Greek’s Kidnapped Princess (Claimed by a Greek #2)
Chapter One
‘You will marry the man I have chosen for you. It is your duty as a princess of Galicos. And as my daughter.’
Princess Freya Camille Gelacois swallowed her anger, and her hurt, and gave her father, Prince Andreas, the obedient smile he expected of her. ‘Yes, Father, it’s just… I don’t know Monsieur Caras, that’s why I’m reluctant to commit to…’
‘Stop being melodramatic, you’ve met Caras several times.’
And both times there had been not one single spark between her and Alexander Caras.
The man her father had insisted she marry because the Greek shipping tycoon wanted to buy property in the principality, and her father had decreed that any land in Galicos must always belong to heirs of the royal line.
But Freya didn’t see how they were ever likely to produce any heirs, given that Caras had barely looked at her, while he and her father had discussed her marriage as if they were debating a stock report.
She felt ignored now too as her father typed on his laptop.
Her spirits sank further, the anxiety that had been sitting in her stomach like a rock for months harder to ignore.
She’d always known her father didn’t like her much, because she bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother—who had run off with one of the palace’s security guards eight years ago in a blaze of scandal.
She still resented her mother for making that decision, and abandoning Freya and her two younger brothers to a life of royal servitude.
She’d thought her mother loved them, but when Freya was twelve her mother had just disappeared, and Freya had never been able to forgive her.
So much so, that when her mother had died in a French clinic after a brief battle with cancer, Freya hadn’t mourned.
She still had the letter her mother had sent her a few weeks before her death, sitting in her dresser, unopened.
Why should she care about the woman who had never even asked for visitation rights?
Freya had turned twenty a week ago and she’d never even been kissed properly, let alone had a lover. And now her father expected her to marry a man she didn’t want, and who Freya was certain didn’t want her.
Alexander Caras was handsome enough, if you liked men who were serious and old—because he had to be at least thirty-five.
But she wanted the fireworks she’d read about in the erotic novels she read late at night—whenever she needed a break from her suffocating life.
She wanted her heart to beat too fast, and her thighs to quiver and her sex to clench and melt.
The closest she’d got to that feeling was three years ago when her father had enrolled her in a Swiss finishing school.
But before she’d managed to do anything remotely exciting, her father had seen press photos of her having her first tequila slammer in a Zurich nightclub and pulled her out of the school.
And she’d spent the two years since doing penance for her youthful exuberance—mostly because her father had threatened to send her brothers to military academy if she ever disrespected the monarchy again.
But this was a new low, even for Prince Monumental Killjoy.
She refused to marry out of duty… But time was running out to avert this disaster, because the engagement was due to be announced at an event being hosted by her would-be fiancé in the principality in less than a week.
And despite all Freya’s protests and entreaties and pleas, her father still hadn’t seen reason.
And Freya was fast losing the ability to even pretend obedience to his wishes any longer.
‘But why can’t my duty be more proactive?’ she tried again, her jaw clenched so tight it was starting to ache. ‘Perhaps if I went back to school to study something more…’
‘You are too old for that now. And there is no need for it.’
Her jaw went slack. ‘But I’m only twenty…
And you never let me graduate.’ She’d been begging him to let her continue her education after the Swiss-finishing-school debacle.
She loved to read, and had a curious mind, but he had consistently refused.
Her life had become a constant and relentless schedule of royal events and engagements at which everyone treated her like a regal mannequin instead of a flesh-and-blood woman.
She had no friends in Galicos—and she certainly never had any fun.
But trying to explain to her father that tequila-slammer-gate had happened because she had been acting like any girl her own age, that she wanted to be free to make her own mistakes, had fallen on deaf ears.
He had simply said that, ‘A royal princess of Galicos does not need that kind of freedom.’ And she’d resented her mother that much more.
Her father glanced up from his laptop. He stared at her across his mahogany desk, the disapproving frown one she recognised.
‘Caras will not need you to have an education,’ he declared. ‘All he requires is a royal wife to give him heirs.’
Heirs? Again, with this!
The control she had been holding onto like a Trojan for months snapped like a twig. ‘So, I’m to be his brood mare, am I? How romantic! Well, I won’t do it. I can’t. I refuse.’
There, she’d finally said it. But instead of looking even slightly moved, her father surged to his feet and slapped his palms on his desk.
‘Don’t you dare talk to me with such disrespect,’ he raged, his face going red.
‘Then don’t treat me like a possession you own.’
‘Except I do own you…’ he shouted, shocking her into silence.
A loud knock at the door interrupted the discordant buzzing inside her head.
Her knees felt weak, her stomach weightless.
Was that how he thought of her? That she was a possession?
She’d known they didn’t have a close relationship, but she’d always believed in some small corner of his heart he did love her, in his own way.
That as she’d come of age, it had just been the fear of another scandal like the one her mother had caused that had made him behave like an increasingly autocratic despot instead of a father…
But now, she wasn’t so sure.
‘Enter!’ her father yelled.
One of his envoys rushed into the room, his face ashen. ‘Your Royal Highness, I have some difficult news.’ He glanced at Freya, sympathy in his eyes… Had he heard what her father had said to her? Humiliation joined the riot of sensations in her belly.
‘What news?’ her father barked, vibrating with fury.
