Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(128)
I never really stopped running. I googled ways to get out of the country on my phone, steeled myself, and talked to a representative from the church in a cold, flat voice. My mother begged me not to go, and my father said nothing but that it was my choice and to make sure I call them. I left the following week.
Laughter bubbles out of my throat as I suddenly realize that this is exactly what I was looking for.
I’m too cowardly to do the job myself, so I’ve been looking for someone to do it for me. Fleeing to a war-torn country, following Melissa out of the tent, it was all for one purpose. I was looking for an end I’m too weak to give myself.
The knock I’ve been waiting for finally comes.
“Go away,” I croak out, clutching my blankets.
When the door opens and he walks in, I can’t say I’m surprised.
He’s dressed in pajamas, I think. Loose black silk and a robe, and slippers.
Fuzzy slippers. Very worn.
“What do you want?”
“I could not sleep.”
“Why?”
“I should apologize for startling and upsetting you. I…acted out of turn. A strange fancy gripped me.”
I snort. “So you’re here to say sorry.”
“No.”
“You just said you came to apologize.”
He sighs as he sits on the edge of the bed. I scoot away from him, drawing my legs up as I curl into a ball.
“I did, and I offer my apology, but, ‘I am sorry I kissed you,’ is not a thing I can say. It would be a lie. I am not sorry. I liked it. I would do it again if you let me.”
“And if I don’t?”
He glances at me but doesn’t answer.
“Your accusation has some weight,” he sighs, scrubbing his fingers through his dark hair, all shaggy now. “I took an interest in you when we first met.”
“You mean at that camp?”
“Yes. I saw you naked and filthy and hurt, clutching thin blankets to cover your shame…”
“I’m not ashamed of my body.”
“Or of interrupting me. It’s a figure of speech, woman. You remained defiant where others would break. You kept your head where others would not. You cared for others weaker than yourself. You acted a princess…or a queen.”
I snort. “Get to the point.”
“I run a perfect country.”
“Debatable, but go on.”
“This is all on my shoulders.” He rolls them and stretches his neck, as if to ease the invisible burden. “When I am gone all of this goes with me, unless I provide an heir to rule after me.”
I blink a few times.
“You’re f*cking joking, right?”
He turns to me. “No. Marry me.”
My jaw drops. “You are joking. That’s absurd. We just met, and I don’t like you. In fact, I think I hate you.”
“Why?”
“Should I make a list? Okay, let’s start with the head chopping, and then taking me and my friend prisoner, that’s two items, then there’s all the oppression and violence of your totalitarian regime, that’ll be three. Oh, and you feed defenseless bunny rabbits to a trained mutilation bird. You’re a creep. Is that good enough?”
“You’re not a prisoner here.”
“Oh? So I can go back to America and return to my family now?”
“No, but not because of me. If I let you go, it will be a death sentence.”
I blink a few times.
“What?”
He looks away from me and squeezes his fists together. “The CIA man. His backers will allow no loose ends. You heard too much, saw too much. You will not be allowed to live. Something would happen. A car accident. Your plane would go down over the ocean. You would fall strangely ill and doctors would be helpless to save your life.”
“That…”
That makes a lot of sense, actually.
“What if no one knows about me?”
“It is too late. I spoke to ‘Brad,’” his mouth twists in disgust, “at length on this matter. He explained to me in detail how he told his superiors about you. He had you marked out to lead into my territory even before you followed your tent mate to rendezvous with the truck. After she disappeared he would have found you and asked you to go looking for her, with him.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I started with his feet.”
A choked sound squeezes out of my throat.
“I’m going to be sick. You tortured him?”
“I questioned him. Sharply. He’s alive. Though not well.”
I swallow. It feels like my throat is packed with wet dirt.
“I had hoped you would see things my way.”
“Oh?”
“Your courage drew my attention, and you are quite lovely. Even then, more so now.”
I feel myself start to blush. Damn it.
“If you tell me I have birthing hips, I will kick you in the face.”
“What do I have to do before you speak to me with respect?”
“Earn it,” I say sharply.
He leans toward me, resting his hand on the bed next to my hip. “There it is. That is why. You are not afraid, are you?”
I swallow. “Yes. I am. You scare the hell out of me. You could kill me at any moment and no one will stop you. Nobody will even know I’m gone.”