The Royal Elite: Mattias (16 page)

Mattias laughed. “You've got to be kidding.”

She reached over and carefully pulled the ball cap onto his head, covering his short, dark hair. Only the neck length blonde showed in back.

“Dead serious,” she said.

“I look like my brother.” Muttering, amused, he accepted a pair of sunglasses she offered over and added those to the guise. He thought he heard her stifle a laugh.

“It's very...unique,” she said.

“All we need is a Volkswagon van, a painted on peace sign and tye-dye shirts.” He snorted, started the SUV, and cruised out of the lot. Her laughter was just the icing on the cake.

“I wish I had a camera.”

“There is no way I would allow you to take a picture of me like this,” he retorted. While they talked, he kept an eye out for a tail, at the faces along the sidewalks on either side of the street.

“What if I won another game of chess?”

“We have no chess board.”

“Poker, then.”

“No cards.”

“I can get some if you stop at a different store.”

“Do you even know how to play?” Mattias arched a brow and glanced across the SUV. Alannah looked startled at the question.

“War?”

He laughed. “So you don't know how to play poker. You would have lost your pants if I'd said yes.”

“It can't be that hard. Plus, I believe in beginner's luck.”

“You still have to know how to play. Either way, you're not getting that picture.” There were only so many sacrifices Mattias was willing to make.

“Afraid the world might see that the mighty Prince has a humorous side?”

“The world already knows more than enough about me. They can wonder about my humor—or lack thereof.” Pulling into the hotel parking lot, he chose a vacant spot close to the front doors and shut down the SUV. He wanted close access should they get unexpected visitors here, too.

“When you let your hair down, you're not so bad.” Alannah gave him a lopsided, cheeky grin, grabbed the bag on her lap, and exited the SUV.

Mattias rumbled a low laugh, left the hat in place, and moved from the front seat to the rear. Finding several articles of men's clothing within, as well as undergarments and toiletries, he changed out of the tuxedo suit and into a pair of black cargo pants with several extra pockets to stow things in. They were well made, the kind of pants he might wear on a mission. He replaced the white silk shirt with a black tee, traded dress shoes for athletic trainers and put the ridiculous hat back on. After sliding the sunglasses into place, he tucked the tuxedo garments under the seat and disembarked.

Meeting Alannah at the front of the SUV, he followed her inside with his bag in hand. Another couple at the counter helped provide distraction from the staff while they traversed the hallway to the elevators. Alannah urged him on, however, once the steel doors came into view.

“I asked for a room on the ground floor. Figured it might be faster to get away if we need to.”

“I suppose it doesn't matter.” If they had to fight, they would, regardless of the floor or location.

Like any other standard room, this one had a single queen, one dresser with a television attached to the wall above, a small table with two chairs and a decent sized bathroom. What set this accommodation apart from the rest was the quality. Extra robes had been folded atop the dresser and the wood of the headboard was well made and expensive. The bathroom sported a jacuzzi tub with jets, marble counter top and framed mirror.

Dropping his bag by the dresser, Mattias removed the hat and glasses and tossed them on the desk. Running his hands through his hair, he turned to find Alannah unpacking her things. A few items went into a dresser drawer, the rest she hung in the small closet next to the bathroom.

He was struck by the sudden desire to be somewhere else with her. Some place he could really dig beneath the surface and learn all the facets that made Alannah up. There was a lot more to this woman, he suspected, and wished for nothing more than time to see what she might show him. Maybe a cottage on the beach in the Maldives or a secluded getaway on the Aleutian Islands.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, breaking his reverie.

Mattias smiled and shook his head. “Nothing. I'm going to take a shower while I have time.”

Alannah eyed him like she wanted to pry at his mind and see what was inside. Instead, she surprised him by saying, “All right. I'll keep an eye out. I'm sure you're exhausted, after staying awake all night and then driving for hours. Should I order up some food? We can eat once I get my shower and then I'll sit up while you sleep.”

Even Alannah didn't feel a total sense of ease this far from the former altercation. It told Mattias that she still felt hunted—because they probably were. Although he
was
as tired as she suggested, he would never admit it. Sleep at this point was critical, however, which was why they were here in the first place. He couldn't keep going at this pace and remain as sharp as he needed to be.

