Some Like it Secret (Going Royal Book 4) (10 page)

“Well how about a friend, then?” He kept his tone light and gestured toward the sitting room. “The doors are right there.”

Nodding gratefully, she followed him to French doors that opened onto a wide, stone veranda. The entire house was surrounded by a wide expanse of green and fresh air touched with a hint of salt wrapped around her as soon as she stepped outside. Steps led down from the veranda toward the garden, a wild profusion of colors decorated the garden with roses being the most prominent. Someone took very good care of it and, while she knew next to nothing about gardening, she knew what she liked.

Not slowing, she kept going until she was completely out of the house and amidst the floral scents. Dragging the sweetness into her lungs, she paused and tilted her face up to the sun. She needed to calm the riot in her system.

When she’d broken up with Bastian, she believed it to be the right thing to do. But seeing him again—she couldn’t imagine never seeing him again. So how the hell did she reconcile needing him and wanting him with the position she’d have to occupy to be with him?

“Meredith, are you all right?” Terry was right behind her, close enough for the sound of his voice to make her jump. “I’m sorry.”

She was the one who should be sorry. Terry was her friend, and she kept forgetting he even existed. “I’m fine.” She let out a shaky breath. “I just have a lot to think about.” Being with Bastian made thinking impossible, but when it was the two of them—it always felt like it was just the two of them. All of his beautiful, powerful male force focused on her. He was a relentless addiction in her blood and, like any good addict, could she possibly make good choices when it came to him?

Terry touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where we were going.”

“It’s all right.” She’d already forgiven him the deception. At the end of the day, Bastian would have gotten his way with or without Terry’s assistance. “You did tell me to turn the job down.” Sebastian was his employer.

“Yeah, but I could have done more, especially if you didn’t want to be here.” He gave her a shoulder squeeze.

“Really, it’s—”

“O’Connor, you can leave us now.” Sebastian’s voice cracked over the quiet and Terry’s hand fell away from her. She turned to find Sebastian’s dark brooding gaze locked on Terry until he backed up a pace.

“I’ll be nearby if you need me, Meredith.” Terry nodded to the edge of the garden, then inclined his head to Sebastian before walking away.

Once Terry was out of earshot, Meredith lifted her brows. “You were a little rude.”

“He oversteps a
lot
.” Sebastian answered curtly and closed the distance between them. “Why did you leave?”

“You were talking to your brother. I really didn’t think you wanted to discuss family business in front of your mistress.” Two could be tart, and she was tired of dancing around the topic. He didn’t have the right to act all lord of the manor in one breath and become a coaxing lover in the next. The shifting behavior confused the hell out of her.

Sebastian’s harsh expression changed to one of shock. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him wear such a look before, but when he spoke, danger edged his words. “My
what
?”

Her words struck him like a physical blow and all the air whooshed out of him. His temper had never been a pretty thing—he’d always been more like mallet in comparison to Armand’s scalpel. Due to that, he’d long endeavored to contain his reactions—to leash them lest his tempestuous emotions land him in scandals, per his father’s advice.

The suggestion to rein in his reactions came after Sebastian damn near beat another boy bloody at boarding school. His title, his family’s wealth, and his father’s diplomatic skills smoothed the whole incident over. Months of lessons followed the episode, most of which took him most of his life to perfect, but he knew the part he played and he played it well.

The last several days—hell, the last several months—all weighed on him, beginning with the blade in the dark arranged by a supposed family friend and culminating in the phone call from the love of his life ending their relationship. He’d twisted himself into knots to keep his cool, to stay in control, and then she hit him with the most ridiculous charge.

“Your mistress. I’m not an idiot, Bastian. Let’s not pretend, not at this juncture.” She let out an exasperated huff. Color bloomed in her cheeks and temper fired the dark chocolate of her eyes, blasting him. “I know my place. You’ve made it perfectly clear. And I don’t even care—no, scratch that, I
care.
Maybe I care too much, a reality made clear when I saw the story about your engagement. I know, you said it wasn’t true and, okay, maybe it wasn’t…this time—”

Red hazed over his vision, and a dull roar filled his ears. She bandied around words
like, maybe
and the idea it wasn’t true
this time.

“I know we’ve agreed to give this time and decided we shouldn’t talk of these things, but I’m an adult. I agreed to this relationship. I—” She fumbled and raked her hands through her hair. “I
want
to be what you need, but I don’t know if I can anymore.” The last came out on a note so forlorn, it cut him deeper than all the rest. His soul began to bleed.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he fought the urge to yell. The rapid escalation of his temper eroded his control. Jaw clenched, he fought the immediate, visceral yell backing up in his lungs.
Focus on her words
. To create distance from the pain they evoked took every ounce of his will. He needed to address her concerns because, clearly, the chasm between them was littered with more the jagged rocks of misunderstanding.

