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CHAPTER SEVEN
FIRESTREAKEDTHROUGHhis veins as they drove down the mountainside, heading toward Paris. But they would not be staying in the hotel that she had chosen. Rather, they would be going to his suite. Of course, he was in the same hotel that she was in. He wasn’t a fool. He had not only known exactly where she was, he had availed himself to her room and he had her things moved into it. That should have been done the moment they had gone out to dinner. The staff had their orders, and of course they had complied.
He was a king, after all.
She wanted him.
And he was a little bit wary of how quickly she had changed her tune, that a bit of French bread and kissing had brought her to the place where she wanted to go to bed with him.
But he would not question his good fortune.
Livia was just a woman, like any other, and she was being given the chance to have money, power, a title. And because she was Livia, he did imagine that his reminding her she had a chance to do some very real good had brought her to this conclusion as well.
But still, she was human, his mouse.
He didn’t know why that disappointed him slightly.
That she could be so easily convinced.
But then, there was also the chemistry between them.
Chemistry he had worked for years to deny. If it had become harder recently, he had done his best not to think of it. He had been promised to Violet, and while he would not claim to be a great man, he had intended to keep his vows to his American fiancée. Who had not kept hers, and had found herself in love with his brother.
She made no vows to you. You kidnapped her.
Technically, Javier had kidnapped her.
And Matteo had not been bothered. Not in the least. From the moment his brother had said that he and Violet were going to wed each other, Matteo had shifted focus.
It was his own fault after all, he had left Violet unattended with his brother.
And he had been away with Livia.
It had been a very important political summit.
And he could’ve brought Violet with him, but their connection was still very new, and she had been unhappy and he had a feeling that she would have only damaged any political outreach he was attempting, with her general bitterness at the state of things.
Fair enough.
So, it had been just him and Livia, who had been angry with him, frosty.
Since their fight when he had told her about Violet King.
“And when will you decide to speak to me again?”
“Not anytime soon,” she huffed.
“You’re putting on quite a brave face in the palace.”
“Well, it’s not good for morale for everyone to see what an ass I think you are.”
“You forget yourself,” he said, rolling his shoulders back and turning to walk the length of the hotel suite. Livia was sitting on the couch there, perched on the end, looking indignant, her shoulders rigid and straight, her legs crossed at the ankles. She looked everything good and proper, an admonishment of what she found improper in him.
“How good of you to think of morale. I have political alliances to make tonight, though, and it would not benefit me to have my assistant lurking in the background looking like she wants to stab me with one of the very tiny forks that we will find at this banquet.”
“Why bother to have me lurking in the background?”
“You know I need you there.”
