At His Majesty's Request. Maisey Yates
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to submit proof of sexual history.”
“Do you do that?”
“I have. Though not just women.”
“Who?” he asked.
“Ah, now, if I told you I would have to kill you. I operate on the basis of strict anonymity. Unless those involved are seeking publicity, I don’t talk about my clients.”
“But word does spread,” he said. He’d seen an old school friend three weeks earlier, and the smugness had practically been dripping from him as he stood there with his new fiancée. Oxford educated. And a model. She was everything he’d asked for. Beauty and brains. And who had accomplished the feat?
Jessica Carter.
The woman the media called the World’s Most Elite Matchmaker. She catered to billionaires. CEOs, tycoons. Royalty. And she was renowned for making matches that lasted.
That was what he needed. He’d given up on allowing himself any sort of personal interest in the selection of his bride ever since he’d discovered that it was likely he would be assuming the throne for his absentee brother. His wants didn’t matter. He needed a woman who could be a princess, an icon for his country, an aide to his rule. Aside from that, he had some of his own ideas. Someone beautiful, of course. Someone smart. Philanthropic. Fertile.
It shouldn’t be too hard to find.
“This isn’t just about me, Ms. Carter, this is about Kyonos. My family has seen too much tragedy, too much …
upheaval. I have to be the rock. I have to provide a solid foundation for my people to rest on, and establishing a solid marriage is essential to that plan.”
The death of his mother, nineteen years ago, had shaken his people to the core. The abandonment of his older brother, the rightful heir, had caused months of instability. Stocks had tanked, trade had stalled, the housing market going into a deep freeze.
Why had the future ruler really left? Would he truly abdicate? What secrets were the Drakos family guarding beneath that veneer of polish and old world sophistication?
He had been determined to undo all of the unrest brought about by his brother. And he had done it. He’d revitalized Thysius, the largest city on the island, with posh hotels and trendy boutiques. He’d brought in new revenue by having the seat of his corporation on the island, a country much too small to house companies the size of his, when the owner wasn’t the crown prince.
He’d done much to drag his country back from the brink. From the age of eighteen his entire life had altered so that it revolved around his homeland. He hadn’t had the luxury of being a boy. Hadn’t had the luxury of feeling fear or sadness. He’d learned early on that feeling had no place in his world. A ruler, an effective ruler, had to be above such things.
“I understand that this is a big deal,” she said. “Not just in terms of your country, but for you. She is going to be your wife.”
He shrugged. “An acquisition I’ve long known I would make.”
Jessica let out a long, slow breath. “Mr.…Prince Drakos, will you please stop being so candid? It’s remarkably hard to sell a man who clearly has no interest in romantic love.”
“Try this for a tagline—marry the jaded prince and receive a title, a small island, a castle and a tiara. That might make up for it.”
“Money can’t buy love.”
“Nice. Trite, overdone, possible copyrighted by The Beatles, but nice. You might consider tacking this onto the end—love doesn’t buy happiness.”
Something changed in Jessica’s eyes, a shard of ice in the deep green that had been warm a moment before. “That’s for damn sure, but we’re talking about putting together a sales pitch. And you aren’t helping.”
He shifted. “Can’t you put something in my file about my impeccable table manners?”
“I haven’t witnessed them, and I don’t lie. You’re my client, yes, but there is a pool of women I work with on a regular basis, and I have great loyalty to them.”
It was intriguing. The way she flashed hot and cold. The way she presented herself, nearly demure, and then she opened that mouth. And such a lovely mouth, too. She was holding it tight. What would it take to make it soften?
The idea made his stomach tighten.
“And you think one of them is my queen?”
“If she isn’t, I’ll walk through all of Europe beating gold-plated bushes until a member of minor nobility falls out. I won’t stop until we get this settled.”
“You are supposed to be the best. You did manage to get a confirmed bachelor friend of mine to settle down.”
“That’s because, in my business, there’s no settling. It’s all about making the best match possible,” she said brightly.
“Somehow, I do not share your enthusiasm.”
“That’s okay, I have enough for both of us. Now …” She looked back down at her tablet computer. “Your sister’s wedding is in just a couple of weeks, and I don’t want you going with a date, are we clear?”
He frowned. “I wouldn’t have brought a date to a wedding.”
Weddings were where one picked up women; he didn’t see the point of bringing one with him. The thought reminded him that it had been a very, very long time since he’d picked up a woman.
“And no leaving with any of the bridesmaids,” she added. “You have to be seen as available, approachable and, oh yes, available.”
“You said that already.”
“It’s important. Obviously, we don’t want to put out a call for all eligible women in the kingdom to show up, so we need to go about this subtly.”
He frowned. “Why aren’t we putting out a call for all eligible women?”
“Look, Prince Charming, unless you want to put a glass slipper on a whole bunch of sweaty feet, you do this my way. That means you behave how I tell you to at Princess Evangelina’s wedding.”
“I wouldn’t have picked up a bridesmaid. My sister’s friends are far too young to interest me,” he said.
“Ah … so you have an age range,” she said, perking up. “That’s important.”
“Yes, no one as young as Evangelina. I’d say twenty-three at youngest. A ten-year age difference isn’t so bad. Maybe cap it at twenty-eight.”
She frowned. “Oh. All right.” She looked down at her computer, then up, then back down again, her mouth twitching, like she was chewing on something. Her words, he imagined. She looked up at him again. “Why, exactly, is anyone older than twenty-eight too old?”
“I need a wife who can have children. Preferably a few of them. Any older and …”
“Right,” she snapped, directing her focus downward again.
“If I ask you how old you are I’ll only make this worse, won’t I?” he asked dryly.
“I have no problem with my age, Prince Stavros, I’m thirty. Not that it’s your business.”
“It’s not personal.”
“I get it,” she said. “And I’m not applying anyway.”
“A pity,” he said, noticing the way color bled into her cheeks.
Jessica set her iPad on the ornately carved table to her right and put her hands in her lap, trying like crazy to stop the slight tremble in her fingers. She was saying all the wrong things. Letting her mouth run away with her. Not a huge surprise since she tended to get prickly when she got nervous.
She’d managed to make that little quirk work for