A long afternoon dragged into a nearly unbearable and uneventful evening. At first, Jessica had resented Simone’s presence. As more time passed without so much as a word from Ballasare, Jessica was thankful she was there. Having another person in the room forced Jessica to maintain some degree of calm.
Although she had tried to pry more information out of Simone, she’d refused to speak unless it was about her daughter or another marginal subject. Jessica now knew the names of the teachers of each of Simone’s grandchildren and the instruments each of them played. She’d heard about every tooth they’d cut, every serious cold they’d had, and even the names of some of their stuffed animals. The overload of family stories wasn’t entirely Simone’s fault. Every time one story ended, Jessica asked for another. Listening to Simone talk about the banal details of family life soothed Jessica. Surely people who cared so much about their children were not killers or slave traders. They couldn’t be and sound so normal, could they?
On the other hand, I am essentially being held prisoner.
That’s not a good sign.
A while later, after the sun had set and Jessica had given up talking to Simone, she went to stand by the darkened window. “Am I supposed to wait in this room forever?”
Seated in a chair across the room, Simone lowered the book she’d pulled from her purse earlier. “It has hardly been forever, but I am surprised he hasn’t called.”
“He’s lucky I’m not a violent person. How safe is it for you to be in here with someone being held against their will? I could have bashed you in the head with a lamp or something.”
Simone put her book aside. “There was nothing in your file that made you sound the least bit dangerous. In fact, your blog post about having difficulty making friends was heartbreaking. I just wanted to wrap my arms around you and hug you when I read it. You have a big heart, Jessica Quincy, and a strong man like my nephew would be good for you.”
They have a file on me? What is she talking about? And how could a self-serving narcissist be good for me? “I didn’t come here to meet anyone, and I’m leaving the second you turn your back.” Jessica groaned. “I shouldn’t have said that. Actually, I don’t even care that I did. I mean, you have to know that I’m mentally calculating how many sheets I’d need to tie together to escape out the window.”
“Ballasare sent all of the other women home.”
“Lucky them.” If they made it.
“He’s not normally impulsive like that. You made a big impression on him. I don’t think he expected to meet anyone this round.”
“This round?” Perhaps from boredom or out of pity, it didn’t matter which, Simone was opening up. Jessica tried not to give away how excited she was to finally get some answers. “I wish I understood the real purpose of the conference. It might help me understand your nephew.”
Simone’s expression softened. “It’s romantic in a way. Maidens from around the world gathered before the prince, hoping he’ll choose to dance with them.”
Maidens? As in virgins? “Except that we thought we were invited for a legitimate conference with no mention of dancing or any of the rest of this. And then there’s the small part about Prince Charming never holding Cinderella against her will.”
“I’ve never seen Ballasare challenge his father, but he was insistent you stay. You can focus on the negatives or bask in the knowledge that three hundred women were invited and you’re the only one still here.”
Yeah, no. “It’s a little difficult to focus on anything beyond the fact that I want to leave and can’t.”
Simone’s phone rang. “It’s him.” She answered and her face lit up. “How did it go? You did? He did? I’m so proud of you, Ballasare.” Simone looked over at Jessica. “She’s fine. I would definitely keep the guards, though. Yes, I am tired. She’s looking a bit done in, too. I could come back tomorrow if you need me. Breakfast at eight? I’ll ask her.”
Jessica shook her head and mouthed that she would be gone by then. She mimed climbing out the window and running away.
Simone shook her head in parental disapproval. “She’s a little upset with you. Having spent so much time with her, though, I can see why you didn’t want her to go. She’s really quite intelligent and compassionate.”
Jessica motioned for Simone to hand her the phone.
“She looks like she wants to say something to you. Should I hand her the phone?” After a brief pause, Simone did. She walked to the door and opened it. “I’ll give you some privacy.” Then closed it behind her.
“I want to go home,” Jessica said firmly. “Tonight.”
“You’re upset. I would ask Simone to stay with you, but she has a husband waiting for her. I would offer my company, but that would end your chance of staying.”
What? Nevermind. “Which would be okay since I have no intention of staying.”
“So, you would want my company tonight?”
Deluded ass. “I didn’t say that.” Jessica wanted to throw the phone. “You know that wasn’t what I meant. I don’t know if this started as some kind of joke or what, but I will knock out the guards at my door and make a run for it if I have to.”
“I’ll warn them,” Ballasare answered with enough humor in his voice that, had he been there, Jessica would have hit him. She’d never been the type to condone violence, but she was willing to make an exception for him.
