Going Royal 01 - Some Like It Royal (17 page)

Chapter Twenty

Daniel hated L.A. traffic. She stole his damn car. She’d stolen his car and left him. The resort offered him a driver, but he paid a fee to borrow their car and used the driving time to focus on his pitch to the grand duke. But frankly, he didn’t give a damn about the consortium, the prince or his wardrobe. If his tux hadn’t been laid out and ready for him when he arrived at home, yelling for Alyx, he would have just left it there. All the way home from Big Bear, her note haunted him.

What happened to the fun lover with her playful touches and erotic kisses? He’d left her sprawled and satisfied on the bed to shower, then walked out to find her gone and a note about a party with the grand duke and a stilted promise to meet him there. Why the hell hadn’t she come in to tell him? They could have driven back together.

Unless the princess gig means a hell of a lot more to her than I do.
And why shouldn’t it?
It’s her family.
It’s all she could possibly have wanted—a real family
,
real ties
...

He scowled as the car in front of him lurched forward a few inches, only to slam on its brakes again.

He hit the button on the Bluetooth and told the phone to call Victor Russell. He’d already talked to Martin—his best friend was too busy chortling over the success of his insane plan to be of much use. He grimaced at the harsh thought—it was hardly Martin’s fault that he’d let himself get caught up in the fantasy.

But what was more real?

The woman he found in her car or the princess who glided on his arm?

And does it really matter?
You wanted her to be a princess.
It just never occurred to you what would happen when that duckling turned into the swan
,
did it?

“Mr. Voldakov.” Russell’s stiff tone greeted him.

“You haven’t by any chance seen my fiancée this afternoon, have you?” The fiancée who wasn’t answering her cell phone, hadn’t been at the house and had left him with a cryptic note and a case of self-examination the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since the days he got bullied in high school.

“Why, yes, I just put her in a car on the way to the Beverly Hilton for the reception.” The man’s tone was cool. Too cool.

Eyes narrowing, Daniel glared at the traffic still insisting on inching its way forward. “And would you happen to know if she has her phone with her?”

“She did, but I’m afraid she forgot it in the rush to get ready. We had to pick out a new dress, shoes and accessories befitting her rank before her presentation to the grand duke.”

Logical, reasoned responses to the invitation and all perfect in keeping with their original deal—but something was off.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I am so pleased that you asked. The princess arrived for her personal shopping appointment very upset. It seems she’s concerned that she broke her contract with you—heartsick, in fact.”

His chest tightened. “How does she feel she broke it?”

“I would not be one to betray confidences, Mr. Voldakov. It is both a personal and moral affront.”

Cagey bastard.

“I see.” Daniel drummed his fingers. Every problem had a solution. The most difficult of bugs could be worked out if the programmer came at it from a different angle. “What was her state of mind when she left you?”

“Determined.”

Determined to see their deal through? Determined to call him an ass? Determined to be the one woman in the world who could drive him mad with just a tilt of her head? Daniel swallowed the bitter bile of self-doubt and focused. “And would you have any sage wisdom you’d like to impart about this evening’s events?”

“Possibly. But the question you should ask yourself is what are you willing to lose, Mr. Voldakov?”

Traffic opened up in front of him and he stared over the cars, barely moving his foot to the accelerator until a car honked noisily behind him. “What am I willing to lose?”

“Yes, sir. What are you willing to lose?”

“I’m not willing to lose her.” No hesitation. No doubt.

To hell with the European deal, to hell with the consortium and thrice be damned to the royal clutch that held the contract strings. Spherecast was a phenomenal success without the damn EU. He had the keys to a Japanese contract and he’d get his foothold in Europe the American way—with hard work and sweat.

Hell, the company could go belly up and he’d build another, but what was the point without her?

He’d been an idiot to think it was all about business. He’d told that lie to everyone who mattered. Most of all, he’d said it to her.

“Then tell the princess the truth.” It was as though he’d heard every word played out in Daniel’s mental argument.

“That’s your advice?”

