Going Royal 02 - Some Like It Scandalous (6 page)

The tension fisting around his gut since he woke that morning eased. His Anna still lurked beneath the rigid surface, boiling like a volcano threatening eruption. “
No one
in my office would have released your name.”

“No one would release my name—genius. So you call a celebrity gossip station, feed them some cock-and-bull story about romantic reunion to do what?” She stormed toward him, her scent wrapping around him. “Did you have some scandal to clean up? Your brother take up racing again? One too many parties with the sheiks in the Mediterranean? That model Nikole not doing it for you anymore? Or maybe you just wanted to put me in my place?”

“You have never been in your place.” He dipped his chin down, capturing her gaze and staring into those gorgeous eyes. It didn’t matter that they burned with dislike and threatened to roast him on a spit. Her nearness relaxed the fear squeezing his heart since the news broke. Summoning her so peremptorily to his office hadn’t been about feeding her to the wolves, but a rash desire to see her again. The type of impulse he’d not allowed himself since she walked away from him.

“Why, Ch—” She coughed, seemed to catch herself and let out a long breath. “Who, then,
Your Highness?
Who would do that?”

“No.” Armand shook his head slowly. Her anger—her righteous rage—flooded color into her cheeks. The ice thawed.

That took her aback. “I’m sorry, what?”

“No. Not ‘Your Highness.’ You want to ask me questions and speak to me like that, then you use my name.” He pivoted and walked over to the coffee service the housekeeper set out. “Coffee, before we begin?”

She said nothing.

He allowed her to digest the comment.

“Your Highness?”

And got heartburn for his trouble. “Yes, Miss Novak?”

“I think you owe me an explanation.” The censure in her words overrode the mild tone.

Do I really?
Or do you simply want one.
He studied her over the mug of coffee, taking his time to sip. She was here. She was safe. He could afford to let this play out. “I think you owe me the courtesy of addressing me by my name.”

“Courtesy?” The three syllables climbed one-half note each. The color of her lips seemed to darken against the rosy complexion and her eyes sparked. If she hadn’t forced her hair to tame with some straightening iron, she’d be the image of a fiery Celtic goddess.

He couldn’t help the grin the mental image produced. “Yes, a politeness shown to strangers and friends alike—” he walked toward her as he spoke, setting the coffee cup down on the table. To his immense pleasure, she didn’t back away, “—and I want you to remember just how well we know each other.”

Her kissable lips pursed and he leaned in, the sweet scent of her shampoo and soap arousing far sweeter memories—but a hand slapped against his chest. He froze. She touched him. Palm flat against his shirt. Her fingers seemed to burn right through the fabric, imprinting on his skin. His heart slammed against his ribs, as eager as a dog on a chain to leap free.

“You’re an ass.” She gave him a shove, but it did little other than to push herself back a few inches. She started to circle him and he caught her arm, missing the feeling of her hand on his chest already.

“Say my name, Anna.” He spun her around—boxed her against the table, planting his body close enough that his thighs brushed hers and her chest pushed up against his with every breath. This close, she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Without the heels, she stood six inches shorter than he, but even in them she was not a match for his height.

“Stop it.” The order bounced off his temper—he ignored it.

He allowed himself the singular pleasure of running a finger down her cheek. She didn’t flinch, but her swift inhale of breath gave him enormous satisfaction. She wasn’t as immune—or as over him—as she pretended. “Sweet Anna, you can tell me whatever you want—order me around, fight with me, get angry, yell—
whatever
you want. When you call my name. Until then...”

It killed him—absolutely killed him—but he leaned close, her body pressed fully up to his. Her lips parted and the pupils of her eyes dilated. He traced his knuckles down her spine and along the curve of her hip, then reached past her to press the button on the intercom. “Gentlemen, we’re ready for you now.”

Stepping away, he reclaimed his coffee cup and walked to the head of the table. The front door of the penthouse opened, his security admitting Richard and three others from the legal team to help them work through the papers.

