Chapter Thirty-Eight

When Henry returned for waiting-room duty, his driver took me back to the Hotel Ilysium. Hugh slipped in the car with me and we watched the reporters as we left the hospital and again as we arrived at the hotel.

No matter where I was, there was screaming. Hustling and jostling and scrambling.

Even if my father hadn’t been in the hospital, I knew this routine. There would be no privacy. No anonymity. No peace. I stared at the crowds and the concrete and desperately wanted a view of the water. Whether it was from my hotel room or overlooking Lake Como or in a dinghy off Perpetua.

The palace did not have a view of the sea.

This was never going to work.

All of a sudden, as the limousine pulled up to the Hotel Ilysium’s door, with the lines of photographers and cameras, I knew what I had to do.

No matter what fantasies a girlish Princess Caroline had dreamed up in her fairy-tale palace bedroom, my relationship with Hugh Konnor could never have a happy ending.

Not with the press wetting themselves every time I appeared in public, inventing scandalous details about non-existent relationships and making it virtually impossible for me to do normal things like visit my father in hospital or take a walk on the beach.

And especially not with Hugh.

A good, solid man.

The kind of man who risked everything to keep others safe. Who served his country, who was loyal to a fault and reinvested in his community. The kind of man who deserved another kind of life.

Like Stavros had.

Stavros had deserved to stand in his own spotlight. To pursue his career without the danger of my distractions.

Some men are like that, you know. They want a quiet existence with no one ever noticing how impressive they are.

If Hugh stayed with me, he would always be worried, always be on guard. Because this shit wasn’t going away, even if I escaped to the wilds of Tasmania. Sooner or later, I’d have to re-emerge and the hurricane would be whipped up all over again.

Right before he could exit the vehicle, I placed a hand on his sleeve. I knew what was under those layers of wool and cotton: a tattoo of the coordinates of his birthplace, the roughest section of Drieden City.

His eyes met mine, waiting for my softest command.

“Stay here,” I said. Oh, my heart hurt. I wanted to thread my fingers through his, drag him along with me through the crossfire.

But that way lay madness, I knew from experience.

“It’s time,” I said quietly. “I will formally request that I am accompanied by a different bodyguard.”

The silence was suffocating.

“Just like that?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

For a brief moment, we had been a team, and I was tempted to try to explain it all to him, like a partner would.

But ever since he had found me in that dark apartment in Varenna he had steadfastly refused to leave when I asked.

So I would have to be cruel to be kind.

“As soon as Father recovers, I’m leaving Drieden,” I said, in my coldest, most Laurent voice. “Don’t pout. We both agreed not to make promises.”

His eyes flashed gold. “Caroline—” I cut him off before he could say something sweet to make me change my mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you an excellent performance review.” It was meant to put a distance between us, perhaps be a tad patronizing.

Hugh Konnor refused to take the bait and, to be honest, it would have felt better if he had become angry or offended.

Instead, he held my gaze and for a moment the Hugh I knew so intimately, loved so briefly, was there. And then gone, replaced by the uber-cool, oh-so-professional bodyguard. “If you ever need me, my lady, all you have to do is press one button and I’ll be there.”

He patted my handbag and the new cell phone that Nick had given me that was safely stashed inside.

Then, before I could form any semblance of regret, I slid my large sunglasses on my face and went out to face the horde of press.

Alone.

Hotel staff escorted me to an elevator, which was convenient, because I don’t know if I remembered how to walk through a hotel lobby.

The love story was over. Now I had to figure out how to keep the rest of my fairy-tale from imploding into dust.

Alone.

When I reached my suite, I threw my coat and handbag on a chair, closed my eyes and thought of Lake Como. My villa with that wide, beautiful veranda where I had been alone before and there was a certain relief in not feeling anything. I was strong enough to do it again.

But did I want to?

Being back in Drieden City had changed things and—I had to admit that I didn’t want to lose my family again. This left me with only one option.

Make sure that Christian Fraser-Campbell was locked up before he leaked the information about me that would result in my family disowning me for good.

My head ached at that prospect, if I was being 100 percent honest. My father was in the hospital, I had just told my lover that I didn’t want him with me anymore, because I might ruin his life, and so I had a few emotional things to deal with before I single-handedly caught a sociopath who had nearly been my brother-in-law.

I wanted to run away. The prospect of Patagonia was still intriguing. Or a week inside of a Swedish spa. Or maybe…a nice dinner with an attractive and available billionaire.

Guilt immediately descended. But of course. I could not enjoy myself this evening, not unless Father was awake and well on the road to recovery. Even then, I should probably take care of Sophie and Mother, not spend time with the sexy billionaire who…

Oh.

OH.

OH.

I emptied the contents of my handbag, found the notes I had received earlier and re-read the one from Sybil.

The company she had named, Bionaura, was one of the organizations in Karl’s billion-euro bio-technology empire. I remembered it from the file I had read on him, provided by Thea’s charity advisor, and then again, when it had been listed in a helpful infographic next to all those fuzzy paparazzi photos purporting to portray me running from all my lovers’ arms. (Remember, this was all very fair and balanced journalism.)

I stared at the notes. There wasn’t a connection there. Was there?

Karl’s company was also handling the genetic testing of the bones found at the Langůs battlefield. And he was a distant relation—on the Sevine side. The Sevines had owned Dréuvar, and Christian had all this information about me that could only have come from hacking…

No, it was all a coincidence. Or, more likely, a disgruntled employee. Yes, that could be right.

