Kidnapped For His Royal Heir

‘Zak.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What?’

‘You may call me Zak when we’re not in a formal or professional setting. I’ll leave it to your discretion,’ he said, reeling a little from the words falling from his own mouth.

She didn’t speak the words but the refrain of no, thanks, blazed in her eyes.

Another first.

‘We’re going to be late, Your Highness.’ She aimed a pointed gaze at the door. ‘And I don’t wish be blamed for your tardiness.’

A peculiar little blaze fired through him, fanning higher the longer he looked into her eyes. He was a prince. Second in line to the throne of a small but infinitely mighty kingdom. Not very many people dared to defy him.

Violet Barringhall was exhibiting definite signs of defiance.

The urge to put her in her place resurged. But it had a different slant to it this time. There were so many ways to deliver one’s point. To those who sought to seed mistrust and dissent in his kingdom. To those who sought to gain financially on the back of his family name.

Why not try a different solution to this problem? Take that immersive therapy he’d mocked to another level. Send the Barringhalls a message once and for all.

She blinked, drawing his attention to her wide, alluring eyes. The flawless skin of her throat and neck. Lust kicked hard in his groin, reminding him that he hadn’t indulged himself in a while.

She’d flashed those eyes at him just like that on her birthday. Well, two could play at this game the Barringhalls had started.

Si, it really was the perfect solution.

Decided, he flicked his wrist and his driver eased the door open.

Zak stepped out to a frenzy of paparazzi flashbulbs. Ignoring them, he offered his hand to Violet, this time holding onto her as she stepped out onto the red carpet.

In her heels, she came up to his shoulder, the perfect angle for him to gaze down at for a beat before the inevitable personal questions were shouted at him.

He didn’t answer, of course. Pandering to the media was beneath him, and he’d learned long ago that the tabloid press printed what they wanted regardless of his answers or, indeed, the truth.

But when they caught sight of Violet and tripled their questions, he allowed an enigmatic smile to play on his lips as he tucked her arm into his and escorted her inside.

The paradigm had shifted.

Violet couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had happened or when. But as she walked beside Zak though the throng of designer-clad guests, she sensed an edgier purpose from him. Instinctively, she knew it wasn’t the challenge of attempting to meet his impossibly high standards.

Whatever Zak had up his sleeve was personal. Aimed at her.

It lurked in the shrewd, too-long gazes that repeatedly slanted her way as he guided her around the opulent ballroom. Halfway through the first circuit, she knew she needed to extricate herself from him.

His tight schedule, even at social functions, provided the perfect excuse. ‘You have three pre-dinner drinks. The first is with the Bolivian attaché. Here he comes now,’ she said briskly, hoping that flinging them both into business mode would throw him off whatever scent he seemed determined to hunt down.

Zak nodded without taking his eyes off the person he was saying goodbye to, then skilfully intercepted her with a hand on her elbow before she could walk away. ‘Stay. Your presence will curtail his tendency to drone on ad nauseam. You might also pick up a tip or two to take back to your institution when you leave in a few months.’

The reminder that this position was temporary shouldn’t have annoyed her, considering she’d been praying for it to end a short while ago. Perhaps it abraded her nerves because he stated it with that narrow-eyed, watchful suspicion? ‘I’ll stay if you think I’ll be useful. My role is to assist, after all.’

‘Do I detect a little displeasure in your tone, Lady Barringhall?’

Violet.

She barely stopped herself from issuing the invitation. She wouldn’t. He could use that mocking tone all he liked. Right up until she extricated herself permanently from him.

‘Of course not,’ she said with a smile manufactured straight from the depths of the decorum rulebook.

She ignored his droll expression as he greeted the attaché, sending him on his way the moment the man’s conversation grew circuitous. But after he’d introduced her to the next person with that faintly mocking tone once more, she’d had enough. ‘Why do you keep throwing my title in people’s faces?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Ignoring the blatantly false claim of obliviousness, she pressed on. ‘You’ve been in a...mood since we arrived. Is this some sort of test?’

‘Everything is a test, Lady Barringhall. If you don’t know that by now, then I’ve been wasting my time.’

‘I don’t mean professionally and you know it. This feels personal. Did I do something to offend you?’

The only hint that she may have strayed near a bullseye with her question was in the brief flaring of his nostrils. Then he was back under supreme control. ‘I merely introduced you with your correct title. I fail to see why you would feel attacked by it.’

To push the issue felt like overkill. And yet... ‘Perhaps we should clear the air. Lay things out in the open?’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Ah, now we get to the heart of the matter. Is this where you confess?’