He spared a sidelong look at Anna. She struggled to resume her icy reserve, but it was too late.

The passion they shared still flamed beneath the surface. Richard blocked his view when he paused to give her a quick half hug. Jealousy dug its claws into his spine, saved only by her less than lukewarm response to the awkward contact.

“If you will all take your seats.” He leaned back in the chair, determined to see this farce through. “Miss Novak needs to be brought up to speed.”

She chose the chair farthest away from him, but he contented himself with watching her—for now. His phone buzzed as Richard opened with a quick sketch of the Dagmar Foundation. The message was from his head of security.

They already had a threat.

Dammit.

Chapter Four

“I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.” Richard said quietly, though Anna was still engrossed with the other attorneys, going over some of the finer points in the initial grant papers. Armand had abandoned the meeting about halfway through to review the threat with Peterson. His security chief deemed it credible, and it followed the same pattern as the others they’d received in the last six months.

“That makes two of us.” He’d stopped drinking coffee two hours before—the jittery restlessness in his blood had nothing to do with caffeine. “How bad is it?”

“Bad.” Richard kept his back to the others, but he didn’t bother to disguise the censure in his tone “What were you thinking?”

“Why do you and she both assume I told the reporter?” It was a disgruntled complaint, but he gave his best friend a dour look anyway.

“Because we’re not idiots. There wasn’t even a sniff of this in the gossip columns before this morning—and you hadn’t set eyes on her—physically—in ten years. So the day after you invite her to your office and have me jump through legal hoops to get the scholarship fund reallocated? Yeah—it’s a fair question.”

Armand sighed, his gaze on Anna. She studiously avoided looking at him. In fact, she’d ignored him throughout the meeting—answering and asking questions of everyone save him. Fortunately, her tone also chilled when she addressed Richard.

At least he wasn’t alone in exile.

“You said use being a prince to my advantage. But I didn’t do this. I wouldn’t.” And when he got his hands on the person who gave her name to the press... His only regret lay in the fact he couldn’t order a head to roll.

“Well, this is
not
an advantage, in case you were wondering.” Despite his dry humor, Richard didn’t bother to disguise his low opinion—one of the reasons their friendship withstood the test of time, distance and press coverage. They fell into a rhythm during their freshman year and they stayed there.

Still, the fracas had given him an opportunity. “Rick, I’m furious about the press, but it doesn’t change the fact I wanted to see her—”

“Eh, you’ve seen her.” Richard’s brows climbed. “And seeing her dumped her ass right into the fire before she even made it to the frying pan. She’s been served her up like so much chum to the sharks. They’re going to trot out every single affair you’ve ever had. They are going to publically compare her to every woman they think you’ve had in your bed. No, my friend, this is a cluster fuck and a half and if she doesn’t geld you before this is over, I’ll be surprised.”

“Whose side are you on?” Irritation scraped over his nerves.

“Yours. But this is a mess, Armand.” Richard sighed.

“I’m aware of that fact.” Violently aware. No one had to tell him how bad the situation could be. The press smelled scandal—and they had her name. The leak had already produced one threat. “But she reacted—she was angry and she wasn’t cold. For a minute there...it was like we were
us
again.”
She mentioned Nikole.
She knew about her—which means she paid attention.

Maybe it was petty to hope for a little jealousy. It meant she cared—on some level she still cared.
Or maybe they already highlighted Nikole on the news this morning.

He ignored the snide mental voice taunting him.

“Pissing her off is not going to get you back into her bed.” Richard poured a couple of drinks and glanced over at the table. The others wrapped it up, rising and shaking Anna’s hand one at a time. “You have to tell her, you know.”

“I know.” Impatient at the advice, he blew out a breath. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her.

“All right, we’re going to get out of here. Call me if you need someone to punch you out of another bad idea.” He pressed the drinks into Armand’s hands. “And give her this before you tell her. It might dull the shock.”