Until I remembered.

What was it Hugh had said? That Christian had to be supported by people who were powerful enough to hide him? Who was more powerful than a billionaire who had met my sister at Davos, who had access to the genetic information of kings?

Coincidence…or conspiracy?

I rubbed my head. I was still exhausted. Worried about Father. And I had just said goodbye to a man who had broken my heart and pieced it back together.

This was the absolute worst time for me to accuse an influential Driedish businessman of supporting a stalker, a hacker and the dark-money supporter of an ancient secret Masonic organization.

But I picked up the phone and dialed Karl’s secretary’s number anyway. Because if ever there was a time for bad decisions, this was it.

What did I have to lose?

Karl’s apartment in Drieden City was at the top of the Trilennia building, one of the tallest in the financial district. Less than a mile from the palace, but as I had moved back to the Hotel Ilysium, I was caught in a traffic snarl and was late.

I had changed into another one of Sophie’s gowns, black crêpe with a bateau neckline and dramatic ruffles on the sleeves. It would have looked amazing with my Sophia Loren glasses and hat back at Villa Cavalletta in Varenna.

Home.

I pushed on my Dior pearl earrings and pushed all thoughts of Italy out of my head. I couldn’t think of going back. Not until my family was well and whole and safe again.

The doors of the express elevator opened straight into an astonishing penthouse that was the exact opposite of the palace bedroom I had woken up in that morning.

Where my palace bedroom had been antique brass, carved marble and cherubs, von Falkenburg’s penthouse was sleek leather, glass slides and black steel. It still felt regal, however, and when Karl approached me, in his cashmere jacket and open-necked white shirt, I felt that here was a man who could rule a kingdom, one that he had built and knit together with his own sweat and ingenuity and machinations.

A twenty-first-century king. And me. A princess born and bred but without a place in the world.

Okay, I saw what the journalists—and my mother—did then, when they gushed about our potential romantic future. It would be a fascinating story. And perhaps an ideal match, if I was interested.

Which I wasn’t.

But was Karl? He greeted me as I exited the elevator and smiled warmly. My body reacted—what woman’s wouldn’t? Karl Sylvain von Falkenburg was tall, muscular and striking with bronzed skin, as if he’d just stepped off his yacht after a week in the Mediterranean. “Lady Caroline, I’m flattered that you could come.”

“Please, just call me Caroline.” I accepted his offered hand. It was warm and welcoming. No sign of an evil weapon or a sneaky syringe. His hand was calloused, however. Maybe from all the hacking he did?

Stop, Caroline. Don’t be ridiculous.

I made appreciative comments about his apartment, and they were sincere. The place was breathtaking at night, as if the tiny trillions of lights of Drieden City were shining just so for his decor.

“Thank you. I don’t get to spend nearly enough time here,” he said, and of course I was about to ask what other residences he spent time at, because I’m a bit of a real-estate buff, but before I could, I turned and saw that Karl had a strange expression on his face, some blend of interest and admiration.

“Is that why you invited me tonight?” I asked. “Because you wanted a nice dinner at home?”

He looked amused. “Do you want the truth?”

If only he knew.

“I received a phone call, after our outing to the battlefield.”

“Only one?” I asked.

“Only one that mattered.” Karl smiled. “From a Lady Astrid Decht-Sevine. Suggesting that we get to know each other better.”

It wasn’t what I was expecting. And clearly not what Karl had expected either.

“I’ve only met her once, at a horse race about a decade or so ago. But she is a legend.”

I remembered what my mother had said. “That’s right, you’re a Sevine relation.”

He reared back slightly, cocked an eyebrow. “On my mother’s side,” he admitted.

“So we’re what…cousins?”

“It would seem so.” He made a gesture toward the candlelit table. “Does that make this awkward?”

“For most of Driedish history, I believe they preferred that princesses dated cousins.”

He cocked his head.

“Date?” he asked.

I felt my cheeks warm. “Let’s call it an outing. With food.”

“Exactly so.” With the proper manners of a courtier, he pulled out a chair and I settled in for what I hoped would be an illuminating evening.

As dinner was served, I must admit I momentarily forgot all my suspicions and reasons for accepting the invitation. Karl was a sophisticated, interesting host who was able to skillfully direct the conversation from topic to topic. He would be right at home at the table in the Queen’s gold dining room—either the small or large one.

I couldn’t help but think that a match between me and this billionaire might be the only thing that Felice, Astrid, and Aurelia could all agree on.

It would be so easy, I thought. All my problems would be solved if I could only fall in love with a man who had the appropriate pedigree to impress my family and the right-sized bank account. Karl looked at me, again with that warm yet searching expression. “Would you care to take coffee on the veranda?”

I answered with an enthusiastic yes. My two favorite things—coffee and fresh air. Then I would artfully ask about his Bionaura company and about whether he might know how a certain almost-royal could hack into my medical records there.

Karl stood, leaving his napkin on the table. “Let me just go find out what happened to my staff. They’ve left us alone far too long,” he added with a wink.

It was really too bad that I was damaged goods. Karl would be lovely to get to know better.

One minute ticked by.

Three minutes.

I checked my watch. Karl had not returned, obviously, and the penthouse was strangely quiet.

And I suddenly had a very, very bad feeling.