CHAPTER ONE
Maddie
“Yes, she will do nicely.”
Through willpower alone, I suppressed a shudder as my future husband lifted my chin and scrutinized my features. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he asked me to open my mouth so that he could inspect my teeth. I dreaded what he would be free to inspect in three months’ time, after our… I swallowed hard. After our wedding.
I jerked my face away from his increasingly tighter grip, but he just grinned, looking genuinely pleased. “Ah, you show some backbone. Unexpected…” he leaned closer, his breath hot against the side of my face, “but I like that.” His nostrils flared, as did the black pupils within his almost equally black eyes. “Fight me, Princess. It’s exciting. But be warned, I fight back.”
Refusing to look away from him, refusing to show weakness, I forced my breath to remain steady as his fingers trailed down my arm. Nausea roiled in my belly, but I refused to allow my distress to show. I couldn’t. No, I wouldn’t. Even though one question rang in my ears.
How had it come to this?
As the fifth daughter of Phillipe and Jacqueline Birgitta, King and Queen of Aldcliff, I had been born with one purpose… to marry well. After daring to be born a female, my entire existence had been formed and molded into creating the perfect wife to any man my father deemed a suitable match.
But this?
Only hours before, my father had told me in no uncertain terms that this man would be my destiny, and that his ties to the Cesacaia fortune were too great for my “antics” to get in the way.
“You are nearly twenty-one, my dear, and I’ve allowed your diversion of your royal duties to go on for far too long,” Papa said after I’d been abruptly woken. “You will fulfill your duties. The contract has been signed. It is done.”
I had been hastily bathed and dressed in the body covering lace dress I currently found myself in. The dress itself was a contradiction, covering me from chin to ankle to wrist, although it clung to my every curve, challenging the purist feel of the morning gown.
After I was properly prepared, I’d been presented to the man before me.
The man I knew was my worst fear come true.
My four older sisters had been lucky. They were matched well and appeared to be happy with the lives chosen for them. Well… if not happy, then content. I’d seen them all only a month before, when they and their growing families had traveled back for my father’s birthday celebration. It had been quite the event, the King of Aldcliff turning fifty. Heads of State from all over Europe had descended on our small island to wish him well. Photographs of the event had swept across the globe, or so I’d been told.
From what I’d since learned, the photographs of me were what had captured Prince Vitalievich’s attention. He just so happened to be in the market for another bride. And I just so happened to be on the seller’s block.
I met the dark eyes of Prince Vitalievich and lifted my chin. His grin grew broader, his eyes impossibly darker. His gaze was like a knife slicing my skin.
Goose bumps raised on my arms, a reflex so involuntary I didn’t know they were there until I shivered. He seemed pleased as his hand moved up my arm, then down to take my hand, the soft palm and perfectly manicured nails an indication of the pampered life he led.
“I see I affect you too, Princess. If we were alone, I’d see just how affected you were…” his voice was low, intimate in the space between us, “everywhere.”
Tears stung the backs of my eyes, and I widened them, forcing the traitorous tears away. I knew what he was implying. I’d been taught the ways of pleasing a man — anatomically, at least. It was part of my tutoring for the role in which I was born. To become the perfect wife, and to keep my husband satisfied in every way possible.
But my body had never been touched.
Not this intimately. This suggestively.
I had never been left alone with a man. Not that my life had been feared for. Only my virginity. Yet another value I’d bring to the table.
I waited for the guards to come forward, to shove him away. To protect me as I’d been protected these past twenty years. No one dared touched royalty. A hand wasn’t even extended to me until I extended mine first. This freedom he was taking with me was outrageous.
But they didn’t, and when Prince Vitalievich stepped even closer, the tips of his shoes touching mine, his thumb brushed over my breast as his hand moved up my arm again.
To my horror, my nipple contracted. Not from desire but from cold. From fear.
If this man would be so forward as to touch me this way in front of my parents and the royal guards… I shuddered again, hating myself for the weakness the involuntary movement portrayed. My heart was pounding in my ears. Horror clogging my throat.
I didn’t move. I didn’t say a word or make a sound. My breath had grown so shallow that my chest barely moved in and out.
I was frozen.
The perfect wife… seen but not heard.
Over the years, this position had been trained and ingrained in me. Face relaxed. Shoulders back. Hands serenely at my sides. I was able to stand at this level of attention for hours, maintaining my posture and focus through the most tedious of events.
And I knew, from the outside, just how serene I appeared. I’d been forced to study my every action and be fully conscious of my presence my entire life. I’d stood in front of mirrors, re-watched video taken of my performance as instructors pointed out any flaws.
Now, I knew my outward appearance was perfect.
Inside, though, I was screaming. Clawing. Begging.
Papa… no. Please… no.
“Madeleina is a fine choice,” my father said from his throne, sipping from a golden glass of wine, even at this early hour, and looking very pleased. He didn’t meet my eyes when I looked his way. “As I told you before, she has a high spirit that I’m sure you’ll find pleasing.”
