Pushing the disquieting thought aside, she glared at him. “My husband is my family.”
Xerxes pulled out his phone, dialed a number and handed it to her. “Here.”
She stared up at him in surprise, her mouth gaping as she held the phone in her hand. “Is this a trick?”
“It’s ringing,” he pointed out.
With a gasp, she pushed the phone to her ear. When she heard Lars’s voice at the other end, she nearly wept with relief. “Lars!”
“Rose?” he said, his voice more high-pitched that usual. “Where are you? One of my groundskeepers found the tiara smashed in the road. Your family is worried sick. Why did you leave?” His voice wavered. “Did you hear something that made you angry? Whatever it was, I can explain—”
“I’ve been kidnapped,” she sobbed. “I’m in Greece.”
There was silence on the other end. Then Lars spoke grimly.
“Novros,” he said. “Novros took you, didn’t he?”
How had he known that?
“Yes,” she choked out. “And he—”
“What did he tell you?”
She turned away so Xerxes couldn’t see her tearful face as she whispered into the phone, “He’s told me all kinds of lies. Oh, Lars. He said you were already married, that the tiara was fake, that our wedding was fake! Ridiculous lies that no one would believe!”
Sniffling, she waited for Lars to tell her that of course it was a lie, that of course she was his legal wife and that he’d be calling Interpol immediately.
Instead, there was silence.
“It’s complicated,” he said weakly.
The word was a stab to her heart. “Complicated?”
“I pawned my grandmother’s tiara a few years ago, but the glass version looks almost the same,” he said defensively. “I intended to buy it back, but never got around to it. Your engagement ring is real though!”
Why was he talking about jewelry? Who cared about that? She choked out, “But the other things—”
“Well, technically I suppose you could say that I was already married, but my so-called wife has been comatose for a year. She’s a vegetable. I never loved her, Rose, but I needed money, don’t you understand? I have an image to uphold. And I swear to you,” he said urgently, “Laetitia is nothing to me.”
“You’re married,” Rose whispered numbly, feel-ing like she was in a nightmare. She felt Xerxes move behind her, felt the warmth emanating off his strong body. “Our wedding today was really fake.”
“I had no choice. You wouldn’t let me touch you!” Lars said. “I hired an actor to lead the vows. It was easy. None of my friends knew about Laetitia. The day after we eloped, my stupid, brainless wife drove her car into a telephone pole.”
Rose sucked in her breath.
As if sensing he’d gone too far, Lars changed his tone. “You’re the one I love, petal, my perfect bride. You are the one I truly want as my wife. I always intended to renew our vows, legally, as soon as Laetitia died. The doctors say she’s fading fast,” he added eagerly. “She could die any day.”
“You…” Her throat closed. It took her a minute to force out the words. “You want her to die?”
“Of course I do!” he said. “I need you, my beautiful Rose. Please, petal, you have to believe…”
But Rose heard no more. The phone fell from her numb hands, clattering to the marble floor.
She stared dimly at the sparkling diamond ring on her hand. She’d pledged her faith to a man who was not free. And worse than that, a man devious enough to twist Rose’s innocent words into the justification for his deception. A man heartless enough to want his comatose wife to die.
Rose had believed in him. She’d thought she’d truly married him. And in a few hours more, she would have given him her virginity.
How could she have been such a fool?
The entire fairy tale had been a lie.
Her knees collapsed. Peeling the diamond ring off her finger, she threw it across the room, where it ricocheted off the bookcase. Covering her face with her hands as she wept, she sank to the white marble floor.
Xerxes picked up the ring from the floor, along with the dropped phone. He put the phone to his ear.
“So,” he said coolly. “Shall we trade?”
She dimly heard Lars’s furious shouting in response.
“This is my last offer,” Xerxes said carelessly. “I will allow you to keep your castle, even to keep the car you bought with her money. But you will give her up, along with the rest of her fortune. You will complete the divorce within the week. Or you will regret it.”
More shouting.
Xerxes’s gaze was dark as he looked down at Rose. “We both know you will agree. And Växborg? Do it as soon as you can. Your mistress is a beautiful woman.” His lips curved into a cruel, sensual smile. “Any man would commit crimes to possess her.”
AFTER he ended the call, the library was silent. Rose heard only low, soft snuffles that she realized were her own sobs.
Her captor stood over her, and she felt his silent, considering gaze upon her. She tried to stifle her weeping but could not.
All she could think about was that Xerxes had been right. Lars had betrayed her. Tricked her. He’d used her own idealistic nature, her belief in loyalty and love, against her.
He’d never loved Rose at all. He’d only wanted her body. He was already married, and he’d been waiting…waiting for…
“He’s waiting for his wife to die,” she whispered aloud.
She felt Xerxes touch her arm. “I know.”
She looked up. His dark eyes were surprisingly gentle.
“Come,” he said in a low voice. “You’ve had a rough day. I’ll take you to bed.”
She was unable to resist as he took her hand in his larger one, lifting her to her feet. She trembled at his touch, barely feeling strong enough to hold the bodice of her wedding gown closed with her other hand. She pressed her fingers against her heart. She felt faint, her knees weak as she tried to walk. Stopped.
She looked up at him in the dark, shadowy hallway. She saw the roughness in his expression. He was everything Lars was not: brutal, ruthless, vengeful. Truthful.
Abruptly, Xerxes lifted her into his strong arms, holding her against his chest. She felt the rush of electricity, the overwhelming awareness sizzling through her just as it had when he’d first touched her, when he’d kissed her on the plane.
He didn’t know that it had been her first kiss. And that her whole body trembled now with all the desire and yearning of twenty-nine years of loneliness.
He carried her down the shadowed hallway and up a sweeping flight of stairs. The rhythm of his footsteps was heavy against the marble floor, mingling like percussion against the music of the roaring surf outside.
She glanced up at his face. His expression was brutal, even cruel. And yet he held her so gently. She’d thought him