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“If you’re here to follow orders, then perhaps you should follow one of mine. Leave.”
“I answer to only one man. To only one person. And it is not you.”
“A true regret,” she said tightly.
“Not for me.”
“What do you want?”
“I told you. I am here to collect payment. And that payment is you.”
* * *
She was beautiful. But he had been prepared for that. When his brother had told him that it was finally time for him to make good on a promise given to him by Robert King ten years ago, Prince Javier de la Cruz had held back a litany of questions for his lord and master. He wondered why his brother wished to collect the debt now. And why he wished to collect it at all, at least in the form of this woman.
She was conspicuous. And she was everything his brother was not. Modern. Painfully so in contrast with the near medieval landscape of Monte Blanco. Yes, the kingdom had come a long way under his brother’s rule during the last two years, but there was still a long way to go to bring it out of the Dark Ages their father had preferred. If a woman such as Violet King would be something so foreign to their people, then imagining her his queen was impossible.
But then, on some level, Javier imagined that was his brother’s aim. Still, it was not Javier’s position to question. Javier was as he had ever been. The greatest weapon Monte Blanco possessed. For years, he had undermined his father, kept the nation from going to war, kept his people safe. Had freed prisoners when they were wrongfully withheld. Had done all that he could to ensure that his father’s impact on their people was as minimal as possible. And he had done so all under the oversight of his older brother, who—when he had taken control—had immediately begun to revive the country, using the money that he had earned with his business acumen. The Tycoon King, he was called.
And this—this deal with Robert King—had been one of those bargains he’d struck in secret. Apparently this deal had been made long ago, over drinks in a casino in Monte Carlo. A bet the other man had lost.
Javier was surprised his brother would hold a man to a drunken bargain.
And yet, here he was.
But Matteo was not a thoroughly modern man, whatever moves he was making to reform the country, and this sort of medieval bargain was just the type he knew his brother might favor.
Still...
Looking at her now, Javier could not imagine it.
She was wearing a white suit. A crisp jacket and loose-fitting pants. Her makeup was like a mask in his estimation. Eyelashes that seemed impossibly long, full lips played up by the gloss that she wore on her mouth. A severe sort of contour created in her cheeks by whatever color she had brushed onto them.
Her dark hair was in a low ponytail, sleek and held back away from her face.
She was stunningly beautiful. And very young. The direct opposite of their poor mother, who had been so pale and defeated by the end of her life. And perhaps that was the point.
Still, forcing a woman into marriage was possibly not the best way to go about proving your modernity.
But again. He was not in a position to argue.
What mattered most was his brother’s vision for the country, and he would see it done.
He was a blunt instrument. Not a strategist.
Something he was comfortable with. There was an honesty to it. His brother had to feign diplomacy. Had to hide his agenda to make the world comfortable.
Javier had to do no such thing.
“I don’t know who you are. And I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
He made his way over to the door, entered in the code and it unlocked.
Her father had given him all that information. Because he knew that there was no other choice.
She backed against her desk, her eyes wide with fear.
“What are you doing?”