A grin spread on the prince’s face, and although I’d only met this man less than an hour ago, I already knew him well. Knew what he was thinking. He was looking forward to breaking my spirit. And I would have no choice but to let him. Or fight him at every turn.
“Yes,” the prince said. “Her spirit pleases me greatly.”
A month away from twenty-one, I’d delayed this day as long as possible. My elder sisters had been matched and married by their eighteenth year, all mothers by my age. I shouldn’t have waited. I shouldn’t have begged for more time. I should have married the sixty-seven-year-old oil billionaire who wanted me last year. Or the one before him, or any of the ones before that one.
Anyone but this dark-eyed monster in front of me now.
From what little I’d learned since being awoken this morning, my father and the prince had been in negotiations for the past two weeks. The link between our two countries would be powerful.
And I was to be that fragile link.
Me, and the sons I would be expected to provide after the prince’s other wives had born only daughters.
There was no more time. No more begging.
“It is time you honor your country,” Papa said earlier, while I was still in my dressing gown, disheveled and stunned.
“Please. No. I—”
He held up a hand. “I told you, it is done. Be prepared to meet your betrothed in two hours’ time. The ceremony will take place in late August.”
I stared at him. Three months? I had only three months to prepare.
“An engagement announcement and party will be held in your honor next week. Then, we shall sail for the mainland the following day.”
I was growing lightheaded, but one word broke through the haze. “Sail, Father?”
He nodded, his eyes sparkling as his first smile of our meeting appeared. “Your prince is gifting our family with a yacht for the voyage. It’s a beauty too.”
It was like a slap. I was being traded for a boat. Or at least the vessel was part of my payment package, and the realization had made me cold with fury.
“We will sail to Monaco, then fly to Paris, where an array of engagement celebrations will take place.” Papa smiled, but it was more of a baring of teeth. “The voyage will give you time to get to know each other better.”
At that time, I didn’t even know the name of man I’d be marrying, and yet my stomach had curled and churned, nearly turning in on itself.
Now, I knew to whom I’d be speaking my vows.
And I instinctively knew there would be no happy ever after that I’d dreamed of.
Once, my eldest sister had somehow smuggled in a romance novel. A tall man with long, flowing blond hair graced the cover, a beautiful brunette standing before him, her gown falling down her shoulders, nearly revealing her breasts.
I’d read the book a dozen times, at least. Probably more, based on how the pages had torn away from the binding. Other than the fact that it was the only book I’d ever read that hadn’t been approved by my many tutors, something else stood out to me.
The novel had been set in the 19th century, where women were property to be used as men pleased. Sold to the highest bidder or used as a bargaining chip. And the women had no say as to their destiny.
This was now the 21st century, and the same practices happened in this age. Not everywhere, I realized. I wasn’t totally isolated on our small island. I hadn’t been held captive in my room. Protected, yes. Sheltered, yes. But I had studied extensively in world politics — to better converse with men during social engagements, of course — and under the watchful eye of my tutors, had been allowed to view social media pages, even though my own social media accounts were only accessed by the royal public relations team. I didn’t even know the passwords for them, as I’d never been allowed to post anything myself.
My life had been carefully crafted. As my sisters’ lives had been before me, and my two brothers, only one and three years after my own birth.
It had been my brothers who had, ironically, been my blessings. As females were not allowed to govern the country, the arrival of an heir and a spare had been much celebrated. And the attention and pressure had turned away from me.
Although still closely guarded and prepared for my future role, the spotlight had faded off me as anyone of importance. After all, I held no value other than what I’d be as a tie to another country. As unimportant as I was, though, a royal wedding would still be a global celebration. My country didn’t hold the international appeal as did the royalty from the United Kingdom, and I wasn’t stalked as heavily as those royals, but a wedding would change that. The interest would grow and girls from all around the world would watch me, a living princess, walk down the aisle in a stunning dress, thinking how dreamy it all was.
Bile surged into my throat, and I swallowed it down.
Those girls would never know of the illusion. The carefully crafted painting of royal life.
They would only see the prince grin at me in the way he was grinning now as I promised to surrender myself to his guardianship for all of time.
Young girls everywhere would swoon over how handsome he was. After all, he fit the tall, dark, and handsome illusion quite nicely.
Would they be able to glimpse the evil behind his eyes as he slipped a ring onto my finger, claiming me as his? Would they be able to glimpse the fear and disillusion in mine?
Tears burned again as I met the eyes of my mother, the woman I so closely resembled. Silver streaked her light blonde hair while tiny lines bracketed her dark blue, nearly indigo-colored eyes. Worry caused the line between her eyebrows to appear, but only for a moment. Her thin body was regal beneath the champagne-colored lace dress that fell to her ankles.
Her expression didn’t change, though, even as her gaze stayed on me. I could hold little comfort in the support. Her hands were as tied as mine, I knew. Although she enjoyed more freedom of movement, to the point where she was allowed to travel to royal functions with only her entourage of staff and guards, she was treated no differently than one would treat a pretty bauble.
Seen… but not heard. Well cared for, but never allowed to leave its position on the shelf.
