Читать книгу A Royal World Apart - Maisey Yates - Страница 9

“WHERE to first, printzyessa?”

Eva found herself staring at Makhail’s hand as he gripped the gearshift. Light-colored scars marred his skin, tendon and muscle flexing in his forearm as he put the car in Reverse. Strength was evident in each move he made, even the simple act of driving a car.

Fascinating that just the sight of it, the play of flesh over muscle, could make her heart pound faster. The men at the casino hadn’t done that. They hadn’t done anything for her, not in a physical sense. Being with them offered her a bit of thrill, but it was more related to the fact that she knew she shouldn’t be there. Shouldn’t be letting them touch her arm or flirt with her.

Makhail didn’t flirt. He certainly didn’t offer anything illicit. He was simply there. And his mere presence was enough to make her feel so much her body felt too small to accommodate it.

She didn’t like it. The annoyance didn’t bother her. It was the other stuff, the stuff that made her stomach twist, that was what she didn’t like.

“It would be nice to go and have coffee,” she said. He didn’t respond, only put the car in First and pulled out of the gates of the palace, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Then I could go to a couple of boutiques, maybe.”

It actually sounded boring to her. If she had some friends to share it with, that would be different. But the only people in her life who really passed as friends were Sidney and Marlo Gianakis. The Greek heiresses were only on the island during the summer months, and even then it wasn’t as though they were true friends. Not the sort of friends she’d ever confide anything in.

Their alliance had more to do with a compatible social class than anything else. And since they came with their own security team, their presence gave her the rare chance to get out with permission.

“That will be fun,” she said, more to try and convince herself than for his benefit.

“Sounds like no fun to me, but this isn’t my party,” he said, his tone a study in purposefully undisguised annoyance.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, at his hand again. “It won’t be so bad.” Without thinking, she reached out and trailed her fingers over his knuckles. The contact sent a flash fire through her, igniting at her fingertips and blazing along her veins, molten heat pooling in her stomach.

She turned to look at him. He was still stiff as ever, his eyes fixed ahead. The only sign that she’d touched him was the twitch in his jaw muscle as he tensed.

“Not bad at all,” she said softly, letting her fingers linger on his skin. It was such a strange feeling, foreign, exciting.

She blinked and pulled her hand away, brushing the tips of her fingers with her thumb, trying to figure out if they were hot outside, or if all that heat was beneath the surface.

“Why do you still wear your ring?” she asked. In an attempt to get her focus off his hand, she’d drifted to his other hand. And from there to the platinum wedding band that gleamed on his fourth finger.

Again, his reaction was minimal. Tendons flexed in his hand, a muscle rolled in his forearm. “Tell me, Eva, if you were being kidnapped, held at gunpoint, harassed by an obnoxious man in the coffee shop, would that information somehow benefit you?”

“No, but …”

“Then you do not need it.”

“I thought we were aiming for civility, Mak,” she said, overpronouncing his name.

“Civility, yes. Hand-holding and feeling, sharing, no.”

Her fingertips tingled. She knew he wasn’t referencing that. She hoped he wasn’t. She opened her hand and shook it out. She’d been aiming for flirtatious. Confident. An action befitting the woman the tabloids tried to make people think she was.

The problem was, she didn’t feel like any of those things when she was with Mak. He managed to make her feel every inch the spoiled child he thought she was. All of her efforts to carve out some sense of individuality, some semblance of independence, were reduced to rubble with one searing glare from her gun-toting nanny.

“All right. I suppose we can keep all that to a minimum.”

“To nothing, would be preferable.”

“Well, I’m just curious. And you can’t blame me. Of course I’m going to wonder about you. We’re spending time together and …”

“Don’t think of this as spending time together,” he said, his accent thicker than usual, forcing her to listen carefully to each word. She didn’t really mind. “Think of it as cars in traffic,” he lifted his hand from the wheel and gestured in front of them, at the line of cars that was starting to grow the closer they got to the city. “We’re on the same road for a while, but we’re not traveling together.”

“Right,” she said. “Except you and I are in the same car.”

They were stopped at a light, and he took his eyes off the road for the first time since they’d started driving, one dark eyebrow lifted. “You’re missing the point.”

“No, your metaphor doesn’t work because … well, we are traveling together.”

“No, it still works as a metaphor. Because it’s not meant to be taken literally.”

“Well, it’s just confusing as we’re traveling in the car, but you’re asking me to think of this as us in separate cars on the same road.”

“Now you’re just being obstinate.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile and he turned his focus back to the road.

A small flutter started in her stomach, growing and spreading to her veins, turning into fizzy bubbles as it flowed through her body. “All right. Maybe a little bit. But it’s just that … if we can’t talk at all I’m going to be lonely.”

“I didn’t realize I was meant to protect you, keep you entertained and keep you company.”

She let out a breath. “You’re making it sound like you’re nannying me again. And I’m certain my father is paying you enough to do all three of those things.”

“Actually, as of yesterday, he is not paying me.”

Her mouth fell open. “What?”

