Chapter One #2
But regrets were pointless. She was almost there. Far below, she saw the sprawl that was Paris. Leon had loaned her the king’s private jet. The main thing was that she’d be at the event as promised.
That was what she had to concentrate on.
Not the way all her plans had been disrupted.
She’d been on her way to the airport when she learned her Paris hotel booking had been cancelled. Ditto the car she’d rented to drive south when the Paris events were over.
Then, after rushing to be at the airport by the revised deadline, she’d discovered the earlier departure time wasn’t because Leon needed the plane but because his bodyguard-who-wasn’t-a-bodyguard had decided she needed to arrive in Paris early.
Without consulting her. About anything! He’d just decreed and somehow everything had changed.
Rosamund chewed her lip, banking down fury at the man’s high-handedness.
If this was how he operated, they were going to clash.
Despite her father’s view of her, she wasn’t flighty or stupid, and she appreciated common decency.
Like a request and an explanation. Not finding out after the fact that everything had been altered.
Fotis Mavridis clearly didn’t believe in consultation.
It irked her that in the little time she’d spent researching him she’d found virtually nothing.
He was Greek. He ran a company called Mystikos, which she learned was Greek for secret or hidden.
The word was annoyingly apt because though she’d found a few sparse references to it providing advice to various governments, she couldn’t find the company website or details of its business.
As for Fotis Mavridis, he could almost be a figment of her brother’s imagination. There were no photos, few biographical details, almost nothing to indicate what sort of man she was about to meet.
Apart from bossy, rude and, by definition, unlikable.
She thought of the policy advisors she’d met. They led sedentary, office-bound lives. It was hard to imagine one of them protecting her should Ricardo try to get even with her for disrupting his plans.
Her mouth twisted wryly as she tried to imagine a balding bureaucrat standing between her and danger, his agitated breaths straining his shirt across a podgy stomach.
There must be more to this man than Leon’s description suggested.
The jet landed and taxied to the edge of the private airfield. There was a bustle at the door as steps were put in position.
Rosamund was reaching for the shoes she’d slipped off when her skin prickled. The atmosphere changed, becoming charged, like at the onset of an electrical storm.
She looked up, and up further. Dimly she was aware of her pulse thudding a quickened beat. Of a spasm low in her body and her nipples peaking, abrading her bra.
All that in a millisecond as she took in the stranger before her.
His shoulders were straight and wide under his black leather jacket.
There were black jeans too and a dark T-shirt that hinted at a steel-toned body.
Black-as-night hair, winged ebony eyebrows and a dusting of midnight stubble on his hard-hewn jaw.
But shockingly his eyes were light. They reminded her of the sea, a mix of blue and green and maybe even gold, as if the sun glittered over liquid depths.
With his strong features—she couldn’t call him handsome but arresting—Rosamund could imagine him cast as a fallen angel. Not just any fallen angel. With his incredible presence he had to be Lucifer, their leader.
Maybe those eyes were a reminder of those glory days before he was kicked out of heaven. Rosamund had never seen anything like that colour which, even as she watched, seemed to glow more golden.
Something shuddered inside her. Something shockingly like recognition. Awareness.
Nonsense! The artist in her simply wondered how to capture that precise shade.
‘Princess Rosamund.’
It wasn’t a question but a flat statement of certainty. Yet it was more too. In just five syllables his softly modulated baritone conveyed disdain. Scorn, even.
Suddenly, shockingly, she knew who this man must be and discovered she’d walked into a nightmare.
This was the man sent to protect her? Who’d act as her partner for the duration of the trip?
Disbelief and dismay filled her. Despite his arrogance and his contempt, it would be easy for a woman to find him attractive. To want to put her hands on him, test that tensile strength and try to learn the secrets of his body.
No wonder every instinct screamed a warning.
It was impossible to sit under that scorching scrutiny.
Ignoring her shoes she rose, standing tall and cloaking herself in the illusion of confidence as her mother had taught her. She’d never been more grateful for those early lessons.
‘Kyrie Mavridis. Kalimera.’ She inclined her head as if graciously accepting a compliment and felt a flicker of satisfaction at his momentary surprise.
‘You speak Greek?’
Clearly he hadn’t expected that and she dearly wished she could claim that advantage.
She suspected she’d need every advantage she could muster to deal with this man who was not like any policy advisor she’d seen.
So much for a balding, paunchy bureaucrat.
She’d have words with Leon when she returned. He should have warned her.
‘Alas, no. Just a few pleasantries.’
She paused, far too aware of their height difference now they stood toe-to-toe. She rarely wore high heels and wished she’d worn some on the plane. As it was, barefoot she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes.
He inclined his head, his unsmiling mouth betraying no pleasure in her company.
What was the man’s problem? Couldn’t he even pretend to the usual social niceties?
It intrigued her that Leon had managed to persuade this man who looked as persuadable as a block of basalt, into looking out for her.
Did he owe Leon some debt?
‘You’re ready to go?’ His tone was brusque.
‘In a moment.’ His eagerness to be gone and his refusal to play nice spurred her to take her time, letting down her hair then gathering it up, winding it around her hand and fixing it more securely.
Only when she was satisfied it would pass muster for any paparazzi did she turn to accept her jacket, held out to her by the steward.
She gave a man a warm smile. ‘Thank you very much, Philippe.’
Then her shoes. She slipped them on, wishing the heels were three times the height.
She was reaching for her shoulder bag when her Greek minder said, ‘I came on-board to discuss the ground rules before this goes any further.’
Rosamund’s eyebrows lifted. She’d promised Leon she’d be discreet about this arrangement. It seemed Fotis Mavridis hadn’t got that memo. Or, she realised as she met that challenging stare, he had his own priorities. Any thought that he was dependent on her half-brother vanished.
