As he escorted Monica along the carpeted hallway that rang hollow with each footfall, Thad’s heartbeat thundered more hollow still.
How had she found him? Never mind that the remote oil drilling outpost sat far beyond even the farthest reaches of permafrost. Never mind that, under strict orders to keep the men civilized in spite of the inhumane setting, women weren’t allowed on the rig any more than tobacco or liquor.
It had been three days since his conversation with Kirk and his siblings. Had they contacted Monica in spite of his request? How long had she been looking for him?
And had she been followed?
He ducked into his office, pulled her after him and closed the door behind them both. Meeting her eyes, he fought the urge to push her away, as far away as he could. For her own safety. And his. And the security of Lydia.
But Lydia’s security had been breached two weeks before.
The attacks on his tiny kingdom had toppled his family’s government and left his father, King Philip, in a coma, fighting for life. Thad had warily watched the reports on the news, knowing that, for all his power as the heir to the throne, there was nothing he could do to help his siblings. No, if he stuck his head up, he’d only make things worse. Too bad he hadn’t been able to make them understand that. Monica’s arrival endangered them all.
He kept his arms to himself. “How did you find me?”
“Kirk—”
“Not even Kirk knows exactly where I am.” Thad’s best friend knew only that Thad was living on an oil platform north of Alaska—a vast amount of space for anyone to cover. Thad deliberately moved between platforms frequently. Even his own coworkers had difficulty tracking him down at times. Kirk could have pointed her in the right direction, but Monica would have undoubtedly had quite a time finding him.
“No kidding.” She frowned, and her mouth twitched.
“Were you followed? Has anyone been watching you?”
“If you’re worried about Octavian finding me, you’re too late. He kidnapped me yesterday morning and sent me on this crazy trip to find you. He didn’t know where you were so I had to ask Kirk.”
“What? Octavian found you? He kidnapped you?” He gripped her by the shoulders and stared into her brown eyes seeking answers. But instead of answers, he felt a rush of emotions. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to protect her from Octavian. But it was too late. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
“Did you hear what I said?” Her words came out in a disbelieving whisper. “He kidnapped me. He sent me here to bring you to him.”
Thaddeus tried not to think about the beguiling way she looked at him through her long eyelashes. He tried not to consider how close her lips were to his. He had to understand what Monica was saying. “Octavian kidnapped you, and then you contacted Kirk. How did you do that?”
“Octavian already had his number.”
“How did he get it?”
“How did he find out about me?” She pulled her shoulders from his hands and stepped away. “You promised me that if I never spoke your name, never made any effort to contact you, never told anyone I’d ever met you, that I’d be safe.”
Thad’s mouth hung open. The realization of his worst fear sunk in slowly. Octavian had found out about Monica. He’d used her to get to him.
He’d underestimated his enemy.
Again.
“Octavian sent you here?” he confirmed.
“Yes. He hired the pilot to fly me around until I found you.”
Thad looked around frantically. “We’ve got to leave. We’ll have to sneak away and hide somewhere else.”
“No!” Monica’s voice rose to shouting. “Have you heard anything I’ve said? Octavian sent me to get you, to bring you to him.”
“We can’t go to him.” Thad tried to shush her with a glare that had sent many a calloused oil worker cowering.
“Listen.” She ignored his silencing expression. “Octavian needs your signature. He needs a document that he says you stole from him. He says if you sign it, he’ll leave us alone.”
Thad knew he had to contain the situation. Not only that, he needed to get a handle on the unfamiliar emotions that were thrashing inside him like the arctic waters during a storm.
Even above the constant reek of oil and ocean brine, he smelled her gentle, feminine scent, and memories flew from the prisons where he’d banished them.
She looked up at him, and he clutched his chest, trying to stifle the aching pain that originated there. He’d tried for six years to cauterize that part of his heart, but one look at her big brown eyes tore open the old wound, proving it had never really healed. Yearnings he hadn’t felt in years awakened from their long hibernation.
“We need to leave.” She spoke with a note of authority he hadn’t heard her use before. This wasn’t the meek graduate student he’d fallen for so long ago.
“We do.” He agreed. “We need to hide.”
“We need to return to Octavian.” She took his arm and pulled him toward the door. “The pilot said he’d wait half an hour. Thick fog is rolling in—he didn’t think he could wait any longer than that.”
The tug on his heart was even stronger than the pull on his arm, and he pulled her close to him. “I’ll hide you. He won’t find you again. But we can’t go with the pilot he hired. There is nothing outside of this oil rig that is more important than me keeping my head down.”
“Nothing?” Her lips twitched again, and Thad thought he caught a glimmer of moisture in her eyes. The sight of it tore at him. If there was any way he could have spared Monica the pain of what he’d put her through, he’d have done it. But shortly after they’d eloped in Lydia in a solitary ceremony witnessed only by his trusted friend Kirk and the deacon who’d conducted the service, the insulated world of Thad’s royal heritage had been shattered.
His father, King Philip of Lydia, had shared with Thad the ignoble agreement he’d struck with the billionaire Octavian. There was nothing his father could have done to change what had happened. After grilling his father on possible solutions, Thad had finally concluded the only way to keep all his loved ones safe and the tiny kingdom of Lydia free from the hands of a deluded would-be despot, was for him to leave.
He repeated his answer. “Nothing.”
* * *
Monica felt dizzy. Maybe it was a lingering effect from the plane ride, maybe the result of being awake for the past thirty-six hours straight, or maybe the rig itself was moving with the rocking waves.
She’d tried to talk that madman Octavian out of his plan. She hadn’t wanted to make this trip, but her life—and her son’s—were on the line. She struggled to recall everything Octavian had told her. The man had three objectives to achieve. If she wanted to get home to her little boy, she had to do as he asked.
“Thad, listen. Your father’s in a coma.”
“I know that.” An emotion flickered in his eyes. The thick mountain-man beard that covered most of his face made him almost unrecognizable, except for his eyes. After the many years they’d spent as friends, and the short weeks of love they’d shared afterward, she knew those eyes well. How long had she silently admired this man, content to be close friends, before he’d finally acted on the simmering attraction between them? How many years had she wanted to look into his eyes, content to catch friendly glimpses and look away before her true feelings were exposed? Mere weeks before graduation, Thad had finally realized that their friendship was something much deeper, and