Chapter Seven
The flight from the family seat to the main city of Kalev was short but packed with breathtaking scenery. Chey was able to snap aerial shots of the castle from several angles, thanks to Mattias ordering the pilot to circle the property. The landscape along the way varied between open meadows, farmland, forest and wild coastline. Once or twice, a smaller town tucked itself into the terrain, but by and large, it was acres of green and trees.
Kalev, their oldest and largest city, was a mix of old architecture and modern construction. They flew over the parts of the town preserved through the centuries by former Kings, the buildings colored like sandstone weathering the pass of time rather well. She got a few pictures from her unique vantage, and more when they approached a helipad located atop a newer highrise overlooking the ocean.
Mattias pointed it all out himself, gesturing to this or that out the windows. Dressed in the same clothes as he had been in at the castle, he looked every inch a Prince.
Landing and disembarking, Chey followed the entourage through a door on the roof and into an elevator. It skimmed down the shaft with enough speed to make Chey's stomach lurch. Done in royal blue and silver, it reminded her of the ruling family. Expensive, classy, ornate.
She understood why when the elevator opened into a private lobby, and from there to a hallway that seemed as if they'd stepped straight from the castle into the hotel. Rich furnishings, gilt mirrors and top notch design suggested the hotel paid homage to its King.
A small furor erupted as the security, followed by Mattias and Chey, entered an elaborate foyer that housed the information and registration desk. Employees greeted the men and waved, some gushing, others pointing. Several tourists paused to watch the entourage walk by.
Mattias, who carried himself regally, exuded the same magnetism that had very first drawn Chey's eye. She imagined there wasn't anything he couldn't do or achieve. This was a man used to the limelight, who owned the limelight, and passed among his people with confidence and the assurance they respected and loved him.
He inclined his head to several staff and a tourist or two, enduring a flurry of photographs with a smile. Exiting onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel, Mattias glanced back, catching her eye, and led her to a waiting limousine at the curb.
Chey, overwhelmed with the entire ordeal, gave Mattias an uncertain smile.
Flashes went off from nearby cameras as the paparazzi arrived. Restrained by the security team, the photographers called Mattias's name and shouted all manner of enticements to look their way.
Expecting Mattias to disappear into the limousine ahead of her, she found him gesturing for her to go first instead. Chey ducked into the lavish vehicle and got comfortable on the seat. She wasn't surprised to find a blue and silver theme inside the limo. A small bar took up a little space to the right and another seat curved opposite the one she sat on with the Prince.
Mattias waved to the throng and slid inside.
“How do you deal with that all the time?” Chey blurted.
Mattias laughed and glanced sidelong. “We grew up this way, remember? It's nothing when you've done it all your life.”
“I wouldn't call it 'nothing',” she countered with a faint snort.
“What would you call it?” He sat with his knees slightly parted, the expensive material of his pants rustling quietly every time he moved or shifted.
“I really don't know. The right words elude me. But I don't think just anyone can pull that off.” She found it easy to be candid with the Prince despite feeling somewhat out of her element.
“Perhaps not. It's easier for me than it is for you because it's what I know. You know photography, so you're comfortable with a camera. You handle it rather than let it handle you. Me? I wouldn't know the first thing about it. The last time I held a camera of any worth, I bumbled it and nearly dropped it on the ground. It's about comfort zones and practice. With time, you get better.”
“I don't know that I would ever get better in front of all those people,” she confessed.
“All what people? That was just a handful. For the festivals, births, deaths and all that, there are thousands.”
“You like to contradict me, don't you?” she said, glancing aside.
He laughed, a dimple creasing his cheek. “You make it a delight to do so.”
“I'm going to start returning the favor.”
“You already do.”
“I don't contradict you!” Chey gaped.
He just arched his brows.
“This isn't contradicting, it's debating.”
“It's contrary,” he argued.
“Which is hardly the same as contradicting.”
Mattias cut a sharp grin her way. “You're missing Kalev.”
“What?” Chey snapped a look out the windows. He was right; the city rolled by as the limousine cruised the streets, decadent and rich with history. There was an ancient feel to the air, even where the more modern buildings encroached on the old, as if all one had to do was close their eyes to be transported back in time.
Mattias began filling her in about the city. Who settled it, the violent past, when it came under siege by an enemy. He pointed out specific spots dedicated to the remembrance of warriors who had won their country back, and bade the driver stop numerous times so she could get out and take pictures.
He was an excellent tour guide, Chey discovered, eager to introduce her to Latvala's history. Charmed by the striking architecture and the quaint feel of the shops sitting right at the edge of the street, Chey indulged every whim to take photos.
