Rae Stone-von Hannover
It had indeed taken two days to reach Geneva, and they did fly only a few hours each day.
When they had cleared U.S. airspace over the Atlantic Ocean, the plane had accelerated and shuddered through the sound barrier, and Rae hadn’t been able to suppress a small whoop and a giggle. Some of the security guys in back had laughed when they’d accelerated, too, so she wasn’t the only country rube on the private, supersonic jet.
Even Mrs. Keller, Wulf’s long-time head of his household staff, had chuckled a little at the booms.
Wulf was suitably gratified, and he smiled a smug little half-smile all the way to Switzerland.
They arrived early in the morning at their hotel in Montreux. Rae walked through the front doors, ushered in by Wulf’s usual cadre of security men, a swarm of black suits clearing the way through the lobby. Her low heels clicked over the inlaid marble floor. An ebony staircase spiraled out of the floor toward the second story.
Everything was always a bustle with Wulf, but she was becoming accustomed to it. Public areas were the least secure, especially those at the end of the diamond, as Wulf had explained it to her. For any trip, the beginning and the end might be known, and thus they were weak points. The path between them formed a diamond of possible routes, and thus less security was necessary in the diamond because their position was a probability, not a known.
But they were at the tip now, a weak point, and thus the men around them bristled with vigilance.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement that was different than the rotating black swarm around her.
Man, walking toward them. Tall. Khakis and white shirt. Blond.
She swiveled to look and stepped closer to Wulf. His arm wrapped around her back as she moved, and he looked over her. His arms coiled around her back and her stomach, turning her closer to him.
The men surrounding them caught their shift and tightened the circle.
The blond man walked toward them, Dieter, and he grinned and said something in Alemannic, that Swiss dialect of German that all the security guys spoke with each other. Rae caught the words for guns and men, but that was all. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up, baring powerful forearms.
She had hardly recognized him because he wasn’t wearing a black suit, cut loose under the arms and longer over the hips to accommodate his weapons, as Dieter had worn every day while he had been Wulf’s head of security.
Wulf’s arm loosened around Rae’s waist as he said something back, his low voice rumbling over her head. She heard a cussword, spoken with laughter.
The guys around them were already opening their formation and returning to their original positions. The circle enlarged to engulf Dieter as he approached.
Rae’s shoulders unwound. She had expected Wulf’s sister Flicka to rush them in the lobby, demanding more specific answers to her texts about the decor choices for the wedding ceremony and reception that were to happen later that day at four o’clock.
Wulf and Rae had married in a small civil ceremony months before, just days before they had discovered that she was already pregnant, but a man such as Wulf—related to all the royal and noble houses of Europe, friends with all the wealthiest families in society, and courted by all the major charities, especially the symphonies—must throw an elegant religious ceremony and a spectacular reception.
When Rae hadn’t been able to deal with planning the wedding because she was still in college, Wulf’s younger sister Flicka had gleefully offered her services, explaining that any princess worth her salt could throw together an extravagant fairy-tale wedding at a moment’s notice. It was part of the job description, she explained. Part of princess training.
And she had.
And it was spectacular.
Via video-conferencing, Rae had seen the mock-ups. The samples. The diagrams. The dioramas.
But now, Flicka was nowhere to be seen, and Rae ducked Dieter as he advanced on Wulf.
Dieter clapped Wulf on the shoulder as they walked, still grinning, and he switched to English. “Such a sloppy maneuver. Half of them didn’t even have their weapons at the ready. I would have docked all their pay, every one of them.”
None of the guys turned to shoot Dieter a dirty look because he had trained them too well for that. They kept their eyes focused on their coverage area and objective, even while they grumbled and called Dieter filthy names in Alemannic.
Rae laughed at them and moved away from Wulf’s arm.
Even with such criticism, Dieter wasn’t fishing for his old job back. His private security business already had a full roster of clients and a waiting list for consultations and structure evaluations. This was straight-up needling, and it meant that everything was fine.
