She glanced at the embossed invitation, smiling at how the gold detail of the lettering matched the soft golden yellows of the corseted Victorian-era dress she wore, the crinoline underskirt as heavy as a crown.
For so long she’d been cast as the Widow Princess, it had begun to feel as if she’d lost herself. Not that it mattered. The only thing of true importance was Iondorra. And attending the masquerade ball was just the next step towards the throne.
Each of the three men had been carefully vetted and would, in their own ways, be perfectly acceptable candidates for their role as husband. So there she was, in Paris, dressed up and ready to find the man she would spend the rest of her life with. And if she’d once thought she already had, then it didn’t matter. Such fanciful daydreams were for others. Real princesses didn’t have the luxury of Prince Charmings.
Theo Tersi scanned the expanse of the large Parisian ballroom, took a breath and instantly regretted it. Where he had expected to taste the hint of satisfaction at the thought of what tonight would bring, the only thing on his tongue was the cloying and competing scents of the perfume adorning the many women in the room. It was an assault on his olfactory system and he was half tempted to retreat and preserve that much-needed function. When he would think back to this moment in the months to come, he would wonder if it had been some kind of cosmic sign to turn back. To think again.
But right now, there was no turning back for Theo.
‘All right, I’m here,’ grouched the exiled Duke of Gaeten.
‘You don’t need to sound so pleased about it,’ Theo said absently, still scanning the faces in the ballroom for the one that he wanted. No, needed. ‘Surely the great Sebastian Rohan de Luen is not bored in the face of all this as yet untouched potential?’
‘Hah,’ his friend almost spat. ‘You think me jaded?’
‘No, as I said. Bored. You need someone to challenge you.’
‘And you need to walk away from this madness before it gets us all into trouble.’
Theo turned and cast a look over his closest friend, the only person who had been there for him when his world came crashing down for the second time. They had been in the middle of a business meeting—Theo soliciting a deal that would see the wine from his vineyard served at Sebastian’s Michelin-starred hotels scattered across the globe—when he had received the call from the hospital informing him of his mother’s admittance and diagnosis. The bottom had literally dropped out of his world, and Sebastian? Had chartered a private plane to return him to Greece and, rather than simply letting that be the end of it, had contracted Theo’s vineyard to his hotels. It had been the only thing that had saved Theo and his business from the wolves—but more importantly it had provided him with enough capital to pay for his mother’s healthcare. Without that contract, he would have lost the vineyard, would have lost the roof over his and his mother’s heads, and possibly would have lost his mother. And Theo had never forgotten it, and would never. Their relationship had quickly grown from business to brotherhood and, despite the awful foundation of its start, he wouldn’t regret it. It had been his salvation in the years since.
But, throughout that dark time, Theo had only seen one face, one person to blame, one person who had lied to him, set him up to take full blame for her actions, and had singlehandedly ruined his life. Had it not been for her, he would have finished his education—would have attended one of the finest universities the world had to offer, and would have been able to provide his mother with more, with better. He would never have been in a position where he could have lost it all. And that fear, the fear of nearly losing his mother, had changed him, had transformed his DNA. Never again would he be the naïve youth he had once been. Never again would he be that innocent.
Sofia was the origin point of the change in the course of his life, one that had only exacerbated his mother’s later illness. He hadn’t been surprised when the doctor had explained that the stresses of the last few years had taken their toll on his mother’s already weak heart. The shock of losing her job after his expulsion, the struggle of the following years… Had he not met Sofia, he would never have lost everything he’d held within his grasp—the opportunities, the chances he had been given to be and do better than either he or his mother could have ever expected. Naïve and foolish, he had believed every single one of Sofia’s lies before she disappeared, making a mockery of all those words of love, of a future she would never give him—could never have been able to give—when he finally discovered the truth about her.
Oh, he had thought her to be so different to the cruel students of the international boarding school his mother’s employer had sponsored him to attend, but at least they had owned their cruelty. No—Sofia’s had been worse, because she had hidden her betrayal until the last moment, she had purposefully set him up to take the blame for her reckless actions and he had been expelled.
And the shame he’d felt when he realised he had lost it all? The anger that had coursed through his veins when he realised her words, her touches had been nothing more than a game to be played by a bored and spoilt princess? It had been nothing compared to the moment where his heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. The moment he’d seen the announcement of her engagement. To be betrayed by someone he had…he could no longer bring himself to say the word. He forced his thoughts fiercely away from reflections that would only see him lose his temper. And if anything was to be lost tonight, it couldn’t be that.
‘I spent years—years—watching and waiting to see if I would lose this…need for vengeance.’ He had thrown himself into any willing woman he could find in an attempt to erase the memory of her. He hadn’t managed to turn his tastes to the blonde hair that seemed dull and lifeless in comparison to the lustre his memories had endowed her with. Blue eyes seemed bland and insipid against the sparkle and shine of the strange combination of intelligence and recklessness that seemed unique only to her. Brunettes were the only way forward through those dark, hedonistic two years as he had tried and failed to satiate the wild, driving need for her…for revenge that had all but consumed him.
‘Two years in which you developed a truly debauched reputation,’ Sebastian said, cutting through his thoughts.
‘You sound jealous.’
‘I am. How on earth am I supposed to be the most notorious playboy in Europe, if you are there competing for that same title?’
Theo couldn’t help but smile.
‘But,’ Sebastian said, his mocking gaze growing serious, ‘despite all that, my sister doesn’t seem to have realised that she will never have your heart.’
‘I don’t have a heart to give, Sebastian,’ he growled, ‘but I will speak to Maria. I had hoped that it might dissipate with time, but—’
‘I know you do not encourage it,’ Sebastian said, slinging an arm around Theo’s shoulders. ‘Truly. But she is still very much…’
Clearly unable or unwilling to describe the extent of Maria’s infatuation with Theo, Sebastian trailed off.
‘It will be done. Kindly,’ Theo assured him.
He liked Maria, but no matter how much he resisted her somewhat naïve attempts to pursue him, nor how many headlines proclaimed him to be just as debauched as her brother, she had not been put off. Yet. Depending on how tonight would go, it could be the final nail in the coffin of her yearning for him.
Apparently appeased, Sebastian replaced his mask and turned back to the party. Following his lead, Theo took a glass of the prosecco and bit back the curse that Europe’s insistence that the masses should drink the alcohol like water had clearly infiltrated this Parisian ballroom too. Yes, he made his money with wine, but his tastes ran to whisky this evening, and right now he’d give someone else’s kingdom for one.
Theo took in the glamorous couples, the range of costumes that were everything from the sublime to outrageous,