King's Ransom (Man on a Mission 2)

His smile grew. “That was my intention.”

Suddenly nervous for no reason she could think of, Juliana wandered over to the table in the center of the room. “How well I remember this table,” she said, running her hand over its polished surface, loving the smooth feel of the wood beneath her fingertips.

“Yes, I imagine you would.”

Her gaze fell on the portrait of Andre’s father done at the time of his coronation, his wife at his side—both staring out at the world in haughty superiority. She’d met Andre’s father, of course, but his mother had died when Mara was born. It was one of the things she and Andre had in common—he’d lost his mother at a young age, too. Now as she contemplated the picture she realized just how much Mara resembled her dead mother physically, if not in any other way. Regal beauty was reflected in the face of the woman in the portrait, but no sweetness, unlike her daughter. There had been a sweetness about Mara, Juliana remembered, an emotional vulnerability that had made Juliana want to shield her from hurt...just as Andre had always tried to do.

“So tell me about Mara,” she said, succumbing to the sudden longing to know how her onetime friend was doing. “How is she? I remember reading that she received her PhD in math from Oxford University. That was her dream, I know. I was so happy for her I—” Almost called her, Juliana nearly said. But for some reason she didn’t want Andre to know how tempted she’d been to reconnect with Mara despite everything.

“Mara is a professor at the University of Colorado. She and her husband live in Boulder.”

Juliana laughed a little, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe she’s married and it never made the news. I didn’t even know she was in the States.”

Andre smiled as if at a private joke. “I sent her there.”

“Why?”

“Because I hoped she would find there what she could never find here—and she did.”

Juliana wanted to ask what that was, then realized she and Andre were conversing as if they were old friends. As if what had happened eleven years ago had never happened. She wandered toward the bookshelves, running her fingers over the leather bound tomes, then took a deep breath, and with her back to him asked as casually as she could, “So why did you want to talk to me?”

“I need to know. Are you and DeWinter lovers?”

Juliana whirled around, her face pale with shock. “You have no right to ask me that.”

He considered her answer for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully. He stood and placed the portfolio on a side table. Then he walked toward her, stopping a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, his stance casual. “Then answer me this. Are you in love with him?”

“You have no right to ask me that, either.” Her voice was tight with repressed anger. “Your Majesty.” She threw those last two words at him as an insult.

“Perhaps not. But I am asking anyway. And you will not leave this room without giving me an answer.” His seemingly indifferent tone was belied by his words...and his eyes. His eyes were bright green, blazing with some emotion she couldn’t put a name to, and she knew he meant exactly what he said. Whether he had the right or not, Andre was just stubborn enough to keep her there until she responded, one way or the other.

She took two steps toward him. “No. I’m not in love with Dirk. And no, we’re not lovers. We’ve never been lovers.” Her eyes burned with tears of humiliation she refused to shed as her anger built. “He’s my friend. His wife is my friend. How dare you ask me that!” Her chest was heaving with anger, hurt and a half dozen other emotions that swirled through her.

He didn’t respond at first, just stood there watching her in that assessing way he had. Then he asked quietly, “If you are not in love with him, then why were you pleading with him between takes this afternoon?”

Her hand came up to her throat, where she could feel her pulse racing. “Because...” she began, but didn’t go on because Dirk had told her about Sabrina in confidence and she wasn’t about to betray it. Especially not to Andre.

“Because why?” His voice was quiet but implacable.

“That is absolutely none of your business.”

He shook his head. “You are wrong, Juliana,” he explained patiently. “You are my business. Anything to do with you is my business.” Her mouth dropped open in amazement but she was too stunned to say anything. “If I must ask DeWinter, I will.”

“Don’t you dare ask Dirk anything!”

“Then you tell me.”

“You have no right!” She was almost shouting now.