If a second phalanx of Dieter’s private staff had descended on them at the airport or the car, that would have been troubling. Rae was becoming very sensitive to the level of security around her and what kinds of threats might cause it to change.
Dieter asked, “Who the hell is your new chief that allows such slack?”
“I haven’t selected anyone yet,” Wulf told him. “We have the same structure, otherwise.”
“Except now the beast has no head,” Dieter said, aghast. “Durchlaucht, you can’t do this, too.”
“We’re using project heads for now. It spreads the responsibility and time commitment.”
Dieter looked down, and his voice dropped, not screwing around anymore. “You’re not to blame for my marriage breaking up. That was all our own fault, and it was a long time coming.”
Wulf’s expression didn’t move. “This structure is currently working for us.”
Rae slipped her hand into his. Wulf carried everything inside, and sometimes she still didn’t have a clue.
Dieter said, “I don’t like it.”
Wulf made a careless gesture with his other hand. “You have the reins for this operation. Tell me whom I should promote.”
Rae almost snickered at Dieter’s storm-gray eyes widening in horror.
He said, “These men are all my friends, some more so than others.”
“I’m sure you won’t allow that to influence you.” Wulf’s lips barely curved upward in the sly hint of a smile that Rae usually saw right before the word Checkmate.
A few more comments filtered through the revolving team as they bypassed the check-in desk and made the turn for the bank of elevators, most of which were cusswords and negatives muttered in sarcastic tones. Rae understood that most of the guys were saying something roughly like, I’m not your friend, asshole.
Dieter muttered something else in Alemannic, and Wulf’s smile rose just a little more.
They rode the elevator up to their suite, and the restfulness of the decor washed over Rae while she was just standing at the door. Pale blue walls were framed with thick, white molding, and wide, French doors opened onto a terrace that overlooked Lake Geneva, glassy and blue in the sunshine, and the austere beauty of the snowy rocks and harsh cliffs of the Alps.
The security guys nudged her inside, so Rae resumed her country-hick staring from the middle of the room. The couches were gray, and the dining set of dark wood and white upholstered chairs looked like it might actually be comfortable. The art grouped on the walls were line drawings of jazz musicians, and Rae loved it already.
Wulf took her elbow and guided her to the bedroom.
Rae wasn’t going to argue. She knew the rules.
Lie down as much as possible.
Every single possible moment.
And then lie down some more.
When in doubt, don’t let gravity show the baby the way out.
It wasn’t like she wanted to rebel against the rules. She didn’t want to hemorrhage and bleed to death in under an hour.
So she followed him meekly into the bedroom.
But not too meekly. Wulf liked taking charge a little too much. If she gave him an inch, he would take a couple yards of very soft rope and tie her up with it, layering it in intricate knots, and then his smile would turn cold and patient while he teased her for hours.
It might have happened.
More than once.
But she followed him.
Once they were inside, he closed the door behind them, and Rae caught that glitter in his dark blue eyes that meant he had been cooped up in the plane and out in public too long. The placenta previa problem had come with other restrictions that might have impeded some people’s sex lives, but it was almost as if Wulf’s creativity had been unleashed to compensate.
She said, “I thought I was supposed to lie down.”
He had her in his arms, forcing her against the wall before she could even breathe, and he whispered, “You will.”
Her arms were somehow stretched over her head already, and Wulf pinned her wrists to the wall with his strong hand. Rae swore to God that he could hypnotize her with those blue, blue eyes of his because half the time, things happened to her before she was even aware that anything was going on.
He dropped his head, and his mouth covered hers, his lips soft and demanding.
His hand around her wrists loosened, and she slipped free. Rae almost struggled against him just for fun, but she shouldn’t, and she knew that.
Some men might have played along, might have allowed a little bit of wiggling to push them back, but not Wulf. He knew every letter of her doctors’ instructions to not exert herself, to not strain, and he took every advantage of it.
