Heiress vs Rockstar (Love in Illyria Book 4) Read online

  CHAPTER TWO

  Alice

  She relished the sensation of fine leather in Christian's Lamborghini. She caressed the edge of the seat, learning the texture with her fingertips, allowing this small delight to soothe her nerves. The purr of the engine turned into a roar when the light turned green, and the sudden acceleration sunk her deeper into her seat.

  As soon as they were out of the capital, Christian engaged the considerable horse power of his quarter of a million dollars car. With most drivers, Alice would've freaked out at that speed. If she had to sum up Christian in one word, it would be "safety". She wondered if he'd be disappointed to learn the one word wasn't "handsomeness". Fortunately, the motorway between Orsino and Salona was one of the best kept in Illyria despite being the oldest. That was as good a topic as any.

  "I wonder why they built a motorway between Orsino and Salona before building one to the Coast," Alice wondered aloud looking out the window.

  "Paul says that it's because most Transport ministers and Prime ministers studied in Salona and they often go there to show off."

  She laughed. That would be the sort of cynical joke Paul Cesara would make. Or maybe it wasn't even a joke. The Kingmaker knew a different history than most people.

  "Did you enjoy Salona?" she asked.

  "Of course. I was captain of the rugby team for two years, and we won the Cup both times."

  "They're not doing great this year," she said.

  "I was joking," he said. "I'm not a dumb jock."

  "I wasn't joking. They're not going to finish the championship in top five."

  "Maybe I should enroll in another Master's program," he said.

  That would be wonderful, she thought. Having Christian in Salona with her. She bet he could show her all sorts of nooks and crannies of the old town she had no clue existed.

  "Could the company spare you?"

  "We own the company. And I'm sure Basil will be more than capable to run it all by himself after I win the elections."

  The politician and his future wife. Could it be as simple as that? Even in their world of money and influence.

  "Aren't you too young to run for the Chamber of Representatives? You're definitely too young to run for Senate."

  "I'm twenty-six. I can run for Senate in four years. The minimal age for the Chamber is twenty-five. But I'm not going to do that. My first target is to be Mayor."

  "Are you serious? Of Orsino? That's crazy."

  The mayoral elections were a few months away. She'd been to wrapped up in Sing and everything else to pay attention who was rumored to be running.

  "Thank you for the confidence," he said teasingly.

  He probably wasn't serious, but Alice felt obligated to defend her reaction.

  "I'm sure you can win, but why would you want to? That must be one of the most insanely difficult jobs in the country. You know how difficult the people in the Capital can be."

  "Speaking as one born and bred Orsinian to another, I agree. We're all crazy. But I love this city. I might as well start by doing something for a place I love."

  They drove in silence for a few minutes. Silence with Christian was more comfortable than with anyone else in her life. She didn't feel the need to earn his good opinion or do anything to gain his interest. Instinct told her that Christian liked her as she was. Imperfect. Often awkward. Sometimes scary, if Leonie's appraisal was correct.

  "Will you help me?" he asked.

  "How?"

  "Come with me during the campaign. I know it's a lot to ask since you don't like public appearances, and I will never press this matter."

  Not many people noticed that. Her friends took it for granted that if she could perform on stage with the band, she was fine in public. Once she started taking her parents' place and attended various events, her family assumed she had outgrown her shyness.

  "You know I care about you," she said, wondering what she wanted to say next.

  "But?"

  His calm voice made up her mind. The very lack of pressure drew her to him. No. No buts.

  "You can count on me," she said. "If you think it would help, I'll try to work through my issues."

  He reached for her hand and he took it to his lips. The quiet gratitude in his reverent kiss warmed her heart. She could have a good life with this man.

  He slowed down and turned his head to look at her.

  "You are beautiful, and you don't know it," he said, uncharacteristically serious.

  There weren't many people in the world from whom she would accept those words. She had outgrown the extreme awkwardness of her childhood and teenage years, but saying that she was beautiful was a stretch. Christian's perception was probably colored by the many things they had in common.

  "Thank you," she said.

  He shook his head.

  "No. You really don't know just how beautiful you are."

  She blushed this time. Christian's voice was even, warm and earnest. She hated herself that for a moment she wondered if he had a reason to lie. He was a career politician, after all. She settled on a vaguely funny remark.

  "You're not bad on the eyes, either."

  "Unlike you, I know exactly how attractive I am."

  The chiseled lines of his mouth softened when he laughed. Gorgeous men like him tended to inhibit her unless she also liked their personality. The only two beautiful men in her life she'd ever been comfortable with were Andrew King and Sebastian Cesara, if she could think of her best friend's little brother as a man. Alice's tastes had always resonated to weird rather than attractive or adorable.

  "And modest. Let's not forget modest."

  "Would you prefer me to pretend I don't know?"

  "It might not go over well with the public. Overt arrogance."

  A broad smile brightened his face.

  "You already care about my public image," he said. "We're going to have a lot of fun."

  "Christian, do you think it's a good idea?" she asked. "Us. Getting together because we make sense on paper."

  "Is that how you see this?" he asked.

  "How else?"

