“Since you’re here, I think we should have a drink before you’re taken back into the city.” Jessica was in control, her smile unshakable, her composure solid. “Does that suit?”
Amy looked like she might protest, about the drink or being taken back into the city, but instead, she nodded along with the others. Jessica turned and went back into the villa, undoubtedly to give the order for drinks to be served.
The three women stared at him, doe-eyed. An indistinct blur of beauty that meant nothing more to him than the scenery. Possibly less. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, turning and following Jessica. “Jessica …”
She whirled around, hands on her head. “I am so sorry.”
“You are?”
“Yes. I don’t really like all the three of the women to be together and … this … all right, this isn’t really going according to my system. But it’s okay. We’ll improvise. We’ll all have a drink, we’ll chat, tomorrow you can choose one to go on a dinner date with. Does that work?”
“Fine,” he said, amused by how quickly her composure had evaporated once they were out of sight of the other women.
“Really, this just makes it all seem a bit …”
“Like a reality television show?”
“Yes. And also a bit crass. And I’m sorry. But they all know the drill, so while it’s awkward, they knew that they weren’t the only people who had put in to be considered for this match.”
He leaned against the wall. “So how exactly do women find you?”
“I advertise. In a discreet manner of course, but I’ve managed to put together a select group of men and women. When someone comes to me looking for a match, I let those who meet the qualifications know, and then they respond and let me know if they’re interested. Simple.”
“In a complex sort of way.”
She raised both eyebrows, her expression haughty. “Well, it works anyway.”
“So how many of these women you’ve shown me haven’t made the final cut with other men?”
She sniffed. “Almost all of them. Where is the wine?”
“Which ones?”
“Only Victoria has never asked to be entered in for consideration yet. You were the first one she showed interest in.”
“Setting her sights high?”
She kept her focus on her hunt for beverages. “Wine?”
“I mean that as far as status goes, not really saying I surpass the other men in terms of other qualities.”
“Right. Where is the wine?”
He chuckled and reached behind her, pulling a bottle from the built in rack above her head. “Will a merlot do?” He took glasses from the rack as well, holding them by the stems.
“Fine.” She reached up and took the bottle from his hand, then tilted it in his direction. “We should …” She gestured in the direction of the terrace. “Because I don’t want them to scratch each other’s eyes out or anything.”
“Remind me again why you thought this would be a good idea?”
She frowned. “Well, it seemed logical. It sort of followed how I do things … it’s just … it not being a big event sort of closes everything in a bit more.”
“Yeah.”
He took the bottle from her hand and led the way back out onto the terrace. Victoria, Cherry and Amy were standing at the far end of the terrace, a healthy bit of distance between each them so that they didn’t have to engage in conversation with one another.
He set the glasses down on a small round bistro table and opened the bottle, pouring a substantial portion into each glass.
“Drinks,” he said, lifting one for himself. They would need them.
The women advanced and each took their wine. The silence was awkward, oppressive. He hated this, he was starting to realize. It was the first thing he could remember hating in a long time. He hadn’t had an emotion so strong in … years.
He hadn’t thought he would mind this situation. Because he didn’t want a wife, not in a particular sense. Marriage for him would be something he did for his country. A distant affair, and that was how it had to be. He knew—he’d seen—that love, emotional attachment, could overpower strong men. Bring them to their knees. And if those men were in control of the country, they could bring the country down with them.
That was why he had to do it this way. That was why he had to keep everyone at a distance. Why he had to find a wife who would matter to the country, not to him.
Still, even with that in mind, being in the middle of the matchmaking process was as enjoyable as being boiled alive. His flirtatious manner was harder to hold on to than he could ever remember it being before.
Ultimately, it was Jessica, her quick wit and sparkling laugh, that saved the night. She engaged everyone in conversation and managed to make things seem easy. Easier at least.
By the time his marriage candidates had been sent off in the limo, the knot in his gut had eased. Though, it could have been due to the wine and not just Jessica’s lightning-quick wit.
As soon as the women were out of sight Jessica let out a loud breath and lifted her wineglass to her lips, tilting her head back and knocking the rest of the contents in. “That was vile. Worse than vile.”
“You’re good at covering up how you feel.”
“So are you,” she said. “Image. It’s important to both of us, right?”
“I have to put on a good front for my people.” Except he hadn’t thought of it as a front before. He’d simply thought of himself as empty of anything but confidence. Empty of anything unimportant. If something needed to be done, he saw it done.
“And I have to put on a calm front for my clients.”
“Then why is it you’re letting me in on just how stressed out that made you?”
She grimaced. “Well, for all intents and purposes, we’re roommates at the moment and I have to let my hair down at some point in the day, so to speak. For another, you’ve licked my lips and that puts you slightly over the line of ‘usual client.’ Slightly.”
“You don’t let all your clients lick your lips?” he asked. A strange tightness invaded his chest, his stomach. Jealousy.
Possessiveness. The image of all of her clients getting the sort of special treatment he had been on the receiving end of made him want to pull her to him again, to make sure she didn’t forget what it was like to be kissed by him. To make sure she never forgot.
That was as foreign as all the other emotions she’d brought out in him over the past few days. Jealousy implied some sort of special connection, and a fear of that connection being threatened.
He gritted his teeth, fought against the tightness in his chest. Flirting. That would put the distance back between them. Something light. Sexual.
“Hardly,” she said. Unable to read his mood, she kept her tone casual. “Indulge me, though, since I’ve now confessed that I don’t kiss my other clients. What exactly are you hiding?” She tilted her head, her green eyes assessing. Far too assessing for his taste. Too sincere.
It made it impossible to find that false front. Made him feel something shift deep inside himself.
“No skeletons in my closet,” he said. “But of course I have to live a certain way, conduct myself in a certain way.”
“You aren’t exactly a traditional ruler.”
“It’s