Possessiveness. The image of all of her clients getting the sort of special treatment he had been on the receiving end of made him want to pull her to him again, to make sure she didn’t forget what it was like to be kissed by him. To make sure she never forgot.
That was as foreign as all the other emotions she’d brought out in him over the past few days. Jealousy implied some sort of special connection, and a fear of that connection being threatened.
He gritted his teeth, fought against the tightness in his chest. Flirting. That would put the distance back between them. Something light. Sexual.
“Hardly,” she said. Unable to read his mood, she kept her tone casual. “Indulge me, though, since I’ve now confessed that I don’t kiss my other clients. What exactly are you hiding?” She tilted her head, her green eyes assessing. Far too assessing for his taste. Too sincere.
It made it impossible to find that false front. Made him feel something shift deep inside himself.
“No skeletons in my closet,” he said. “But of course I have to live a certain way, conduct myself in a certain way.”
“You aren’t exactly a traditional ruler.”
“It’s not just tradition. It’s about instilling confidence. Showing stability. Emotion … that has no place. I must be charming, confident, at ease at all times.”
“I’ve never heard a whispered rumor that you were anything but.”
He looked out into the darkness, at the black ocean, moonlight glittering across the choppy surface. “I know. Because I don’t slip up. Ever.”
He had, though. He had slipped up with her. He had let go of his control, control he’d been forced to cultivate when he’d been named heir to the throne. He’d let go of it completely in those moments his lips had touched hers. Not control against physical desire, but the control he kept so tightly over his feelings.
Jessica laughed, a sad, hollow sound. “I’m certain I do. Sometimes.”
“What about you, Ms. Carter?” he said. “What are you hiding?” He turned to her, studying her face in the dim light. It seemed imperative to know her secrets. And he wasn’t certain why it would be. But just like last night, he was going to let his guard drop. Just for a moment. Just to follow that heavy, aching feeling in his chest. To give it some satisfaction.
The corners of her mouth twitched slightly. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
Warmth spread through him. In him. An alien feeling. One he was compelled to chase for the moment. “And that would create an international incident.”
“It would prick my conscience as well, so maybe I should keep it to myself,” she said, a small curve in her lips. It wasn’t really a smile, though. It was too sad for that. “Better question, if you could be anything, I mean, if the whole world was open to you, what would you be?”
He frowned. “If I wasn’t in line to rule Kyonos?”
“If you weren’t royal at all. If you could have anything you desired, without obligation, what would you do?”
It was the thing he never let himself wonder. The alternate reality that wasn’t even allowed in his dreams. But he was cheating now. Cheating on his own standards for himself.
For a fleeting moment, he had a vision of a life that was his own. A life with a woman of his choosing, in a home of his choosing. With children who wouldn’t know the pain, the responsibility of a royal lineage depending on them. With love.
He shoved the image aside. “I would run my corporation,”
he said. He had a sudden image of sailing a ship around the world and wondered if he’d told the truth.
“Would you get married?” she asked, a strange tone to her voice.
“Yes,” he said, the answer almost surprising him. But in that little, warm hint of fantasy, there had been a wife. There had been kids. And it wasn’t hard to breathe. “Yes,” he said again.
“Hmm.” She turned and walked to the end of the terrace, resting her hands on the railing.
He followed her, standing behind her, watching the sea breeze tug wisps of hair from her updo, letting them fall around her neck. He wanted to brush them aside. To kiss her shoulder. Her neck. Not just because he wanted her, but to feel connected to her.
A deadly desire.
“Why do you do it?” she asked. “Why is this so important?”
She was asking for more honesty. For answers he wasn’t sure he had. “I … When my mother died things fell apart. And the one thing that seemed real, that seemed to matter, was Kyonos. It was the one thing I could fix. The one place I could … matter.”
As he spoke the words, he realized that they were true. That every change he’d made, every effort he’d put forth, had been not just about helping his country, but about finding new purpose for himself.
“What about you?” he asked, ready to shift the spotlight off of himself.
She didn’t speak for a long time. When she did, she spoke slowly, cautiously. “In this scenario, reality isn’t playing a part, right?”
“Right,” he said, voice rough. He waited for her next words, anticipated them like a man submerged beneath the waves anticipated breaking the surface, desperate to take a breath.
She lowered her head, her eyes on her hands. “I would be a wife. A mother …” Her voice broke on the last word. “And maybe I would still do this, or maybe not. I don’t know if I would … need it. But … I would be a mother.”
She pushed off from the railing. “Back to reality,” she said, trying to smile. Failing. “I’m going to bed.”
He nodded, watching as she walked past him.
I would be a mother.
There was something so sad, so defeated in the admission. It made his chest tighten, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. He’d never had someone else’s feelings inhabit his body in this way. But he was certain that’s what was happening. That the oppressive weight that had just invaded him was the same sadness that filled her.
Maybe Jessica wasn’t as happily divorced as she appeared to be. And maybe she wasn’t quite as hard as she appeared to be, either.
She was running interference for Stavros and his harem today, and she wasn’t all that thrilled about it. It was getting harder to chuck other women in his direction when she just wanted to throw herself at him.
Not happening, but still. She was so envious of her clients that she was developing a twitch.
And for heaven’s sake, she never should have said all that about being a mother. Should never have asked him what he wanted. Should never have tried to get to know him. Because it didn’t matter. It just didn’t. There was no point in suspending reality, even for a moment.
There was no escaping reality. You couldn’t outrun it.
