Chapter 11
“Have Tomas bring the car round to the back of the building,” Alexandre instructed Christophe distractedly, his attention on Anastazia rather than the other man.
He had quickly dismissed the two intruders from the bathroom after Lissa dropped the double bombshell of the reporters outside and the belief that Anastazia had tried to kill him. His attempt to take her in his arms, to comfort her, had been shrugged off, and any conversation too as she got out of the bath and wrapped a towel around herself before hurriedly departing, probably to go to her bedroom. Certainly she hadn’t been in the sitting room when Alexandre went there after making a brief telephone call and then dressing.
Anastazia had entered the sitting room quietly ten minutes or so later, but she hadn’t spoken a word to any of them in the time since. She sat in one of the armchairs, her feet up on the chair, arms wrapped defensively about her knees, and her face deathly pale.
How the fuck had the media even gotten hold of the story at all, let alone such a wrong version of what had happened?
Anastazia had saved his life, not tried to take it, and been suspended from her job for her trouble. Alexandre had dealt with that problem and would talk to Daniel Meyers again once he returned to the hotel, but even so, the other man wasn’t going to be pleased at having all that media attention at the Meyers Hotel.
He knew from personal experience that the more any of them tried to deny the story currently circulating, the more the media would sniff around, scenting blood. What the press thought he was now doing at the apartment of the woman who was supposed to have attempted to murder him was anybody’s guess!
“Unfortunately, the reporters are at the back of the building too,” Lissa revealed, also looking at Anastazia with concern.
This was fucking ridiculous. What—
Alexandre frowned as it was the door to the apartment that burst open unexpectedly this time, and Asher Knight walked in.
Lissa’s angrily flushed face told Alexandre that if it had been left to her, the other man would never have been invited in. “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded.
The hardness of Asher’s gaze swept unemotionally over the four people in the apartment before he answered her. “I was invited.”
“Not by me you weren’t—”
“Not everything is about you,” Ash dismissed coldly before his gaze settled on Alexandre. He gave a barely perceptible nod in response to Alexandre’s questioning glance.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
This situation had just become one hundred percent more complicated.
Alexandre’s hands clenched at his sides. “Ash, I need you to take Anastazia and Lissa—”
“I am not going anywhere with him!” Lissa protested.
“Oh, give it a rest, sweetheart.” Ash’s smile was cold and mocking. “Stazzi needs to be taken away from here, and Alexandre obviously assumed you would want to go with her.”
“I—”
“I’m not going anywhere either.” Anastazia stood up. “I refuse to be driven out of my own home. Besides,” she added as Alexandre would have spoken, “I’m pretty sure the reporters will leave as soon as Alexandre does.”
He gave her a frowning, searching glance but couldn’t tell any of Anastazia’s thoughts from the coolness of her expression or the way her gaze avoided meeting his.
Did she blame him for the mess her life had become?
Probably, Alexandre acknowledged heavily. Because, in this particular case, he was to blame. Everything that was happening to Anastazia now was because of him. Because of who he was, Prince Alexandre of Androcco.
Maybe she was right and he should leave? He didn’t want to, wanted nothing more than to take Anastazia in his arms and tell her that everything would be all right. But inwardly he knew that wasn’t an option right now, and that his priority lay elsewhere. Anastazia was too upset at the moment to be in the least receptive to any explanations from him, but hopefully he could come back and speak to her once he had dealt with this other situation.
“How did the media get hold of this story?” Lissa was the one to prompt shrewdly. “The Meyers Hotel is known for its discretion, has hosted kings, as well as princes,” she added dryly. “I’m pretty sure the clinic you went to would have been the same. I certainly didn’t tell anyone. Your bodyguards seem a trifle obsessive in regard to your safety. So who else is there?”
Stazzi had been wondering the same thing. And the only conclusion she had come to was that Alexandre was going to think she was responsible. By broadcasting the story, she would lose her job, yes, but no doubt the paparazzi would pay big money for an exclusive story on Prince Alexandre. And who better to tell that story than the woman who had shared his bed the previous night?
The fact that Alexandre wanted Asher to whisk her away, out of sight and hearing of the media, would seem to confirm that was Alexandre’s take on the situation.
