The Royal Elite: Mattias (6 page)

Passing by the suite was one of the harder things Alannah had ever done. Mostly because
everyone
knew what was going on behind closed doors. Cheeks flaming red, Alannah marched toward the end of the hall as if her mission hadn't included a drive by of the Prince. It didn't matter anyway. The guards, hers and his, all knew what she was doing there. Everyone had seen her with him after returning from the chess game and now, here she was, stalking by looking pissed off and offended.

Angling through the gloomy halls, she made her way back to her own suite. She could hear Barrett close the gap when she fished for her key but held up a hand, palm out, to stop him from making any comments. Opening the door, she entered her room and shut it behind her. With brisk, fidgety motions, she yanked off her clothes, found her nightgown, and got into bed.

It wasn't like Mattias owed her anything. And why did she care so much? Did it matter if he bedded half the party attendees? Of course not. She didn't give one lick whether the Prince collected a harem and rotated through the ranks on an hourly basis.

Maybe tomorrow night she would have to overcome some of her unsocial tendencies and dance with a few men other than the Prince.

She closed her eyes, determined on a course of action, but it was hours and hours later before she finally fell asleep.

“I can't believe you're making me leave.” Katrina slipped her foot into a stiletto and fumbled with the buckle.

“There is someone I need to speak with before I sleep.” Mattias didn't feel like explaining why Katrina couldn't spend the entire night in his bed. He made an effort anyway while he poured himself a measure of scotch from a bottle on the sidebar.

Standing, Katrina adjusted her dress, which still looked terribly askew, and glared his way. “It could have waited until morning. Or is it that you're going to visit that
other
woman? The one you walked to her door?”

Mattias tipped back a swallow of the potent liquor, buying himself a few seconds to cool his temper. If there was anything he didn't like in this world, it was when people questioned his motives and judged him for things they had no business judging him over.

“Your claws are showing,” he said evenly. “And really, it's none of your business who I'm meeting with when you're gone.”

Katrina gasped, flipped a lock of tousled hair over her shoulder, then banged out of his room without looking back.

With that act, the pretty blonde effectively ousted herself from his bed not just for the evening, but from his presence entirely. Mattias didn't have the time nor the wherewithal to pander to tantrums from women who didn't get their way with him. He had business—plain and simple. Business that did not involve lounging around with a woman in his arms the rest of the night. He'd been pretty sure Katrina knew the score here. Knew what they shared was physical, nothing more. She also knew his nature and that sometimes, meetings came before pleasure.

Taking another drink, he walked away from the sidebar and slouched into a cushioned chair. Wearing only a pair of black slacks, he didn't bother to add a shirt or shoes.

Ten minutes later, two hard knocks on his door preceded Ahsan's entrance. The swarthy skinned man made short work of assessing the situation while he threw the dead bolt.

“Sulking?” Ahsan asked.

“Drinking,” Mattias replied.

“Over a woman?”

“Over many things.”

“You sound strangely pensive.” Ahsan crossed the room and paused to lean his shoulder against a bed post.

“Perhaps I am.” Mattias didn't deny it.

“Anything to do with what's going on here?”

“Only insofar that we still do not know who, exactly, is targeting Miss Astbury. Unless you have new information?” Mattias had another drink and regarded Ahsan.

“I've got nothing yet. I was hoping you'd heard from Leander,” Ahsan admitted. At some point he'd lost the tuxedo coat, leaving him in just a white button down that provided a stark contrast against the otherwise gloomy room.

“He hasn't contacted me since I saw him last, which means he's in the thick of it, scaring up what details he can.”

“Who's covering Miss Astbury tonight, then, if you aren't?”

“Chayton. I'm sure he's keeping watch.” Mattias finished off the drink. He set the glass aside and exhaled, refusing to think about Katrina and how she hadn't quite taken his mind off the heiress. It was too late to go back to Alannah's suite and interrupt her slumber. There wasn't any good excuse for disturbing her at this hour, although he sorely wanted to.

“I'll check on my way back to my rooms. If Chayton's covering her tonight, then I'll pick up in the morning. How's that?”

“Fine with me. I've arranged to meet Miss Astbury at the masquerade tomorrow evening, so one of you can take the night shift after it's over.” Unless he could convince Alannah to let him inside, where he might stand guard while she slept.

