Guarding His Royal Bride. C.J. Miller
was a fake and would have refused Iliana’s visit with the king if Demetrius hadn’t been with her.
Stella seemed afraid of Demetrius, circling him and prodding him indirectly for information. In this case, Iliana was happy Demetrius was here. As much as she didn’t like him right now, his power and courage were inspiring and infectious. Better for the other woman to know her place and not think Iliana was a weakling who could be manipulated.
Iliana didn’t know how she felt about any of this yet, but she wasn’t giving up ground this early. She didn’t want the king’s land or resources, and not because refusing would annoy Demetrius and spoil whatever agenda he was pushing. She didn’t want to be involved in a contentious fight between siblings and their mothers. She was out of place in Valencia. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t know the culture or the traditions, and, aside from sharing genetic material, she had nothing in common with the king.
Her family had been the people who’d raised her. She refused to see them any differently, even if their betrayal and secrets burned hot in her stomach.
Iliana entered the king’s chambers. He was sleeping on a bed in a sterile-looking room surrounded by medical equipment. There were two nurses on duty. A guard was posted by the window, and two more were at the entrance. The shades were open to allow in the sunlight, but the space was still dreary.
She smelled death and disinfectant. Iliana had been near death before. It was a heavy, stale scent, and she felt a combination of sad and nauseated.
No one had said a word. She wondered if the king was sleeping. Should she come back later?
She walked toward the king, unsure if she should speak. Had Demetrius explained why she was here? Would the king know who she was?
Demetrius knelt at the king’s bedside. “My dear friend, Iliana is here.”
The king’s eyes opened. His nurses rushed forward to help him shift to a sitting position, moving pillows and arranging his arms and legs.
“Iliana.” The king’s voice was gruff. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say or for her to feel in response, but she felt sad and empty.
“Are you really my biological father?” she asked.
“Yes. Too late for a happy reunion or a meeting of the minds.” He struggled to take a breath. “I’ve watched you over the years. I am proud of who you are. I was afraid for you, afraid of what those close to me could do if they saw you as a threat. I was troubled you wouldn’t forgive me if you knew the truth. But I have nothing left to lose.”
Not only did she find it disturbing that he had watched her from afar, but she was confused as to why. If he was so proud, why didn’t he take a chance and tell her the truth before today? Time delivered forgiveness. Not to mention, why send the message through Demetrius? “My parents said nothing to me about being adopted.”
“I asked them to keep the secret to keep you safe.”
“Why did you want Demetrius to tell me about you?”
The king closed his eyes, and Iliana wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep. After several labored breaths, he spoke again. “Demetrius has been a good friend to me. When he told me he had found you and had come to care for you, I asked him to protect you and to tell you the truth when the time was right.”
A month ago would have been better, even two months ago.
“It would have come to light after my death, but this way I can look at you, grown and strong. It brings me happiness in my last days.”
He opened his eyes, and this time he smiled at her. “You look like your mother.”
A woman she had no memories of and had only learned existed today. “What can you tell me about her?”
“I met her while I was visiting Kontos. It’s a beautiful and quiet seaside village. She was working at an ice-cream store.”
Before he could continue, Stella swept into the room. “What is this nonsense? Another bimbo with a claim to the throne? I won’t allow it. I won’t allow someone to take advantage of my husband when he is failing. He’s delusional and losing his mind.”
Stella must have been listening at the door. Iliana resented the intrusion.
“You won’t address my wife in that manner again,” Demetrius said. “You will watch your tone. She has made no false claims. She is here at the request of the king.”
The king pointed from his guards to Stella. They moved to escort her out of the room.
Stella shook off the guards and moved toward the door. “If you think I will let some gold digger rob me, you’re mistaken.”
The king coughed, and his nurses rushed to place an oxygen mask over his face. Iliana wanted the king to know she had not come there to make a play for an inheritance, no matter what Stella thought. “I don’t want anything from you,” Iliana said. Had he heard her?
Demetrius looked at her. “It does not matter what you want. You have been named in his will, and it is too late to change it. I fully expect Stella will do her best to manipulate the circumstances, but the law is clear. You will be given your rightful inheritance whether you want it or not.”
* * *
Iliana looked exhausted. She had dark circles under her eyes and her skin was pale. The emotional drain of the past twenty-four hours had caught up with her. On the drive to their hotel, she’d fallen asleep, laying her head against the window. Demetrius gathered her against him, wrapping her in his arms. He wanted to shield her from some of the pain, but that was impossible. She had to live through it, push through the hurt and find a sense of peace.
Demetrius wasn’t sure of his role. He was on thin ice. Persuading her to marry him had been part luck, part chemistry and part manipulation. He wouldn’t feel bad about it. He’d done what he had needed to do.
She shifted. “I am mad at you. This doesn’t change that.”
He kissed the top of her head. She was allowing him to hold her, and he wouldn’t question it. She was too tired to fight. He was her ally and he would protect her. He was grateful to have her in his arms.
She wasn’t just a pawn in this game. She meant more to him, and that rattled him. Caring for her made her a liability. He didn’t need another liability.
They parked in the underground parking garage at their hotel and took a private elevator to the penthouse suite. The secrecy was for security. His servicemen would wait by the elevator. He was armed. Demetrius felt better when he was carrying his gun. His military training had been ingrained in him and it was hard to forget the basics: stay alert, have a weapon close and trust no one.
They entered the suite after his servicemen checked it for intruders. Demetrius took his wife’s hand, and led her to the bedroom. He peeled back the sheets. “Rest.” She sat on the edge of the bed, and he knelt at her feet, removing her shoes.
He was tempted to run his hand up her leg but knew she would reject him. She wasn’t giving him any signs she was interested in anything happening between them. He’d need to take this slowly and let her lead. Demetrius wasn’t good at handing over the reins on anything, but he’d have to learn. She lay back onto the pillow, and he covered her with a sheet.
“Why are you watching me?” she asked.
He loosened his tie and unfastened the top button of his shirt. Dress clothes weren’t his style, but as the president of Icarus, he had appearances to maintain. “Because you are beautiful. It’s hard not to stare.”
“I want to go home,” she said, her eyes still closed. She sounded tired and worn.
She meant home to Acacia. “We will return to Icarus after you’ve had some rest. Perhaps the king will be up for talking again.”
She opened her eyes, and unshed tears shone in them. “I don’t want to return to Icarus.