She straightened her spine. “I repeat, I’m not going anywhere.” She looked at Alexandre for the first time since Asher had arrived, feeling as if she had been punched in the chest when she saw the coldness of Alexandre’s expression. He looked nothing at all like the playful lover she had been in the bath with only a short time ago. “If I do feel the need to get away, I’ll go and visit my parents for a few days.”
“Ash will drive you—”
“I’ll drive her,” Lissa cut in firmly. “It’s almost the weekend, and I could do with a few days away from the city myself.” She shot Ash a censorious glare.
“Well, that matter seems to be settled.” Alexandre gave a terse nod. “I recommend waiting awhile after I’ve gone before attempting to leave. One of my men will wait outside to accompany you wherever you wish to go.”
Stazzi had the distinct impression Alexandre wanted to get as far away from her as he possibly could. He might even cut his visit to England short and return immediately to Androcco. And no one was allowed on the island without his permission.
She had known from the beginning their relationship was going nowhere, but she hadn’t envisaged the two of them parting quite as badly as this. Suspicion on Alexandre’s part. Icy dread on hers.
Incredible that this man had become so important to her in such a short time, but there was no denying the pain she felt at the thought of never seeing Alexandre again. Being suspended from her job, being hounded by the press, both paled in comparison to that heartache.
“I—” She broke off as her mobile buzzed with an incoming call.
“Don’t answer that!” Alexandre instructed as she would automatically have taken the call.
She raised startled eyes. “You think it’s a reporter?”
“I think there’s a good chance it could be, yes,” he confirmed.
“They found out your address, so it’s highly probable they know your mobile number too,” Asher confirmed as the buzzing ended abruptly. Only for the landline to ring seconds later. “And your landline number,” he added dryly.
Stazzi stared at the telephone on the breakfast bar in the kitchen area, knowing it would go to voice mail, but totally unprepared for the familiar voice that spoke after “please leave a message after the tone.”
“If you’re there, Stazzi, then pick up the damned phone,” Will, her ex-boyfriend, instructed impatiently. “We need to talk. I have no idea what the hell is going on, but I want—”
The audible message ended abruptly as Stazzi snatched up the hands-free receiver, pressing it against her ear, looking at no one before she walked out of the room and down the hallway to her bedroom.
“—you to know that I don’t want to hear so much as my name mentioned in connection with you and whatever scandal you’ve got yourself involved in,” Will continued to rant. “I have a reputation to uphold—”
“The only reputation you have as far as I’m concerned is that of a two-timing bastard,” Stazzi cut in coldly as she paced the confines of her bedroom. “But thank you so much for your support in what is a horrible situation.”
“Created by you from the sound of it,” Will came back scathingly. “What the hell are you doing getting involved with a playboy prince in the first place? Jesus, the two of us broke up only a few days ago and—”
“And you were already involved with someone else, so don’t presume to judge me.”
“Considering what you’ve got yourself mixed up in, it sounds as if I’ve had a very lucky escape.”
“You self-righteous prig,” she said vehemently.
“I am warning you, Stazzi, just one mention of my name to the media, and I will sue you and your lover prince—”
“Oh, go swivel on it, Will.” Stazzi put an abrupt end to the call. The last thing she wanted was to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was crying.
Oh, not because of Will’s tirade; she had already known she couldn’t rely on him to be in the least sympathetic to her plight. His call now had only confirmed it.
No, Stazzi was crying because the icy dam that had formed inside her when Lissa told her the paparazzi were outside the building, hoping for an exclusive on Alexandre’s admission to a clinic today, had now melted. Leaving Stazzi completely open and vulnerable to the pain of losing and parting from Alexandre. To the knowledge he somehow thought she was responsible for the story now circulating about the two of them, and possibly even for his having been taken ill in the night too. She couldn’t think of any other reason why he had become so cold and distant.
“Is everything okay…?” A hesitant Lissa stepped into the bedroom. “Obviously not,” she snapped as Stazzi looked up and she saw the tears tracking down her cheeks. “What has that bastard done now?”
“Talking about me again…?” Asher appeared in the doorway behind her.
Lissa turned to glare at him. “Now who’s the one who believes everything has to be about him?”