“Or, I'll show up in your stead, and kill two birds with one stone,” Ahsan replied.

“I'm not sure what you mean.” Mattias had an idea, however, one that made his stomach tighten with displeasure.

“I mean that I'll meet her at the masquerade and find a way to remain in her company for the entire night. That way, one of you can pick up around breakfast, when I'm done.” Ahsan looked entirely too devilish for his own good.

“I don't think so. She's expecting to see me there, and that's who she'll find.” Mattias rose from his chair to bring the meeting to an end. This way, Ahsan wouldn't finagle his way into attending the masquerade.

“All right, all right.” Ahsan showed his palms, amusement ripe on his features. “I'll see you some time tomorrow. Remember to pass the word on if Leander finds out anything useful.”

“I will. Sleep well.” Mattias saw Ahsan out the door. Before he could contemplate a trip to Alannah's room and possibly make an awkward situation for himself, Mattias retreated into his suite.

Pulling out his cell phone, prepared to call Leander for an update, he discovered his phone was dead.

“That figures,” he muttered to himself. Sliding the phone onto his nightstand, he reached for the drawer and the cord to plug it in when he remembered the black out.

So much for that.

Any news would have to wait till morning.

Alannah watched the rain from a small table near a tall window where she was finishing her second cup of 'instant' coffee. The staff delivered it early, a peace offering for the inconvenience of the lingering power outage. In emergencies, Alannah wasn't picky; any coffee would do. After tossing and turning half the night, she desperately needed a pick-me-up.

A knock at her door yanked Alannah from her grumpy ruminations. Three distinct raps that indicated it was Barrett calling.

Leaving the cup of coffee behind, she went to the door and opened it, careless that she was still attired in a silk robe of white. Barrett had seen her in bikinis and even a wrap around towel. He could handle her in a robe.

“Yes?”

“Miss Astbury, there is a gentleman--” Barrett didn't get the rest of his sentence out before a swarthy skinned man in a fine suit brushed her bodyguard away like a pesky gnat.

“Hello, Miss Astbury. I wondered if you'd like to take breakfast in the dining hall this morning. The power is still out, as I'm sure you're aware, but they've managed to serve up something decent, so I hear.” Ahsan smoothed a hand down the tailored suit and gave the material a tug to straighten it. Black, with a white shirt beneath and no tie, the suit was clearly expensive and well made.

Alannah knew who he was. Not so much by territory, but by how many women flocked to his side every time he showed his face in public. A layer of whiskers decorated his strong jaw and sexy eyes as dark as ink made silent promises of pleasure and good times. He was also distinct due to his charismatic nature and height.

Why he was at her door, of all people, she couldn't begin to guess.

“I'm sorry, I'm not hungry at the moment. You must have the wrong woman and the wrong room. Good day.” Alannah smiled quick so he wouldn't think she was totally rude, and was in the middle of closing the door when he braced a hand against the wood to keep it open. Blocking her from shutting it in his face. Alannah arched a brow at the arrogant action.

“Actually, I'm in the right place. Mister Morano asked some of us if we would escort the ladies down to the dining hall. With the outage, the kitchen staff is feeding everyone in shifts and it might not be until lunch or later that you'll have a chance to eat again.” He regarded her with a steady, dark gaze.

Alannah had no desire to eat amongst a herd of other guests. It was bad enough to endure the company of ten debutantes who took a half hour to decide what to eat and what to drink, much less twenty or so people for their 'shift'. Except this man had a good point. If she didn't eat now, there might not be another chance for hours. Hopefully, the power would be back on long before then.

“All right, Mister...”

“Ahsan. Just call me Ahsan.” He extended a long fingered hand.

Alannah shook, finding his palm to be covered in thick callouses. “Ahsan then. Give me fifteen minutes to change.” After he inclined his head and stepped away from the door, she closed it and headed for the closet. Because she had no intention of lingering downstairs after eating, she didn't need to dress to the hilt. Choosing a pale yellow pair of linen slacks, she topped it with a cap sleeved, pearl button down shirt of silk. Easy, light, respectable. She slipped her feet into sandals, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and picked up her room key. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the hallway and locked the door behind her. Barrett trailed, looking unhappy about the brusque treatment he'd received from Ahsan.

