Crystal hadn't been kicked out. She guessed that was something.
Her feet were hurting, and she was regretting the heels for the second time as she followed the prince and his assistant up at least two flights of stone stairs and down a series of twisting passageways.
The prince—she still couldn't think of him as Valentin—had asked her to bear with him as he spoke to Conrad. Which left her to follow and watch the rapid-fire interplay as Conrad flicked through an iPad while he spoke of engagements that the prince either accepted or rejected. There was a reminder about a new bill parliament was reviewing before Conrad handed him a single sheet of paper as they reached a doorway cut from the stone. Then the prince opened the door and held it for her as Conrad peeled off down the hallway.
"Uh, thanks." She slipped by him, getting a blast of his body heat as she passed. Inside was a sitting room that was so formal it reminded her of her grandma's parlor. There were no knickknacks or doilies here, but the air was still don't touch. She gave the dark, square sofa the side-eye but followed the prince through an adjoining doorway.
This room was an office. Light streamed in from a window cut into the wide stone castle exterior, illuminating floor-to-ceiling bookcases along two interior walls. They were stuffed with what looked like boring legal tomes. No novels in sight, sadly.
The prince used a remote to turn on a large flat-screen telly, and a national news channel came to life. The volume was so low it was hardly audible. He barely glanced at it before moving behind the desk, which was massive and carved out of some kind of heavy wood. It was neat, almost bare. Only a few papers were scattered across the surface along with a closed laptop. The paper Conrad had given the prince joined the others.
He didn't sit in the comfy-looking leather chair behind the desk but stood with one hand planted on the wooden surface.
"When can we schedule the first date?"
Oh yes. He was going to be as high maintenance as Ronald. At least he was handsome. And a catch, all things considered.
Think about the rewards. She could do this. For Michael and Reid.
"Do you mind if I sit?" she asked.
She didn't wait for him to answer but perched on the chair on this side of the desk. She opened her bag and vacillated between the laptop and the notepad. Notepad it was. She flipped to a clean sheet of paper.
"What are you looking for in a woman?"
His expression instantly closed off. "That's what you want to ask me? We're not doing a questionnaire from a dating site. I agreed to four dates. You provide the match."
She smiled tightly. "How am I supposed to find you a match if I don't know what kind of person you're looking for? Do you want to meet someone you can talk to about current events? Politics? What level of affection are you most comfortable with? If you like her, how often do you want to see her?"
The prince was still leaning on his desk, but his smile had turned brittle. "Miss Ramos."
"Crystal."
"Crystal. I'm sure you're aware of my history."
Of course she was. The breakup with his fiancée had been public and ugly. Although all of the media coverage had been gathered from Valentin's brother and his ex-fiancée. Valentin himself had never answered an interview question about what happened. Never spoken badly about them or how he must've been hurt by the whole thing.
Several articles had accused him of having a heart of stone. Being uncaring, because the prince had gone on as if everything was business as usual. Who knew if it was true?
She met his stare squarely. "I don't read gossip rags, but it's impossible not to know that something happened."
Now his expression turned grim. "So it is. I imagine every eligible single woman in the country knows."
She considered him. "So you've given up on finding someone."
If so, he presented a challenge that she'd never faced before. All of her previous clients had at least believed in love. They’d even wanted to find it. If Valentin didn't, would she be wasting her time?
So you've given up on finding someone.
Though he was supposed to be made of stone, Valentin felt like his insides were a pot, merrily simmering away on the stovetop. Every push from the pretty young matchmaker felt as if she was turning up the heat on the burner.
He'd been the one to bring up Annika and Max, and now it felt as if his lid was rattling. Ready to blow off if he didn't release some steam. His regular morning run was supposed to have done that, but it hadn't helped.
What could he say to make her understand?
I trusted them both, and look what happened.
That wouldn’t be helpful. She'd probably tell him to see a therapist.
Annika was my true love.
In hindsight, he could admit that there were things about her that had driven him crazy. Surely he'd done the same to her. If she'd only talked to him, maybe they could've worked things out.
I have nothing left to give.
The truest answer of all, but one he wasn’t about to share with this virtual stranger—or anybody for that matter.
He never should have brought the matchmaker up here. He'd agreed to the meeting because Mother had pushed. He'd meant to dismiss her quickly, but she'd surprised him with her sass, and something underneath her attitude made him think of kicking a puppy when he'd wanted to turn her off.
He'd said the words agreeing to four dates without thinking. He was a man of his word. He'd go through with them. But he wasn't going to find a match.
