Beloved Wolf. Kasey Michaels

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СКАЧАТЬ bent over Sabrina’s hand and said suavely, “Ah yes, Mrs. DeWinter. I had the pleasure of meeting your husband—a marvelous actor, by the way—when I ran into him in the portrait gallery this afternoon.”

      Sabrina raised her eyebrows. “Really? Dirk didn’t mention it.” She withdrew her hand as soon as practicable, and Juliana shot her friend a sharp glance. Apparently Sabrina was equally unimpressed with the younger Zakharian prince.

      “How is your father, Juliana?” Zax asked. “Is he enjoying his retirement?”

      She smiled as she thought about her father. “My dad is still going strong at seventy-five—I hope I’m that active when I’m his age. He volunteers as a tutor at the local high school two days a week and distributes “Meals on Wheels” to seniors even older than he is on the weekdays he doesn’t tutor.”

      They chatted desultorily for a few minutes after that, and Juliana assessed her old acquaintances. Zax looked older than she remembered, of course, but he’d already been a man when she’d left Zakhar, and the years had touched him nearly as lightly as they had Andre. His face was austere, and his bearing was as military as it had always been—she wasn’t surprised to learn Zax was now a Lieutenant Colonel in the Zakharian National Forces, on detached duty as head of security for the king.

      But it was his younger brother’s appearance that truly surprised her. Niko was only two years older than she was, which meant he was two years younger than Andre and three years younger than his older brother. But there were already tiny lines of dissipation in his face. And though he was still a handsome man—the Marianescu good looks hadn’t passed him by—the overall impression was of a man who’d indulged too often. Wine. Food. Women. And drugs? Juliana never liked to think of people she knew using drugs, even people she didn’t care for, but she wouldn’t put it past him. The press had dubbed him the playboy prince, and they weren’t far off. The moniker wasn’t a compliment.

      Juliana suddenly remembered how Niko had ignored her in the early days, only displaying an interest in her once she started showing signs of the beauty that had eventually made her world famous. So very different from Andre, who’d never treated her as an imposition when she and Mara used to trail after him, who’d never made her feel as if either of them were in the way. And this is important why? she asked herself. Andre-then and Andre-now weren’t the same person. Maybe that held true for Niko, too. Maybe he’d improved with age, had become less self-centered, less self-important.

      But probably not, she mused with a touch of cynicism, although she maintained an air of sweet interest on the surface. She’d always seen right through Niko, had seen his pursuit of her years ago for what it was. From his appearance and the avid way he was acting now, he hadn’t changed one bit.

      * * *

      Zax showed up on the set nearly every day, but Juliana put that down to the meticulous way he did his job and not a particular interest in her. As head of security for the king, he was responsible for—among other things—making sure the cast and crew of King’s Ransom weren’t a threat to the king’s safety in any way. They conversed sometimes when she had a few minutes between scenes—reminiscences for the most part—including memories of Juliana’s father, who’d been the US Ambassador to Zakhar when she’d lived here. Although Zax reminded her poignantly of Andre in the way he looked, the way he spoke, even his mannerisms sometimes, and though she could tell he appreciated the beautiful woman she’d become, there was no spark and he never went beyond the line. He never said anything to which Juliana could take exception.

      Niko also showed up on the set frequently over the next few weeks, and his presence watching the filming didn’t bother Juliana one iota, any more than Zax’s presence did. Nor did his attempts to get her alone cause her anything but amusement. Niko was just another in the long line of men who pursued her because of who and what she was—a status symbol. She’d dated men like Niko back in Hollywood, men who thought she was an easy mark. Not as many dates as the tabloids had trumpeted to the world, but a few. Like those Hollywood Lotharios, Niko would soon learn Juliana was no man’s conquest, and eventually he’d lose interest.

      The problem was, Andre occasionally visited the set, too, much to Juliana’s dismay. Every scene was doubly hard to play with him there, and she never knew when he would show up. She had a well-deserved reputation with directors for being the consummate professional, able to do most scenes in one or two takes. That was something else she’d learned from Dirk.

      But when Andre was there it was nearly impossible to act naturally. And more than once she was forced to apologize to the director and her fellow actors for some stupid screwup on her part, especially her scenes with Dirk. She told herself to ignore Andre. Told herself he was nothing to her now, no more than any casual acquaintance, so she shouldn’t let him upset her. Told herself she didn’t care what he thought of her, that the respect of her director, Dirk, the rest of the cast and the crew was all she cared about. But she was lying to herself, and she knew it.

      She was dreading the two intimate love scenes scheduled for filming tomorrow: the wedding-night scene, where Eleonora and her husband consummated their wedding vows just hours before Andre Alexei was almost slain and Eleonora was kidnapped; and the reunion scene years later, after the king finally ransomed his queen and her young son at a cost that beggared his kingdom. A stupendous cost equivalent to a king’s ransom, not just a queen’s. And then had brought them home to Zakhar...to him.

      The scene where Eleonora bravely confessed everything to her husband and offered to enter a convent to hide her shame and his—an offer Andre Alexei had adamantly refused. The scene where he made love to his wife so gently, so tenderly, she was finally able to respond to his lovemaking despite everything she’d endured in captivity.

      That scene reminded her poignantly of a scene between Terry O’Dare and Tessa in Jetsam. Dirk had said the same thing to her when he’d first read the King’s Ransom script, and they’d already discussed just how they were going to play it. But that made it incredibly intimate, more than just the words in the script. It was supposed to a closed set, with only the bare minimum cast and crew necessary to film both scenes. But who on the set would have the nerve to tell the king of Zakhar he couldn’t be there?

      * * *

      Andre knew his presence on the set was having a negative effect on Juliana’s abilities as an actress, and it bothered him not at all. He welcomed it as a sign she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she pretended. But the night before the scheduled love scenes he knew he couldn’t be there. He couldn’t watch Dirk DeWinter and Juliana making love, take after take, angle after angle, fully and partially clothed. He knew the scenes would be tastefully done—Juliana was never fully naked in any of her films. And he knew it wasn’t real, that they were merely actors playing the roles of the first king and queen of Zakhar. He still couldn’t watch it.

      I should have ordered the screenwriter to remove those scenes from the script, he told himself angrily. But in his heart he knew the scenes were necessary. The audiences had to see the love scenes, both before and after their long separation, in order to understand the eternal love that bound the two together even through years apart. They were actually beautifully written—the screenwriter had outdone herself.

      But Andre couldn’t watch those scenes being filmed. He also knew he would never be able to watch the completed movie—not with those scenes in it. It was too personal, would remind him too much of the one magical night he’d shared with Juliana. And if Juliana never came to him again, it would be like watching the nails being pounded into his own coffin, knowing that unlike his renowned predecessor, somehow he’d failed to win back the woman he loved.

      He opened the French doors СКАЧАТЬ