  "It's an alliance for now. We're building a friendship. If in a few years we agree that we make sense in the long run, we'll get married. No one is forcing me to date you. Do you feel obligated to be with me?"

  "No," she said hurriedly. "No one made me. It's just... we don't even know each other, and we're pretty sure we'll get married."

  "So, you're pretty sure we'll get along," he said.

  She heard the amusement in his voice and she liked the smile playing on his lips.

  "Physically, I see nothing to object to," she said. "And you did say you find me beautiful."

  "As happy as I am that you don't find me objectionable," he said and now the amusement was even more evident in his voice. "I was serious about getting to know one another before making any formal commitments. Spoiler, I already like you. Not just because you're beautiful. Although you are and it's not hurting."

  Alice blushed intensely at the compliments. The memory of Vy's disappointment and Tim's hatred cast a shadow over Christian's words. What if he started to like her, and they made plans for a future together, and he'd find out about her other talents. Would he hate her? Would he be disappointed that she wasn't the pure princess he wanted to marry? Or would he want her to use her skills for his career? What would be worse?

  "This is so strange. We hardly know one another and we talk about marriage."

  "Why is it strange? Isn't this how people meet? Friends, family, social circle. Why should it be any stranger than people bumping into each other on the street, having a coffee, planning to meet for dinner the next day, and so on."

  If she'd have to think of her life as a movie, she'd be afraid she'd be in a horror. As things were, she might end up in a political thriller. And yet, with Christian, she wasn't afraid.

  Tim

  Meeting Alice at the gala left him confused. Over the past few months, he had seen how uncomfortable sh
e got whenever even a small group of people paid attention with her. At first she'd been tense even when they were alone. She had begun to relax in his company at the same time as him. Unless, of course that hadn't been an act.

  He thought back at their interactions, adding the filter of the lies. She obsessively avoided to be the center of attention. He'd seen her at least twice on the verge of a panic attack. He could work with that.

  He watched the entrance to the dining hall, looking forward to a new session of cat and mouse. When King walked in with David, he went to take a second cup of coffee and rushed to Music Room Two with a cup in each hand. He pressed on the door handle with his elbow.

  "Good morning," he said jauntily and nudged the door closed with his foot. "I come bearing coffee."

  She was on her usual chair, at the table by the window pouring over a book. He resented the warmth he felt at the familiar sight.

  "Thank you," she said, taking the cup from his hand.

  Her eyes were sunken in. Maybe she hadn't slept much either. She wasn't glowing with the aftermath of hot sweaty sex, so maybe she had a spat with her Price Charming.

  The book on the table was a volume of the Meditations. How long did it take them to move of from Marcus Aurelius in Salona? They were supposed to be an elite university. He placed his own cup on the table, and sat down.

  "Was your boyfriend jealous because you danced with me last night?"

  "He's not my boyfriend," she said.

  Who was she trying to kid? He didn't need to read about Christian Sinclair in the media to know that he and Alice had been a couple for a long time. They looked very comfortable with each other before he had stepped in. He hadn't liked that at all. The little monster didn't deserve to have a nice, comfortable, nurturing relationship. He was going to enjoy breaking them up. Seeing her suffer was going to be delicious.

  "If you say so," he said. "He sure took you away quickly enough. One minute, you were there. Then poof! You were gone. And there I was, eager to dance with you again."

  "I left because I was tired."

  "You're lying to me," he said, tilting his head. "You should stop doing that. Now I'm paying attention to you."

  She drew in a deep breath, then her shoulders slumped.

  "You're right. I left because of you. Happy?"

  "Not yet."

  "You know where to find me if you want to do something worse," she said.

  He closed his eyes, pleased with her apparent defiance. The more she fought him, the sweeter was to torture her. Fortunately, King hadn't allowed her to resign. She was smart enough to have asked to be let go, but not brave enough to tell him everything she should have to convince him.

  "How's that loyalty to King working for you?" he asked.

  Her head jerked up, but her gaze stopped on his shoulder, not daring to lock eyes with him. He didn't mind. It made it all the more precious when he captured her gaze and he saw panic swirling in her boring brown eyes.

  "I see you so clearly now, Alice," he said rolling each word off his tongue slowly, in a low, raspy tone he used in his seduction scenes on the stage of the Rose. "You hate every second you're in the House now. You don't want to be here, but King needs you and here you are. At my mercy."

  He articulated those last three words in a whisper intended to slide under her skin.

  "What do you expect me to do?" she said in a small voice, almost as whispered as his. "Get me to a nunnery?"

  Hamlet? Really? She was comparing herself to Ophelia? He would have liked to talk to her about the meaning of that line if she was still Alice, his friend. But she was Alice, his enemy.

  "Misquoting Shakespeare won't save you," he said. "Nothing can save you any more, little monster. I'm talking about the fact that you're here because the great and powerful Andrew King doesn't believe that you're in any real danger."

  "I didn't misquote. I paraphrased."

  "Misdirection now. Keep trying to pretend nothing's wrong. Keep trying to believe you're not in a horror movie."

  "Oh, I can hear the Roque Banos loud and clear."