“I’m serious.”
“We’ll talk at breakfast.”
“No, we won’t, because I won’t be here.”
“You will be.”
Jessica paced back to the window. There was no way to open it. She’d have to smash it to get out of it, and that wouldn’t go unnoticed. Not to mention, she was on the tenth floor. I should have stayed in karate. My father said I might one day need it, but I didn’t think I would. “You have to know this is wrong. Eventually you’ll have to let me go, and the sooner you do it the less upset I’ll be about this.” Sometimes survival required outright lying. “I mean right now, if you were to release me, I could laugh this off as a misunderstanding. Just something funky that happens when you visit a foreign country and have a little cultural misunderstanding. It wouldn’t even be worth mentioning when I got home.” She whistled. “It’d be forgotten just like that.”
“I’m not worried that you’ll say anything.”
Because you’re going to kill me either way? “I’m sure you’re not, but I just want to be clear that I wouldn’t. Nothing. I’d be a vault.”
“Are you angry with me for lying about why I invited you to the conference?”
Are you fucking kidding me? I want to kill you. Breathe. Saying that won’t help. I have to be smart about this. “No. No. I’m over that. Water under the bridge.” She remembered something she’d once seen in a documentary about how a hostage had talked her way out of the situation by getting her captor to see her as a mother with children. Does it work the other way around? “I miss my parents. And I’m sure they’re missing me. As their only daughter I’m kind of a big deal to them. They’d be devastated if they ever lost me.”
“If things work out between us, they will always be welcome here.”
“How sweet of you to say, but I’m sure they’d much rather have me back in Idaho.”
“You’re really quite an amazing woman, Jessica. When you asked for the phone I prepared myself for hysterics.”
I could have gone there, buddy, but I’m working on plan C: Guilting you into releasing me. I could throw in some plan B as well. “That’s me, so even-tempered people are bored with me in five minutes. All you have to do is read my blog to see that neither men nor women tend to like me.”
“I have read your posts, and they’re the reason I invited you. Yes, there were women who were more attractive . . .”
That stung. How long do you think a person goes to jail for strangling a prince?
“. . . but there was something in your writing—a yearning. You weren’t happy in your life in Idaho. I wasn’t sure if I could be attracted to you, but . . .” Could be?
“You asshole.”
“What did you say?”
“Oh, my God, you are such a pompous, arrogant, full-of-yourself dick. I didn’t know people like you actually existed. Do you honestly think I don’t want to maim you right now? I can’t even pretend anymore. I want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted to hurt any living creature before, but I think I would enjoy just wrapping my hands around your neck and . . . geeesch. Watching your eyes bulge.”
“I knew if I gave you a little nudge you’d open up. Do you feel better now that you’ve let it out?”
“No. No. I don’t feel better. I feel homicidal.”
“That will pass . . . I hope.” He chuckled. “I’ll give you a butter knife at breakfast just in case.”
“Stop laughing. I’m really scared.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “There’s no reason for you to be.”
“Really? Try to see this from my point of view. I don’t know you. I didn’t come here expecting any of this. I thought I was competing for a prize.”
“You were.”
“A cash prize. Not whatever else this is.” Okay, I’ll try another tactic. “Simone thinks you like me. If you do, let me go.”
“I’ll consider it if you meet me for breakfast.”
Oh, that’s low. Really low. But what other choice do I have? “Fine. I’ll be there.”
“Good night, Jessica.”
“Good—” She stopped herself and hung up. I’m not wishing him a good night. I hope he sleeps like crap.
Simone opened the door and popped her head in. “Finished with my phone?”
Jessica was tempted to throw it at her head, but Simone was her only ally. And she glowed every time she spoke about her daughter or grandchildren. It was hard to hate her. Jessica walked over and calmly handed her the phone. “Yes, thank you.”
“So, you’re seeing him tomorrow?”
“It’s not a date, Simone. It’s a forced meeting over eggs.”
“Keep an open mind. Ballasare has always had a special place in my heart because he is loyal like few are. If he loves someone, he would die for them.”
“I don’t want him to love me. I want him to send me home.”
“You may change your mind after breakfast. You came here because you wanted to improve your life. You’re being given a chance to marry a prince, possibly become queen. It is difficult to be anything but happy for you. Get some rest, Jessica.” Marry a prince? Happy for me? Are they all as deluded as Ballasare here?
And have they looked at me?