She frowned. ‘Excuse me? Confess what?’

‘That this so-called role of yours is just hiding your true purpose here,’ he said, an edge in his tone.

‘And what’s my true purpose, pray tell? No, wait, let me guess. You think it’s some sort of ploy to land myself somewhere in your private life? Or, goodness, perhaps even in your bed?’

That earned her more emotion. His eyes blazed wildly and ferociously, just like they had that night, before he ruthlessly smothered it. But it didn’t die completely. She felt its latent heat as his gaze drilled into her. ‘Is your ultimate goal to land in my bed? You should’ve said this straight out, Violet. Then we could’ve dispensed with all this...pretence.’

Fire intensified, flaring out from her pelvis to engulf her whole body. ‘You’re deliberately twisting my words. I don’t want to end up in your bed. Hell, I don’t want to go anywhere near your bedroom!’

A few heads turned, and she flushed as eyebrows went up at her hot, charged denial.

Just then a discreet little chime announced the end of the champagne reception. Violet breathed in relief.

‘Saved by the bell but definitely to be continued, I think,’ he rasped as they drifted towards an even more opulently decorated ballroom where the main event was being held.

‘No, it won’t,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘I hate to disappoint you but I’ve said all I’m going to say on the matter. I don’t care what you think my motives are, but I’d thank you to—’

‘You don’t care? Have you forgotten that one major reason you’re here is to get your hands on my invaluable letter of recommendation?’

‘Are you threatening to withhold it unless I indulge you in your silly little game? Is that what this is about?’

His mouth twisted. ‘Let’s not throw around accusations on who is playing games with whom, Lady Barringhall.’ His voice was silky, like a stiletto knife sliding through butter. All without losing an ounce of his arrogant composure. Hell, he even nodded greetings to a few guests in the process of cutting her down.

She refused to be cowed. ‘You didn’t answer my question. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me since I arrived in New York. But if I’m wasting my time, at least have the balls to tell me so we can be rid of each other sooner rather than later,’ she dared, her heart banging hard against her ribcage. She didn’t want to risk irritating him more than she already seemed to be doing, but she didn’t want to throw away all her efforts either.

They reached their designated high table and he slid back her chair, his strong, elegant hands braced on the sides as he waited for her to be seated.

Violet moved, incredibly aware of his proximity, of his scent and the powerful body barely leashed beneath the trappings of civilised clothing. Aware of his complete focus on her. She called on every crumb of composure she possessed, thankful when she took her seat without stumbling.

But then he lowered his head to align with hers, drawing a wild shiver as he murmured for her ears alone, ‘A few weeks of running around in my office, dispensing effortless English charm, isn’t going to quite cut it. If you want to earn my regard, you’ll need to do a lot more than lackey work. And as for my balls, Lady Barringhall, I’d caution you not to involve them in our conversations. At least, not in this setting. Later, though...who knows? I just might accommodate you.’

Heat flared into her cheeks, whipping up a wild tornado that centred between her thighs. She refused to be thrown by the images he evoked. Nevertheless, it took considerable scrambling to get her brain to formulate an answer. ‘What do I need to do to prove my worth?’ she demanded once he was seated, frustration building in her chest.

‘You want to prove your worth? The trust is in the process of building eco-lodges in Tanzania. It’s a tourism initiative in partnership with the government to provide long-term income to the area. Tell me what you would bring to the table in this project.’

Violet ruthlessly curbed her excitement. With a few words, he’d described everything she hoped to aspire to in her career. But she didn’t put it past him to dangle an offer in her face only to snatch it up the moment she expressed an interest. That gleam in his eyes had only intensified in the last few minutes, his focus on her almost rabid in its fervour.

‘How many lodges?’

‘Thirty to start off with catering to the discerning and environmentally-conscious tourist in mind. Twice that in phases two and three.’

‘When are you looking to vet volunteers? I could help you with that. Weed out those wanting a free ride against those committed to truly making a difference.’

‘There are a few on the ground already but the majority are lined up to be vetted in the next week or two.’

She shook her head. ‘The rainy season starts in less than three months. If you don’t want the project severely disrupted, you need to move quicker than that.’

A smile ghosted over his lips and Violet suspected he’d been testing her.

Her shoulders went back. She lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eyes. ‘You want to test my true commitment? Include me in the project. My secondment is up in about the time it’ll take for this first phase to be done. Let me prove to you that this isn’t just some flight of fancy.’

He wasn’t impressed by her declaration. If anything, his scepticism increased. ‘You wouldn’t be the first royal seeking to elevate their status by affiliating themselves with a project like this. Just so we’re clear, that’s not going to happen here.’