  He gritted his teeth. The woman knew the soundtrack of the Evil Dead. A few days ago, he would've liked her for this. Now he was wondering if it was just another thing she knew because she had studied him. Studied him like a profiler studies a serial killer. Studied him like an interrogator studies a prisoner. He had been a thing to her for so long.

  She had to pay.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Alice

  Carter's comment about being a horror movie haunted her. Wherever she went, she couldn't help wondering if he wasn't somewhere close, watching her, poised to show up and ruin what she was doing.

  This fear was at its highest when she was visiting the Stratford Foundation. This was her secret charity. She didn't want anyone to know about her mentorship program. She raised money for other causes, but at Stratford she gave of her time, and her heart.

  It had taken months to get Will, the fourteen-year-old troubled orphan to trust her. Will's father had died in a war overseas. His mother was a drug addict who had abandoned him. If Carter showed up and made a scene, she'd lose much of the hard earned terrain with the boy.

  She relaxed when they entered the Observatory. Maybe she was exaggerating. Maybe Carter was calming down. He was going to forget about her sooner or later.

  Alice loved everything about the Copperfield Observatory, but she couldn't help being anxious about Will's reaction. Teenage boys were more likely to be impressed by powerful engines and football matches than star maps, telescopes and rocks that might or might not have come from outer space. On the other hand, taking a boy who got into trouble hot wiring cars to visit her grandfather's luxury cars collection wasn't a great idea.

  He slipped his hands into his pockets as they ambled along the long hallway. The tall, vaulted ceiling must have been a stark contrast for a boy raised in the slums of Orsino East.

  Unlike the wealthy northern quarter of the Capital, where the old families had long ago established their presence to be close to the Illyria's political heart, the east side had been established by traders. Decade by decade, the eastern quarter had sunk into poverty and crime.

  The boy walking next to her pretending not to be impressed by the history laden building could become another petty criminal, or he could choose to be anything he wanted. Illyria had moved on since its time as a colonial empire, but tradition was very much a part of their way of life. Most people didn't dare to cross the invisible but very solid barriers between social classes. In her quiet and unassuming way, Alice was working on eroding them.

  She was beginning to wonder if she should have taken him to the Natural Science Museum first. They had mummies there, after all. But in the Octagon Room, she caught Will's first tentative smile from the corner of her eye, and she unwound a tiny bit.

  In the next room, they caught up with a group of tourists. Sadness flickered over the boy's features at the sight of the family taking photos next to the huge telescope. Knowing what she knew about his family, she could understand the reaction. She was proud of him for not turning on his heels and leaving.

  They remained silent and listened to the guide's presentation. His eyes widened and he strained to hear, shuffling toward the front of the small crowd to catch every word. Her heart sore at the sight of his interest.

  He tried to revert to his former cocky attitude but Alice could almost see the stars in his eyes. He was going to love the meteor shower visible in their city in a few weeks.

  She stopped in front of Copperfield's bust, on their way out of the building.

  "Hold this, please," she said, handing Will her bag.

  The boy took it instinctively, then looked horrified at the huge bright pink thing in his hand.

  "I'll only be a minute," she said, turning her head to the Ladies' sign.

  Will darted a glance around to check how many people would see him holding it. Alice turned around before he could see her smiling.

 
She loved her silly colored Birkin, not because its price was about ten times higher than everything inside it, but because she had bought it one of the few times Vy had come shopping with her.

  She was sure that Will wouldn't to run away with it. For one thing, he had no clue of its value. He would most certainly look inside and she was curious to see if he was going to take anything. The boy had used this technique to drive away some of the previous volunteers.

  A few months earlier, Margaret, the Stratford Volunteer Coordinator, had complained about his case. Alice surprised her by offering to step in. The custom at Stratford was for boys to have big brothers, and girls to have big sisters, but after driving away five such brothers, Margaret hadn't even asked if she was sure.

  She stared into the bathroom mirror, and all her flaws stared back at her. The protruding chin. The long nose. The unattractively pale skin. She didn't need to use the facilities. She wanted to give Will time to be bored enough to read the plaque on the wall.

  The Observatory had been built by one of Orsino's most famous mayors. That plaque was one of the few places outside dusty old books where people could read about the great man's humble beginnings.

  She knew better than to tell Will that he could have a bright future in front of him, despite the circumstances of his family. She planned to take him to places where he could see for himself other people who had broken through the cast-like system of Illyrian society.

  What would she do if Will stole her car? The key to her black Mini Cooper was in the bag she gave him to hold, next to her wallet and her Moleskine notebook. She'd have to call the Police, and that would completely ruin the boy's life.

  While she was sure he still needed to test her, she was confident he wouldn't go that far. She had reacted well to him ruining her favorite t-shirt the first time they met, and to the scene he made at the diner where they ate the week after that. Each time they met, the boy tested her, unable to believe someone could care about him. This time, she was testing him as well.

  When she estimated he had had enough time to take the money from her wallet and read the plaque on the wall, Alice washed her hands out of habit, and left the Ladies' Room. Outside, Will was looking at Copperfield's bust. He all but threw her the pink bag back.