"I'm quite over what happened with my brother." His cool tone gave voice to the lie, but he couldn't look at her as he said it. He flipped open his laptop, unlocking it with a few keystrokes. It was a matter of a few seconds to pull up his diary.
"I have a state dinner a week from today. I'll bring a guest of your choice. You can make arrangements with Conrad. She'll need to be cleared by palace security."
She stared at him as if he'd lost his marbles. Maybe he had.
"You want to take a first date to a state dinner? I assume it's black tie."
He nodded.
"And you want me to choose someone for you after a fifteen minute meeting?"
"Is that a problem?" He hadn't fired her, but maybe she would quit.
He could see the wheels turning in her mind. There was a tiny part of him that wondered if she could do it, could find someone to bring his heart to life again.
Then he dismissed the thought. He would settle for companionship. That was enough. It had to be.
"If you don't mind, I have a full schedule today." He knew he was being rude, but he didn't apologize.
"Fine." There was fire in her eyes as she stood and straightened her skirt. In the blouse and business attire, he wouldn't have given her a second glance if he'd seen her at an event or in public.
But there was a spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose that he'd noticed on the beach, and now he'd couldn't stop noticing them.
She was utterly unremarkable, except for those freckles.
He decided he didn't like them.
"Thank you for your time," she said stiffly. She flounced from the room. A moment later, he realized she'd left her bag on the floor beside her chair.
He heard the outer door open and close.
No matter. He'd have Conrad return the bag to her.
His desk phone rang with the distinct tone that meant it was his private line, one that only a handful of people had access to.
He picked it up without glancing at the display.
"Valentin. Don't hang up."
Max.
Hearing his brother's voice brought back a visceral memory of those last moments. Annika's lips, swollen and bee-stung after kissing his brother. Max's flashing, unapologetic stare. The crippling pain of betrayal.
"What part of 'I never want to speak to you again' was unclear to you?"
Was that his voice? He sounded as cold as ice. He felt anything but. His collar was too tight. He tugged, but then remembered it was a T-shirt. His run and the momentary calm he'd felt as his feet pounded the sand was long gone.
"I screwed up."
At least Max was admitting it. It was small comfort.
"I need to see you. There's something—"
Valentin let loose an expletive. "No."
"Val, I know we hurt you—"
"Don't call me again."
He hung up the phone with ruthless force. And when it rang instantly, he knew it was Max again.
He took it off the cradle and mashed the switchhook, then released it. If Max called back, he'd get a busy signal. He was already blocked from Valentin's cell phone.
He tossed the receiver onto the desk, ignoring the clatter it made.
He was threading both hands into his hair, elbows above his head, when he realized Crystal was hovering in the doorway.
He let his arms drop to his sides.
She was watching him with unconcealed curiosity. And pity.
He didn't want her pity.
"You'll forget you just witnessed that." He made it an order, channeling his mother more than he'd ever done before.
She ignored him, bending to retrieve her bag from the floor.
"I'm sorry," she said faintly, and slipped out the door.
For what? Sorry she'd taken him on as a client? Sorry she'd witnessed a private moment, witnessed his temper exploding? Or sorry for him?
Because he was a lousy excuse for a human being.
Hours after the disastrous meeting with the matchmaker, Valentin was striding down the castle corridor when he nearly ran over his cousin Tirith.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"Me too." Her smile was genuine but muted.
"All right?" he asked. He and Tirith had grown somewhat close in the past few years. Over a year ago, she'd accidentally gotten in an auto accident that had resulted in a little girl's life-altering injuries. Before that, Tirith had been lively and free-spirited. Since then, she'd grown reserved and quiet. He quite missed her fervor for life.
"I'm fine," she said, but the shadows behind her eyes remained. "Are you all right?"
And there was a part of him that wanted to see her old smile. "Mother has hired a matchmaker for me."
"What?" She burst out the word in a single giggle before she remembered herself.
He shrugged. "She thinks it's time I started dating again."
Tirith's gaze was maybe too sharp. "What do you think?"
"I suppose I can't be alone forever." But he wasn't exactly in a hurry to meet someone. "What about you? You haven't dated since Moreno."
"I never really dated Luc."
That wasn't what it had looked like. She'd been close with the man, attending functions and inspiring media speculation as to their relationship status. But when Tirith had desperately needed to hide out for a few days, she'd asked her twin sister to switch places with her. And Moreno had promptly fallen for the Texas twin.
"I'd be more than happy to divert the matchmaker's attention to you."
Tirith laughed, as he'd hoped she would. "Not necessary. And good luck."
He'd need it if he was going to get through this unscathed.