“I don’t think he’s thought it through,” Andy sighed, his face softened with compassion. He knew what I was going through, even if he couldn’t imagine the depths of my despair. How could he? How could he know? Andy had never had a relationship with more depth than a goldfish bowl.
“The man’s a fucking idiot,” I groaned, rubbing my eyes. It felt as if I’d been grinding sand into them for the past couple of days. Not surprising. I hadn’t slept since the night before our wedding. A night we’d spent entwined in each other’s arms. It was my last real memory of the woman I adored. When I’d returned home to discover our cleaning staff had serviced the apartment and changed the linen on our bed, I’d wanted to howl with fury. Wanted to bury my face in those sheets that would have still smelled of her. Of us. It might be all I’d have left of her.
“He’s batting out of his league,” Andy acknowledged. “It’s taken us months to pin down the details of this business venture. He doesn’t realize it’s not something that can be strong-armed to suit his agenda.”
I slumped back into my seat. “Why? Why the fuck can’t he just take money? I’ll give him fucking anything!” I wanted to yell the words, but somehow I couldn’t summon the energy. I felt drained.
“It’s not about the money, my friend,” Andy answered. He’d risen to his feet and was making his way to the bar counter on the other side of my office. I watched as he poured two generous glasses of scotch and headed back to my desk. Despite the early hour, when he set the cut crystal glass in front of me, I reached for it eagerly. “Breakfast of champions,” he said wryly, taking a sip. I couldn’t bring myself to return the smile.
“What’s it about then?” I said darkly, swallowing a mouthful of the fiery liquid.
“You,” he said. I frowned. “Your life. What you represent. The Prince of New York. That’s what he wants to be.”
I shook my head. “What the fuck are you talking about, Andy? I’ll sign over my accounts if that’s what it takes. He can have it all, goddamn it! I just…” I felt my voice break and cursed myself for my weakness. “I just want her back safe.”
He set his hand on my shoulder.
“We’re going to do something to make that happen, okay?” His tone was reassuring. I swallowed hard.
“Just give me hope,” I said hoarsely. “I need her back.”
“We’ll do it, my friend. If there’s a way, we’ll find it,” he said. Andy had reached for his phone and was swiping the screen again when my intercom buzzed.
I frowned at it darkly. “Jane?” I snapped, not in the mood to be polite.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Walker,” my PA spluttered. “I couldn’t stop her…”
∞∞∞
Angelique Delavigne
“Prince! Darling! You’re looking…” Angelique stopped and stared at the man across the desk. This was not the Prince Walker she’d come to know and…well, maybe not love, but certainly lust after. “You’re looking tired,” she finally said. “Is it that wretched girl? I heard the wedding was a disaster.” He stared at her as if she’d stepped out of an alien spacecraft, but that didn’t deter Angelique. Charm was wired into her, and years of dealing with the modeling industry had given her a hide like a rhinoceros.
She swooped toward the desk and rested a svelte hip on the varnished oak.
“Perhaps I can help,” she purred. He didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t let that stop her, either. This was no cheery social visit. It was her last-ditch attempt at making a play for the man.
Dmitri had made his intentions quite clear at last. Their wedding was off. The engagement was over. He had no intention of ever seeing her again. If she was honest with herself, it hadn’t broken her heart. Although Sophia had blown a gasket.
“What now, you stupid girl? He was our foot in the door! How are we supposed to get back in those circles?” the woman had blustered. Angelique had shrugged, not wanting to admit to the rest of what Dmitri had told her in their conversation.
Their initial meeting had been a lucky break for Dmitri. He’d planned to turn her into a brief dalliance until he’d seen her becoming absorbed into Prince’s world. After that, it had been a careful game of cat and mouse, waiting for her and Prince to become a couple before Dmitri madehis move.
She’d never truly understood if it was a matter of wanting to find a way into Prince’s business circles, or if he’d been driven by a need to hurt the other man. Whatever. She’d been a pawn.
It was a role that Angelique Delavigne did not see herself in. She was a controller of men, not the other way around.
She was going to get Prince back. Whatever it took.
And now she was staring at a broken man, feeling quite certain she knew exactly which buttons to press.
She reached out a manicured hand and traced a stray curl from his forehead. Even tired, he was still achingly beautiful. What was I thinking? she thought to herself. The man was a god. Perhaps they’d been rough on each other, but if she was honest with herself, she’d loved it. Dmitri’s tender touches had been sweet at first, but after a while, it had been Prince’s brutality she’d yearned for.
Angelique moved closer, leaning forward to brush her lips against his cheek. He still hadn’t said anything. It didn’t alarm her. She had that effect on men. Startledthem into silence.
“What do you say, darling? Shall we find someplace to…talk?” She batted long lashes at him.
“We can talk just fine right here, Angelique,” he finally replied. “What the fuck do you want?”
