King's Ransom (Man on a Mission 2)

Andre was sitting in the same easy chair he’d been sitting in before, reading and marking comments on a document he held in his hand. The stack of documents on the table beside him that he’d already reviewed was substantial, and Juliana felt a little stab of guilt that he’d been waiting so long while she slept. The skin around his eyes looked a little weary, too, when he glanced up at her entrance. Weary, as if he hadn’t slept at all, although his eyes blazed bright green when he saw her. And Juliana couldn’t help but blurt out the question. “Did you get any sleep?”

Andre placed the document on the table, stood and held out his arms to her. She walked into them as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and they closed tightly around her. She tilted her face, mutely asking, and he kissed her. Long. Slow. Savoring.

Eventually he raised his head and smiled down at her, answering her earlier question. “We have plans to make, little one. How could I sleep?”

“What plans?”

“I realize you must return to Los Angeles for your friend’s funeral. And you must finish filming King’s Ransom, but the producer assures me a few more weeks back in Hollywood should suffice to wrap things up. Will you wish to continue your acting career after we are married? It would be difficult, but not impossible. Your royal duties will have to take precedence, of course, but—”

“Married?” Juliana stared at him in shock, barely able to get the word out.

The smile faded from his face and he went very still. “I told you earlier I would never let you go. What did you think I meant?”

“I... It never occurred to me that you...that we...” she fumbled.

“You thought I would just take you...until I tired of you? Is that it?” he asked tightly, harshly. “Is that what you thought of me?”

The pain in his eyes coursed through her. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I knew you loved me, but I...I honestly didn’t think beyond that. I just knew I wanted to be with you, too...in any way I could.” Her eyes pleaded for understanding. “Andre, please. Please don’t look like that. I love you!”

“Yes, you love me,” he said in an emotionless voice. “But it is like before. You still see me as a man who could take you and then walk away. You still see me as the prince who took your virginity and never promised you anything.”

He clenched his jaw as if other words wanted to escape, bitter accusations he refused to let himself voice. Then he turned sharply away and headed for the door. “How long?” she heard him whisper to himself in Zakharan in utter despair and realized she wasn’t meant to hear. “Must I pay forever for one mistake?”

Juliana flew across the room and caught him before he could leave. “No,” she said, throwing her arms around him from behind, pressing her body against his, holding him fiercely. “I don’t think of you that way,” she told him. “Not anymore.” His body was rigid beneath her grasp but she could hear his rapid heartbeat beneath her ear, and she knew he wasn’t as indifferent to her as he tried to appear. “Please,” she whispered. “Please look at me.”

He peeled her hands from his chest and turned, setting her away from him. “If not that, then what, Juliana?” he asked coolly, and she saw he had retreated behind defenses she would have to fight to tear down. He smiled cynically. “Or perhaps I am asking too much of you. To sacrifice the love and adulation of millions...in exchange for what one man has to offer.”

“How can you think I give a damn about that?” she began angrily. Her acting career had always been her second choice, the only viable option left to her after Andre had brutally rejected her love. “That’s not—” Then his words from early this morning came back to her. “All that matters is finally...finally...you came to me again after I have waited so long.” What had he meant? If he’d been waiting for her to come to him, he couldn’t possibly have sent those men to drive her away. He couldn’t possibly...

Other words from earlier crowded into her memory. “You were mine eleven years ago, little one. You are mine again. That is all. It is enough. But this time I will never let you go.” And suddenly she knew. The answer to all the questions she’d never gotten to ask him, including the latest—why hadn’t he answered when she’d tried to contact him? “My father was right. You didn’t send those men to me eleven years ago, did you?”

“What men?” Even though she already knew the answer, the honest perplexity in his face was the last piece of evidence she needed.