The Secret King. C.J. Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ She couldn’t quite accept how he had come to power, but she felt a chink in her armor.

      “I want you to come to Icarus as my guest. I will show you. I will let you see with your own eyes.”

      His guest? Nothing in those words was sexual and yet her heart was doing somersaults. He had been secretive with the media and yet he wanted her to visit? “No.” Her reasons for saying no were complex. She couldn’t leave Serena now. She would feel like a traitor traveling to Icarus to spend time with DeSante. Spending time with DeSante under certain conditions could bring up some emotions she didn’t want to confront.

      Iliana did not have a good track record with men. She was easily seduced. DeSante could break down her defenses. Iliana knew it. She was loyal to Serena and she would remain that way.

      “Perhaps you will be persuaded in the future.”

      To sleep with him? She smothered her outrage, realizing he’d meant changing her mind about traveling to Icarus. Iliana pulled her emotions under control. What about this man riled her so deeply? “We will see.”

      “I believed you to be an open-minded woman. Did I misjudge you?”

      “Of course I’m open-minded. But I cannot travel to Icarus unless Princess Serena decides she wishes it. Did you have anything else you wanted to talk to the princess about?”

      “Tell her she is contemplating marrying a cad.”

      She hadn’t heard that term in years. “A cad?”

      “King Warrington will not make her happy.”

      “And you would?” Iliana asked, feeling a stab of jealousy at the idea of Serena dating President DeSante.

      “Not at all. I am not interested in marrying the princess. My interests in her are political and professional.”

      Right. Though Serena hadn’t had many boyfriends, mostly as a result of her avoiding crowds and staying away from being the center of attention, she was a beautiful, voluptuous woman. “I’m writing this down. You’re not interested in war, you don’t want Serena to marry the king and you’re interested in her. Professionally.”

      “Don’t forget that last word. My personal interests lie elsewhere. Until we speak again, and I do hope that is soon, be well. Good day, Iliana.”

      She hung up the phone being more turned on from one phone conversation than she had by her last boyfriend in the year they’d been together. President DeSante was the trifecta of attraction: bad boy, bad ass and far too handsome for his own good.

      * * *

      Serena took her guard’s hand and stepped out of the town car to catch her balance and not trip over her gown. A plane flight and a long car ride had brought her to the palace of Rizari, King Warrington’s home.

      She smoothed her green dress, hoping it was appropriate for the evening’s events. Iliana had helped her select it and yet Serena was a bundle of nerves about the entire visit, including what she was wearing. This was not where she shone. She was not great at small talk and mingling, and preferred to stay on the outskirts of a crowd and watch. Or better yet, to sketch or paint from a safe distance. Even hiding behind a camera had a certain appeal.

      Before her father’s birthday party, Serena had not been to a formal occasion in years, avoiding them with carefully constructed excuses. Grief knotted in her stomach and she blinked away tears. How she wished her father and her sister were still alive!

      “Your Grace?” her guard asked.

      Serena realized she had been standing rooted in the same place, looking up at the palace. It was a breathtaking display of architecture and design. When Samuel had inherited the throne after the untimely death of his uncle, he had put energy and resources into renovating the two-hundred-year-old structure. The effort showed.

      “I’m fine.” Her guards flanked her and she took the stairs to the front door. It opened and she was escorted inside.

      She had always believed her castle to be ornate, but the palace of Rizari made Acacia’s royal home look like a straw hut.

      This was her first date with King Warrington, although she wasn’t sure if he would consider it a date. Officially, it was a dinner party with members of the royal social circle, some whom she knew by name and others not at all.

      Her heels clicked against the floor as she was escorted by King Warrington’s butler and her guards into the dining room. She was almost used to having her guards so close, but in her home, they didn’t hover over her as they did in public.

      Serena scanned the room for an inconspicuous place to sit or stand, as was her usual technique when being in an unfamiliar place. Her eyes landed on a man across the room and her breath caught in her throat.

      “Your Grace, may I offer you a drink?”

      She held up her hand to decline, vaguely aware that she may have been rude, but she was impossibly fixated on one person. The man who had saved her life. As she crossed the room, she realized she could be mistaken. She could be imagining him. Thinking of him so often had a strange effect on her. She found herself almost subconsciously looking for him everywhere she traveled.

      When she was a few feet from him, he took a sip of his drink and then turned his head toward her. Their eyes connected. She remembered those kind eyes, eyes of strength and compassion.

      “Is it you?” she asked.

      “Your Grace.” He bowed to her.

      “What is your name?” She had to know before he disappeared again. A swell of emotion and questions rose up inside her.

      “Casimir Cullen.”

      Casimir. A regal name. His voice set off a sensation in her stomach, and excitement spiraled throughout her body. “Do you remember...” She didn’t know how to finish her thought. He had to remember that night. Anyone who had lived through it would have it seared into their memory.

      She had thought, upon their reunion, her protector would grab her, hug her to him, and now she realized, she had pictured him kissing her, banding his arms around her and making her feel safe for the first time in weeks.

      “I remember.”

      She would have to settle for being the target of his warm, intense gaze. But the effect was much the same. “I’ve been trying to find you.”

      He inclined his head and Serena glanced at the person he had been speaking to. More specifically, the woman he had been speaking to. This was the king’s dinner party. Was Casimir here with his wife? Why did that thought devastate her? Her entire being should be focused on grieving for her father and sister, and trying to wrap her arms around the tremendous tasks ahead of her. Yet part of her clung to Casimir as being something bright and good in her future. It was presumptuous of her to think they had a future.

      “That night was difficult. I have been traveling, trying to clear my head,” he said.

      “With your wife?” she asked, gesturing to the woman standing across from him.

      The woman smiled. “Cas and I aren’t married.” The look she gave him implied she would like to change СКАЧАТЬ