Marion Lennox - The Royal House Of Karedes - Two Kingdoms

That was how it had been that night.

Maria, blind with passion. Her skin, silken to the touch. Her mouth drinking from his, her fingers cool against his body, her hands trembling when he clasped them, brought them to his chest, his belly, his erection.

Touch me this way , he’d murmured. Yes. Like that. Like that .

She’s never done this before , he’d thought in amazement. And then he’d simply stopped thinking, lost in the heat that consumed them.

What a lie!

She’d done everything before. He’d known it as soon as he heard her on the telephone that morning. Until then, she’d had him fooled. And that wasn’t easy. He’d been with a lot of women. Too many, he sometimes thought; their faces and names and bodies had become blurred over the years.

Not hers.

Maria’s name, her heart-shaped face and its delicate features, her body that was softly curved and not a fashionable arrangement of hard bones and flesh, even her voice…

He had forgotten nothing. She came to him in his dreams, telling him she wanted him.

Turning yourself on again, you idiot? he thought angrily as he shifted in the deep leather seat.

Well, there’d be no more of that.

He knew what this was all about, if he was honest. Ego? Maybe a little. Anger? Okay, that, too. Payback? Absolutely. But the real reason he wanted her was much more basic.

The hair of the dog that bit you. Driving out demons. Whatever you wanted to call it. Have enough sex with Maria Santos and he’d wipe her name, her face, everything about her from his mind.

A month from now, he’d be happy to see the last of her. Whether she was clever in bed or not, he’d never come across a woman who could hold his interest for much longer than that. This one would be no exception, not even if she went from waif to temptress, fire to ice…

“It’s the building right over there.”

Her voice was low. Alex blinked and realized the car had slowed to a crawl. He looked out the window and saw a nondescript street, cars packed tightly along the curb, and a looming wall of apartment buildings.

“This one, miss?” Hans asked.

“ Sí . Yes.”

It was the first time she’d lapsed into Spanish since the phone call—and since she’d cursed him. She sounded breathless. Stressed. His jaw tightened. Was she nervous about visiting her lover and telling him her plans?

If he’d been her lover, she’d have had the right to be terrified. He could not imagine agreeing to her going off with another man for a month. Not for a day. Not if she belonged to him.

The limo eased into the space beside a fire hydrant. The driver turned off the engine and reached for the door handle.

“Thank you,” Maria said quickly, “but that isn’t necessary. I can open the door my—”

“Stay in the car, Hans.” Alex’s voice was cold. “I’ll take care of Ms. Santos.”

A blast of frigid air swept in as he opened the door. Maria’s heart skipped a beat. Did the Prince of Arrogance think he was going inside with her? Not in a million years.

“Thank you,” she said, forcing a polite smile, “but I can manage.”

“Don’t be silly, glyka mou . It’s late, the street is nearly deserted. What kind of gentleman would permit a woman to be alone under such conditions?”

His tone had gone from harsh to silken. A spider’s web was silken, too. She didn’t want him with her, not only because then he would know she hadn’t come to see Joaquin but because he would know too much.

“Maria. I’m waiting.”

He was leaning into the car, his patrician face rigid. Anger swept through her. Did he think he could take over every aspect of her life?

“Keep waiting, then. I don’t require your assistance. And let me assure you, Your Highness, if you think you are a gentleman—”

She gasped as he caught her shoulders and pulled her from the car.

“You will not talk to me that way,” he growled. “I don’t give a damn what you do or do not require. What matters is what I require. For the next month, you’ll do things my way or not at all. Is that clear?”

“Yessir,” she said, and touched her stiff fingers to her forehead. “Of course, sir,” she added, and clicked her heels. Then she jerked her chin up, stepped around him and marched over the snowy sidewalk to the building’s entry.

Alex could feel his face burning.

He shot a furious glare at Hans, sitting straight as a ramrod behind the wheel. He gave no sign that he’d seen or heard what had just happened.

Alex took a deep breath. Then he trudged after Maria through the snow. Her feet, in those hideous boots, moved up and down without interference but he was wearing leather mocs—handmade leather mocs, he thought grimly, and they were already cold and sodden.

Great. He was about to come face to face with the man who’d been her lover and his damned shoes would probably fall off his feet when he…

Panagia mou!

What kind of place was this for a love nest? The entrance door had a broken lock. The lobby smelled of mice and mildew. What remained of a mural clung pathetically to a graffiti-scarred wall. There was an elevator but Maria ignored it and headed for the stairs.

“Four flights,” she said briskly, without looking back at him. “Are you up to that, Your Highness?”

He didn’t bother replying, he simply climbed the steps behind her. One flight. Two. Three. At last, they reached the fifth-floor landing.

“This is where he lives?”

Alex sounded incredulous. She hated him for that, and for forcing himself into this part of her life.

“Answer me!” He clasped her wrist and spun her toward him. “Your lover expects you to come to him in a dump like this?”

The door to the apartment directly ahead swung open. Alex looked up, angry at himself, at Maria, at the unwanted intrusion.

“What the hell do you want?” he snarled at the shadowy figure in the doorway.

The figure stepped forward into the dim light of the stairwell landing. It was a woman. Small. Dark-haired. Wrapped in a wool bathrobe.

“Maria?”

Maria took a deep breath. “ Sí , Mama. It’s me.”

IT’S ME, Mama, Maria said .

And then no one said anything.

For an eternity? For a few seconds? Alex couldn’t be sure. The only certainty was that he’d made one hell of a mistaken assumption.

And he’d mortified Maria. The proof was in the rigidity of her posture, the angle of her head. This place, this depressing setting, this woman making absolutely no move toward her daughter, were not things she’d wanted him to see.

So what? he asked himself coldly. Wasn’t it his intention to humiliate Maria Santos? This was just one more way to do it.

But even as he thought that he found himself moving closer to her, putting his hand lightly on her shoulder in a gesture of unspoken support.

The woman in the doorway spoke first. Her words were not those of a loving mother, delighted to see her child. They were, instead, accusatory.

“Do you have any idea how late it is, Maria? I was on my way to bed.”

He saw the color rise in Maria’s face. His hand tightened on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I should have phoned first—”

“And who is this with you? Why have you brought a man to my home?”

“Forgive me, Mrs. Santos,” Alex said pleasantly. He gave Maria what he hoped was a reassuring smile, then stepped forward. “It’s my fault, entirely. I’m afraid I was in such a hurry to get things done that the lateness of the hour never occurred to me.”

“And you are …?”

“I am Alexandros Karedes. Prince Alexandros Karedes.”