“Fish or chicken for me. I'll be out shortly.” Mattias snagged his bag of clothes, a robe and headed for the bathroom. On the way by, he glanced at the bed.

No wonder she hadn't protested at the lack of two separate accommodations. Only one of them at a time would be gracing the sheets. Wondering at the stab of disappointment he felt, he disappeared into the bathroom.

“You know, even when you're sitting there in a robe, cutting a piece of chicken, I can't forget you're a Prince. You have a definite bearing about you that never really goes away.” Alannah wasn't sure why she blurted that across the table. She glanced at his plate of parmesan chicken, then her steak, and finally at his eyes. It was the truth, however, one she wouldn't back down from. There was something regal in the way he sat, the way he ate. Hell, even the way he cut his meat. Not dainty, never that, but...refined. As if he was a well oiled machine in better control of his body than most humans.

“It's my upbringing. You learn it from a very young age and it stays with you.” He arched a brow, then brought a piece of chicken to his mouth. His dark hair, still wet from the shower, had been left to dry at haphazard angles. It was short but not too short, and easily put into place by the rake of one hand.

Alannah wondered what it would feel like between her fingers. A traitorous thought, considering she was still angry with him. Wasn't she? “Maybe. My father has always had money, and surrounds himself with affluent people, but you're different.”

“Do you always speak your mind so bluntly?” he asked.

“That's the second time you've mentioned it. Yes, I do. I can't help myself, I guess. Does it offend?” She chewed a piece of steak and tried not to think about what he was, or was not, wearing under the robe. Choosing boxers for him had been far more intimate than she'd imagined it would be. What if he wasn't wearing any at all?

“If it did, I wouldn't be here.”

“Does that mean you would have pawned this job off on one of your acquaintances?” Alannah held up a hand, palm out, to ward off anything he might say. “I didn't mean that in a snarky way. Really.”

“No. You've irritated me plenty of times, and here I am.” He toasted her with his water glass.

Alannah, taken aback by his own bluntness, laughed. Relieved that particular look hadn't crossed his face when she knew she annoyed him, she said, “So it was the luck of the draw.”

She also noted how he avoided speaking more about his acquaintances. Alannah couldn't resist testing him, asking questions about his friends to see if she was right in her theory that they were as involved in this thing as he was.

Trying to get information out of Mattias was harder than she expected it to be. And what was with the way he suddenly stared down into his water glass before he had a drink? As if...thoughtful? Alannah couldn't quite pin down his expression. Was he wishing it was wine—or maybe something stronger?

“I told you before. It started out one way and ended another.” He set the glass down and met her eyes.

Unnerved by how direct his gaze could be, hers flitted down to her plate, where she used her fork to push pieces of steak around. “You're here by choice.”

“Yes.”

“Someone else
could
have been the one to come with me, or after me, but you chose to yourself.” She needed to have it spelled out for her. Although Alannah hadn't lacked for suitors, most men didn't come back for seconds or thirds with her. One sitting seemed to be their limit. She had always blamed it on her horrible social skills, of which the jet set was so enamored. That a Prince, of all people, took it upon himself to make her well being his top priority
after
he'd dealt with her more than once was astounding.

“Yes, someone else could have come with you. I could call someone else in now, if I was forced to, but I like to finish what I start.”

Shifting on the chair, trying to decide whether that was innuendo she detected in the latter part of his comment, she said, “And what about the blonde?”

“What about her?”

Flustered, Alannah used her fork to make random gestures. “Well, I mean...”

“Am I going to sleep with her again?” he asked.

“...are you?”

“No.”

The fork swerved down to her plate and she stabbed a steamed chunk of zucchini. She popped the bite in her mouth, using the time to think of what to say. Something unpleasant about the woman wouldn't do.

“It's really none of my business,” she finally said, admitting the truth. Who he slept with
wasn't
her business. Even if it rankled her beyond reason.

“It's not, and I won't justify my actions to anyone. But I don't mind saying that I have no interest in her beyond what we mutually shared.” He sliced off a thin piece of chicken and ate it, watching her while he chewed.

