Indian Prince's Hidden Son

‘It has been a while...’ Theo murmured, agreeing in order to soothe.

His gaze locked on the scene unfolding outside the theatre door. The blind-haste brunette was still rummaging in her bag. Unlike most of the women present, she wasn’t wearing a shimmering gown. Inst

ead black slim trousers encased her long, long legs. He focused on her feet and saw black flats—so, unaided by towering heels, that striking height was all her own? Interest rippled through him like the faintest breeze bringing relief on a hot summer’s noon. She wore a black wool cardigan beneath which a grey blouse was buttoned to the neck. The dull combination gave nothing away of her figure, other than that she was slender. But it was her expression that pushed him closer.

She was still searching through her bag while casting desperate glances at the unmoved usher and as Theo neared he heard her talking endlessly in a hushed, frantic whisper. Was she trying to buy time? Faking her way in? She was doing a good job because she tugged something even in Theo’s safely entombed heart. Her eyes glimmered with suspicious brightness and her cheeks paled as the doors further along from hers were shut.

‘If not Angelica—’

‘Arrange it,’ Theo decisively interrupted Dimitri. The thought of some possible bride parade was crazy, but he’d consent just to give Dimitri something to look forward to.

He walked towards the pair standing at the last open door to the theatre. The woman had whitened beyond pale and interesting. Any more loss of blood and she’d faint. The honest entreaty in her expression lanced through him. Not faking. Mortified.

‘Introduce me to your three top picks,’ he authorised his grandfather.

‘You’re serious?’ Dimitri wheezed.

‘Yes.’ Theo sighed, serious about meeting them, but not about marrying any. ‘You’re tired and worrying.’ And the old man was bored with being bedridden. At the very least this would give him something satisfactory to think about for the rest of the evening. ‘Make the arrangements.’

If it would settle the old man’s pulse, then he’d handle a couple of weekends being polite to houseguests. The nurse had warned his grandfather might experience a period of feeling low—apparently it sometimes followed lifesaving surgery. Theo would do almost anything to lift his spirits.

‘I’m flying home first thing so I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk more about it then, I promise. I need to work now.’

‘Good, Theodoros,’ his grandfather muttered huskily. ‘Thank you.’

Theo paused, an arrow of discomfort silencing him. Usually Dimitri was all steel—unblemished and immoveable, capably tolerating the burning heat of business, but today, in revealing his wishes for Theo to find a wife? Dimitri discussing any kind of relationship rang Theo’s warning bell, reminding him that Dimitri was more vulnerable than he appeared. And his grandfather didn’t need to thank him, Theo was the one who owed. Everything.

‘It’s all right.’ He cleared his own husky throat. ‘Sleep well.’

He ended the call and walked the last few paces of the foyer. As the main financial backer for this ballet production, he’d been given the best seat in the house. Which, if he wasn’t mistaken, he’d just forfeited because the usher had closed the door with brutal finality.

If he’d walked a little faster, he might’ve made it but he was still distracted by that trouble in the form of a tall brunette. And he badly needed a moment of distraction.

‘I’m so sorry.’ She pleaded with the usher as she swept back behind her ear a tendril that had loosened from the long braid that hung down her back. Her eyes were very large and very worried and she desperately ransacked her bag yet again. ‘I had it, I promise I had it—’

‘I’m sorry, ma’am.’ The usher stood, an impenetrable force, in front of the shut door. ‘But without your ticket...’

Leggy Brunette’s slender shoulders slumped. ‘Yes, of course. It’s just that...it was in here.’ She searched her trouser pockets, then glanced around the floor as if somehow her ticket would materialise. ‘I promise I had it...’

‘Unfortunately it’s too late.’ The usher brusquely ended the conversation.

Hunching as if to hide, Leggy Brunette turned away, the curve of her pretty mouth dropping.

‘Problem?’ Theo stepped sideways, into her path.

She glanced up at him absently, then stopped dead. Her eyes widened and her second glance turned into a shocked stare. Theo happily stared back.

Her eyes were more than blue, they had a hint of pale purple, and he took another step closer on auto. ‘You couldn’t find your ticket?’

She shook her head and kept staring.

Theo couldn’t hold back a small smile. Apparently she couldn’t find her voice either. He was used to getting a reaction from women, but rendering one speechless?

At least some colour was flooding back into her face. But suddenly she swallowed and turned away. He couldn’t resist following. She stopped at the nearest table and, amused, he watched as yet again she fruitlessly searched her bag. He caught a glimpse of something bulky in its depths, surely not a blanket?

