pushed the button. The gold doors slid open and they stepped inside. The trip down to the lobby was quick, and they breezed through the opulent room quickly, making their way to the front.
There was a limousine waiting for them, black and shiny. Formal. It didn’t fit with what she’d seen of Stavros so far. He didn’t seem like the type of man who would choose to ride in something so traditional.
He seemed to lurk around the edges of traditional, doing everything a man of his station must do, while keeping one toe firmly over the line of disreputable. It ought to make him obnoxious. It ought to make him less attractive. It didn’t.
He opened the door for her and they both slid inside. She sighed, grateful for the air-conditioning. Kyonos was beautiful, but if the breeze from the sea wasn’t moving inland it could be hotter than blazes for a girl from North Dakota.
As soon as they settled in and the limo was on the road, she turned to him. “So, why a limo?”
“It’s how things are done,” he said. He pushed on a panel and it popped open, revealing two bottles of beer on ice. “More or less.”
She laughed and held her hand out. “You’re about fifteen degrees off unexpected, aren’t you?”
He chuckled and handed her a bottle. “Am I?”
“Yes. Hiring a matchmaker to find you a wife and drinking beer in a limo. I’d say you’re not exactly what people expect in a prince.”
“There are protocols that must be observed, responsibilities that must handled. But there are other things that have a bit more leeway.”
“And you take it.”
He shrugged. “You have to take hold to the pleasures in life, right?”
“If by pleasures, you mean shoes, then yes.”
He laughed and took a bottle opener from a hook on the door and extended his hand, popping the top on the bottle for her. “A true gentleman,” she said. “And clearly a professional. Get a lot of practice in college?”
“Like most people.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“I did two years in the U.K., two in the U.S.”
She nodded. “You would be best suited to a woman who’s well traveled, who understands a variety of cultures. Probably someone multilingual.”
“Because I’m clearly so cultured?” he asked, raising his bottle. He relaxed his posture, his arm over draped over the back of his seat. There was something so inviting about the pose. The perfect spot for a partner to sit and snuggle against him …
She blinked. “Well, yes, you have to be able to communicate with your spouse. Connect with them on a cerebral level.”
“Most of the women I’ve dated have only connected with me on one level, but it’s a level I’ve found to be very important.” The suggestive tone of his voice left no doubt as to just what level he was referring to.
She cleared her throat and tried to banish the heat in her cheeks. For heaven’s sake. Talking about sex was normal in her job. It was part of the job, because it was part of relationships. It never made her … blush. She was actually blushing. Really and truly. Like a schoolgirl. Ridiculous.
After enough invasive doctor visits for three lifetimes she thought she’d lost the ability to do that years ago.
“And I consider that important, too,” she said, knowing she sounded stiff and a little bit prudish, and she absolutely wasn’t either thing, so she had no idea why. “But you will be expected to see each other outside of the bedroom.”
“Of course,” he said. “But as I said, I have my priorities. Even sexual attraction takes a backseat to a spotless reputation and the ability to produce heirs.”
“Right. And how do we establish for certain if she can … produce heirs?”
“Most women can, I assume.” He said it with such throwaway carelessness. As though the idea of a woman not being able to have children was almost ridiculous.
She pursed her lips. “And some can’t.” Why did the subject always make her feel sick? Why did it always make her feel like a failure?
Well, discussing the ability to bear children as an essential trait of a queen, a wife, was never going to be easy, no matter how much peace she imagined she’d made with her lot in life.
“As we get closer to choosing someone, we’ll have to undergo a medical screening.”
“You’ll be required to do the same,” she said.
“Will I?”
“Well, yes, I’m not allowing any of the women I might find for you to sleep with you until I establish that you have a clean bill of health.”
“You need me to get tested for STDs?”
“Yes. I do. You’re planning on having children with the woman who marries you, which means unprotected sex. And that means a risk to the health of your wife.”
“I assume the women will be undergoing the same tests?”
“All of the women who come to me, all of the women and men in my file, are required to submit those test results to me.”
“As it happens, I just got tested. Clean. You can have the results if you like.”
“I would like them. And I assume you won’t be taking on any more sexual partners while we undergo this process?” She felt her cheeks heating again. The topic of sex and Stavros, in the close proximity of the limo, was just a bit too much.
His eyes flickered over her, leaving heat behind. “Naturally not,” he said, the words coming slowly. Unconvincingly. “And I haven’t had one in quite a while.”
“Good. Also, you will not sleep with the women I introduce to you. They know the rules. I don’t allow sex between my clients.”
“You don’t?” he asked, an incredulous laugh in his voice.
“Not until a match is set and I’m not longer involved. Clearly, the relationship can still dissolve, but I’m not a pimp. I’m not prostituting anyone, and I’m not allowing them to prostitute themselves. This is about creating a relationship, a real lasting relationship, not about helping people hook up casually.”
“I suppose, running it as a business, you would have to be careful of that,” he said.
“Very. When I was starting the business I was really excited, and then I realized what it could quickly turn into if I didn’t lay the rules out. Men … well, and women … could use it to find suitable people to … use. And that’s not what I want.”
“So, you’re not a big one for romance, and yet, this is what you choose to do for a living? Why is that?”
She looked out the window, at the crystalline sea and white sand blurring into a wash of color. “It was