“It is.” The cool and detached words reflected the man himself. “Tell her it’s not about the fantasy. Tell her about your reality and her place in it.”

Could he do that? Could he walk in there and put his heart all on the line? What if by some ironic accident of fate, he’d pushed her to become the very type of woman he didn’t want? But the moment the thought tried to take root in his mind, he pictured her sitting cross-legged and naked in the middle of the bed, laughing at something the cat did on the British science fiction show.

That was the woman he’d fallen in love with—barren of any artifice, gem or cosmetic. The pure, open, cheerful woman with the easy smile and the quick wit.

The woman who shut down when her hopes were ripped away. The woman who fought to survive and pursued her dreams.

She was part of the woman he loved too.

“Mr. Voldakov?” Russell’s voice punched through his reverie and thankfully, traffic achieved thirty miles an hour.

“Russell. Did I break something in her?”

“Bent, perhaps, but not broken. Be honest. Tell her the truth. You have to be willing to take on the dragon with no certainty of success if you want to get your princess back.”

Take on the dragon.

“Thanks, Russell.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Voldakov.”

He hit the button on the steering wheel to end the call. He’d walk through fire for Alyx, so swallowing his pride shouldn’t be that much more difficult.

An hour later, he tossed his keys to the valet and circled his car to walk into the hotel. He didn’t slow his stride. It was after seven and while he’d hoped to find her in the lobby waiting for him, he strode toward the elevators and took them to the ballroom level. Security waited for him just outside the doors. He passed them his ID and waited impatiently for his name to be checked off the list.

Tell her the truth.
Russell’s words rang in his ears. Martin would kill him. But he already wanted to shred that contract and more—he wanted to shed the whole charade. He wanted the former waitress and aspiring actress to go out with him for ice-cream sundaes, watch midnight movies and help him design that identify-a-shoe app.

He wanted her.

At the entrance to the ballroom, he paused and let his eyes adjust. Skimming the crowd, he had no trouble finding her. She stood off to the side, arms wrapped around a tall European.

Quiet fury seethed up.

Tell her the truth.

He would tell her the truth—right after he told that fucking poacher to get his hands off her.

He barely saw the rest of the room as he strode over. He took the man by the arm and pulled him off of Alyx, the fingers of his left hand curling into a fist. Then he slammed it into the man’s chiseled, elegant jaw.

“Daniel!” Alyx let out a little cry, but he pinned the fallen fellow. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he recognized his face and his features. But in this moment, he couldn’t quite see past the haze of anger to acknowledge that recognition.

“She’s taken. Learn to keep your hands to yourself.” He turned to catch Alyx’s arm and spun her toward the door, marching her out of the room with as much dignity as he could muster while her attention focused behind them.

Martin’s stunned face among the crowd of gawkers barely penetrated his periphery. The music hiccupped as everyone stared, but someone must have said something, because it began again.

Outside the ballroom, Daniel steered Alyx away from the security and other onlookers until he crowded her into a private nook. Once there, he let out a breath and stared at her. She was dressed in the most basic black, a pair of diamond studs glittered in her ears and the only other jewelry the royal crest necklace the grand duke sent her. A pair of artfully placed clips in her hair gave the illusion of a tiara and the overall effect was absolutely stunning.

“You’re beautiful.” That wasn’t exactly how he planned to start the conversation, but it definitely bore repeating. “Absolutely beautiful.”

She jerked her arm out of his grasp.

“Why on earth did you hit him?” She stared at him with traces of sadness that echoed his own upset in her wide eyes.

“Because he was touching you. And I don’t care who he is, you’re not available.”

“Oh really?” Her chin came up and she put a hand on her hip. “I’m not?”

“No.” He slid an arm around her and pulled her close. “You’re not.” He slanted his mouth over hers and poured all of his frustration and want into that kiss. She caught hold of his jacket, hanging on to him. At first he thought she’d push him away, but she tugged him closer and for the first time since walking out of the shower to the empty cabin, the shackles on his heart snapped.

