Page 13 of Claimed by the Bastard Prince
She glanced down, unable to hold his gaze for a second longer, and gasped at the sight of her exposed breasts. The front of the robe had come undone during her struggles, and she hadn’t noticed until now. Her face heated and she hated the pervasive sense of helplessness she felt in this moment. She was completely at Akeen’s mercy.
He walked closer, and she flinched when he reached for her.
“Please don’t,” she said, fearing he would strike her with the crop.
But he didn’t hit her. When she met his stare, she noted a flash of compassion softening his eyes for an instant. He surprised her by closing her robe with gentle movements and then stepping back, the crop still in his hand. Relief filled her that he wouldn’t allow her to remain exposed. She hoped that meant he wouldn’t strip the borrowed robe off at any point during this interrogation.
Swallowing hard, she met his eyes and decided to try reasoning with him again.
“Search my room and you’ll find no weapons. How-how do you think I was supposed to kill the king if I’m unarmed?”
“Your room has already been searched, Cora. Your other suitcase that got lost en route to Ismallia is on the way here, where the Royal Guard will give it a thorough search. I don’t know how you planned to kill King Brenul, but I suspect you planned to wait until your arrival in Ismallia before acquiring your weapon of choice, whatever that weapon may be. Poison, perhaps? That’s how Greg was finished, after all.”
She felt sick. “Fi-finished? Greg is dead?” Her mind spun as she tried to organize her thoughts and figure out this frighteningly strange puzzle of events.
An exacerbated sigh escaped Akeen. “Of course he’s dead. Don’t act so surprised. Surely, your contacts at the CKP informed you of his demise. How do you maintain contact with them, Cora?” He stepped forward and placed the crop beneath her chin.
She shuddered and held her breath. She couldn’t decide whether to keep speaking the truth and maintain her innocence, or to start making up stories he might actually believe and hope that she eventually got ahold of someone in the American Embassy.
The prospective lies tasted bitter on her tongue.
No. She couldn’t confess to a crime she hadn’t actually committed.
Trembling, she closed her eyes and envisioned a protective shield around her, keeping her safe because she had truth on her side. Whatever was going on didn’t involve her, but somehow she’d been implicated. But the truth would eventually prevail. It had to.
She thought about Greg. What the hell could Mr. Cheaterpants have to do with a plot against the Ismallian king? She’d been with him for two fucking years.Think think think. There had to be something. A clue that he’d had dealings with the CKP or another group of criminals.
“Greg traveled a lot,” she began, “usually to California for his hotel business. He wanted to open a chain of hotels overseas, but he was having a hard time securing the funding for such a venture. He hadn’t decided which countries he wanted to build in, though Ermastistan was a top choice of his; however, he’d run into some difficulties getting the proper building licenses in that country. The woman he cheated on me with, um, now that I think about it, holy shit, I can’t believe it!”
“Can’t believe what?”
“She had dark hair and skin as tan as yours. I ran out of there quickly and didn’t hear her speak or catch her name, but she could’ve been Ismallian or Ermastistanian. She could’ve been born and raised in America too, but perhaps it’s something you could look into.” Cora peered up at Akeen, trying to read his thoughts. Did he believe her?
He tossed the riding crop on the floor and forced her to her feet. Hope surged in her chest, as she considered he might let her go now. But he only removed her handcuffs, before urging her to sit down again. Still, she was grateful to have her wrists free, and she rubbed at her sore flesh. Akeen hadn’t put the cuffs on very tight, just snug enough that she couldn’t escape, and she probably wouldn’t be sore if she hadn’t struggled so much.
“For your sake, Cora, I hope you aren’t lying.” He removed the cell key from his pocket and approached the door, picking up the riding crop along the way. “I’m going to see if your suitcase has arrived yet.”
“I’ve told you nothing but the truth, Akeen. I’m actually a terrible liar. Just ask Malia. She’ll tell you.”
“I’ll return soon.” When he noted her continued shivering, he added, “And I’ll bring you a warm blanket and some slippers.”
Chapter 6
Akeen regretted bringing the riding crop. Despite telling himself he would follow protocol and interrogate her as he would any other prisoner, he wouldn’t have actually hit her. Once he’d entered her cell and seen the fear in her eyes and witnessed her distressing vulnerability when her robe had come undone, he’d felt like the biggest fucking bastard in the goddamn world.
But she hadn’t known that he wouldn’t harm her. She hadn’t known it was all for show. She probably despised him and would run back to America the second he released her.
Ifshe was innocent. God, let her be nothing but a pawn in her ex-boyfriend’s game.
The suitcase had arrived. It contained a formal gown, shoes, makeup, and seven pairs of panties and a few bras. The image of her naked bottom flashed in his mind. She hadn’t worn panties tonight because they’d been in her missing suitcase. She’d probably borrowed the dress she’d worn to the wedding from Malia or one of his half-sisters, he thought absently.
Setting the contents of the suitcase aside, he inspected every inch of her luggage for secret compartments or anything sewn inside. He ripped open all the seams and found nothing out of the ordinary.
“Commander Wornik.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Cora Meyers’ ex-boyfriend had a lover, possibly a woman of Ismallian or Ermastistanian descent. We need to learn the woman’s identity. She might be our connection.”
