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Ignoring her misery, Arianna put her smile on and accepted the call.
* * *
The next nine days sped by. Arianna was insanely busy. Mason insisted she take a break each day and use the fitness facility, which she appreciated, and it did help keep her sane. Brad and Mason both trailed her to the gym and guarded her while she was there. It was awkward working out and knowing the man she wanted was watching her every move.
Sometimes she even indulged in a twenty-minute massage in one of the top-of-the-line Daiwa Supreme chairs or wandered through the beautiful solarium to recharge.
She was accustomed to driving to nearby stores in Vienna and Southern Germany or flying to Italy and France to interact with her favorite designers, florists, and caterers on behalf of the royal family. Doing it all from a bedroom was wilting her very soul. General Ray was protecting her, but he’d taken away a major part of her process. How was she, an artist, supposed to work under these isolated, detached conditions?
Arianna said a prayer and strengthened her resolve. She would make it all work and do it from a bedroom with only a computer and video chats because she was a professional. No stylist block would keep her from making the event worthy of her beloved and illustrious king and future queen.
Mason and Brad were right there to do anything she needed. Anything except Brad getting close enough to kiss her again. He gave her plenty of longing looks, which destroyed the theory of him not being interested in her as a woman, but he was very careful to keep his distance. It was obvious he was damaged. But how could she heal him?
Mason, on the other hand, flirted and teased with her constantly. She thought the world of him and appreciated his humor and easy-going nature, but she didn’t know if his jabs about her choosing him were just to tease her and Brad or if he was serious. She wouldn’t mind dating him after the Gifted Genius was caught. If she could get Brad out of her mind. She doubted either would happen.
There had been nothing new on the serial killer. She prayed he didn’t choose another victim for number seven and December, but she didn’t want him fixated on her either.
Arianna loved the Augustine castle—it was luxurious, spacious, and the views of the valley and mountains were insane, but she didn’t fancy the idea of never leaving it. The suite they were staying in was probably as big as her cottage in Traverse with the open living area, two bedrooms and bathrooms. The granite counters, hickory wood cabinets, stainless steel appliances, cherry wood flooring, and leather furnishings were all the highest quality. Still, the space seemed to close in on her.
She spoke to her dad every few days on the phone, but she missed him and knew he missed her too.
Tomorrow was the royal wedding. Arianna should be resting, but she was too keyed up. It was almost midnight, and she paced the bedroom, thinking through each detail and making certain she hadn’t missed anything. She had done the very best job possible, even confined to the castle.
Thoughts of Brad kept sneaking in. She tried to ignore them, but they kept coming and coming. What was she going to do about him? How could she break through to him, heal his wounds, love him? He resisted her at every turn. Something was deeply wrong inside him. He still had light, but he was much more serious than the easy-going, charming young man she’d known.
She needed a drink of water and prayer. Lots of prayer.
Rushing out into the main area, she stopped short. Brad popped to his feet next to the couch. He was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts and obviously sleeping on the couch bed. She’d come out early in the morning a couple times and Mason had been sleeping on the fold-out. They took turns? She’d assumed Brad had somehow won a bet and gotten the real bed.
His gaze traveled over her and then he said in a beautifully husky voice, “You and those …” He cleared his throat. “Barely-there pajamas of yours.”
Brad and her dad had both given her a hard time about her pajamas, Brad especially on family vacations together or when her parents went away and she stayed with him and his mum.
But Brad had never looked at her like this while she was wearing them before.
“What? I sleep hot.” She tossed her long hair and commended herself for wearing the summery pajama set even in the winter—a cotton tank top and shorts. “And they make my arms and legs look fabulous.”
“I cannot argue with such practical logic.” His gaze was hot. He turned and pointedly looked out the windows, which was silly as it was pitch dark outside. “Can I get you anything? Are you all right?”
Arianna was fed up with him avoiding her. She marched around the coffee table and into his space, and finally she got his attention. She jabbed a finger into his chest and said, “Yeah, you can explain why you’re keeping your distance when we’re stuck in the same castle suite.”
He studied her, and she had the horrible, sinking feeling that he was going to close off and not give her anything.
“Brad.” Arianna put her hand on his arm. He tensed under her touch, but she refused to be dissuaded. She kept her hand there, liking the feel of his warm, firm flesh. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are,” he said.
“Good friends,” she said, sliding her hand up his arm. She was rewarded with him trembling softly. Her hand crossed the soft fabric of his T-shirt, appreciating the musculature of his shoulder, and then cupped the back of his neck with her hand.
He drew in a breath and didn’t move away. A Christmas miracle. Only a few days until the holiday arrived. Would her dad come here to spend it with them? Would they be stuck in this suite or join the royal family?
“Good friends,” she repeated, easing closer and hoping Mason wouldn’t hear them and come investigate.
“Ari … we’ve always been good friends.”
“Thank you.” She wrapped her other hand around his neck, playing with the soft hair at his nape.
He groaned but sadly did not wrap her up in his arms.
