He was right. She’d met him before she’d even met Brian. She’d been seventeen, playing for the junior team when she’d met the young European Prince of Drakon.
Like everybody else, she’d been infatuated with the charming Prince. Tales had been told of his fight with his royal family, of his escapades with women from all over the world, the reckless car races and high-adrenaline sports he engaged in. She’d always been shy when it came to men, wary and reserved of slick charmers like him.
Didn’t mean she hadn’t mooned over him from a distance. The raw, pulse-pounding energy, the sheer masculinity of him had always made Nikandros irresistible.
Surrounded by A-list actresses and svelte models, he’d barely noticed her. There had been a freedom in being beneath his notice that had left her to indulge in girlish fantasies about him. Once Brian had asked her out—solid, reliable Brian—she’d given the unreachable Prince no more thought.
The reliable, hardworking man she’d fallen in love with had almost instantly disappeared the moment his soccer career had taken off. With each new contract, big endorsements and friendships with jet-setters like Nikandros, the Brian she had married had gone away, never to return.
And yet, Nikandros had always been present, like a specter in the background, always with a new woman on his arm, a new investment venture in hand.
His friendship with Brian had been the stuff of legends but she’d never made it into his exclusive circle. And the more death-defying stunts he’d taken on, the more Brian had wanted to be Nikandros, without success.
Whether genetics or blood or whatever the hell it was that made him, Mia had known no other man could be even remotely like Nikandros Drakos. A fact, when she’d pointed it out, Brian had resented like hell.
Through the years, through it all, it seemed Nikandros’s and her mutual resentment had only thrived.
Slowly, she turned toward him. “I have had a long day, in my defense.”
He considered her warily. Given that she had been thrown under the bus by the media, he looked like the one who’d received the biggest, most humiliating news of his life.
Was Brian’s betrayal truly that much of a shock to him?
“You should not be alone over the next few days. Brian would want—”
“Brian apparently wanted a lot of things I couldn’t provide, Your Highness.”
His usually languid mouth tightened. “Do not refer to me as such.”
“But that is the correct way to address the scion of the ruling family of Drakon, yes? Now I understand the fits your aide was having when I got into your car. The last thing you need is for me to drag you into this media circus.”
“Someone should look after you—”
“I’ve been looking after myself for a long time.”
“Would your family not welcome you because of these...disgusting stories that the media has concocted?”
“Stories?” She tasted the bitterness in her mouth like it was a tangible thing. “If only I could borrow some of that delusion, I’d be able to sleep tonight.”
Mouth flat, he leveled a dark look at her. “You could give Brian...his memory...a moment’s benefit of doubt. You owe him that much. At least now.”
“At least now...” she repeated blankly. Slowly, the meaning of his accusation filtered in. “At least now when I didn’t bother when he was alive, you mean?” Emotion balled up in her tummy and rose, finding a target for her fury. “Explain yourself, Your Highness,” she said, encasing herself in steel.
Something glinted in those ice-blue eyes before that cool, icy reserve slid into place again. “Not the place or the time.”
“Since I don’t foresee a time or place when I want to see you again or have this conversation, please, indulge me with your summation of my marriage. The whole world’s doing it. You may as well put in your verdict too. Especially because your friend’s not here to defend himself.”
He didn’t look like the smooth, charming Prince that had longer relationships with his cars than his girlfriends, a man who was supposed to not give a fig about his family, or the fallout with his aging father, or his duty to his country—a man who only reveled in devilish pursuits of pleasure and sport.
The tight cast of his jawline, the way he gripped the steering wheel—she sensed that same swirling emotion in him that was within her too. “You’re angry and hurt. And this is a conversation that I never meant to have.”
For three years, she’d seen her marriage wither away inch by inch, mere months after tying the knot. For a year, she had battled the guilt of Brian’s death. And today, just when she had begun to pick up the pieces of her life, it was all back in pieces at her feet. “You should have never implied that you did.”
He turned toward her then, and the impact of his attention hit Mia like a punch. White shirt contrasting against the dark tone of his skin, he looked like a pagan god in the dark interior. A virile, pagan god, no less.
“I’m not offering excuses for what Brian did, if this is all true.”
“Blind loyalty to your fellow macho man and blame for the woman—how pedestrian you are for all your blue blood, Your Highness.”
A flare of anger in his blue eyes. “All I know is that he...he was crazy about you. He drove himself nuts wanting to fix your marriage but you froze him out. He was not the one who wanted to walk away from the marriage. Does that count for nothing?”
So he’d known that she’d asked Brian for a divorce. She hated how defensive she sounded yet she couldn’t stop the words. “Words of love, promises of devotion are cheap. Actions speak much louder.
“From the moment his career took off, he changed. From the moment he entered your exalted circle, the moment he chose to emulate you and your death-defying stunts...he was lost to me.”
The confusion she felt reflected in her voice. For three years, in the trenches of training and being uncontracted and poor, Brian had chased her with promises of forever and words of such deep affection, only to disappear the moment success had come calling.
“He chose to alienate me. He chose to get behind the wheel of that blasted car of yours and drive even though he was drunk.”
“Mia, I’m—”
“And you...you’ve never even had a girlfriend. You change models and actresses on your arm as if they were an accessory. How dare you judge me for wanting to give up on a toxic relationship. I’ve had enough of you and your stinking opinions.”
“Mia—”
She grappled for the handle of the door, the fierce knot of emotion rising from her chest to her throat. Damned man and his damned car! She felt the warmth of him caress her skin before she realized he had leaned over her to reach for the handle. Pure lean muscle grazed her heaving chest.
Her eyes closed; the whispers of her breath were like a drumbeat in her ears. Her lower belly felt molten, her entire body thrumming with tension. She willed her body to quiet down, to lose this painful awareness of his breath and breadth, of his compelling masculinity. Frustration to guilt to such deep want that it buckled her knees, she seesawed on emotions.
Finally, the handle clicked and she almost fell out.
There was a part of her that told her she was being irrational, that she couldn’t just walk away from him in the dead of night. That his opinion, far from what she’d claimed, was mattering too much. But she couldn’t grasp control over herself.
Had Brian told Nikandros everything? How Mia had stopped wanting to be near Brian, about how hard she’d found it to be touched by him once she’d learned of his first