“So, I hear you played a game of chess in the rain--”

“
Mister
Ahsan,” Alannah said in her most chiding voice. “I wish not to discuss the chess game. If you please, let's just go down to breakfast.”

Alannah couldn't have said what made her so prickly toward her companion. It wasn't just the way women flocked to him, but the personal way he spoke, as if he'd known her much longer than three minutes. Or maybe she was still stinging from the evening before and had no patience for small talk.

Yes, she was definitely still stinging.

Ahsan silenced himself and paced her to the stairs, holding the door for her to go first. Which she did. She descended with brisk steps, taking care not to fall. At the bottom, she got the door for herself and stepped into a long hallway leading two directions. Right appeared to lead toward the back of the manor, left toward the great halls and foyer in the front.

“This way,” Ahsan said, gesturing to the right. He said nothing more.

“Look, Mister Ahsan. I'm sorry. I didn't get much sleep last--” She got no farther before the swarthy skinned man interrupted. He spoke with crisp precision, as if he wasn't often treated so rudely.

“No apologies. The kitchen is right up here.”

Now she felt bad. Alannah stole a quick glance at his profile. Ahsan was a devastatingly handsome man, with an aristocratic nose, full mouth, and defined jaw. He could have graced the cover of any magazine, been a celebrity in any country.

As could Mattias. Except Mattias was built sleeker and a little leaner than the rugged, six-foot-three desert dweller.

Irritated that her thoughts swerved back to the Prince despite her best attempts to put him from her mind, she rounded into the expansive dining hall adjacent to the kitchens. Candles in familiar iron holders cast a pleasant, almost romantic glow over the gloomy room. Very little light spilled in through the arching windows thanks to another overcast, rainy day. Already a menagerie of guests were there, spread out around one of two large tables. Centered every two feet along the tables stood gorgeous floral arrangements that added to the overall sense of coziness and privacy.

Alannah took note that Mattias didn't seem to be among the gathered. The blonde, however, sat in a chair alone, stabbing her fork into small pieces of cut up fruit as if she were in a furious mood. Curious thing, that. Alannah might have expected her to be brimming with post-coital smugness.

“Enjoy your breakfast,” Ahsan said before cutting away to a buffet set up against the wall.

“I—Mister...” But he was gone. Oh, he probably heard her well enough, choosing instead to ignore her and concentrate on food.

Not to be put off, Alannah marched after him, snatched up a plate from a stack at the end of the buffet line, and stood next to him while he decided what to eat. Standing there in silence, determined to show him she
did
have manners, Alannah selected a few pieces of bacon, fruit and a dab of scrambled eggs to put on her plate.

“I'm unfamiliar with where you're from, Mister Ahsan. Why don't you enlighten me?” she said in her most conversational voice.

He barked a laugh and looked at her sidelong as if he couldn't believe his ears. “Are you always this standoffish, or is it just me?”

“I'm trying to make polite conversation,” she countered, frowning up into his face.

“You're like a prickly bush, maybe a porcupine, ready to stab and sting anyone who tries to get close. I have to say, you're nothing like I thought you would be from the pictures I've seen in magazines.” He arched a brow and piled a stack of pancakes on his plate.

Alannah caught herself before she could roll her eyes. The blasted magazines. Her father's doing, and the bane of her existence. It lent a false sense of confident exuberance in public that she simply didn't own.

“My father had those commissioned. It took three weeks to get the shots they wanted.” She'd been ready to throttle someone, namely her father, by the end.

“So he's using false advertising to try and snare you a decent husband.”

Alannah's fork rattled against her plate. “
What?
How dare you say such a--”

“But I'm right.” He sent a disapproving glance her way, like he hadn't expected her to lie about that part.

The sad fact was—she'd suspected the same thing at the time. Her father wanted grandkids, wanted her married and happy and living life to the fullest. After a disastrous relationship when she was twenty, Alannah retreated into her hobbies and passions and forgot about dealing with men. Four years later, she was used to doing things on her own, in her own time, and only went on dates when her friends set her up with someone they thought would be 'just perfect'.