Betrothed: To the People's Prince

Nikos.

Now she’d stopped choking, the crowd had turned their attention to him. Well, why wouldn’t they? The models, designers, media and buyers were openly interested. Maybe more than interested. Their concentrated attention contained more than a hint of lust.

‘You going to live?’ Nikos asked mildly, and she thought about it. She might. If he went away.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Looking for you.’

‘It’s invitation only.’

‘Yep,’ he said, as if that hadn’t even crossed his mind as something to bother about. How had he done it? People would kill for an invitation to this launch. He’d simply walked in.

‘You look cute,’ he said, raking her from head to toe.

Right. She’d gone to some trouble with her outfit. Her tiny red skirt was clinging in the right places, she’d managed to make her unruly black curls stay in a knot that was almost sophisticated, but in this crowd of fashion extremists she knew she disappeared.

‘Go away,’ she said, and he shook his head.

‘I can’t do that, Princess.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘It’s what you are.’

‘Please, Nikos, not here.’

‘Whatever,’ he said easily. ‘But we need to talk. Phones don’t work. You keep hanging up.’

‘You don’t hang up phones any more.’ Very knowledgeable, she thought. What sort of inane talk was this?

‘On Argyros we hang up telephones. After we talk to people.’

‘I don’t live on Argyros.’

‘Yeah, that’s what I want to talk to you about. It’s time you came home.’ He handed her back her Martini. He drained his beer and ate his three bitesized blinis, then looked about for more. Two waiters were beside him in an instant.

He always had been charismatic, Athena thought. People gravitated to him.

She’d gravitated to him.

‘So how about it?’ he said, smiling his thanks to the waiters. Oh, that smile…

‘Why would I want to come home?’

‘There’s the little matter of the Crown. I’m thinking you must have read the newspapers. Your cousin, Demos, says he’s talked to you. I’m thinking Alexandros must have talked to you as well—or did you hang up on him, too?’

‘Of course I didn’t.’

‘So you do know you’re Crown Princess of Argyros.’

‘I’m not Crown Princess of anything. Demos can have it,’ she said savagely. ‘He wants it.’

‘Demos is second in line. You’re first. It has to be you.’

‘I have the power to abdicate. Consider me abdicated. Royalty’s outdated and absurd, and my life’s here. So, if you’ll excuse me…’

‘Thena, you don’t have a choice. You have to come home.’

Thena. He was the only one who’d ever shortened her name. It made her feel…as she had no business feeling.

Just tell it like it is and move on, she told herself. Be blunt and cold and not interested. He was talking history. Argyros was no longer anything to do with her.

‘You’re right,’ she managed. ‘I don’t have a choice. My life is here.’

But not in this room. All of a sudden the room was claustrophobic. Her past was colliding with her present, and it made her feel as if the ground was shaking underneath her.

She and Nikos in the same room? No, no, no.

She and Nikos in the same city? She and Nikos and their son?

No!

Fear had her almost frozen.

‘Nikos, this is futile,’ she managed. ‘There’s no use telling me to go home. My home is here. Meanwhile, I have things to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me…’ She handed her Martini glass back to him and, before he could respond she swivelled and made her way swiftly through the crowd.

She reached the door—and she kept on walking.

She hadn’t retrieved her checked coat. It didn’t matter. Outside was cold, but she wasn’t feeling cold. Her face was burning. She was shaking.

Maybe he’d let her be.

Or maybe not. He hadn’t come all the way from Argyros to be ignored.

It was raining. Her stilettos weren’t built for walking. She wanted to take them off and run. Because of course he’d follow.

Of course he did.

When he fell in step beside her she felt as if she’d been punched. Nikos…He threatened her world.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked mildly.

‘Nowhere you’re welcome.’

‘Is this any way to greet family?’

‘I’m not your family.’