Richard strode across the room and ushered the others out. Anna didn’t spare him more than a polite nod. When the door closed, Armand walked over and held the drink out to her.

She shot him a doubtful look. “It’s barely lunchtime. A little early for that, don’t you think?”

“No. We need to talk.”

“I think we’ve said enough today,
Your Highness.
” She continued packing her papers back into the briefcase. “I also think I have enough to complete the grant application—so we won’t need the whole week.”

“Anna. I screwed up. I did something stupid and impulsive and now you’re coping with the backlash from that. I’m sorry.” Endangering her had never been his intention, he’d simply wanted to see her again.

She went still. He worried for a moment that she hadn’t heard him. “Thank you.” She swallowed. “And—it’s okay. It will blow over.”

Her easy acceptance startled him. “No. That’s why I am sorry—it won’t be as easy as that.”

“Your—” Her lips compressed and she blew out a breath. “Armand, it’ll be fine. Sure they’re hungry for a story now, but if we don’t give them anything more, it will go away. I’ve seen you do it any number of times over the years.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest. She’d watched him, kept up with him over the years. He wanted to hold on to that thought before regret and reality crashed in on them.

And she’d said his name.

“This is different.” He set the drinks down on the table and put his hands on the back of a chair. “You’re different.”

“Yeah, I’m not actually sleeping with you.” She straightened another set of papers, started to slide them in the case. “Do you want a copy of these notes?”

Her hands trembled, but she moved another stack of papers to the side and wiped a palm against her skirt. He made her nervous. He let go of the chair—laid a hand over hers. “Anna...I need you to listen to me.”

She didn’t jerk away.

Small step, but he would take it.

“I am listening to you. I can walk and chew gum at the same time.” She gave his hand a light smack and he let her go, the gesture so familiar it made his heart hurt. No one ever slapped his hands—not like she did.

Powering down her laptop and packing it was her last step. He waited until she was done, enjoying watching her. Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she looked up at him. “I’m still listening, but you’re not saying anything.”

“What would you say if I asked you to stay here in the penthouse—for a few days?” He hedged his bets. Maybe she would agree.

And maybe purple porcines will stand up and claim the world for Orwell.

“I’d ask you what year you thought it was.” The droll response was so her, he couldn’t help but smile. Unfortunately, none of this was funny.

“I know it’s only been a few hours since the story broke, but... My security intercepted a very credible threat. It’s become something of a problem in the last few months for the family.” He could broach the most difficult of topics with oil barons, kings and presidents—why did he struggle so when talking to her?

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The kindness in her expression spoke volumes about her character. She may not even be aware of just how rare it was to feel compassion amid outrage and anger—anger he wholly deserved. “But I hardly see why that leads to that invitation.”

“It’s not an invitation.” He braced himself for the oncoming storm. She would not like his next words. “In fact that was a polite way of telling you that you need to stay here for a few days. The tower is very secure. We have security in the lobby, in the parking garage and on three floors below us. No one comes up to this level without security in attendance—”

She held up a palm. “You’re babbling. I understand the security. I saw them and appreciated you sending your men to pick me up. But I’m
not
staying here.”

“Yes. You are.” He circled the table and caught her before she could pull away from him. She curled her hands into little fists, but he held them gently. “Anna, the threats against my family have increased in the last few months. This morning we received one for you.”

“I’m sorry, what?” She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Armand sighed. He wanted to keep holding her hands, forget the ugly reality that had become his life and tug her over to the sofa and sit down. He wanted to pull her in his lap and interrogate her. Hear about the last ten years—talk like they used to. He wanted that and more—but not at the cost of a knife to her throat.

“Sit down? Talk to me awhile and I will explain everything, I promise.”

“No. No.” She pulled away from him. “Look, this is an impossible situation and I’ve tried to be professional and mature and adult. But you’re taking this too far—we’re
not
together. We’re not getting back together and ACE can chat it up all they like, but the difference between fantasy and reality is that happily ever after exists in novels and this is not one.”