‘Alexander Caras was photographed last night taking a restaurant waitress to his superyacht. The woman was visibly pregnant. Photos of them together appeared on a French website last night, but they have since been picked up by several other outlets.’
The knot in Freya’s stomach butted her tonsils. Caras had a mistress. A pregnant mistress? Who he’d been photographed with in public?
Her father swore. ‘Contact Caras, find out what the hell is going on.’
‘I’m afraid we can’t, Your Highness. His yacht left Galicos Bay last night and we haven’t been able to establish a connection with it.’
Freya collapsed into one of the armchairs.
Surely the marriage with Caras was off. Because if there was one thing her father hated more than a disobedient daughter, it was any kind of scandal.
Whoever the woman was, Freya wanted to hug her. Because she had thrown Freya a lifeline…
Her father’s face flushed with fury as he continued to shout orders at the envoy.
Freya eased out of the chair, intending to slip from the room—her legs still shaking but resolve forming—when her father’s mobile phone rang. He grabbed it off his desk, checked the caller, then pointed a finger at her.
‘Sit. This is Caras’ brother and business partner. He better have an explanation.’
She sat, her heart smacking her ribs.
Who cared what Caras’ brother had to say? The arranged marriage could not go ahead, surely?
She listened to her father’s end of the conversation—from his tone, the call was not good news for his precious land deal—but that was still fabulous news for Freya.
Saved by the pregnant mistress!
When the prince finally threw the phone onto his desk, he looked as if he were about to explode.
‘The engagement is off,’ he said. ‘Because Caras has got some nobody pregnant, according to his brother.’
She nodded, biting her lip to contain the huge sigh of relief. Apparently, Alexander Caras had more principles than she would have given him credit for. Hooray for him.
‘Okay, Papa,’ she said, trying to sound contrite and not as if she’d just dodged a bullet. No easy feat as the anxiety she had been holding onto for months released in a rush.
But then, he spoke again. ‘We will still be attending the engagement event at the Grande Hotel on Saturday.’
‘We… We will?’ But why? If there’s no engagement now?
‘Caras won’t be there. But his younger brother is hosting it…
’ His expression twisted with disgust. ‘I expect the man believes he can persuade me to agree the land deal without a marriage.’ His gaze narrowed with contempt.
‘He cannot. I refuse to sell land to anyone not linked by marriage to the Gelacois family.’
‘Right,’ Freya said, struggling to follow her father’s logic.
So why are we going to the engagement party that isn’t one, then?
She didn’t question him though. After losing her cool before, she didn’t want to ignite his temper again.
‘I will have the stylist informed of the significance when she dresses you for the event,’ her father continued, confusing her even more. ‘We will go to Plan B.’
Plan B? What Plan B?
‘But surely if Alexander Caras doesn’t wish to marry me—and he’s not even going to be there—’ she began, but her father cut her off.
‘You will need to seduce a proposal out of the brother, obviously.’
Her heart catapulted into her throat at the steely determination in his expression. He couldn’t be serious.
‘But I’ve never met him…’ she whispered, her voice trembling, not with anger now, but with panic.
Had her father lost the plot completely? And why did she feel as if their relationship had just turned a corner, into something genuinely nightmarish?
‘You will have to make him want you, Freya, or your brothers will be on the next plane to the DeAngelo Academy in Italy.’
Her heart slammed against her ribs like a sledgehammer.
‘Do not worry, my dear,’ he added, his voice silky smooth with barely concealed malice. ‘If you are anything like your mother, seducing him will come naturally. I need a proposal by Christmas and a wedding in the new year. Do I make myself clear?’
His face was so hard, so unyielding, she nodded.
Had he ever cared for her? At all?
As she headed to her room, her mind reeled. And her heart felt as if it were about to pound right out of her chest. She had to figure out her own Plan B now.
She’d never considered running away from Galicos before.
Always believing that although she and her father had issues, his recent obsession with marrying her off was because he had always put the interests of the monarchy first and foremost. But how could she stay now? When he refused to be reasoned with?
The only problem was, how did she make a clean break? She had very little money of her own, just some jewellery she had inherited from her grandmother. And she’d never had a real job. If she ran away without a place to go and a way to support herself, her father might find a way to drag her back…
But as she climbed the steps to her suite, she felt energised, excited even. She didn’t have to remain under her father’s thumb if she made her own life. One where she was no longer the pawn of any man.
Effectively, she had until Christmas—the deadline her father had set for her to finesse a proposal from the younger Caras brother. That gave her three months to plan her escape—and she would need every minute of those months to make this work.
She paused as she entered her suite of rooms, the opulent splendour damning her, because she finally recognised the luxury antique furnishings, the stunning view across the bay from her private balcony for what they were and had always been—a gilded prison.
But as her mind tried to figure out where to even start with her getaway plans, one glaring problem occurred to her.
She would still have to go to this damn event. Not only did she need to persuade her father she was going along with his plans, but she would also have to make it look as if she were seducing Alexander Caras’ younger brother! Who by all accounts was a notorious playboy.
Her panicked heartbeat ticked up a notch.
How was she going to pull that off? When she’d never even had a boyfriend? And men like Theodoros Caras probably ate sheltered virgin princesses like her for breakfast?