his manner betrayed him.
“Well, no, but I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow, so … no. But we can talk about it now. I’ve had a chance to think about what you’ve told me and I’ve been through my system. I also called two of the three women I’m thinking of and if you’re agreeable to them, they’re willing to come for consideration.”
“This is like an old-fashioned marriage mart.”
“Well, these sorts of marriages are,” she said. Strangely, she felt like comforting him. She didn’t know why. “Granted, you’re the first actual prince I’ve worked with. But I’ve dealt with lesser royals. Billionaires with an interest in preserving their fortunes. Women with family money who wanted an alliance with businessmen who could help them make the most of their assets. People have all kinds of reasons for choosing to go about things this way. Some of these women have money, but no title, while others have a title but are … low on funds.”
“Ah. A title, but no money and a need for a husband with wealth.”
“Some of them. Though this one …” She pulled up a picture of a smiling blonde. “Victoria Calder. She’s English, from a very well-to-do family. She’s not titled but she’s wealthy. She’s been to the best schools. She has her own money and she donates a lot of it to charities. As far as my research has taken me, and it took me to the far and seedy recesses of the internet, her reputation is as spotless as a sacrificial lamb. So if a prominent title isn’t important …”
“As long as you think she would be suitable to the position, she can be considered.”
“So basically fertile and scandal-free. And able to handle public appearances with grace and poise, of course.”
Stavros took the tablet from Jessica’s hand and looked at the photo of the woman on the screen. She was beautiful. More than beautiful, really. He couldn’t find fault with her features. A small, pert nose, pretty, well-shaped lips, rosy cheeks, pale blue eyes.
Yet she did nothing for him. She didn’t stir his blood. She didn’t interest him. More than that, just looking at her made his throat feel like it was tightening. The impression of a noose.
He preferred Jessica’s face. Her longer nose, fuller lips, cat green eyes that tilted at the corners. And her figure … she was like a pin-up girl.
He wondered, not too briefly, if she favored old-fashioned undergarments to go with her vintage dresses. Stockings and garters.
That caused a surge of blood to pump south of his belt. She was a distraction. A temptation. A welcome one, in many ways.
“Yes.” He shouldn’t be allowing distraction now. He had to focus on finding his bride.
Though, Ms. Jessica Carter would make an intriguing lover. She was all soft curves and pale skin. But her eyes … they showed a fire he imagined she set free in the bedroom. She was spicy, her tongue always ready to flay the skin cleanly off the bone if necessary.
Just as she’d pronounced his commanding personality a plus in bedroom activities, he imagined her sharp mind and bold tongue would earn her points in her own BA category.
It would be so sweet. So good. And a welcome distraction from the marriage talk.
“Anyway,” Jessica continued, pulling him from his fantasy, “she’s one I would like to invite to your sister’s wedding.”
“And she’s aware of just what she’ll be invited for?”
Jessica nodded. “Yes. All of the women I’m working with have come to me, seeking out husbands that are suitable to their backgrounds and financial level, just the same as you.”
“I see. So invariably my future wife will be after a title and wealth—” he looked at the photo of the blonde again “—just as I am.”
“Fair is fair. You both know just what you’re getting into. No false expectations. Not if I can help it.”
“No false expectations? Then can I assume you’re including a list of my faults in the file you’ll be sending on to the women involved?”
“Only if they make it past a certain point in the process. Discretion,” she said.
“Of course.” He looked at her face, illuminated and washed gold by the afternoon sun. She was beautiful. Not due to perfection of features, or from the expertly applied makeup, though. Her features were beautiful, and her makeup was expertly done. But it was something more. Something deeper.
She was captivating. Different.
Sexy.
His stomach tightened. “And the first wave of the process begins at my sister’s wedding.”
“That’s right. Is that okay? Or do you feel it will detract from—”
“It’s fine,” he interrupted. It was strange to think of Evangelina married. To think of her as a woman rather than a little girl. “My sister is in love,” he said.
“That’s good. Since she’s getting married.”
He gave her a look. “But you know that’s not really how things work around here. Not necessarily.”
“True.”
“She was meant to marry for the good of Kyonos. She is marrying her bodyguard instead.”
“Are you angry about it?” she asked, her eyes meeting his, the glittering green light in them far too perceptive.
“Not in the least. Anger is a completely unproductive emotion.” As were most emotions. He’s witnessed it firsthand. He made sure he didn’t have time for them.
“But that leaves only you.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I can do it.”
“And your brother …”
“Might as well be dead. He doesn’t care for his country. He doesn’t care for his family, his people. He might as well have died with our mother.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue and he wished he had some ouzo to wash it out with. Bitterness wasn’t helpful, either.
As if on command, a waiter appeared with a tray, laden with food and drinks, and set them down on their table. Stavros took the drink first, while Jessica picked up a stuffed grape leaf and turned it in her fingers.
He took a quick hit of the strong alcohol. “I’m happy for Eva. And her husband does bring a lot to the country in terms of assets and security. Mak is a billionaire several times over. She’s hardly marrying beneath herself, even if he isn’t royalty.”
Beneath Stavros’s casual manner, Jessica could sense his dark mood. He was very good at playing smooth, very good at coming across as the genial prince. Ready to smile for a photograph. Never caught scowling by a scandal-hungry public, who would latch onto the salacious headline declaring one grumpy expression proof of some sort of national crisis.
And yet, she could feel that something wasn’t right. That there was something beneath it.
He