Since she couldn’t fight him, Wulf scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
“We shouldn’t,” she whispered.
“Why not?” He laid her on the bed and crawled over her, pulling his suit jacket off and letting it fall to the floor.
“Our wedding is in just a few hours.” Her hands rose in the air in front of her, seeking his shoulders. Traitors.
“Hours,” Wulf said. “We have hours. I’ll pace myself.” He unbuttoned a few of his shirt buttons near his throat and stripped everything off over his head, ruffling his blond hair so that it fell forward. His smooth skin looked like pale gold paint over the strong rounds of muscle banding his chest, shoulders, and arms. Rae trailed her fingers over the stacked stones of his abs.
A real smile broke through his reserve, and his eyes sparkled. His low chuckle even made his hair sway a little over his eyebrows.
Lord, Wulf was so cute when he was mussed like that. Her breath caught in her throat.
“That’s not what I meant,” she protested, nevertheless.
“Yet it’s the truth.” He grabbed a pillow from beside her, stripped off the case, and spun the cloth to make a soft cord.
“Oh, no,” she said. “Wulf, you shouldn’t even be seeing me right now. We should have gone our separate ways last night. It’s—”
He caught one of her wrists and stared at her again, still grinning. “It is what?”
Rae had walked right into it.
Wulf was not superstitious. He was rigorously logical, which was why he was one of the unseen masters that controlled the world’s economy. When he was sitting behind the bank of his computers in the small room behind the grand stairway on the main floor of their house, while he was manipulating the flickering numbers that ruled people’s lives on the huge, curved screen that surrounded the desk, he was an emotionless, calculating deity of currencies and stock options.
He cared deeply about why he manipulated the world. He understood random walks and unforeseen variables.
Outside of his office, he was occasionally sweetly sentimental.
But he didn’t believe in luck, good or bad.
Wulf wound the soft cotton of the pillowcase around her hands, tying her wrists above her head. “Go ahead,” he said, his voice turning deliciously sinister. “It is the morning of our wedding day. Seeing you is—”
He trailed off, daring her to say it.
“Come on,” Rae said, twisting her hands to try to get free, but he never tied a loose knot. “It’s traditional.”
“I have never stood on tradition.” He swooped down and ran his teeth down her neck, his breath warm on her skin.
Rae stretched against him, unable to even help herself when he laid his hands on her. She whispered, “It’s bad luck.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Wulf said, his voice vibrating against the sensitive skin behind her ear.
He took more than his chances.
Wulf slid off and turned her, holding her from behind as he ran his hands over her. His hands sculpted her body, molding her against his lean muscle and the blond, silken fuzz that softened his chest.
Rae’s body warmed with every stroke of his hands over her hips and breasts until she moaned his name. He hadn’t untied her hands, and she was helpless while he roused her, trailing his fingers over her and palming her skin, teasing her and sliding his fingers over her nipples, and he finally shoved his knee between her legs to slide himself between her folds, every rough shove of him through her sliding over her clit until she clenched her fists, still bound over their heads, as he bit down on the back of her neck.
The throb started in her clit but rippled up her body, and Rae arched. His strong arms tightened around her ribs, and he ground against her. Every thrust rebounded on her, pulsing up her body until white light spun her in brilliant silence.
She gasped air, and the room steadied. Wulf held her hard against his body, every hard muscle clenched. His breath heated her shoulder where he held his teeth, just barely shy of leaving a mark, as he shuddered.
When Rae could breathe again, Wulf rolled back slightly, letting her lean against him.
“Well,” she said, still out of breath. “That was only thirty-five minutes. Guess you didn’t pace yourself.”
He trailed his fingers lightly down her arm, raising goosebumps.
Rae wiggled around to see a cold smile forming on his lips.
Oh, no. She knew that smile too well.
“We have another hour and a half then,” he said. “Perfect.”