As the crown prince, he’d had a lot of responsibility thrust upon him, but he’d still managed to come and go as he pleased, to a large extent. He’d made many successful deals with business leaders in other countries, bringing a steady stream of income to Corythia. His father had been a proud man.
Adriane loved his father, but respected him more. The loss had been great, and Adriane needed time to heal, needed to get his mind off of the pain of losing him. The American girl would be a good distraction from his worries.
“Make sure Ms. Rachel arrives to her home safely. I don’t think anyone has spotted me here, but if they did, I don’t want her to become a target. Keep two of the men posted on her at all times.”
“I will get on that right away, as well as have a background check done on her,” Amedeo stated as he spoke into his microphone.
“No. There’s no need. She doesn’t know who I am. I like the mystery of the situation,” Adriane said with a smile.
“Sire, I don’t think that is wise,” Amedeo gasped, obviously shocked by Adriane’s unusual behavior.
“I don’t want to be smart right now, Amedeo. I just want to live a little before I am ruled by the people of Corythia,” Adriane said with a sigh.
He did love his country, but he had so much more living to do. At only thirty years of age, he wasn’t ready to be king. But ready or not, he would be crowned next week.
“Yes, Sire.” Amedeo wasn’t happy, but he would obey orders. It would be unacceptable to do anything less.
With that, Adriane turned and walked up the small dune to the parking lot and toward the awaiting car. Climbing into the back seat of the Jaguar limo, he grabbed a bottle of scotch and poured himself a generous drink. He’d tried to deny it, but he knew he was excited about dinner with his mysterious woman.
Her reaction to him was expected. Women tended to fall at his feet, willing to do anything he asked of them. But his reaction to her was what startled him. He had felt an instant attraction to women before, but as he’d pulled Rachel against his chest, it had taken massive restraint on his part to let her go again.
She’d caused a stir in him that he definitely wanted to explore further. With her compelling green eyes and luscious pink lips, not to mention her perfect curves, he’d felt weak in the knees. It was unusual, though not impossible.
With all the stress he was under, this Rachel would be a welcome distraction in his turbulent life. A few nights with her and he’d be ready to leave America behind and go back to Corythia to do his duty to God and his country.
At thirty years of age, he would be the youngest king in his country in the past two hundred years. The thought made him miss his father again. What a great king and man he’d been. Adriane was confident in himself, but filling the shoes of his father wouldn’t be easy. He was sure the people had their own reservations about him, as well.
As they pulled up to the hotel, Adriane’s phone rang, and one look at the caller ID had his eyes narrowing dangerously as he received the call.
“What do you want, Gianni?”
“Is that any way to greet your brother, Ian?”
“You should not speak so disrespectfully to your king!” A mixture of bitterness and sadness filled him at how far apart he and his brother had grown.
“You’re not king yet, Ian. Don’t get too comfortable. After all, a lot can happen in a week’s time,” Gianni remarked as he laughed bitterly over the phone.
“We’ve been through this, Gianni. I would have gladly given you the kingdom if you’d been worthy to take it. I never wanted to be tied down to one place. You threw it all away with your greed.”
“You are so quick to judge me, little brother, but the throne should have been mine and we both know it. The oldest son inherits the title,” Gianni spat.
“Father wanted you to rule — it was expected from the moment of your birth. You were the one who chose to disinherit us!”
“I wanted change. Was that really such a crime?”
Adriane took a deep breath as he forced himself to calm down. He’d been through this many times with his brother. The two of them had been inseparable as children, only eleven months apart. Then Gianni had run away from home at eighteen, seeking adventure. The people he’d chosen to carry on with had been political enemies, convincing him that their father was Satan resurrected. He’d denounced the throne and they hadn’t heard a word from him for five years. When he’d come back, it was too late.
“I refuse to continue trying to appease you, Gianni. I hope one day we can call each other brother again, but it won’t be today. I tire of your fits, and I will not indulge your games. Please, take care.”
With that Adriane hung up the phone.
He inhaled deeply several times and released the breath slowly, and the anger had dissipated from his aching stomach by the time he arrived at the hotel and entered through the back door. The media hadn’t been alerted to his presence and he was hoping to keep it that way. If Gianni knew where he was, his brother would sell him out in a heartbeat.
Someday, they might mend fences, but Adriane wasn’t holding out much hope. His brother was too bitter, too changed to accept the way the cards had fallen — the way Gianni had made them fall.
Entering his suite, he called his assistant and had dinner ordered. As he went to shower and dress, a smile flitted across his lips. Tonight would get his mind off his responsibilities and his troubles. Tonight was about sating desires, and nothing else.
Whistling as the hot water streamed down his muscular body, Adriane smiled genuinely for the first time since his father’s burial. Rachel was just what he needed before he became fully owned by his people. For the next few days, it was OK to be selfish.
Well, he thought, I won’t be completely selfish. My lover will be well satisfied.
Chapter Eleven
Ari
“Have you read this, Rafe?” Ari exclaimed.
Rafe jumped at the sound of Ari’s excited voice. Then he looked up from his computer to see what had her so animated. She’d been poring over the pages of his ancestor’s journal for two hours. The bottle of wine was almost finished, mostly by her, and he’d decided his seduction skills were decidedly lacking.
Such a fine vintage wine, and it had been wasted, in his opinion. Once she’d opened the pages of the journal, he’d ceased to exist for her, leaving him to grab his laptop and get work done.
He’d whispered in her ear, brought her a plate of fruit and cheese, accidentally brushed his leg up against hers, and he might as well have been a cardboard box. She hadn’t so much as glanced at him. After a few attempts at speaking with her, he’d discovered that she was simply mumbling, not hearing a word he was saying. So he’d given up.