Amelia Autin - King's Ransom

She whirled around, her heart suddenly pounding again, but then she relaxed. The voice was similar to Andre’s, deep and strong, but there was just a touch more of a Zakharian accent to this man’s English. She smiled as she recognized him even though she hadn’t seen him for eleven years.

“Hello, Zax. Good to see you again,” she said honestly. Then another man came up behind Prince Xavier, and her smile faded. “Hello, Niko. Good to see you again, too,” she lied with a straight face. She turned to introduce the two princes to Sabrina. “Your Highnesses, may I present my dearest friend, Sabrina DeWinter. Bree, this is...” She hesitated a second and looked up at Zax. “It’s Crown Prince Xavier now, isn’t it?”

Zax shrugged dismissively, then smiled down at Juliana. “Yes, until such time as Andre marries and has male heirs, which will no doubt be soon. I place little stock in the royal title, to be honest. I much prefer my military title.” He turned to Sabrina, shook her hand and murmured formal words of welcome.

Juliana managed to hide the slicing pain Zax’s words caused. For years she’d expected to read about Andre’s engagement and subsequent marriage, and had steeled herself against it. But hearing Zax talk about it as if it were imminent... Who? she wondered feverishly. Of all the names that had been bandied about over the years as the next Queen of Zakhar, who was Andre’s chosen one? And why wasn’t she here tonight?

Niko cleared his throat and Juliana quickly brought her thoughts under control. “I’m sorry, Niko. Bree, this is Prince Nikolai, also of the House of Marianescu. Zax and Niko are the king’s first cousins on his father’s side.”

Niko bent over Sabrina’s hand and said suavely, “Ah yes, Mrs. DeWinter. I had the pleasure of meeting your husband—a marvelous actor, by the way—when I ran into him in the portrait gallery this afternoon.”

Sabrina raised her eyebrows. “Really? Dirk didn’t mention it.” She withdrew her hand as soon as practicable, and Juliana shot her friend a sharp glance. Apparently Sabrina was equally unimpressed with the younger Zakharian prince.

“How is your father, Juliana?” Zax asked. “Is he enjoying his retirement?”

She smiled as she thought about her father. “My dad is still going strong at seventy-five—I hope I’m that active when I’m his age. He volunteers as a tutor at the local high school two days a week and distributes “Meals on Wheels” to seniors even older than he is on the weekdays he doesn’t tutor.”

They chatted desultorily for a few minutes after that, and Juliana assessed her old acquaintances. Zax looked older than she remembered, of course, but he’d already been a man when she’d left Zakhar, and the years had touched him nearly as lightly as they had Andre. His face was austere, and his bearing was as military as it had always been—she wasn’t surprised to learn Zax was now a Lieutenant Colonel in the Zakharian National Forces, on detached duty as head of security for the king.

But it was his younger brother’s appearance that truly surprised her. Niko was only two years older than she was, which meant he was two years younger than Andre and three years younger than his older brother. But there were already tiny lines of dissipation in his face. And though he was still a handsome man—the Marianescu good looks hadn’t passed him by—the overall impression was of a man who’d indulged too often. Wine. Food. Women. And drugs? Juliana never liked to think of people she knew using drugs, even people she didn’t care for, but she wouldn’t put it past him. The press had dubbed him the playboy prince, and they weren’t far off. The moniker wasn’t a compliment.

Juliana suddenly remembered how Niko had ignored her in the early days, only displaying an interest in her once she started showing signs of the beauty that had eventually made her world famous. So very different from Andre, who’d never treated her as an imposition when she and Mara used to trail after him, who’d never made her feel as if either of them were in the way. And this is important why? she asked herself. Andre-then and Andre-now weren’t the same person. Maybe that held true for Niko, too. Maybe he’d improved with age, had become less self-centered, less self-important.

But probably not, she mused with a touch of cynicism, although she maintained an air of sweet interest on the surface. She’d always seen right through Niko, had seen his pursuit of her years ago for what it was. From his appearance and the avid way he was acting now, he hadn’t changed one bit.

* * *

Zax showed up on the set nearly every day, but Juliana put that down to the meticulous way he did his job and not a particular interest in her. As head of security for the king, he was responsible for—among other things—making sure the cast and crew of King’s Ransom weren’t a threat to the king’s safety in any way. They conversed sometimes when she had a few minutes between scenes—reminiscences for the most part—including memories of Juliana’s father, who’d been the US Ambassador to Zakhar when she’d lived here. Although Zax reminded her poignantly of Andre in the way he looked, the way he spoke, even his mannerisms sometimes, and though she could tell he appreciated the beautiful woman she’d become, there was no spark and he never went beyond the line. He never said anything to which Juliana could take exception.

Niko also showed up on the set frequently over the next few weeks, and his presence watching the filming didn’t bother Juliana one iota, any more than Zax’s presence did. Nor did his attempts to get her alone cause her anything but amusement. Niko was just another in the long line of men who pursued her because of who and what she was—a status symbol. She’d dated men like Niko back in Hollywood, men who thought she was an easy mark. Not as many dates as the tabloids had trumpeted to the world, but a few. Like those Hollywood Lotharios, Niko would soon learn Juliana was no man’s conquest, and eventually he’d lose interest.

The problem was, Andre occasionally visited the set, too, much to Juliana’s dismay. Every scene was doubly hard to play with him there, and she never knew when he would show up. She had a well-deserved reputation with directors for being the consummate professional, able to do most scenes in one or two takes. That was something else she’d learned from Dirk.

But when Andre was there it was nearly impossible to act naturally. And more than once she was forced to apologize to the director and her fellow actors for some stupid screwup on her part, especially her scenes with Dirk. She told herself to ignore Andre. Told herself he was nothing to her now, no more than any casual acquaintance, so she shouldn’t let him upset her. Told herself she didn’t care what he thought of her, that the respect of her director, Dirk, the rest of the cast and the crew was all she cared about. But she was lying to herself, and she knew it.

She was dreading the two intimate love scenes scheduled for filming tomorrow: the wedding-night scene, where Eleonora and her husband consummated their wedding vows just hours before Andre Alexei was almost slain and Eleonora was kidnapped; and the reunion scene years later, after the king finally ransomed his queen and her young son at a cost that beggared his kingdom. A stupendous cost equivalent to a king’s ransom, not just a queen’s. And then had brought them home to Zakhar...to him.

The scene where Eleonora bravely confessed everything to her husband and offered to enter a convent to hide her shame and his—an offer Andre Alexei had adamantly refused. The scene where he made love to his wife so gently, so tenderly, she was finally able to respond to his lovemaking despite everything she’d endured in captivity.