He gave an uninterested shrug before turning to look at Stazzi. “I think you need to come back to the sitting room.”
She tensed. “Why?”
He grimaced. “Alexandre’s driver just called up to say Gerard St Sebastien has arrived and is on his way up, and I may need some help when he gets here.”
“Why?” Stazzi frowned her puzzlement.
He raised his eyes toward the ceiling. “Why is it that women always have to question everything? Can’t you just accept that I’ll need your calming presence once Gerard arrives?” His voice softened persuasively. “Alexandre may appear in control on the outside, but I know his temper from our school days together, and right now, he’s beyond furious. Without you and Lissa there, we could have a murder on our hands after all, and it isn’t going to be Alexandre’s.”
Stazzi didn’t even pretend to know what he was talking about, and neither did Lissa from the irritation on her face as she frowned at the enigmatic Asher. But if Alexandre needed her, for whatever reason, Stazzi wasn’t about to continue questioning why.
“You shouldn’t have come here, Gerard,” Alexandre was telling the other man when the three of them returned to the sitting room.
The older man looked down his nose at his surroundings. “You have merely added fuel to the media speculation by being here.”
“And who created the media speculation in the first place…?”
Gerard St Sebastien’s gaze swept contemptuously over Stazzi as she stood at the back of the now-crowded room. “I don’t believe we need to look far for the answer to that question.”
“No, I don’t believe we do,” Alexandre returned with deceptive mildness. “Even as we speak, the jet is being refueled and readied for returning to Androcco later this evening.”
Stazzi felt a painful jolt in her chest at the knowledge Alexandre intended leaving England so soon. She had half expected it, but it still hurt to know he was leaving.
Gerard looked smug. “A good decision.” He nodded. “I’m sure that once you’re back on Androcco, the speculation regarding this unpleasantness will die a natural death and—”
“The jet’s for you, not me.” Alexandre eyed his cousin with icy disdain.
“Me?” Gerard looked startled.
Alexandre felt numb inside as he looked at the man he had known all his life. The man who had been his childhood friend. His cousin by blood. His trusted adviser for the past two years.
“How did you know where Anastazia lives, Gerard?” he prompted mildly.
The other man looked confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Answer the damned question,” Ash growled.
Gerard looked at him coldly. “I understand that you’re a friend of my cousin, and that he has always allowed you a certain…familiarity, but I’ve never liked you. As such, you will not address me in such a fashion.”
“I’ve never liked you either, you jumped-up little bastard, and as such, I’ll address you any way I damn well please!”
“Ash,” Alexandre warned softly. “You will answer the question, Gerard.”
“This is ridiculous,” his cousin snapped. “Of course I found out where Miss Carmichael lives once I became aware the hotel is swarming with reporters. There are at least a dozen more outside this apartment building. I really think it would be for the best if we went straight to the airport and left some of your bodyguards to pack and bring the rest of our things later.”
“The reporters are at the hotel and outside this building because of you, damn it,” Alexandre rasped. “You’re the one who told them Anastazia was at the hotel with me last night when I was taken ill, that I was admitted to the clinic for several hours, and the address of her apartment.”
Gerard gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re talking—”
“The truth,” Alexandre bit out tersely. “Do you have the proof I asked you to find, Ash?” His gaze remained fixed on his cousin as he spoke to his friend.
“Right here.” Ash produced a bottle from the pocket of his jacket and held it up.
Stazzi frowned as she listened to the exchange, having no idea what was going on. Except to know Alexandre looked grimmer than ever. Asher challenging. And Gerard less sure of himself than he had been a few minutes ago. “What is that…?”
“This?” Ash gave the bottle a considering glance. “Seafood flavoring. More precisely, a strong crab extract.”
She gave a slow shake of her head. “I don’t understand…”
Ash gave a hard smile. “A liquid seafood flavoring that when mixed with another strong-tasting liquid, such as a medicine, is virtually undetectable.”
Stazzi’s eyes widened. “Is that— Was that—”
“Yes,” Ash confirmed grimly.
Stazzi felt her face pale at the implications of the bottle Ash held up.
A bottle containing a flavoring that was capable of killing Alexandre.
That had almost killed him?