“Is that how you are with most women? One night stand kind of things?” she asked.

“Do I seem like that kind of man?” he countered.

“I don't know, that's why I'm asking you.” She set down her fork and picked up her water, studying his features. Mattias, when he wanted to be, was difficult to read.

“I haven't been that man in a long time. Until recently, I was engaged, and no, before you ask, I did not sleep around while I was committed.” He sat back in his chair and tossed the napkin over what remained of his dinner. Shortly thereafter, he pushed to a stand and went to the bed where he'd laid out his clothes.

Alannah, dumbfounded that he'd been engaged to someone, stared across the room. “Engaged? What happened? Is she still in your life?”

Mattias opened the tie on the robe and peeled the fluffy material from his broad shoulders. He wore black boxers beneath, the kind that hugged his hips and thighs. Alannah, distracted by the site of him in the boxers she'd personally chosen, temporarily forgot their conversation. She snapped back to the present when he pulled a pair of jeans up his muscular legs.

“To make a long story short, I courted her because it was expected of me, and although I was fond of her at times, I never really loved her. During a hazardous situation with my family, she was framed for something she didn't do, and after a rather volatile row I ended it with her.” He drew a light gray tee shirt over his head, slid his feet into socks, and hung up the robe.

Fascinated by the story, she observed the smooth way he moved while he dressed, and missed the sight of his golden flesh once it was obscured by his clothing.

“What ever became of her?” she asked.

Mattias paused, then finished turning back to the bed. He raked a hand through his hair. “She spent time in jail until I petitioned for her release. The public believes her guilty of the crime of planning murder, and because the true perpetrator behind the crime will never be prosecuted, I had to slip her out of the country.”

“Who planned murder, if not her?” Alannah pushed her plate away, far more interested in Mattias's life than her food. Even the threat that someone was probably hunting them as they spoke could not deter her curiosity. Mattias's silence at her question only piqued her interest further.

“Mattias?”

“I'd rather not discuss it. That was a harrowing time—as is typical with my family. Remember, if you feel tired or like you might doze off, wake me. I don't want both of us asleep at the same time.” He got prone on the mattress atop the covers rather than beneath them.

Alannah wanted to press for more details. She hated not knowing the answer to a puzzle, but she could tell by the way he changed the subject and reclined to rest that she wouldn't get anything more from him.

“I will.” Glancing away from the bed, she gathered up the plates and glasses and set them on the cart. Pushing it into the hallway for staff to collect, she closed the door, engaged the locks, and clicked off the light. Late afternoon sunlight spilled in through a crack in the curtains, so she adjusted them until only light gray shadows remained.

“Thanks.”

The resonant rumble of his gratitude sent goosebumps along her arms. Taking her clothing into the bathroom, she hastily donned her own pair of jeans, a light pink tee shirt, and her new pair of sneakers. The entire time she thought about what it would be like to curl herself next to Mattias and sleep the next five hours away. Visions of them stripping out of the robes at the same time—wearing nothing beneath—brought a flush to her cheeks.

After double checking that their things were secure in the bags, lest they find the need to leave in a hurry, Alannah paced back to her chair and slumped down into it. Mattias's eyes were closed, as far as she could tell, though she wasn't sure whether he'd already fallen asleep. His breathing sounded even, but that didn't mean much.

Vexed at her alternating reaction to him, she laced her fingers across her stomach and prepared to wait it out.

Pulled into awareness by bitterness stinging her taste buds, Alannah scraped her tongue against the edge of her teeth and groaned when her neck protested her shift into a new, straighter angle. It felt a lot like she'd fallen asleep in the chair, head lolled to the side for too many hours. Horrified at doing exactly what Mattias warned her not to, she jolted awake, disconcerted by the utter blackness that met her gaze. There should have been
some
light spilling in through the crack of the curtains, enough to make out dim shapes and shadows. Blinking furiously, she experienced a stab of ice cold fear that she'd somehow been rendered blind. Her eyes were open, yet...nothing. She saw nothing. The faint pressure of material on her skin made her realize a moment later that a blindfold covered her eyes. When she tried to reach up and remove it, a soft yet strong binding held her wrists tight together behind her.