“My men made inexcusable errors. And even though I was not personally responsible for those errors, it falls to me to correct it. As I said earlier, it’s not about money. It is about reputation, my standing in the eyes of my potential clients. This may surprise you, but I generally aid in the protection of people who are under a much larger threat than you will ever find yourself in.”

“Like?” she asked, curiosity too piqued to allow her to be offended.

“Men who dare oppose despots in their rigged elections, people who fight for change and find themselves in danger as a result. Sometimes, my clients are less noble. Sometimes it’s simply an entitled sheikh who has offended the wrong people.”

“So this really is babysitting for you?”

He grunted. The sound was noncommittal, designed to drive her crazy without him actually having to insult her. Not with actual words anyway.

“Do you intend to walk for a while?” he asked, as they drove through the main street of old-town Thysius.

“That would be good. I could go to the coffee shop and then to a couple of the boutiques. I want boots.” She wasn’t sure that she really wanted boots, but it was as good a destination as any. Mak, spending time with him, was starting to seem more interesting than boutiques.

“I’ll park and follow you from a distance.”

She swallowed the rising lump of disappointment she had no business feeling. “And they say romance is dead.”

“Romance has nothing to do with this,” he said, his voice hardening as he pulled the car, quick and smooth, into a tight parking space against the curb and between two other vehicles.

“I was being facetious.”

“Wait,” he said, killing the engine and getting out of the car, rounding the back of it. He put on a pair of dark sunglasses. His movements were liquid-smooth, his focus on the area around them. There was no way he could blend in, which meant his only option was to adopt an air of absolute authority. No one would ever question whether he belonged. No one would ever question him, period.

He opened her door and rested his forearm on the top of the car, leaning in. “It’s clear. Put your sunglasses on. Let’s not draw a crowd.”

It was an old trick, and while it wasn’t nearly as successful for her as it was for some, it kept people from recognizing her at a distance at least. A person’s reaction to her was generally one of calm politeness, mixed with a bit of awe perhaps. Which wasn’t ego, it was just her title. She was a princess, and people were generally a little bit awed by royals.

But if a crowd happened to notice her, that was when things could get a little bit on the crazy side. And she wasn’t looking for crazy today. A bit of normal, that was the order of things.

Although, she was starting to wonder if normal was possible in Mak’s presence.

She slipped her large, round sunglasses up over her nose and took her handbag from its spot on the floor. “Ready.”

Mak backed up and moved to the side, allowing her the space she needed to get out of the car. She slid out beneath his arm, his body radiating heat. It was a warm afternoon, a coastal breeze blowing in off the ocean offering the perfect amount of relief from the Aegean sun. Even so, she found she wanted to lean into Mak’s body. To seek his warmth.

Denying that feeling before it could intensify, she moved past him quickly, stepping up onto the sidewalk. Mak looked at her, even with his sunglasses shielding his eyes from her she could tell, and she fought the urge to tug her dress down as far as it would go, to cover a bit more of her legs.

At the same time, she fought the urge to flaunt every bit of leg her simple black sheath dress revealed. She wasn’t sure where either feeling had come from.

“Just walk on,” he said.

“We just got out of the car together, Mak, it’s pretty obvious that I’m with you.”

“Just walk on,” he repeated, his voice firm as he closed the door behind her.

Frustration built in her chest, like a hardening knot. It was completely disproportionate to the situation, but that didn’t stop it from getting even worse.

“Fine,” she said, turning and heading toward her favorite coffee shop. It had been a long time since she’d been able to go out for coffee. Trips out on the town were a rare treat, typically reserved for the times when Marlo and Sidney were around and their security team joined forces with hers. They were always a spectacle, the three of them, with everyone giving them a wide berth. Often, their security detail would go into shops first and clear them of clientele before they went in.

It was all a bit over the top. And as far from normal as anything she could imagine. This would be a different angle on it. Still, hardly normal with a large, muscular man in a custom black suit stalking her like predator.

She turned and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He pretended not to notice, choosing to fade into the crowd around him. Not that he could really fade, not in the sense that he could go unnoticed. But he blended into his surroundings like something organic to the cityscape.

He looked more a part of Kyonos than she’d ever felt she was.

She turned away from him and focused on the shops that lined the narrow streets. English and Greek were spoken in Kyonos, and both languages were printed on signs in newer parts of the city, but in old town, it was predominantly Greek. Here there were still market stalls, with fish and fruit and homemade pitas. She liked it better than the polished, uniform look found deeper in the city.

She made her way into the kafenio, and she could feel Mak follow her in. She focused on the surroundings instead of turning to look at him. She always enjoyed coming here. It was small, with lavish details carved into darkly stained wood. Old books filled the shelves and mismatched armchairs were placed in front of small boutique tables.

It was intimate. Quirky. Everything the palace was not. Everything she looked for when she sought to escape the confines of her family home.

She approached the counter and spoke in Greek to the woman working the register.

“Coffee. Metrio, please.” The hair on the back of her neck stood up, a shot of adrenaline spiking in her veins. Mak had gotten closer to her. Strange how she was so certain of that fact. That she was so very aware of him. “And another please. No sugar.”

Mak didn’t seem like the sugar type.

Eva paid for both drinks and collected the white cups after the woman finished pouring the thick coffees. “Efharisto,”