WEARING ONLY HER PANTIES AND T-shirt, Alanna’s lips closed over Flynn’s fingers and bit into the juciest strawberry she’d ever tasted. Her stomach rumbled from lack of food, but the rest of her body ached.

And she loved every second.

Flynn slipped the rest of the strawberry in his mouth, satiated silence a warm blanket around them.

The deep orange sun skimmed the ocean. The sea sprayed against the windows. With nothing else in sight but wide waters, they could’ve been the only two left on earth, cruising toward its edge.

Every muscle was sore from their marathon afternoon of lovemaking. She’d had no idea it could be that incredible. Consuming. Nymphomaniacs had every reason to be addicted. At least if they had a partner as incredible as Gabriel Flynn.

“For someone’s first time,” Flynn started with half a smile. “You definitely have the appetite of a seasoned woman. And matching imagination.”

She laughed and bit into a star fruit from the food tray Marie had set outside their door at some point. The assortment of sliced meat, cheese cubes, and fruit relieved her ravenous appetite.

At least for some things.

“You’re clearly experienced,” Alanna returned. “How many women have you been with?”

Flynn smirked. “Not important.”

Her stomach turned. “That many?”

He shook his head. “Hardly.”

Flinging a half-eaten slice of roast beef back onto the tray, he leaned against the pillow. He’d put his shorts on, but his chest was bare. And distracting. Alanna didn’t mind that either. She could stare at him for eternity.

“Why does it matter?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I’m not used to relationships, and…” Just say it. “I don’t like the thought of you with other women.”

The way he studied her after her admission brought heat to her cheeks. “Why not?”

She blinked. Seriously?

“Well, obviously, I don’t want to share you.”

He chuckled. “I won’t share you, either. I mean why aren’t you used to relationships?”

She bit into another star fruit to keep from biting her lip. Her normal habit when feeling inadequate. “Dating is taboo for royalty. At least the modern version of dating. My brothers had more flexibility with women, but they still had to contend with my father’s rules. Me, on the other hand.” She snorted. “Not even an option until recently. Bottom line, anyone we dated had to be cleared through background checks, financial inquiries, and their families fully vetted before the relationship could go any further than an initial introduction.”

“Exhausting,” Flynn muttered.

Alanna nodded. “That’s what my eldest brother thought. André never put up with my father’s rules. Especially after my mother passed away. Tulio was the poster prince. A straight arrow. Met his wife, Claudia, through a royal function my father arranged.”

“An arranged marriage?” Flynn asked. “In the twenty-first century?”

“No, Tulio chose Claudia himself. But the introduction was controlled.”

“What about you?” He held her gaze, the question hanging between them like mistletoe at Christmas. “Did you get to choose who you dated? Or did your father pick?”

She dropped her gaze. “I’ve only had one boyfriend, or at least that’s what the news called him. We were both eighteen. His father was a rising member in Parliament. When he brought his son, Paulo, to the Easter celebration at the Royal Jardín, our fathers introduced us. A few controlled dates later we went to the opera. Though I’m sure he much would’ve preferred a One Republic or Maroon 5 concert.”

Flynn grunted with a smile.

“When the limo picked us up after the performance,” She traced her chin with her finger, “He kissed me.”

“Your first?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Nothing spectacular. But nice.” Then she scowled. “Paparazzi caught it on camera and it was in the papers for a month. We only saw each other a few times after that. Each encounter he was more distant. He certainly never kissed me again. Our last date, we were supposed to attend a movie premier, but we never made it. He sat in the palace drawing room and told me he didn’t want the attention anymore. His father had urged him to develop a relationship with me, and hoped we would eventually marry, but that’s not what Paulo wanted. His family had been bombarded with cameras, and all his friendships had been questioned and investigated. The last straw was when the media accused him of cheating on the princess with a girl he was merely carrying a box of groceries to her car. Slandered him in the press.”

Flynn grimaced, but he didn’t say anything. Bitterness scratched at her throat.

“We weren’t that close. At least not as much as the media portrayed. We never had the chance.” She smashed a cube of cheese under her finger. “I don’t blame him,” she said after a long moment of silence. “Anyone I marry will endure the same scrutiny. Be overrun with cameras in their face whenever they step outside. As much as I hate it, I have to put up with it. How can I ask someone to give up their privacy when they have the choice?”