I begged her with my eyes, and when the prince turned his head to follow my line of sight, we both quickly looked away. When he faced me again, he said, “In my presence, you will look only at me. At no time will you even glance away. I demand it.”
His French was only passable, his English marginally better. I knew no Serbo-Croatian, so English was how we communicated with each other. Until I learned his language, I was told.
In defiance, I lifted my chin and looked away from the prince again, this time toward my father. He met my gaze, but only for an instant.
The prince growled low in his throat and turned to face my father. “Might I have a few moments alone with Princess Madeleina?”
My father looked taken aback, nearly insulted at the request. Then I watched him consider, and I knew he was doing the math in his head. Earlier, he told me of the twenty-eight-billion-dollar fortune Prince Vitalievich was heir to, and I knew my value was a very small, nearly miniscule percentage of that amount.
Then, Papa smiled, and any sliver of hope I had that he’d reject the unusual request was destroyed. “Of course. Perhaps a stroll in the gardens on this fine morning.”
I exhaled. It was more than I’d expected. At least we’d be in a fairly public area, rather than in an enclosed and isolated room.
The prince extended the crook of his arm, but instead of taking it, I strode toward the door. From the corner of my eye, I saw my mother’s eyes widen, my father’s mouth tighten, but I didn’t care.
I’d been frozen moments earlier.
I wasn’t frozen now.
And if I stepped meekly, I’d never forgive myself.
My heels clicked as I walked across the wide expanse of white marble. Doors opened before me as stewards swung them wide, regal in their formal morning attire.
The prince’s footsteps were behind me, long strides that were like the bass undertones to the treble of my smaller steps. I was being stalked, the lion after his meal. I felt his presence, sensed his anger. It made me walk faster, until I was at very near a run.
My heart was pounding, my blood roaring as I burst into the sunshine, inhaling deeply of the cool, sixty-degree air. Green and blue surrounded me, dotted with the reds and pinks of roses my mother favored.
I had no time to take it all in as a hand encircled my bicep, halting me from going down the steps. I was yanked around to face the man in front of me.
His nostrils flared. “Test me, Princess. I shall keep count, and on our wedding night, I’ll exact my revenge.”
“I won’t marry you.” My voice was low, but I was proud that it didn’t tremble.
He laughed. “You are, in nearly every sense of the term, practically already married to me now. The contracts are signed. In this moment, you belong to me. The wedding ceremony is only a detail. If I chose, I could plant my seed in your belly tonight as you lay strapped to my bed. Do you not understand yet? Your father assured me that you were intelligent. Was he mistaken?”
Strapped?
The peripheral of my vision was growing cloudy, and I unlocked my knees before I passed out. “No. I don’t understand. Why me?”
His dark gaze traveled over my face and down my body. “Why not you? I’ve yet to include a blonde in my family. Our combination of traits will be interesting, don’t you think?”
“But I don’t want to marry,” I argued. “You or anyone else. Wouldn’t you be happier with a willing bride? Someone who loved…” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. “Someone who loved you and you loved in return?”
He sighed. “My princess, fear is more powerful than love.” He extended his elbow, offering me his arm as he had done earlier, his dark gaze nearly penetrating me. “I will not be rejected. If you do so again…” his eyes went to the sharp stone steps, “you may lose your balance, find yourself in tragic circumstances. Do you not yet understand the power I yield over you now?”
I gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
His arm snaked out until it lay across my back, his hand circling my bicep. His body was hot against my side as the nail of his thumb dug through the lace and into my skin. He stepped forward, taking me with him, until we were on the edge of the top step, the toes of my shoes extending over the side. “Would you like to wager on that?”
Unable to stop myself, I looked down. Below me, twenty marble steps gleamed in the morning sun. Basins of flowers edged the bottom. Luxurious cars sat at rest in the circular driveway beyond where I stood.
There would be witnesses, I knew. I also knew it wouldn’t matter.
My mother would grieve for me. My father would be upset, but only as much as he would mourn a lost asset.
Life would move on, and the prince would select another blonde bride, if blonde was still his preference at that time. He would sire more children, rule with an iron fist. He wouldn’t be punished because my death would be ruled an accident.
For a moment, I saw myself falling, head and limbs cracking against the hard stone.
It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Pain, yes, but only for a few moments. If I was lucky, my neck might even snap early in the fall, giving me merciful release before I completed the descent.
Closing my eyes, I leaned forward. I’d take my fate into my own hands.
The hand tightened on my arm, and I pulled heavily against it. “Let me go,” I whispered.
“No.” A second hand wrapped around me, and I was pulled backward. “Your fate rests with me.”
I opened my eyes and gazed out onto the Mediterranean, then over to the guards, who averted their eyes. That was my answer.
This was my fate.
I shivered and allowed Prince Vitalievich to lead me down the steps, to stroll through the gardens at a leisurely pace as he explained where we’d live, explained his household rules. His expectations. His needs.
To anyone watching, it was a casual conversation of two people getting to know one another.
The princess and her prince.
But I knew better.
We were captive and captor.