Postcards From Paris. Sarah Mayberry
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world that, until a couple of moments ago, she had quite taken for granted. Now she panicked she would never see it again.
Don’t what?
Anna forced her oxygen-starved brain to work out what he meant. Shouldn’t it be her telling this mad man what he shouldn’t be doing? Like crushing her so hard against him that she was almost asphyxiated. She tried to move inside his grip but the ring of steel tightened still further, pinning her arms to her sides. Her mouth, she suddenly registered, was pressed against flesh. She could touch him with the tip of her tongue, taste the very masculine mix of spice and sweat. She could feel the coarseness of what had to be chest hair against her lips. Forcing her mouth open, she bared her teeth, then brought them down as hard as she could. Yes! Her sharp nip connected with a small but significant ridge of his flesh. She felt him buck, then curse loudly in a foreign tongue.
‘Why, you little...’ Releasing her just enough to be able to see her face, her captor glared at her with ferociously piercing black eyes. ‘What the hell are you? Some sort of animal?’
‘Me!’ Incredulity spiked through the terror as Anna stared back at him, squinting through the dark shadows to try and work out who the hell he was, what the hell he wanted. He seemed somehow familiar but she couldn’t pull back far enough to see. ‘You call me an animal when you’ve just leapt out on me from the shadows like some sort of crazed beast!’ The jet-black eyes narrowed, glinting with all the menace of a brandished blade. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to goad him. ‘Look.’ She tried for what she hoped was a conciliatory tone, though her voice was too muffled from being squeezed half to death to be able to tell. ‘If it’s money you want, I’m afraid I don’t have any.’
This much was true. She had fled the party without even thinking to snatch up her clutch bag.
‘I don’t want your money.’
The rush of fear returned. Oh, God, what did he want, then? Terror closed her throat as she desperately tried to come up with something to distract him. Suddenly she remembered the ring that was still digging into her palm. It was worth a try. ‘I do have a ring, though—right here in my hand.’ She tried unsuccessfully to free her arm to show it to him. ‘If you let me go you can have it.’
This produced a mocking snort from above her.
‘No, really, it’s worth thousands—millions, for all I know.’
‘I know exactly what it’s worth.’
He did? Anna gasped with relief. So that was what this brute was after—the wretched ring. Well, he was welcome to it. Good riddance. She just wished she could get out of her engagement as easily. She was struggling to thrust it upon him when he spoke again.
‘I should do. I signed the cheque.’
Anna stilled. What? This wasn’t making any sense. Who on earth was this guy? Twisting in his arms, she felt his grip loosen a fraction, enough to let her straighten her spine, tip her chin and gaze into his face. Her heart thundered at what she saw.
Fearsomely handsome features glowered down at her, all sharp-angled planes of chiselled cheekbones, a blade-straight nose and an uncompromising jut of a granite-hewn jaw, all highlighted by the orange glow of the Victorian street lights. He exuded strength and power, and his sheer forcefulness shivered its way through Anna’s body, settling somewhere deep within her core.
She recognised him now. She remembered having seen him out of the corner of her eye somewhere amid the flurry of guests at the party, amid the endless introductions and polite conversations. A dark yet unmissable figure, he had been looming in the background, taking in everything—taking in her, too, before she had haughtily turned her profile to him. Some sort of bodyguard or minder—that was who he had to be. She remembered now the way he had hovered at the side of Rashid Zahani, her new fiancé, always a step behind him but somehow in charge, controlling him, owning the space, the glittering ballroom and everyone in it.
But a bodyguard who picked out engagement rings?
Somehow she couldn’t see this towering force of a man lingering over a tray of jewels. Not that that mattered. What mattered was that he took his brutish hands off her and left her alone to carry on making the hideous mess of her life that she seemed so hell-bent on doing.
‘So, if I am not being mugged, perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me exactly why you have leapt out of the dark and scared me half to death. And why you’re not letting me go now, this instant. Presumably you know who I am?’
‘Indeed I do, Princess.’
The word ‘princess’ hissed through his teeth, curdling something in Anna’s stomach. Loosening his arms from around her back, he moved his hands to her shoulders, where they weighed down on her with searing heat.
‘And, in reply to your question, I’m stopping you from doing something extremely foolish.’
‘Flinging this into the river, you mean?’ With a contemptuous toss of her head, Anna opened her hand to reveal the hated ring.
‘That and yourself along with it.’
‘Myself?’ She scowled up at him. ‘You don’t mean...? You didn’t think..?’
‘That you were about to leap to your death? Yes.’
‘And why exactly would I want to do that?’
‘You tell me, Princess. You flee from your own engagement party in a state of high anxiety, position yourself on a bridge with a thirty-foot drop into a fast-flowing river and then lean forward in an extremely dangerous way. What was I supposed to think?’
‘You weren’t supposed to think at all. You were supposed to mind your own business and leave me alone.’
‘Ah, but this is my business. You are my business.’
A wave of heat swept over Anna at the possessiveness of his words.
‘Well, fine.’ She fought to stand her ground. ‘Now you can go back to your boss and tell him that you prevented a suicide that was never going to happen by leaping on an innocent woman—a woman who just happens to be a princess, may I remind you?—and scaring her half to death. I’m sure he will be very pleased with you.’
Piercingly dark eyes held hers, flicking over her like the flames of a newly lit fire, mesmerising with a promise of deadly heat. There was something else there too, an amused arrogance, if Anna wasn’t mistaken. If ‘amused’ could ever be used to describe those forbidding features.
‘In fact I may decide to press charges.’ Anger hardened her voice. ‘If you don’t get your hands off me within the next second, I will make sure everyone knows of your behaviour.’ She jerked at her shoulders to try and dislodge his leaden hold.
‘I’ll take my hands off you when I am good and ready.’ His voice was as dark and menacing as the river that flowed beneath them. ‘And when I do it will be to personally escort you back to the party. There are a number of very important people there waiting for a big announcement, in case you had forgotten.’
‘No, not forgotten.’ Anna swallowed. ‘But, as it happens, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided I won’t be marrying King Rashid after all. In fact, perhaps you would like to go back and inform him of my decision.’
‘Ha!’ A cruel laugh escaped his lips. ‘I can assure you, you will be doing no such thing. You will accompany me back to the ballroom and you will act as if nothing has happened. The engagement will be announced as planned. The wedding will go ahead as planned.’
‘I think you are forgetting yourself.’ Anna fired back at him. ‘You are in no position to speak to me like that.’
‘I’ll speak to you any way I want, Princess. And you will do as I say. You can start by putting that ring back on your finger.’ His hand moved to Anna’s, picking up the ring and sending a jolt of awareness through her. For one crazy moment, she thought he was going to slip it back on her finger himself, like some sort of deranged