The Rebel King. Melissa James
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not for herself, but for the sake of her people.
He wondered why, when she could have used other cool, level-headed arguments, she’d chosen to show her real, hidden self to him.
‘Time to bow to the old dragon,’ he said, not without ruefulness. He didn’t want to, but he’d given his word. He put the choking tie back in place as she slipped her feet back into the heels that were way too high for so small a woman. ‘See, princess, I can pretend to be civilized every now and then.’
The smile she gave in return seemed remote, yet the super-imposition remained. As if she stood in a mirror, he could see the reflection of her uncertainty beneath—and it was that hidden woman under the princess’s surface face he couldn’t make himself reject.
He held out his arm to her. He’d have liked a more intimate touch. Holding hands would tell him if the simmering fascination he was feeling for her was returned, or if it was all duty on her side.
But the minders waited on the other side of the door. And two stood in strategic positions outside on the terrace. When it came to private matters, he’d never been one to put on a show.
Jazmine rose gracefully to her feet and slipped her arm through his. ‘Think of it as a game,’ she suggested. ‘You say yes, you capitulate—for now—and you make plans. When it’s your turn, you can change what you like, from law, protection levels and privacy, to the rate of taxes.’
He felt his brows lift. ‘Very clever, Your Highness.’
She inclined her head, but not before he caught the twitching grin, the tiny quiver of a half-dimple at the side of her mouth, and the lurking mischief in her eyes.
He knew he’d remember her face, caught in that moment in time, for the rest of his life. The superior Mona Lisa: dutiful princess, a passionate, committed woman and a sweet tease all in one. And she was beautiful like this, so beautiful.
The door opened as they approached. He flicked a glance around, and saw the security cameras in every corner.
Strangers had been watching his every move, listening to every private word between himself and Jazmine. Like it or not, he had been putting on a show.
It would be that way for the rest of his life, if he took this on. There would be no treasured private moments between husband and wife. Every sound would be noted by the security outside, even if there were no hidden cameras.
This wasn’t the start of something between a man and a woman, it was a farce, a half-tragic sitcom for the edification of a legion of strangers.
He wanted to puke, to bolt back to that big silver jet and head back to a life where he didn’t have people watching, a king telling him what to do, and a princess who made him feel like a jerk and a hero at the same time.
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