When the limousine came to a stop outside a two story, older structure, Chey immediately reached for the door handle. Mattias rested a hand on her wrist to stay her.
“Leave the camera this time, hm?” he asked.
“What for? That's a beautiful building--”
“You'll see. Trust me.” He smiled with just his eyes.
Chey set the camera on the seat between them. “All right.”
“Excellent.” After the driver opened the door, Mattias exited the limousine and extended a hand down.
Chey took it, charmed all over by his chivalry. Of course, she wondered if it was all for show. For the cameras, even if there weren't any on the sidewalk right at that moment.
“Thanks.” Once she was out, she released him.
The security team flanked the front doors to the building on all sides, leaving a swath of sidewalk for Mattias and Chey to navigate. One of the employees, a manager perhaps, opened the door with a broad smile, cheeks flushed, head bowed.
“Welcome to Kesska's, your Highness,” the man said, gesturing grandly.
Mattias inclined his head and gestured for Chey to precede him.
Stepping inside, she understood why Mattias asked her to leave the camera behind. This wasn't a historical landmark but a retail store. A store for the affluent, judging by the quiet violin music spilling over from a small stage in the corner, the remarkable displays, and the ultra-sleek layout.
Chey fretted over the prices even before she saw a price tag. Although she'd been paid well for this trip, she didn't want to spend seven or eight grand on an outfit. Too embarrassed to admit this shop was out of her price range, Chey looked for the rounders that she thought would have the least priced articles rather than the ones on more prominent display.
“Get whatever you like. This trip is on me. Oh, and pick something on the formal side,” Mattias said near her ear. He split off from her, wandering along the walkway between sections of clothing toward a table set up with the fixings for coffee.
“But...I--” Too late. He was already gone.
All Chey could think was that if her attacker heard Mattias fronted the shopping trip, they might make another visit to her room just to hack and slash the clothes while they planted torrid evidence that would land her in jail.
She groaned. Maybe no one would find out.
After a half an hour, she warmed to her task. She found much of the designs to her liking and tried on a handful of different outfits. Unsure why she needed something 'on the formal side', she chose a demure suit of the palest gray with stunning embroidery on the collar, cuffs and hemline of the jacket. It all but screamed elegance.
Several times she caught Mattias's gaze on her, watching while he sipped coffee and lounged in a chair situated close to the coffee bar. The employees didn't bother him, nor did his security.
Just when she thought she had what she wanted, Mattias was there at her ear, having crossed the store unseen.
“The gray is nice,” he said. “But think state dinner or formal ball for the dress, hm?”
“Formal ball?” Chey glanced over her shoulder and up at his eyes. “Who's having a formal ball?”
“You ask many questions. Choose something longer.” He winked and stepped away.
And so the shopping began again. What she settled on, finally, was a snug fitting mermaid dress in palest blue that accentuated her curves and left her shoulders completely bare. The color highlighted her eyes and offset her dark hair. She added nude heels that spiked her height up a modest three inches.
Mattias, in conversation with the manager, apparently paid for it all with a gesture and a smile. Chey never saw a credit card change hands. The entire Royal family probably had carte blanche at any of the shops in town, with the bills sent to their accountants. It was all overwhelming and enlightening and Chey tried not to fret about the thousands of dollars she'd just inadvertently spent.
The retinue swept out like a tide, surrounding the limousine while she and Mattias embarked.
“That was excessive,” Chey said as the doors closed.
“Not unusual,” Mattias replied. “One would think you don't enjoy shopping. Perhaps the only female on the entire planet.”
Chey laughed and glanced aside as the limousine pulled away from the curb. “It's not that I didn't enjoy myself, it's just...” She flailed a hand, at a loss for words. Or, more appropriately, hesitant to explain the guilt at spending that kind of money.
“Expensive?”
“How did you know?” Chey flushed and looked out the window.
“It's not difficult to guess. It's the least I can do for--”
“For me taking pictures of Viia.” This time, Chey interrupted him.
The silence in the limousine prompted Chey to glance across the seat. Mattias watched her with a pensive expression. He made an almost flippant gesture in the air with his hand.
“Sure, yes. For taking pictures of Viia.” His tone indicated he was less than pleased with that answer.
Chey wanted to ask him what he expected of her. What he wanted, if it wasn't her talent with photography. He had to know that she was unsure why a member of the Royal household had shown her this much attention.
He couldn't be interested in her other than for work purposes. She was unconnected politically, lacking an inheritance, a foreigner and of the working class, to boot. His mother, at least, seemed to think all those things mattered more than whether love was involved or not.