‘All I’m asking is that you suspend your suspicion of my motives for a few weeks and let me do what I came here to do. Or are you so cynical that you won’t even give me that chance?’

His smile turned hard, edgy. ‘You seem in a mood to throw around taunts.’

‘I’m defending my character. I’m a hard worker. Take my word for it or let my actions speak for themselves.’

Stormcloud eyes pinned her to her seat. But before he could respond, a hush descended, drawing their attention to the podium as the patron of the fundraising charity rose to make her welcoming speech. The world-renowned socialite, known for her skills in raising millions for charitable causes, repeatedly glanced over at Zak as she spoke.

Despite being over a decade older than him, her interest was blatant, a fact, Violet suspected, that had contributed to her hosting this event.

For a cynical moment Violet wondered if Zak had taken advantage of it. Whether he’d had even a moment’s pause before aligning himself with a woman whose gaze caressed his face even as she delivered a charming, quick-witted speech.

She only registered that she’d been staring at him for an indecent amount of time when his gaze swung sharply to her, one eyebrow cocked at whatever he read in her expression.

She resisted the urge to drop her gaze, allowed hers to linger before, feigning boredom, she turned towards the podium as the socialite ended her speech to applause.

Violet couldn’t fault her. As her own mother had repeatedly striven to maximise every opportunity by hosting such events, people were more prone to opening their wallets when in a good mood.

And the sight of Prince Zak Montegova, rising with masterful grace and long-limbed elegance to step up to the podium, made them feel extra-special.

His speech was a sublime combination of wit, gravitas and arrogant challenge, rousing consciences and stirring sluggish apathy. Heads nodded and any remaining sceptics couldn’t help but be moved by the video presentation of the trust’s needs, especially in deprived communities.

‘And just so you’ll appreciate the urgency of my latest project, I’ve been informed by Lady Violet Barringhall, my newly appointed special advisor on our latest project in Tanzania, that time is even more of the essence if we’re to meet our goals. Which means you’ll also need to move fast or this particular train will leave without you. And if you miss this one, you won’t be guaranteed a seat on the next one.’

And, simply because everyone in the room wanted a connection with the Royal House of Montegova and its representative Prince, they laughed a little more eagerly, their glances sharper as they turned to her, prying and assessing whether she was the conduit to their ultimate prize—access to Zak Montegova.

But Violet wasn’t interested in them. She was wholly consumed by Zak’s revelation. Her heart banged anew when he stared at her in blatant challenge for a sizzling few seconds, absorbed the applause at the end of his speech, before stepping off the podium.

He neither paused nor smiled in acknowledgement of the accolades dropped in his wake as he returned to the table.

Soft music struck up from a string quartet as he resumed his seat.

‘You couldn’t have told me before you made the announcement?’ she asked, wondering why her excitement, while effervescent—because this was what she’d dreamed of for as long as she could recall—was tinged with an even sharper thrill she suspected had nothing to do with her new role and everything to do with the man who’d granted it.

‘I believe this is the moment in the process where you thank me for giving you this opportunity?’ he drawled silkily, dark grey eyes fixed on her face.

Violet swallowed her sharp reply. Regardless of how the package had been delivered it was the content, the chance to start to make a difference, that mattered. ‘Thank you for the opportunity. And before you taunt me by asking me if I’m up to the task, I assure you I am.’

‘You urged me to test your mettle. Consider this the first lesson. But I’ll be watching you every step of the way. One misstep and you’re done.’

‘There won’t be any,’ she stressed, for him and especially for herself. She couldn’t afford any, not if she wanted to drag herself out of the shadow of her parents’ misdeeds.

‘Good. We leave in seven days. You can have tomorrow morning off to pack.’

Something wild and urgent fluttered in her belly. ‘We?’

‘Did I not mention it? I’ll be in on the ground in Tanzania too. Which means you’ll be working directly under me,’ he said, his voice deep, weighted with evocative meaning that sent blood surging through her body to concentrate traitorously between her thighs.

He stared at her long enough to register the effect of his words on her. Then he turned away and addressed the other guests at the table.

Violet sat back, attempted to absorb the swift turn of events, and the image she couldn’t erase from her mind—of her trapped beneath the sensual power and might of Zak Montegova—quickly enough.

The gauntlet had been thrown down, and her with it, right into the spotlight. Perhaps in more ways than one.

Either way, it was up to her to show him, to show everyone, that she wasn’t just a tainted title, biding her time until a rich, preferably titled man swept her off her feet and answered all her mother’s prayers.

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