“You are not my mistress.” He had to keep his temper in check. Yelling at her would not serve him in this.
Rational.

Stay rational.

The wind chose the same moment to pick up, whipping her hair up and away from her face. One aspect of Meredith which always attracted him was her absolute lack of artifice. She didn’t wear cosmetics unless she had to. She rarely wore jewelry—just a watch her father gave her at graduation and a pair of diamond studs, tiny little chips, from her grandmother gifted to her for her eighteenth birthday. These facts fascinated him along with every gram of knowledge he’d devoured about her in all their years together.
Mistress…how can she possibly believe she’s my mistress?

Her nose wrinkled and her jaw tightened. He recognized the signs of her temper and he couldn’t listen to another word of her argument. Not when she insulted him and herself in the same breath.

“Sebastian—”

“Be silent.” He cut her off and, while it flew in the face of everything he believed and he’d never allow another to speak to her in the same tone, he needed to hold onto the rapidly fraying ends of his temper before he said something they would both regret. Stalking forward, he invaded her space and stared down at her. “You are
not
my mistress. Not now. Not ever. I do not pretend when I am with you…”

Her mouth opened then snapped shut again with a click of her teeth.

Satisfied when she elected to not interrupt him, he fisted his hands in his pockets. He wanted to drag her close and kiss her until he blasted the ludicrous idea out of her head, but it wouldn’t address the problem. If the solution were so easy, they’d have already dealt with it. “I have
never
pretended when I am with you.” With Meredith, he got to be the man, not the prince, and how the hell could she not know how precious she was to him? “And your place?” His breath hitched. “I don’t even know what the hell that means. The only place I’ve ever wanted you is with me.” Even then, he’d denied himself.

Mutiny shimmered in her eyes, but she only lifted her eyebrows in silent inquiry.

“Yes, please—answer.” Frustration corded his muscles. He clenched his fists until two of his knuckles popped.

“One, don’t ever tell me to
be silent
again.” She didn’t bother to disguise her quiet fury and, damn she was beautiful when riled. “Two, you never have to pretend with me? Good to know. I’ve only ever seen you behind closed doors where no one else can see you. Since I never get to be on your arm in a crowd, I wouldn’t know how you behave socially, now would I? And, yes, I know you want me with you, but only
when
you want me,
where
you want me, and
how
you want. You make all the decisions. You—” Her voice cracked, pitching high for a moment. “
You
decide. You get hurt and I hear nothing for days, only a cryptic message passed from your
bodyguard
to Terry saying you were alive. I got one five-minute phone call and then nothing. I’m not an idiot,” she repeated, as though she needed to illustrate the point. “For five years, Sebastian, five
years,
I’ve been your dirty little secret. Maybe that’s enough for some women. Hell, maybe it was enough for me, but I want more than private assignations and stolen days.”

Her words arrested him and she paused, releasing a shaky little laugh dipped in tears. “I want more.” Spreading her arms, she lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I love you, but I can’t do this anymore—”

She offered him heaven and hell rolled together. Forcing his fists to release, he dragged his hands from his pockets and caught her arms. “Meredith, you’re not my mistress. I have never thought of you in that manner.”

“You don’t have to think of someone like that to treat them that way.” She flattened her hands against his chest, but didn’t attempt to push him away. “You don’t have to think of them at all. I get it. I’m neither glamorous nor pedigreed, but, Bastian, I’m so tired of spending every single holiday alone because you have to make an appearance. I’m tired of not being able to tell my family about you, or my friends. Or having to endure one more set up because I’m always partnered with the single guy who spends an evening trying to impress me. I can’t tell them I’m not interested or to leave me alone because I’m involved. Why? Because then people will ask questions and I can’t answer them.”

“Why the hell not?” The last tenuous grasp he held on his temper frayed and snapped. Just how many times was she partnered with other men? And why was this the first time he was hearing of it? “Why not tell them you’re involved with someone?”

“Because then they’ll ask me who, and what can I say?” she fired back.

“I don’t know, Meredith, what do you want to say?” He zeroed in on her expression, the high color in her cheeks, the way her teeth kept gnashing at her lower lip. Twice in the length of their relationship he’d seen her truly angry and never before at him. However, he’d done nothing to deserve her level of ire.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure, my boyfriend is Sebastian Dagmar. You know, the prince? The one dating a new model every week? It’s all a front, he’s really with me. You see, he made it very clear from the get-go we should be circumspect. He said we have to keep it quiet or risk having everything about our lives splashed all over the tabloids.”

