Married for the Prince's Convenience

‘About an hour ago. They wouldn’t say where they were going. But they hurt him, Jasmine. What if they...they kill him?’ Her voice broke in a strangled sob.

Ice slithered down Jasmine’s spine. She clutched the phone to her ear to stem the shaking in her hand. ‘It’s okay, Mum. I’m sure they won’t. Did they...what did they say?’ She tried to steady her voice so her mother’s panic didn’t escalate.

‘They left a number...asked me to give it to you to call. Jasmine, I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to Stephen— Oh, God!’

Knowing how adversity had affected her mother before Stephen came into their lives, Jasmine clutched the phone harder, unwilling to contemplate the worst. Her earlier bravado began to wither before her eyes.

She took a deep breath. ‘Well, stop worrying.’ Jasmine tried to infuse as much optimism into her voice as she could. ‘Text me the number. I’ll sort this out, I promise.’

Her mother’s teary, panic-laced goodbye wrenched at Jasmine’s heart. Hands shaking, she started to dial the number her mother had sent through when her phone buzzed with another incoming text.

Jasmine read it. Once. Twice. Her fingers went numb.

The message itself was innocuous enough. But the meaning hit her square in the chest.

One hour. Rio Hilton. Room 419. A simple exchange. Good luck.

She returned to the bedroom on leaden feet and froze as Reyes shifted in the bed, exhaled heavily before settling back into deep sleep. Moonlight filtering through the open windows silhouetted him in soft light, his glorious body bare from the waist up. Momentarily, she stared, recalling the way he’d unleashed all that potent power on her, his generosity in showering her with pleasure.

Her insides quivered as harsh reality hit her in the face.

She had no choice.

She’d been willing to abort her despicable mission even if it meant exposing her stepfather’s misdeeds and possible incarceration to the authorities.

But she couldn’t stand by and do nothing while Stephen was being physically harmed. Or worse. She would never be able to live with herself.

As for Reyes...

She bit her lip and forced her gaze from the man lying on the bed.

Numbness invading every atom of her being, Jasmine stealthily pulled her clothes on and went back into the study. Reyes hadn’t had the chance to place the treaty back in the safe.

Insides clenched in shame, she walked to the desk, opened the folder and lifted the heavily embossed papers.

Her hands shook as she lifted the treaty and held it in her hands.

‘I am merely a concerned citizen of Santo Sierra, wishing to reassure myself my crown prince’s actions are altruistic, Miss Nichols. That is all...’

Joaquin’s words reverberated in her head and she clenched her teeth. She might only have known him for a few hours, but Jasmine didn’t doubt that Crown Prince Reyes Navarre cared deeply about his people and held only their best interests at heart.

It was Joaquin’s motives that were highly suspect.

Whatever happened, Jasmine didn’t have any intention of letting the document out of her sight.

Taking a deep breath, she folded the treaty, slipped into the hallway and made her way to the deck to retrieve her shoes. Clutching them to her chest, she made her way down the steps towards the gangplank.

The bodyguard materialised in front of her, large and threatening. His searching eyes stalled her breath.

With every last ounce of strength, she straightened and lifted her chin, all at once ashamed and thankful that her old skills were coming to the fore.

Never show fear, never show fear. ‘Can I get a taxi, please?’ she asked, praying he spoke enough English to understand her request.

For several seconds, he didn’t respond. Finally, he nodded and indicated the exit.

Despite the pre-dawn hour, people and cars rushed past on the road beyond the quay, the post-Carnival Rio nightlife as vibrant as it had been during the festival a month ago. Another set of bodyguards guarded the gangplank and exchanged words with her escort, who shrugged and said something that made the others chuckle. Jasmine tried to remain calm, regulate her breathing as she walked beside him.

Twenty minutes later, she stumbled into the foyer of the Rio Hilton. The night receptionist directed her to the bank of lifts without batting an eyelash.

When she reached the room, Joaquin Esteban’s burly sidekick held the door open for her. She entered. The diminutive man rose from a cream-coloured sofa, his hands outstretched in false greeting. Jasmine sidestepped him, her fists clenched.

‘What did you do with my stepfather?’ she demanded.

Joaquin paused, his hard eyes glittering before his sleazy smile slid back into place. ‘Why, nothing, Miss Nichols. He’s fine and currently enjoying the best hospitality at my home in London until our business is concluded.’

‘You broke his arm!’

‘Ah, that was rather unfortunate. My men merely wanted to make sure everyone understood what moves needed to be made. But he got a little...excited.’

Rage built inside her. ‘So you broke his arm? God, you’re nothing but a thug!’

‘I would caution against name-calling. You were on the prince’s yacht for over five hours. And from the looks of it you weren’t there against your will.’

Her skin crawled. ‘You were having me watched?’

‘I’m very vested in our deal. It’s imperative that you understand that.’ His eyes slid from her face to her handbag, the question in them undeniable.

For a wild second, Jasmine wanted to tell him she’d failed.

She wanted to turn back the clock; to return the treaty, return to the bed and the magnificent, captivating man she’d left in it. A man whose haunted eyes made her yearn to comfort him.

Even now she craved one more look, one more touch...

But it was too late. Defying Joaquin would be condemning her stepfather to a horrific fate.

And yet, she couldn’t just hand the document over.

‘You’re not merely a concerned citizen of Santo Sierra, are you?’

Joaquin shrugged. ‘No. Valderra is my home.’

Her mouth dropped open in shock. What on earth had she got herself into? ‘Why are you doing this?’ she whispered. Just then another possibility dawned, cold and unwelcoming. ‘Do you work for Prince Mendez?’

‘Enough questions. The document, please,’ Joaquin said coldly.

‘No.’ Jasmine shook her head and eyed the door. ‘I won’t give it to you.’

She whirled about and was confronted with the thick wall of muscle in the shape of the bodyguard. His beady eyes narrowed before he snatched the clutch out of her frozen grasp and removed the treaty from it.