People like me don’t become queens. I never even went to a prom. Fully dressed, Jessica plopped on the bed after Simone left. She ran the entire conversation with Ballasare over and over in her head. None of it made sense to her.
Most disturbing of all, though, was how she felt each time she thought about seeing him the next morning. She should be afraid. She was being held against her will.
She closed her eyes and imagined Ballasare standing over her, commanding her to undress for him. It was a fantasy, so she did. She dropped her skirt and the rest of her clothing to the floor. Naked and vulnerable before him, she quivered with desire. He lowered those lips of his, the ones she remembered well from their kiss, to her neck. Her hands clenched against his strong chest. Her mouth opened in anticipation. He rained kisses up her jaw before kissing her deeply as he had that morning. What would it be like to be claimed by a man like that?
She told herself she didn’t want to know, but every dream she had that night was of him. In sleep she gave herself over to him boldly. And it was good—so good that when she showered in the morning, she also shaved her legs.
Ballasare woke early, went for a long run, showered, and changed into one of his more casual suits. As he entered the elevator outside his hotel suite, he smiled. Despite the confrontation he had with his father, he was pleased with the outcome of the conference. The process was the same one he employed for updating his wardrobe. He had samples sent to his home, looked them over, made his selections. The last step was to confirm a comfortable fit, but that could only be done by spending time with her.
Theo had warned him in matters of the heart it would be more complicated, but Ballasare didn’t see the need to love the woman he would marry. He had ideas on how to test if they were sexually suited without crossing forbidden lines, and if she had the qualities he was looking for, that would be enough. Friendship was a solid base for a union. She made him laugh, and that would be frosting on the cake.
Romantic love? The heated, man-altering obsessive condition written about in the history books? It was best left for men with less responsibility.
When he’d first outlined his plans for the conference, his family had doubted him. Instead of deterring him, their concerns had aided in shaping the process. He and his assembled team, the one that included Aunt Simone, had searched the globe for the right women. The more he thought about it, the less he was surprised that his diligence had produced a viable option. In fact, the surprise was that there weren’t more.
Outside of Jessica Quincy, the women had been disappointingly forgettable. He already couldn’t remember his interactions with half of them. On the other hand, every single moment with Jessica, every look they’d exchanged, every word they’d said to each other was still crisp in his memory. Even that first smile across the dimly lit conference room. He hadn’t expected to find her as fascinating as he did. The night before, even while he was meeting with his most trusted guards, those who were not loyal to the Arcano, he’d found his mind wandering back to Jessica: her voice, her smile, the hot passion of her kiss.
His step was light and his pace was quick as he headed down to meet her. He chuckled as he remembered how easy it had been to get an honest reaction out of her. Her attempt to deceive him had been adorable, but the heated response she’d shown in response to light goading had turned him on. That kind of fire, if focused in the right direction, had tantalizing possibilities.
He patted the breast pocket of his jacket to double-check that he’d remembered to bring the deck of cards he’d had designed. She was inexperienced, but a woman from a modern society was not naïve. He was excited to not only discover how much she knew about sex, but also what her preferences would likely be. Although he wasn’t able to have her before their wedding day, there was no law preventing him from assessing her willingness.
The more information he had, the easier it would be to make a final decision. He’d taken out her file the night before and reread her public blog. If she became his wife, it would be taken down, but for now it was easy access to the inner workings of her mind. Her parents had clearly been ill-prepared for a daughter with her level of intelligence. We would be better prepared for our children. It almost excites me imagining their sage minds.
Her description of the loneliness she’d experienced at the schools for the gifted were insightful. Those experiences explained her later difficulty with friendships and how she’d remained a virgin for so long. She was a vibrant rose, pruned so harshly she identified herself as a weed.
A source of amusement for some.
Dismissed.
Underestimated.
Rubare Virgina had once been considered worthless. It had lacked geographical importance as well as profitable resources. His ancestors, like the ancestors of his cousins on Rubare Collina, had been given an island as a joke. You want to rule something? Rule this pile of rocks. No one had expected the seemingly worthless land to be one of the few places where one of the most sought-after ores in history was discovered. Making us all insanely rich.
Treasures didn’t have to be monetary and could be found in places others overlooked. If Jessica did one day rule at his side, his people would appreciate how her history mirrored that of their country. She wouldn’t be a flashy American looking down her nose at them as many Europeans had in the past. If cultivated correctly, she would blossom on their soil and represent hope and promise.
I’m jumping ahead of myself now. Jessica Quincy may not be the right woman for Virgina. And even though I’m running short of time, I haven’t chosen her yet.