he had a wife had sent his world spinning off its axis. But her feelings—his feelings—would only delay the annulment needed to remedy this “complication” so he could marry Julianna and help his country. “It is a lot to take in.”
“Take in?” Sharp, brown eyes bore into him. “Okay, Niko or whoever you are, cut the bull and tell me what’s really going on here.”
He stared at Isabel with the dirty, baggy coveralls, lopsided ponytail and grease on her hands and cheek. She might be halfway attractive with her oval face, high cheekbones and expressive eyes, if she weren’t dressed like a man and covered in motor oil.
“Come on, Niko.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Spill.”
He expected her lack of protocol and manners, but the strength in her voice surprised him, as did her take-no-prisoner tone. Most people kowtowed to him. Few ever challenged him. He was … intrigued. “I am speaking the truth. I am your husband.”
She pursued her full, unglossed lips and gave him a long, hard look. He was used to such a frank appraisal, but unlike most women, Isabel did not seem impressed by what she saw. He didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed by this woman who worked at a dilapidated garage fixing other people’s broken-down vehicles.
“I told you. I’ve never seen you before,” she said. “We can’t be married.”
“Indeed we can. You simply do not remember.”
Isabel’s gaze remained steady. “I think I’d remember getting married.”
“Not if you were only a few months old at the time.”
Her mouth formed a perfect O. “What?”
“I was only six years old when we married, and my memories are very vague.”
Almost nonexistent, but he needed to convince Isabel of what had occurred twenty-three years ago, not add to the doubts shining in her pretty hazel eyes.
“Children marrying?” Isabel’s nostrils flared. “There are laws against that kind of thing.”
“Yes, and today it is illegal in Vernonia, but not twenty-three years ago.”
“This is crazy.” Her voice jumped an octave. “I’m an American.”
“Your mother was American, but your father was Vernonian.”
“My father.” Isabel’s glanced toward Jovan as if seeking confirmation. At his nod, her hands balled into fists. “Now I know you’re lying. My father’s name isn’t listed on my birth certificate. I have no idea who he is.”
The hurt and anger in her voice suggested she was telling the truth. There was no reason for her to lie. She had too much to gain by accepting what Niko was telling her. His respect inched up. Opportunists or not, many women would have jumped at the chance to be his wife. “I have proof.”
“You mean the box,” she said.
“The bride box, yes, but also documentation and a photograph.”
Curiosity flashed in Isabel’s eyes. “What kind of documentation?”
Her interest loosened some of the tension in his shoulders. Maybe the paper would convince her of the truth. He motioned to Jovan, who removed a leather pouch from his inside suit pocket with a flourish and handed it over.
As Niko opened the flap, he noticed two tall men in coveralls watching them from the garage.
No doubt the limousine and police cars would attract attention. Niko wanted to avoid the media at all cost. The annulment needed to be handled quietly with no press coverage. Before departing for the United States, he had been upfront with Julianna about the situation, but others from Aliestle might not be as understanding about the sudden appearance of “his wife” on the front page of tabloids. He didn’t want to risk losing her and what she would bring to Vernonia.
He glanced around. “I would prefer a more private place to discuss matters. Inside the limo perhaps?”
Isabel glared at him. “Do I look like the kind of woman who would get into a car with strangers?”
Niko assumed based on her reaction the answer wasn’t yes. “I may be a stranger, but I am your husband.”
“That remains to be seen.”
She wasn’t making this easy, but given her appearance he shouldn’t be surprised. “Perhaps the garage or if there is an office—”
“Here.”
He needed her cooperation. The last thing Niko wanted to do was upset her any more than he already had. He would allow her this much control.
“Fine. We shall remain here.” He removed two folded pieces of paper from the pouch. “I took the liberty of having the marriage certificate translated.”
She eyed him warily. “Marriage certificate, huh?”
He extended the papers toward her. “See for yourself.”
Instead of reaching for the documents as Niko expected, Isabel wiped her hands on the thighs of her oversize coveralls. The same way she had when she’d walked out of the garage.
Not totally without manners, he realized, but a far cry from the grace and style of a woman like Julianna. “These are copies so it doesn’t matter if they get dirty.”
Isabel took the documents and unfolded them. As she read, she flipped back and forth between the two pages.
Niko appreciated her thoroughness. Now all he needed was her compliance. Given how things were proceeding so far, that might take time. Especially since he hadn’t begun to explain the situation to her.
“The certificate actually looks legit,” she said.
“It is.”
“But it’s wrong.” She pointed her oil stained finger to the line with her mother’s name. “My mother was never married.”
He hesitated.
This “complication” went beyond Isabel Poussard being his child bride and standing in the way of him marrying Juliana and obtaining her significant dowry and trade support from Aliestle. Isabel might think she was a full-blooded American, but she wasn’t. She was also Vernonian, the last of the royal Sachestian bloodline. Her family came from Sachestia, a region in the northern part of the country. She was one of his subjects, one who knew nothing of her parents, her homeland or her past. Isabel deserved to know the truth, but a part of him felt awkward about what he had to do, say. He wished it were already over.
“Your mother, Evangeline Poussard, was an American college student. She was backpacking through Europe when she met Prince Aleksander Zvonimir.” Yesterday, Niko’s parents had explained what happened so he could explain it to Isabel today. “The two fell in love and eloped.”
She looked at Niko as if he’d grown horns. “My mother was married to a prince?”
“Yes.”
Isabel’s
