Modern Romance November 2015 Books 1-4. Trish Morey

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      Her eyes went wide, her hands curling tightly around the white comforter on his bed, digging sharply into the material like claws. “You wouldn’t,” she said, her shocked tone spurring him on all the more.

      He kept his eyes on hers as he tugged his tie off and cast it to the floor before undoing the top button on his shirt. “As I said, I find I am quite tired. This is my bed. I have already given you the list of activities performed therein.”

      He undid a second button on his shirt and watched as her eyes grew even rounder. He undid another, then another, moving closer and closer to the bed. He found his own heart was starting to pound harder. He would not touch her. He knew this would end with her running away before he had to. Still, that didn’t stop the blood from firing harder and faster through his veins.

      His mind might be well aware that he was a modern man who would never take advantage of a woman in such a way, but his body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo. All he knew was that he was a man, and she was a woman. A very beautiful woman.

      And in that moment he started to forget exactly what he was doing here.

      He undid yet another button on his shirt, and suddenly she rolled to the side, wrapping the blanket around her body and landing on the floor. She stood up, the blankets concealing her curves. Her dark hair was wet, stringy and partly covering her face. And with all that, she was still trying to look imperious. “All right. You may arrange separate quarters for me.” She turned to the side, kicking the excess fabric from the comfort her out of her way. “I am going to dress. When I return I expect for things to be arranged.”

      He laughed at her retreating form, and her shoulders grew stiff, her frame all but vibrating with rage.

      He took his phone out of his pocket and made a call to his brother’s chief of staff, letting him know that the princess was ready to be shown to her room. Zara returned before the staff came to escort her away. She was dressed in a pair of soft pink pajamas that looked as though they belonged on a much younger, much less venomous girl.

      “Am I leaving soon?” she asked.

      “Listen to you. Quite impatient to go now.”

      “You make a very persuasive argument.”

      He chuckled again, amusement at her open hostility irresistible. He was not used to this reaction from women. But then, he was not used to being engaged to a woman. A woman who clearly didn’t want to be engaged to him any more than he wanted to be betrothed to her. “Most women don’t run away from me when I start taking my shirt off.”

      Her lip curled. “I am not most women, you will find.”

      He rubbed his chin, eyeing her figure, certainly not displayed to any advantage by the flannel she was currently wearing. “This may be a problem, as I expect you to be very like a woman when it comes to our marriage. You must be both a wife to me and a suitable public display for my country.” And he had to be the prince his brother needed him to be.

      “I am unsuitable,” she said, far too quickly.

      “And yet my brother says you are suitable. The only suitable choice, in fact. So there we have a problem.” He regarded her even more closely. Her dark eyes were glittering, and for the first time he saw that there was quite a deep well of fear beneath her prickly exterior. For the first time he questioned the way he had handled her. He was angry at being maneuvered, and he was taking his anger out on her. But she was not a part of this, any more than he was. “You have nothing to fear from me. You have nothing to fear from Kairos, even though he can come across as quite the tyrant. Neither of us is going to hurt you.”

      He saw no signs of relief on her face. “But you are going to use me,” she said.

      “You are royalty, Zara. Had you not been thrown out of the palace as a child and spirited away to live with the Gypsies, you would certainly be facing an arranged marriage anyway. Just as I expected I would be one day, though not quite with such short notice.”

      “Don’t you dare lecture me on the responsibility of royalty. My life as a royal was stolen from me.”

      “And here you have it back. The price of admission into the life is marriage.”

      “I did not expect it,” she said, her tone stiff.

      “Did you ever expect to marry?”

      She blinked. “I’m only twenty-one.”

      “Not so young in your country. So I ask you again, did you ever expect to marry?”

      She lifted her shoulder. “Were I a typical part of the clan I was raised in, I would likely be married by now. But I was not. I was under their protection. So different things were expected.”

      “Is that your very long, uninteresting way of saying you did not expect to marry?”

      Her expression darkened. “I may have someday. But I was in hiding to spare my own life, in order to save myself from a fate such as this. I hadn’t given it much thought. I knew I would have to leave if I was ever going to pursue a normal existence...”

      “I suppose this isn’t exactly normal.”

      “Indeed.”

      “You will need to be trained,” he said.

      Her frown deepened. “Oh, really?”

      “Yes. I think it’s entirely possible for you to be made into a suitable bride. You have the looks for it. You simply need...taming.”

      “Am I so wild?”

      “You have no sense of decorum. Your burrowing into my room is evidence of that. Your hair, your posture... You exude.”

      “I exude what?”

      He let out a long, slow breath. “You exude. In general that isn’t something a princess should do. You need to be...placid. Serene. As I said before, tame.”

      She clenched her hands into fists, her expression filled with rage. Her dark hair hung lank down her back, making her look all the more wild. “I refuse to be tamed.”

      He wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that, and he resented her for making him feel as if his back were up against a wall. Kairos had given his orders, and Andres had sins he needed to atone for.

      Part of him wondered why he was making an effort. He failed, that was what he did. Their father had always been quick to remind him of that fact when they were boys, and still when they were men. Kairos was the responsible one, the heir, thankfully, as he took his role so very seriously. Andres had been the one his father could always count on to create a scandal, to make a mess, to create disaster.

      There was a reason he’d been barred from official events as a child. Reasons he had spent state dinners locked in his room while the rest of the family put on a show.

      Their father might be dead now, but the feel of his cold eyes on Andres remained. Of the hard disappointment that had laced every word the old man had ever spoken to him.

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