‘Then maybe I should take my chances with whoever else is after me. Because I’m not safe with anyone who wants to return me to Rubanestein.’
‘Stop being ridiculous. Think about your safety if you can’t think about your country. I’m taking you back to your home where you’ll be safe.’
‘That’s rubbish. You say I’m in danger here, but if you take me back, you’ll be delivering me right back into the lion’s den. Why do you think I ran? I’m not some rebellious teenager. Hasn’t it occurred to you that I had my reasons for running?’
‘I know, you did. You have a conflict with your brother.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s understandable that you would be envious and it’s equally understandable that you’d be angry and want to embarrass him.’
‘Wait. What? Envious? What are you talking about?’
‘Give it up, Princess. You’re twelve months older than Rafael and yet, due to Rubanestein’s traditional rules of succession, it is he who is on the throne and not you. It must have been a blow to see your younger brother accede to the throne when even the British monarchy, the oldest and most famous royal institution in the world, has modernised its rules so that the crown is passed down the line of succession not according to male-preference primogeniture.’
Izzy blinked, unable to believe what she was hearing. Unable to process it. She half-laughed, half-snorted, a very unladylike-un-princess-likesnort. ‘Is that what my dear brother told you? That I’m envious of him because he’s on the throne and not me?’
‘Why else would you come up with this little act of rebellion, if not to make some kind of statement?’
‘Seriously, do I look like somebody who hungers to be on the throne? I’ve known my entire life that, failing a disaster, I would never accede to the throne. I have always been good with that. Do you really think I ran away because I’m in a snit?’ She shook her head. ‘You underestimate me, Mr Mylonakos, by a long way.’
He blinked. Slowly. ‘Whatever, Prince Rafael is concerned for your safety and wants you escorted safely home.’
‘That’s a joke. He’s never been concerned for anything other than his own well-being. He doesn’t care for me. He doesn’t care for anyone or anything other than how they can be of use to him.’
‘Then why is he so keen to have you returned home, if he cares so little for you, his sister, his own flesh and blood?’
‘Because he’s racked up millions of Euros in debt and the Treasurer-General had the intestinal fortitude to prevent Rafael from getting his filthy hands in the Public Treasury.’
‘What does that have to do with you?’
‘Everything. He made a deal with one of his cronies.’ She let that sink in for a moment waiting for him to join the dots. She saw the frown draw his brows together, creasing his brow. She witnessed the exact moment when realisation dawned on him, his dark eyes incredulous.
‘Yes, Mr Mylonakos. He sold me. That’s why he’s so desperate to get me back in the palace under his control. So, he can carry out his plan to marry me off to the creep who’s going to bail him out.’
His tense features relaxed. The corners of his mouth tweaked up. He shook his head. ‘You’ve had weeks to come up with a story and that’s the best you could manage? Don’t you think that’s just a bit melodramatic?’
‘It’s the truth!’
‘So you say. But your response is straight out of the playbook. Prince Rafael said you’d say something like that.’
‘Because it’s the truth and he knows it!’
‘Sure. Last I heard, Rubanestein was a modern European principality. What you are suggesting is positively medieval.’
She clenched her teeth. ‘I see you’ve met my brother. He and his appalling wedding deal are the reasons I’m not going back.’
He shook his head. ‘Princess—’
‘Stop calling me princess. My name is Izzy.’
‘I can’t call you that. You’re a princess. Princess Isabella.’
‘Then why do you make it sound like an insult?’
Did he? If he did, it was because he was sick of the chase. He was sick of the arguments. Responsibility came with being an adult. He had no patience for people who shirked their responsibilities, preferring the easy life, ungrateful for the hand they’d been dealt.
He had people on his books who wanted to be rescued. Who desperately needed to be rescued. People who were a whole lot more deserving than this spoilt runaway who seemed intent on wasting his time.
Of course, he hadn’t expected her to come without a fight, but she could have come up with something a bit more original than her evil brother who wanted to marry her off to settle the gambling debts story that she’d spun. Nothing in his research had so much as hinted at the Prince having a gambling problem.
‘I won’t call you Izzy. You are Princess Isabella d’Montcroix of Rubanestein. It’s about time you started acting like it. Now, we’re leaving. You can wash whatever that is out of your hair when you get to my apartment.’