“It still hurts, though.” Flynn sat up. “Being rejected.”

Alanna stared at him, the gaze in his eyes full of understanding. Flynn caressed her palm with his finger.

My lover. Such a forbidden phrase, yet not nearly enough to describe him.

“The good news is the rejection came before you had a chance to fall for him.”

Her heart stuttered from his soft touch. “I suppose.”

She turned her head. The night Paulo had rejected her was almost two years ago to the day. The same night she’d ended up eating dinner with her family for comfort. An eerie silence had hung over the table. Even the usually energetic Tulio was quiet, with a scowl that matched their father’s at the head of the table.

She remembered thinking their anxiety was about the kiss with Paulo captured in the news, plastered everywhere on Solana. Another disappointment to the family name, the royal image possibly tarnished again, first by André and then by their only princess.

They’d had meetings all day with a bunch of foreign dignitaries, but only the ambassadors from the United States and Philippines were granted private audiences at the palace with both the king and crown prince—and a third man with a serious face, a simple black suit, and a file as thick as the Bible in his hand. She didn’t know where he was from, but his dark hair and defined cheekbones made her guess an Italian ancestry. By the time her father and brother had come to dinner, she knew something was wrong. Tulio was pale and her father furious. Halfway through the uneaten meal—grilled salmon, her father’s favorite—he’d cleared his throat and turned his sharp gaze on Alanna.

There will always be people who want to tear us down, he’d begun, his voice shaky but his eyes steady. “People who will belittle and intimidate, just because it makes them feel better or more important. You must never back down to those people. Never let them make you sacrifice who you really are, just because they have a big mouth.

Tulio had pushed away from the table at that point, and excused himself in an angry huff. Her father had ignored him, put down his fork and gripped the side of the table, staring hard at her. Be fearsome to those people; make your family proud. Make your name mean something. Because in the end, that’s all you have.

She hadn’t quite understood what spurred that lecture, but she more than grasped its gravity, even then. They’d never spoken of that night again. Dating had never been a priority for her any more, partly because of his words.

Alanna drew in a sharp breath. “It wasn’t about me.”

“What wasn’t?”

“They must have known, even then, about the cartel’s threat.”

“What are you talking about?” Flynn’s brow creased.

“That’s why they put the contingency plan in place for me, because they knew all this could happen. Which meant he knew they would kill him, but he still didn’t surrender. He sacrificed himself to keep me safe. To make sure my name would mean something. That the Peraltas would go on.”

Flynn swung his legs off the side of the bed. “Who—your father?”

She leaned over and grabbed Luna de Azul from the chaise. The brilliant blue gems, warm on her skin, sparkled under the chandelier.

You must never back down…be fearsome to those people.

Flynn’s brow furrowed, but everything finally clicked in her mind. “On deck, you called me fearsome…to those who meant to hurt me.”

He nodded. “Sometimes to me, too.”

Alanna lunged forward, throwing her whole body against him. She slammed her mouth against his. He absorbed her weight and cradled her head in his hands, his tongue thrusting for control. Neither of them could breathe. She pulled back with her soul full of hope for the first time since all the chaos started.

“I know what I need to do.”

With a nervous laugh, Flynn brushed her hair with his fingers. “I’m glad one of us does.”

Someone pounded on the door. “Flynn, Lanna,” Marcus’ voice boomed from the other side. “We need you on deck.”

“What’s going on?” Flynn stood and threw on a shirt. Alanna leaped out of bed to slip on her deck shorts and shoes.

“Helicopter in-bound.”

Flynn stared at the door. The muscles in his arms flexed. He ran to the window.

Alanna opened the door. Marcus stood there, fidgeting and tense.

Flynn turned toward them. “Do you know who it is?”

Marcus shook his head. “It’s not the owner’s chopper. They aren’t responding to the captain’s radio calls.”

“How far are we from land?” Alanna held the necklace behind her.

“Quite a way.” Marcus kept his grim gaze on Flynn. “It looks like a military chopper.”