A light bulb went off over Chey's head when the real reason presented itself for his interest. It had been staring her in the face this whole time.
Mattias wanted to make her his temporary mistress.
The sparks between them hadn't been a fabrication or her imagination, and he probably saw a perfect opportunity to take advantage of the situation. Now he'd spent money on her, too, and that she'd allowed it was likely some secret code between almost-lovers that she would come willingly to his bed.
Mattias pressed a button on the car door and spoke quickly in his own tongue. Maybe he'd changed his mind about their day and had ordered the driver to return them to the helicopter.
“Why the silence?” Mattias asked, proving he was not immune to her mood shift.
She ground her molars together and stared out the window.
“I have a sudden headache. Probably from the...from hitting my head.” She flickered her fingers up near her temple.
“My apologies. You should have said something sooner. Would you like to cut the day short and go home instead?”
Why did he have to sound so courteous? Now she was going to miss out on taking more pictures of the city, and who knew when she would get the opportunity to come here again.
Just because she thought he wanted to make her his mistress didn't require her to become that.
“No, I'll be fine. What else is on the agenda?” Chey glanced over.
He was still regarding her in his serious, sober way. “Lunch, first, and then a stop at the Royal park. Are you hungry?”
Chey discovered that she was. Looking out the window instead of at Mattias, she absorbed the details of the city. “Yes, actually.”
“Excellent. You will enjoy this restaurant, I believe.”
The restaurant turned out to be an old mission right on the shoreline. Much of the structure remained as it had been, preserved well enough to function as a skeleton for the upscale dining experience it offered. Inside, the owners had added paintings of the mission in its heyday, a few potted plants and plush chairs fitting a spartan, mission style theme.
On the third floor, a waiter led them to a private balcony overlooking the water. Hydrangea and bougainvillea clustered at each end, filling pots and trailing up wrought iron scroll work attached to the outside walls.
“This is stunning,” Chey said, setting her camera down in an empty chair. The owner had, of course, been gracious about her taking as many pictures as she wanted. Nothing would be denied a guest of the Prince.
Mattias settled into a chair and waved security back through the balcony doors, leaving them with a modicum of privacy. “And the food is as good as it seems it should be. Would you like wine?”
Getting comfortable in her chair, inhaling the scent of salt on the air, she glanced across at Mattias. He watched her rather than the scenery.
“Please. I'm going to request you order for me, too. You know the cuisine better than I do.”
“Oh, getting brave, I see. Very well.” Mattias didn't need to look at a menu. He gestured and a waiter appeared as if by magic. Rattling off an order in his native tongue, he dismissed the waiter and reclined in his seat.
“As long as you didn't just order snails or goat's feet, I should be all right.” She quirked a smile. He looked entirely regal and masculine, and, on impulse, Chey snatched up her camera.
He didn't pose or posture; Mattias smiled indulgently when she lined him up in her sights. Slightly slouched in his chair, he gave off an air of capable command and alluring negligence.
When she lowered the camera, Mattias held out his hand.
Chey stared at it, confused at first over what he wanted her to do. Did he want to hold hands?
Laughing, as if he guessed her thoughts, he reached across and gently eased the camera from her fingers.
“I thought you said you were terrible with cameras?” she said, releasing the camera to his care.
“I am. Let's hope I don't drop it.”
“You're not very reassuring.”
Grinning, he lifted the camera and sighted her in. Chey always felt weirdly conspicuous when someone else took her picture. She noted that Mattias held the equipment with poise and confidence, not like someone who was uncomfortable with it.
“You're a fibber,” she accused.
He snapped off three photos, then peered at her over the top of the camera. “A what? I am not.”
“Yes. You've used one of those before. Extensively, if I had to guess.”
“Nonsense.” He lifted it and leaned to get a different angle of her face. “Smile.”
She quirked her mouth and laughed when he caught a picture of it. “Stop that. Give me my camera back.”
“I rather think I like this picture taking thing. One more.”
Chey flashed her teeth, because she knew that's what he was waiting for.
“Good, perfect.” He depressed the shutter and finally set her camera down on the chair next to him. “That wasn't hard, was it?”
“Yes. I'm not very photogenic.”
“What you are,” he said, cocking his chin. “Is modest. I bet all of those photos will flatter you.”
The waiter returned with their wine, pausing to pour each a glass before retreating.
“Shall we bet on it? I say I blinked in at least three, and have a funny expression in the rest.” She picked up her glass, brows lifted in challenge.
Mattias lifted his glass to scent the wine and give it a slow swirl. “You're on. What are we betting?”
“You tell me what the formal dress is for if I look dorky in the majority of the photos. If I don't, then you tell me what the formal dress is for anyway.”
