Modern Romance November 2015 Books 1-4. Trish Morey

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      “Perhaps. But I have no experience with that.”

      “Tell me.” He shifted in his chair. “What do you have experience with?”

      “Well, as you know, I have a great amount of experience wandering the woods alone. As you’ve seen today, I have some experience with children. I have some experience with grief. And now I have a bit of experience with sex.”

      The glitter in his eyes turned molten. “Not nearly enough as far as I’m concerned. I will have to expand your education.”

      “I feel agreeable to that.”

      “Well, I do live for your agreement.”

      “In this case, I imagine you might.”

      A smile curved the corner of his mouth upward. “Do you think?”

      “You have quite a bit of power, Andres, and certainly you have some over me. But I don’t think I’m wrong in imagining that I might have some over you too.”

      “Do you not like dessert, Zara?”

      “I am fond of cake. Why?”

      “You seem intent on ensuring that you never get to have it.”

      “I do?”

      Just then the waiter came back by and Andres stood. “Send my bill to the palace. And we will take a cake.”

      “Are we leaving?”

      “We are. And quickly.”

      He wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her up to her feet.

      “Why are you in such a hurry?”

      “Because,” he said, leaning in, “you have tempted me. And now I must have you.”

      A shiver went down Zara’s spine. “You must have me?”

      “I need you.”

      How long had it been since anyone needed her? Had anyone ever needed her? She wasn’t certain that they had. It felt... It felt good. The ache inside her was changing, shifting. It wasn’t a yawning howl of isolation, not that brittle emptiness. This was something else. It was warm, and it burned like fire, creating a desperate feeling at her center that she couldn’t quite understand. Desperate to do something. To touch him. To be close to him, skin to skin so that there was no distance between them. To make sure he felt the same thing she did.

      He said that he needed her. And she desperately needed that to be true.

      Desperately needed to feel connected.

      Such a strange thing that, on the heels of feeling that she was in the place she belonged, she realized how much more there was. How much more she wanted.

      To not just fit in with this place, but with this man.

      The waiter appeared a moment later with a large bag, containing a white pastry box. Andres accepted it and whispered to her, “This is, I think, having your cake and eating it too.”

      “I don’t understand what that means.”

      “You’re about to.”

CHAPTER NINE

      ONCE THEY WERE in the limo, they did not head back toward the palace. Rather, they headed deep into the city center. “Where are we going?” Zara asked.

      “I have a penthouse near here.”

      “You left that off your list of residences when we talked about it earlier.”

      “I like to keep a little mystery.”

      “Really?”

      “No, not really. In fact, there is very little mystery to me. If you take the time to look me up online, you can find out anything you’d ever want to know.”

      She decided then and there that she didn’t need to look him up on the computer. She didn’t have any experience using computers anyway, so it wasn’t as though she was going to tackle the task in her spare time. But she didn’t especially want the outside world’s opinion on Andres. She didn’t need it. She had her own opinion.

      They wove through the evening traffic, down to the city center. The limo driver pulled to the edge of the curb and Andres got out, rounding the back of the car to her side. He opened the door for her and she slid out, accepting his hand as he helped her stand from the vehicle.

      “Come on, Princess.” For some reason, when he called her that this time it seemed different. Softer, more personal. She held it close to her chest, against the burning embers of warmth that he had stoked earlier.

      He led her through the front doors of the building, into the glittering lobby. Shining marble tiles on the floors, rich textured paper on the walls, and grand pillars stationed throughout the space. “This is beautiful.”

      He tugged on her hand, leading her through quickly, toward the back of the room and the golden elevator doors. “I’ll show you around later. Right now I simply intend to show you to my bed.”

      He whisked her inside the elevator, the doors closing behind them. She leaned back against the wall, her hand on her chest, trying to catch her breath. She could hardly wrap her head around today, around this moment. He wanted her.

      He looked at her, frowning slightly. “What?”

      She lifted her shoulder. “I just... I did not imagine that I would want this.” But she did. She wanted this to be her life. Wanted him to be her life.

      “I suppose it has been a bit different than either of us imagined.”

      “For you too?”

      “Well, I never imagined my brother selecting my wife for me. Particularly not one who had been given to the royal family.”

      “Yes, that was a surprise for both of us.”

      Her stomach felt as if it dropped about an inch or so as she replayed the words that had just passed between them. What she had said to him. And how he had not returned the sentiment. He had sidestepped. But he had not said that he wanted this too. She was confident that he wanted her, that he wanted her physically, but the rest of it...? She wasn’t so certain.

      And it mattered. It mattered so very much.

      She had learned too much in her time here in Petras. So much that she could scarcely sort it all out. She had learned more about herself than she had imagined there was to learn. She felt too full with it. With this new understanding of emotion. How she could want this man unconditionally, and yet wish strongly that he would fulfill a thousand little conditions she could never begin to list until she felt the lack of them.

      One thing was certain, a life of semi-isolation was simpler.

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