated the back portion of the motor home from the front section, Niko surveyed the interior with dismay. Warped wood veneer. Cracked cabinet and cupboard doors. Frayed carpeting. Cramped space. The RV had to be as old as Isabel.
What had Franko been thinking? Yes, the chauffeur needed to keep her safe, but why had he never contacted the king for assistance? Why had Franko allowed it to come to this?
Niko exhaled on a sigh.
Isabel was no damsel in distress. She’d impressed him with the way she’d dealt with her world being turned inside out. She hadn’t been blinded by his title or money. She wouldn’t accept his word as the truth without concrete evidence. Surprising, given she lived in near poverty in a shabby motor home with no family or resources. A princess of Vernonia deserved better than a life spent working long hours bent over a car engine and coming home to half a dozen barking, trembling Chihuahuas who lived next door.
She wouldn’t be his wife for much longer, but he wanted Isabel to have the kind of life her parents intended for her to have. She belonged in a castle.
The partition jiggled like it was stuck.
“Isabel?” Niko asked, wondering if she needed assistance.
“I’m almost finished,” she said from behind the thin wall.
He checked his watch. Five minutes. That had to be a world record. Then again, Isabel didn’t seem to be a woman who primped or even cared about her appearance.
The partition jerked open.
As she walked out of the back toward him, he did a doubletake. Her faded blue jeans fit like a second skin, clinging in all the right places, accentuating her feminine curves and long legs. The fabric of her T-shirt stretched across her chest. Her high, round breasts jiggled. Her shiny brown hair swung back and forth below her shoulders.
He met her gaze, captivated by her warm, brown eyes. An appealing mix of intelligence and caring shone in their depths.
This was his … wife?
“I’m ready to go,” Isabel announced.
So was he. Niko was ready to follow wherever she wanted to go.
“I don’t own a lot of clothes.” Isabel motioned to the worn purple duffel bag she carried behind her. The bride box with all its original contents was in the limousine with Jovan. “What I have probably isn’t nice enough to wear to court.”
“I will make arrangements for you to go shopping once we arrive.” He would head off any of her financial concerns. “Do not worry about the cost.”
“You’re