‘Thank you, Philippe.’ She nodded at the steward. ‘We’ll follow you out in a moment.’
When the cabin was empty she gestured to the empty seats. ‘Shall we sit while we talk?’
‘That won’t be necessary. This won’t take long.’
His voice was uninflected, his stare blank, but she knew it hid disapproval if not dislike. She had enough experience to know.
Once, long ago, that would have hurt, to be judged and found wanting for no good reason. But she wasn’t na?ve anymore. She was a woman who got on with her life, forging her own path. If she allowed herself to be upset by negative opinions, she’d be a hermit.
Even so, she was tempted to sink back into her seat and let him stand there, alone. Except she’d get a crick in her neck and he’d probably enjoy looming over her.
‘So. Ground rules.’ She smiled encouragingly as if unaware of the negative energy thrumming off him. ‘Please continue.’
For a heartbeat she sensed curiosity behind the mask. ‘Actually, there’s only one. I’m in charge. What I say goes, otherwise the deal’s off.’
‘In charge of what, precisely? Countering any physical threat? Believe me, I’m happy to leave that to you.’
Any thought that he mightn’t be up to the task had disintegrated. He radiated competence and though his stance was easy, there was a restrained power about him that made her think he could handle any threat.
‘In charge of you.’ He paused to let that sink in. ‘I decide where you go. When and how you go and where you stay. Any problem with that and I’m out.’
He talked to her as if she were a six-year-old, not a twenty-eight-year-old who’d made her own way in the world for a long time. Not like a client. Or a royal, for that matter.
Indignation rose and a burning desire to tell this man where he could get off.
But Leon would immediately replace the man with a team of bodyguards, despite her wishes. Besides, she was curious. She was used to people who didn’t know her judging her, but this felt different.
Why? They hadn’t met before. There was no way she’d have forgotten this man. Maybe he didn’t like royals. Or women. She shook off the notion this was personal. That wasn’t possible.
‘So,’ he said with a telling curl of his lips, ‘if you’re going to opt out, now’s the time.’
That’s what he wants. For you to end the deal and walk away. Why?
The temptation to agree was strong. She didn’t like her instant and all-consuming awareness of him. She didn’t like him. She’d prefer not to see him again. But that was what he wanted. Why else stomp in here and bark out his ultimatum?
Okay, okay. So he doesn’t bark. He doesn’t raise his voice. In fact the sound of that deep baritone voice, so soft it whispers across your skin, is ridiculously appealing.
Rosamund drew a slow breath, ignoring the regrettable things that voice did to her hormones. She could play into his hands but all that would achieve was her lumbered with the team of security guards she’d already rejected.
‘Opt out?’ She looked up with wide eyes that belied the welter of anger and indignation churning in her stomach. ‘I was told you’d protect me from threat. If you’re able to do that I’m grateful.’
What she was actually grateful for was that her mother had been an esteemed actress. She’d learnt from the best how to conceal her thoughts, how to project the emotions she chose, no matter what she felt.
She saw the flicker of something cross his features. Surprise? Disappointment?
‘I understand you’re the expert on my safety.’ No matter how galling that was. ‘I note you’ve already come up with alternative plans for my accommodation and transport. Perhaps that was because it’s better not to signal in advance where I’m staying and how I’m travelling?’
For the longest time he said nothing but finally he nodded curtly. ‘Yes.’
See, that wasn’t so hard was it?
She stifled the temptation to say it aloud. No point prodding the bear.
Except, while she might have learnt to put pragmatism before pride, she had her limits. It didn’t take a genius to know this man would test those limits to the full.
Besides, if the bear deserved prodding…
‘As long as you can get me to the events I’m scheduled to attend, and the people I need to see, that’s fine.’
She smiled benignly. That’s what your job is after all. But she kept her lips closed.
His scrutiny intensified, those uniquely coloured eyes regarding her with a laser focus that scraped her skin.
Annoying man, but clever. He knows there’s something going on behind the smile.
That made two of them. She could almost hear the wheels turning in that arrogant head of his.
‘So, are we done here, Mr Mavridis?’
He nodded. ‘As long as you’ll obey me, we’re done.’ He turned away without waiting for an answer.
Obey! ‘There’s just one thing,’ she murmured. ‘You didn’t ask if I had any ground rules.’
Satisfaction was a pleasing glow as those broad shoulders stiffened. She wondered if he’d pretend he hadn’t heard and simply walk away. But slowly he turned.
‘And you have ground rules, of course.’
He didn’t grimace but his tone spoke of barely contained patience. What was he expecting? A request that they detour so she could shop for designer handbags? A demand for vintage champagne in the limo? A coy request that they not get too close when they pretended to be a couple in public?
As if she had any fears on that score! Whatever this man’s weakness was, it wasn’t her. He looked like he could barely stand her presence.
What a relief.
‘Just one.’ Rosamond waited long enough for him to raise his eyebrows at the delay.
Good. She had his full attention. ‘Courtesy, Mr Mavridis. It’s non-negotiable.
You might be in charge, as you so succinctly put it, but I expect to be consulted, not ordered.
You might not think much of life’s little courtesies.
Greetings, please and thank you. But most people prefer to be treated with respect. I’m one of them.
‘Besides, if we want the public to believe you’re my companion rather than my bodyguard, you’ll need to practise politeness, with me and the people we meet.’
‘And you’ll reciprocate?’
Rosamund picked up her bag and straightened her jacket.
‘Of course. Haven’t you noticed?’ She moved past him towards the door.
‘If I weren’t polite I’d have already mentioned you’re the most arrogant, objectionable man I’ve met in a long time.
’ She paused to look over her shoulder into his narrowed stare. ‘Shall we go?’