Royal Families Vs. Historicals. Rebecca Winters

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СКАЧАТЬ to ask Trella, “Have you noticed… Is something going on with Henri and Cinnia?”

      Trella tilted her head in consideration. “He hasn’t said anything to me, but now that you say it…”

      Henri didn’t peep a word about anything unless he wanted it known, but if he did confide a secret, it was to Trella first. They were all close, but they each had their own special relationship with each other. It went all the way back to the day Angelique and Trella were born. Their twin brothers had been allowed to name their sisters and it had created a sense of responsibility in each boy for “his” baby sister.

      Ownership, Trella and Angelique had often called it in a mutter to each other. Half the time the boys acted like their sisters were kittens picked up from the animal shelter, but it was a dynamic that had colored their entire lives. They all loved each other equally, but when it had come to holding a sister’s hand or pushing her on a swing, they had naturally divided into Henri and Trella, Ramon and Angelique. Oldest with youngest, middle with middle.

      Which wasn’t to say that Henri was any less protective of Angelique than he was of Trella, or that Ramon was more. Trella’s kidnapping had sent the boys’ instincts off the scale. Their father’s death six years later, when the men were barely twenty-one, had added yet another layer to their self-imposed yokes of responsibility.

      Thus both men would insist on an explanation for today’s false alarm.

      Angelique hung up on her sister and placed the call to both brothers at once, opening with, “I can’t talk long. I have a date.”

      Their identical faces stared back at her, Henri in the London flat that he often shared with Cinnia, Ramon in the corporate office in Madrid. They both gave her their full attention, but Henri’s expression was marginally more severe, Ramon’s a shade amused.

      “Do you really expect us to believe the ‘looking at your necklace’ story?” Ramon asked.

      “Do you really want a different one?” she challenged.

      “Soyez prudent, Gili,” Henri said. “He doesn’t keep his women long and he has publicly stated that his father will choose his bride—a traditional virgin from Zhamair, no doubt. I wouldn’t recommend a romance.”

      “Hear that, Ramon? Don’t get your hopes up.”

      No smile out of Henri. He really was a grump these days. Angelique scanned behind him for Cinnia. She usually dipped into the screen for at least a quick hello.

      “I have to go to Beijing for a week, but I’ll be back in Paris after that. You can explain properly then,” Henri stated.

      Good luck, she thought, suppressing a snort, and took note of how permanent that sounded. Back in Paris after that. Henri usually divided his time between Paris and London with occasional popovers to New York and Montreal. More often than not he said “we,” meaning him and his companion of two years, Cinnia.

      Ramon only introduced his lovers to the family if they happened to bump into each other at a public event. Women were a catch and release sport for him and he was forever on the run anyway, covering Spain, Portugal and all of South America for Sauveterre International. The men were actively working on acquisitions in Asia and Australia, but as Ramon sometimes joked, “We’re only one person.”

      “Trella told me not to bring her tomorrow,” Ramon said abruptly, dark brows pulling into a frown. “Did she tell you that?”

      “What? No!” Angelique was taken aback. “I just spoke to her. She said, ‘See you tomorrow.’ We’re going to finish Hasna’s gown and start packing everything.” Had she blocked her sister from airing some misgivings, too focused on herself and her date with Kasim?

      “No, I mean she said she wants to travel to Paris alone. With guards, of course, but she doesn’t want me to come with her.” Ramon scratched his eyebrow. “It started because I said I was heading to Rio right after and that I had to be there until Sadiq’s wedding. She said I shouldn’t have to double back and she would go to Paris alone.”

      “Go with her anyway,” Henri ordered. “I’ll change my schedule and come get her, if you don’t have time. Where is Mama?”

      “No!” Angelique interjected. “Boys.” They were thirty, but sometimes calling them that was the only way to pull them out of their patriarchal tailspins. “We’ve always said that Trella has to be allowed to do things in her own time. That meant not pushing before she was ready, but it also means not holding her back when she is ready. You know how hard she’s trying.”

      “Exactly why she shouldn’t push herself and trigger something. No. I don’t like it,” Henri said flatly.

      “Neither do I,” Ramon said.

      “Too. Bad,” Angelique said, even though her own heart was skipping and fluttering with concern for her sister. “I’ll be here,” she reminded. “It’s a couple of hours on the private jet. I do the trip all the time.”

      “It’s different,” Ramon grumbled. “You know that.”

      “Let her do this,” Angelique insisted, ignoring the sweat in her palms as she clutched her tight fists. “I’ll text her so she knows I can come get her if she changes her mind.”

      She signed off with warm regards to both her brothers and finished getting ready for her date.

      * * *

      Angelique had to give Kasim credit. He did his homework—or his people did.

      He chose a restaurant she and her family frequented for its excellent food and location atop the Makricosta, one of Paris’s most luxurious hotels. The staff was also adept at protecting her privacy, not forcing her to walk through the lobby, but willing to arrange an escort from the underground parking through the service elevator.

      It always amused her that the most exclusive guests of fine establishments wound up seeing plain Jane lifts and overly bright hallways cluttered with linen carts and racks of dirty food trays.

      To her surprise, Kasim was in the elevator when it opened. That instantly sent its ambiance skyrocketing. He was casually elegant in a tailored jacket over a black shirt that was open at the throat.

      Her blood surged, filling her with heat. What was it about this man?

      “I didn’t realize you were staying here,” she said, trying not to betray his effect on her as she and Maurice stepped in.

      “I wasn’t. Until I had a date with you.” His gaze snared hers and held it.

      A jolt of excitement went through her as the suggestiveness in his comment penetrated. Don’t act surprised. We’re very well matched…

      She’d never progressed so fast with a man that she’d contemplated sex on a first date. In fact, her advancement to the stage of sharing a bed was so slow, she had only got there a couple of times. Each time she had arrived with great expectation and left with marginal levels of satisfaction.

      Now her mind couldn’t help straying into sensual curiosity. What would it be like to sleep with Kasim? Their kiss had been very promising. She grew edgy just thinking of it.

      “In case you wished to dine unseen,” he added almost СКАЧАТЬ