“You’re taken, Miss Dagmar,” he murmured against her lips. “One hundred and ten percent.”

She sighed beneath his kiss and bit down on his lip when he would have taken it further. He blinked at the sharp nip of pain and lifted his head to look at her. “I know what our contract said—”

“To hell with our contract.” He interrupted her. “In fact, we can burn it together when we get home. I don’t care about what you agreed to or what I offered—I want to negotiate new terms.”

She blinked slowly. “Dare I ask what those terms might be?”

“Well, the first is that you agree to go out with me on a real date—one where we don’t worry about photo opportunities or elegance. Just fun.”

“I see.” The hesitation in her face robbed him of breath.

Rushing on, he held her hands up between them. “The second part is you let me put a real ring on this finger. Not for show, not for a deal and not for any other reason than that I asked you to marry me.”

Her pupils dilated and he heard the quick catch in her breath.

“Daniel, we—we barely know each other.”

“You like ice cream in the middle of the night. You adore British science fiction shows. You refuse to put value on things because you’re always worried they’re going to be taken away. You love having a home, but you aren’t sure you actually belong in one. You’re a princess who doesn’t believe she is one. You’re a woman with a big heart and a love for make-believe.”

“I know you too. You’re a dreamer and fixer.” Her lower lip trembled, but her voice was steady. “You like to build things and solve puzzles and you’re way too generous for your own good, but sometimes you miss the really big things right in front of you. I know because—because I miss them too.”

Tell her the truth.

He took a deep breath and flung it out there, facing off with the dragon with no real assurance that he would be successful.

He dropped to one knee.

“I don’t need a business deal to be happy or to write anything more than basic code. You’re the woman I love, Alyx, and I don’t care what title you want to put on that as long as it means you’re with me for the rest of my life.”

She swallowed and tears glossed over her eyes. One tremulous drop slid down her cheek and she held his heart in her keeping. He gazed up at her and tried to infuse everything he was feeling into his gaze.
Believe me.

“If it has any bearing on your decision at all, cousin, I approve.” A deep, masculine voice with a European accent interrupted. Daniel ignored it, staring up at her. The pressure on his chest eased when she didn’t look away either.

“Yes.” One word. Just one. And he stood and lifted her into his arms, kissing her. He heard her laughter, tasted her tears and did his absolute best not to whoop. But the wild applause breaking out around them forced him to lift his head. Most of the ballroom had followed them out to the secluded corner, including the man nursing a faintly reddening bruise.

“Well done, Mr. Voldakov. Well done.” The man, it seemed, was also leading the applause. He stepped toward them and held out his hand. “Armand Dagmar.”

Well, that explained Martin’s apoplectic expression and the niggle of recognition. He’d slugged the grand duke.

“Call me Daniel, Your Highness.” He accepted the man’s firm handshake.

“It would be my pleasure.” The grand duke glanced over his shoulder and security moved in to usher the crowd back to the ballroom, leaving them in relative privacy. “I would be honored if you would call me Armand.”

Alyx held tightly to Daniel’s arm and he leaned over to brush a kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to guess you two have already introduced yourselves.”

“Um, yeah.” It was her turn to laugh. “Armand was just apologizing to me that the family never came for me. They’d never known my father married, much less had a child.”

The grand duke inclined his head, genuine sorrow turning his mouth down. “Precisely. Your grandfather and mine were brothers, but they quarreled over a woman, of all things. My grandmother, as it happens. Your grandfather moved to the States in a fit of pique. We knew he’d married and had a son, but he moved frequently and refused to call the family. My grandfather was equally stubborn and wouldn’t pursue the matter. A few years ago, when my grandfather passed, my father tried to locate your family, only to learn both were deceased.” Armand sighed. “Had we known you existed, we would have taken every measure to bring you back to our family. If you believe nothing else, please believe that.”

He held out his hand and Alyx took it, her smile sad, but without any regret. “I do, and thank you. As grateful as I am for the idea, I have to say I’m glad you didn’t.”