“I never asked you to keep me a secret from your family.” He wanted to shake her and the moment the urge gripped him, he released her to back away a pace. A movement caught his eye. O’Connor left his position on the garden’s edge and headed in their direction.

As if noticing him was all it took, Vidal appeared in the periphery to intercept the other man.

“Really? And you didn’t keep me a secret from yours?” Meredith’s accusation jerked his attention back to her. Vidal would deal with O’Connor, but, if the man persisted, then Sebastian would give into his urge to hit something—
him
.

“I didn’t tell Armand about you, nor George. One had the power to forbid me from seeing you, the other is an idiot at times, not to mention too young to understand the risk.” He blew out a breath and walked three steps toward the bougainvillea they’d imported. “I told you what would happen if we went public,” he said quietly. “Because I wanted you to understand how your life might change, and I wouldn’t do anything without your consent. I wouldn’t take the choice from you.”

“I never had a choice—”

“Yes,” he grated out the words. “You did. You have always had a choice, but my life isn’t simple or uncomplicated. The threats we face are real, the invasion of privacy is real, and the need to protect what is ours—mine—is very real.” How could she think she was his mistress? So far, she’d thrown his appearances into his face twice. Cold dread pitted in his stomach. “Meredith?”

“What?” Frustrated exhaustion hung off the word.

Turning, he eyed her. She looked every bit as upset as he felt. “The women—the ones in the articles and the news stories? Do you think they were all my lovers?”

She stiffened, her chin came up, but her lower lip trembled and betrayed her. The ground beneath his feet sheared away. She thought so little of him, of who they were together, she didn’t believe he’d been faithful. The roaring in his ears returned and he swallowed his next words because he wouldn’t ask the obvious question.
Had she been faithful to him?

O’Connor’s interest and overstepping behavior made a sick sort of sense. He wanted to kill the man.

“Bastian…” She took a step toward him, but he held up his hand and backed away. He didn’t trust himself to touch her or be touched by her. His control shredded utterly, to be replaced by a fury so primal it defied description. “I—I never wanted to think it.”

“But you did. And you do.” The corner of his mouth twisted up. How cruel was life? In protecting the one person who meant everything to him, he’d convinced her he thought so little of her, thereby making her believe him to be a ruthless bastard. The damn roaring invaded his thoughts and he turned. It wasn’t just in his head. He heard the sound of rotors.

“Your Highness!” The shout came from behind him as a helicopter surged overhead. Light glinted off metal. Spinning, Bastian hurtled himself at Meredith, tackling her to the ground as explosions of rock and earth blew up around them.

Chaos erupted and the cacophony deafened her. Sebastian slammed into her and the air whooshed out of her lungs. He pressed her into the dirt, his whole body covering hers. Someone shouted then a half-dozen men closed around them. Bastian was peeled away and hands seized her then suddenly she raced toward the house, yet her feet never touched the ground.

Ears ringing, she stumbled when she landed inside a windowless room. Sebastian pulled her against him, his arms like steel bands. Glancing up, she could see his mouth moving, but the words were almost indistinct. He put his hand on her cheek, studying her eyes.

“I can’t—” God, even her voice sounded odd, muffled. “Can’t—understand you at the moment.”

He nodded once then began running his hands over her hair, down her face. When he continued to her shoulders, arms, and chest, she realized, rather belatedly, he verified she wasn’t injured.

“I’m okay,” she told him and wished like hell the buzzing ring in her ears would stop. Sebastian continued, undeterred, and only when he was satisfied she wasn’t injured did he drag her close again. “I’m okay. Are you?” When she would have checked him with the same thoroughness, he refused to let her go. Instead, he carried her to a low sofa, then sat, holding her in his lap.

His heart raced like a freight train, pounding as though it planned to beat its way out of his chest. Studying the line of his profile, she found his gaze fixed on the door, jaw clenched. Bit by bit, the pieces of the past few minutes began to fit together.

“Someone shot at us—at you.” She didn’t even realize she’d said it out loud until Bastian’s gaze pinned hers. His cool remoteness melted away. The muscles in his arms tensed and she realized she was shaking. The trembling seized her from head to toe and tears splashed down her cheeks.
They’d shot at Bastian.
Right in front of her, from a helicopter. They would never have had a chance at the shot if she stayed inside.

He crushed her to him and she held on. “I’m sorry. Oh my God, I’m sorry—” She could have gotten him killed. With one hand buried in her hair, and another pressed against her back, his touch soothed her, but couldn’t ease the violent shaking.

Fisting his shirt, she buried her face against his neck. The warm masculine scent of him reminded her just how close she’d come to losing him. Again. Before—when he’d been hurt—he’d been so far away and she’d been so damned helpless to do anything for him. Her helplessness eventually turned to anger.
Today? Today
I
was right there and utterly useless.