“So this is something like...what's yours is mine, and what's mine is mine, yes?” He swirled the wine once more, dark eyes glinting with amusement.
Chey laughed. “That's right. I can't lose.”
“Hardly a fair proposition. If you look decent in the photos, you agree to a horseback ride tomorrow afternoon.” This time it was Mattias who arched his brows in challenge.
Tomorrow she was supposed to go on the canoe trip with Sander. She really wanted to go, and didn't know how to get out of the suggestion of horse back riding.
“Can't do it. Something else.”
“Have a hot date?” he asked with an incisive look.
Chey felt her cheeks grow hot. “What? No. I've made plans though that involve work.”
“Horseback riding. Tomorrow afternoon.” Mattias didn't back down and didn't change his request.
Chey saw an opportunity and took it. “Are you sure that's wise? I mean, after the shooting?”
“The threat has been eliminated. We will be perfectly safe. Agreed?”
She couldn't go horseback riding tomorrow with Mattias. The canoe trip wasn't something she was willing to give up. All she could hope was that she looked as awkward in the photos as she usually did.
In the meantime, she wondered exactly what 'eliminated' meant.
“Agreed.” She lifted her glass to toast him and seal the deal.
He tapped the rim of his gently against her own, eyes holding hers. “To a long ride.”
Was that a euphemism for something else? Maybe he was really asking to meet her for a tryst. Panic settled in her chest.
“To...knowing what the formal gown is for.” She almost forgot what she'd bargained him with. Tapping glasses, she took a sip of the wine, finding it sweet and pleasant on the tongue.
Setting the wine glass down, she held her hand out for the camera. Time to find out who was right.
He picked it up and held it out.
Chey flipped the viewfinder around and scanned through the pictures, praying silently for the bet to swing in her favor.
“Ha! What did I tell you? Look there, blinking in two photos, a half blink in another two.” Triumphant, Chey leaned over to show him the viewfinder.
Mattias leaned as well, putting them almost shoulder to shoulder. Chey hated how potent he was this close. She could smell his cologne again, feel the heat of his skin. Hadn't she just been annoyed with him, deciding he was trying to seduce her and make her his mistress?
Mattias made a considering noise in the back of his throat and settled once more in his chair. He studied her contemplatively while he sipped his wine.
“I told you. I'm a terrible model.” Turning the camera off, she set it aside.
“Even you have to admit that the last one, with you smiling, is exemplary however.”
Chey couldn't deny it. He'd snapped a one in a million shot. “I'll give you that one. But it's not the majority, so I win.”
He smiled and set down his glass, fingers toying with the stem. “The dress is for tomorrow evening. We're hosting several important dignitaries. You'll accompany me as my date.”
. . .
She bobbled the wine glass while lifting it to her mouth. Saving herself the embarrassment of a spill, she gawked at Mattias. “What?”
He repeated himself. Slowly. “The dress is for tomorrow--”
“I heard you. Mattias, are you sure about that?” Chey set her glass down without remembering to take a drink.
“Why wouldn't I be?” He watched her like he didn't understand her shock.
Of course not. He was a Prince. Most women would jump at the chance just to have this lunch with him, much less be his date to anything.
Forced to pause when the waiter brought their lunch—sauteed scallions over filet minion, grilled zucchini and caesar salad—Chey considered what to say. Her usual way was to be blunt and honest, especially when she felt out of her depth. Like now.
She sliced off a delectable bite of the filet, then toyed with it on the end of her fork. Finally, she met his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“I'm about to eat. And I'm waiting to hear why you shouldn't accompany me tomorrow evening.” He lifted a brow and picked up his utensils.
Chey set down her fork and leaned a few inches forward. She took the proverbial bull by the horns. “What is Viia going to say?”
“Make no mistake, Miss Sinclair. I choose who I am escorting to what event, not Viia. She is not my wife, nor my keeper,” he informed her with a matter-of-fact, no nonsense tone.
Chey took several small bites of the food. It was as good as he'd promised it would be. Brow furrowed, she thought over what to say next. He'd effectively put her in her place about his position of power—Mattias could do any damn thing he wanted—and at the same time, indicated Viia's standing was not as solid as Viia would have everyone believe.
The threats from her attacker rolled through her mind. She was doing exactly what that person told her not to. What she should do, is confess about her head. She should explain the attack, lay out the details of the threats.
Yet what came out of her mouth wasn't what she expected to say.
“What are your intentions with me, Mattias?”
“To finish lunch, take you to the Royal Park after, and tomorrow night, attend the event with you.” He didn't hesitate to answer and watched her across the table the whole time.