‘You know, they’ll never let anyone in late,’ he said softly to let her down gently. ‘They won’t interrupt the performance once it’s begun.’

She dropped her hands and darted another glance at him. ‘I know.’ Her voice was adorably husky with her English accent soft and clear. ‘It’s just that I had it.’

And she really wanted to watch the ballet? Her ticket loss was definitely genuine. Her sharp disappointment nicked his skin and the absurd desire to see her smile slid into his blood.

‘Oh, Mr Savas.’ The theatre usher suddenly appeared at his side, looking flustered. ‘I can sneak you in if you’d like to follow me quickly...’

For a split second his eyes met those lavender-blues and he watched the consternation bloom within them.

‘I wouldn’t want to interrupt the rest of the audience,’ he dismissed the usher’s invitation smoothly. ‘But thank you anyway.’

The usher beat a hasty retreat and Theo faced Leggy Brunette.

‘No one gets in late unless they’re ridiculously rich?’ she muttered, soft reproach in her expression.

Uh... Yeah. ‘I have a spare ticket you can use for the second half,’ he murmured impulsively.

She looked away again as if the sight of him somehow hurt her unusual eyes. ‘Um...’ She fiddled with the strap of her insanely huge bag. ‘That’s really kind of you, but I couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’ he asked. He wanted her to say yes and Theo was pretty used to getting what he wanted these days. ‘It’s a spare ticket,’ he reiterated. ‘You can still see the entire second half.’

Her hand twisted in the strap while more colour rose in her cheeks. He knew she was tempted, but wary.

‘There’s no trick,’ he reassured softly. ‘Just a ticket.’

She drew her lower lip between her teeth and bit down on it. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ He chuckled. People didn’t usually dilly-dally about taking things from him. ‘It’s not a big deal.’

That colour swarmed more deeply and she quickly glanced past him. ‘You...don’t have a date you’re here with?’

Was that the reason for her incredulous expression? He suppressed another smile. ‘No. Do you?’

‘No.’ She shook her head quickly.

Satisfaction surged with surprising force. ‘Then I guess it’s meant to be, right?’

‘I...’ She paused. ‘Right.’

‘And now we might as well have a drink while we wait, don’t you think?’ He nodded towards the gleaming theatre bar, his body thrumming with anticipation.

She turned to face him, her lavender eyes gazed directly into his and her chin lifted with a little pride. ‘May I get you a drink, to say thank you?’

For a second Theo was bereft of speech. The women he dated never offered to pay. They knew him, knew how wealthy he was and they were happy to meld into his lifestyle. But his brunette in distress had no idea who he was and apparently had no desire to just take whatever she could from him.

‘Please,’ she added. ‘I would

n’t want to feel indebted to you.’

Indebted by a mere ballet ticket? That thread of sensual awareness tightened. Was she worried he’d ask her to pay him back in some nefarious way? Well, she could remain calm, Theo had never needed to coerce a woman in his life. He might have money, but he wasn’t spoiled and he’d never presume.

‘Okay,’ he said equably, but then couldn’t resist teasing her prim dignity. ‘But are you sure you have your wallet on you? You wouldn’t want to make offers you can’t fulfil.’

‘Very funny.’ Sparks lit her lavender eyes, but then her expression wrinkled. ‘Damn it, you’ve made me need to check now.’ She rummaged in her bag again—were those chopsticks in there? But then she extracted a small coin purse with a flourish. No sleek leather wallet filled with elite credit cards for her.

‘I knew I had it,’ she said victoriously. ‘But I swear I had the ticket too.’ She groaned ruefully. ‘What an idiot.’ A sudden little giggle bubbled out.

To his astonishment, his whole world narrowed until he saw only her—sparkling eyes and pretty lips and delight—and he found himself smiling back at her. Frankly it was the most he’d smiled in months.

‘How about you go ahead and order?’ he suggested huskily. ‘I need a second to arrange the seat with the staff.’

‘What would you like to drink?’

‘You choose.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll have whatever you’re having.’

‘Are you sure you want to risk that?’ she asked, her expression wrinkled again.

‘Why?’ He was surprised into another smile. ‘Now I’m intrigued. Quick, go decide for the both of us.’

He couldn’t resist watching her walk towards the bar. He really was intrigued—she was a contrary mix of shy and awkward and assured. Tall, slender, feminine and acutely refreshing. Just the tonic given the last two months of stress, isolation and uncertainty. But she was definitely cautious and perhaps she was right to be, given his inner temptation was to skip the ballet altogether and carry her back to his bed for the night. He’d worship those long limbs and work very hard to put a smile on her pillowy pout...