The Virgin's Choice

His hands clenched into fists as he rubbed his stinging eyes. All he wanted was to have Rose in his arms, to share his joy about his half sister’s prognosis. For Christ’s sake, to even tell her that Laetitia was his sister!

Instead, he’d made a promise he never wanted to keep. He was powerless to pursue her. And now he was a prisoner of his own word.

Maybe it was for the best, he told himself wearily. God knew Rose deserved better than a man like him. She deserved a husband with an open, loving heart, an equal partner who would share everything with her—not a closed-off, vengeful man with a scarred heart like Xerxes.

But I can change, his heart cried. I already have changed, because of her.

All he wanted was for her to be happy. And the last time he’d seen her, her face had been so wan and pale, her eyes so sad, as she’d driven past him in the Ferrari with Växborg at her side. The baron, on the other hand, had looked smug and satisfied.

And something more.

Xerxes blinked. What had been in the man’s eyes? He’d been too distracted by worry and grief to pay much attention to Växborg at the time, but now there’d been something in the man’s expression. He’d dismissed Växborg as a weakling. But even a weakling could be vicious when cornered.

Trying to tell himself he had nothing to worry about, Xerxes reached for his cell phone. His hands shook as he dialed the number of her parents’ house an hour to the south.

But when Vera answered on the third ring, she sounded bewildered at his questions. “Rose? No, we haven’t seen her. No, she hasn’t called. Why? What’s wrong? We thought she was with you!”

“I’ll explain later,” Xerxes replied, but when he hung up his whole body was cold with sweat.

Rose would not have willingly run off with Växborg. She detested the man’s lack of morals, his selfish cruelty. She would have wanted to go straight home to her family. She wouldn’t have detoured for a cozy chat with the baron.

At least not willingly.

Xerxes raked his black hair back with his hand. How could he have been so arrogant as to assume that Växborg was no threat, and he would meekly accept Rose’s refusal? How could he have believed the man would relinquish her—and her new fortune—without a fight?

The man’s weakness, his cowardice, were exactly what made him dangerous. And now Xerxes could do nothing to save her.

Sucking in his breath, he punched the concrete wall of the clinic, causing little pieces of rock to crumble and scatter. Blood oozed from his knuckles as he covered his face with his hands. He was helpless to find the woman he loved.

Or was he?

Slowly, he lowered his hands.

All his life, he’d considered his promise to be his worth as a man. But in this moment, he realized that there was something even more sacred than a man’s word.

His love.

It was honor beyond any promise: A man had to protect his woman.

He had to keep Rose safe.

Opening his cell phone, he dialed his chief bodyguard, his top private investigators, his connections in San Francisco, even the sheriff in Rose’s hometown. No car accidents had been reported. As he waited for news, Xerxes paced back and forth in the parking lot of the medical clinic. He no longer felt the cold drizzle of the rain against his face. His muscles ached to jump into his car and drive to find her. But where? Which direction should he go?

Lars wouldn’t take her to a motel. He wouldn’t take her anywhere she might be seen. And he no longer had the money to charter a plane.

Unless he married Rose. Xerxes had thought it was such a tidy way to get revenge on Lars, to use the man’s arrogance and greed against him, to get Laetitia to safety while allowing Rose to make her own choice about her life. He raked his hair back again. He’d been a fool!

The phone rang in his hands and he answered on the first ring. “Yes?”

“A red Ferrari was seen on the I-50, heading east,” the investigator told him. “No license plate information, but a car like that stands out.”

Heading east. Why east? There was nothing in that direction, nothing but the wild mountains and eventually Lake Tahoe, which in February would still be thick with snow and frozen rain. Why would anyone be insane enough to drive a low-slung race car in that direction? Where was the man going?

Then Xerxes knew.

Closing his phone with an intake of breath, he ran for his SUV.

“Get in there!”