“I think you know what I mean.”
He forked up a bite of salad, dabbed at the corner of his mouth with his napkin, then tossed it down before leaning back in his chair. Washing down the food with a swallow of wine, Mattias took his time answering her question.
“Are you asking whether I'm thinking of having an affair with you on the side? Because you're living in the castle, an easy 'target'?”
Unprepared for him to hit so close to the truth on the first try, Chey looked down at her plate.
“No. I'm not. It's not my style to seduce women in a clandestine way. If I'm going to seduce you, I'll just come out and do it,” he said.
“Good. I feel better knowing what's on your mind.” Even if he'd flustered her with his candor, Chey didn't regret her forward question. At least now she knew.
“I can understand why you'd think so. There's no denying the spark, hm? And your position puts you within easy reach.”
“Then why? This can't all be because of my job. I won't even be bringing the camera tomorrow night.” Chey knew instinctively that it would be taboo to snap shots at a formal function unless invited to do so.
“Because you're different than the women I'm usually subjected to. You speak your mind, you're candid, and you don't look at me like I'm a title instead of a person. Isn't that enough? I may be a Prince, Chey, but I'm also human and like to be treated as such.” He paused to take a drink. “Besides. I enjoy the way your eyes light up at all the new and different things. The jaded women I officially court lost that quality a long time ago. If they ever had it to begin with.”
“You almost make it sound like courting Viia is an act of tolerance.” Holding his eyes, she had another sip of wine. Mattias was nothing if not honest. At least about this.
“Choosing a woman who will bear the title of Princess is a tedious process. There is a lot more to it than meets the eye. I admit that I am not enamored with any of it.” He smiled, a wry twist of his lips, and finished off his zucchini.
“Like your older brother, the one your mother tried to set up with someone else?” Chey recalled the mention of Dare and the mystery woman.
“Yes, except Dare has it ten times worse than I do,” Mattias said with a wry laugh. “He is considered one of the top ten bachelors in the world.”
“What a hardship.” Chey muttered the quip without thinking.
He laughed. “It can be. Imagine that everyone you meet wants you only for the title you'll provide them. Rarely is love, real love, involved in all this. We know it, our parents knew it, and our ancestors before that. Viia has an esteemed background, comes from a notable family, is well educated and because of her extensive family tree, is a good bet to bear several heirs. She is one of five children, and her aunts and uncles all have three to five children each. That's what they look for. It's not always a guarantee that offspring will be as fertile, but it's a better bet than choosing someone whose family has histories of miscarriages or trouble conceiving.”
Fascinated, Chey sliced off a few more bites of meat and scallions while she listened. “If I didn't know better, I'd say you were describing a brood mare.”
“Yes, it does sound like that, doesn't it?” His tone implied that it was exactly what Viia was being judged for.
“How do you live in a loveless marriage? And don't give me I do it for my country, bunk, either. There has to be more to it.” She watched him while she chewed. Mattias, Chey discovered, hid most of his reactions behind a casual veneer that was difficult to penetrate. Except when he laughed.
“Not just for my country, but for my lineage, my family. It's my duty to marry well.” Finishing his lunch, Mattias lounged in his seat with the last of his wine.
“I could never do it,” she confessed, picking at a last bite of salad. “I'm poor company when I'm miserable, and that sounds like a miserable life.”
“It's only as miserable as you make it.”
“Or as miserable as the other person makes you,” she countered.
“Does Viia seem that hateful, then?”
“Not hateful, exactly.” Chey didn't know the woman very well and had only seen a few interactions with her and everyone else. Then again, she could be biased thinking Viia might be the culprit of her attack.
“Then what?”
“I'm not really sure I'm in a position to say. I don't know her well.” Chey pushed her plate away and picked up her wine.
“You're thinking of that little dust up with Viia and Aurora.”
“Yes.”
“Would you be surprised to know that it's typical in these circles? Most women want to be the one setting trends, to be looked up to and admired.”
“Probably not surprised, I guess. Actually—I really don't know how any of this works. This is my first time anywhere near Royalty.” Chey laughed, a quiet sound that didn't travel farther than their table. She finished her wine and set the glass down.
“You'll be more experienced than most at the end of your term with us,” Mattias said. He too finished his wine. “Would you like more wine? Dessert?”
“I suspect I will. Especially if I keep having lunch with Princes.” She smiled for her tease, then shook her head. “No, but thank you. This was excellent and I'm full.”
Mattias's eyes gleamed a moment. Then he pushed his chair back to stand and held her chair for her to do the same.
“On to the Royal Park. There are several things there I think you'll find interesting.”