Page 12 of Claimed By the Crown Prince
He’d walked around the island a little beforehand. It was mostly forest and precipitous hills. There was a stunning private white sand beach on the other side of the island. And a small house that he guessed was used by staff when they were required.
It was indeed a beautiful location. But Laia was right. Unless he dived into the sea and started swimming he wasn’t going anywhere.
And now, after the activity, he was hungry. He opened the fridge and spotted a Tupperware bowl filled with the leftovers of the stir-fry. There was a Post-it note attached.
Feel free to help yourself.
Strange to feel somewhat mollified at this very basic concession for having removed him from his life so spectacularly. But then hadn’t he been planning on doing that to Laia? Albeit without resorting to kidnap. He could see now, though, that she wouldn’t have gone anywhere with him willingly.
He took out the bowl and lifted off the airtight lid. It smelled good. His stomach rumbled. Dax had always had a healthy appetite. For everything. Life. Sex. Ambition. Winning.Sex.
He hadn’t had sex for a few months. It had been preying on his mind...the flatlining of his libido. But lately everything had begun to feel a little dull. There was no excitement. No one causing his pulse to trip.
Until he’d laid eyes on Laia again today.
He set about putting the stir-fry in the microwave, and tried not to think about the suspicion that he’d actually felt flat since he’d seen her in that nightclub over a year ago.
Oh, he’d taken lovers since then. But for the first time it hadn’t been satisfying. And so he’d subconsciously taken a hiatus from women. Focused instead on his work.
He’d even taken a call from Ari a month or so ago, his brother commenting, ‘You haven’t appeared in the papers in a few weeks. I’m just checking you’re still alive.’
Dax had realised with a jolt that he hadn’t had any appetite for going out. For the endless round of socialising that for so long had helped him not to think about things.
He’d replied, ‘I’m very much alive, brother. Maybe I’m plotting to take over your throne? It’s all the rage on every TV show at the moment.’
Ari had sounded weary. ‘Be my guest—and while you’re at it see if you can track down Princess Laia and remind her of her marital obligations, would you?’
Dax had responded lightly, belying the spike of something sharp in his gut that had felt suspiciously like jealousy. ‘Maybe she’s just not that into you.’
His brother had said, ‘Ha-ha,’ and terminated the call.
And now he was here, with this woman who appealed to him in a way that was seriously unwelcome, and instead of being able to explore his attraction as he usually would—by seduction and indulging in slaking his desires—he had to do the right thing and encourage her go back to Europe, marry his brother and become his sister-in-law. His Queen.
Once again the resistance he felt to that idea was almost physical.
The microwave dinged at that moment and Dax welcomed the distraction. He took out the bowl of stir-fry and transferred it to a plate. He got himself a beer from the fridge, and went to sit on the decking outside the kitchen.
Dusk was cloaking everything in a lush lavender colour. The night chorus of insects was starting up. Dax noticed a citronella candle burning, to deter mosquitoes. Had Laia been sitting here eating just a short while before?
The food was delicious. Fresh and tasty, with a bit of a kick. Dax wolfed it down.
Laia was an enigma, for sure—a queen in waiting so desperate not to be married that she had run to the other side of the world to a jungle paradise where she seemed happy to cook and wait on herself.
Notthe behaviour he would have expected of someone of her standing. He knew people with regular blood running through their veins who wouldn’t deign to lower themselves to such mundane activities.
He was going to do his utmost to figure out how to get to her and make her see sense, and then he’d send her on her way before she could wrap his brain—and his body—into too many knots.
The following morning, after a fractious sleep that she blamed Dax for, Laia felt fuzzy-headed even after a swim in the pool and a shower. She went down to the kitchen, taking out supplies for breakfast. Pastries and fruit and granola. She made coffee and the fragrant smell helped clear her head.
She had to admit moodily that her sleep had also been fractious because she was sharing a space with a man who made her feel aware of herself as a woman, and very conscious of the fact that she was that rare unicorn: a virgin. Still. At almost twenty-five.
In her defence, she wasn’t exactly in a position where she could indulge in carnal activities without risking drawing the all-seeing eye of the press. If anything, seeing Dax’s sexploits splashed routinely across the tabloids over the years had put the fear of God into her. And as time had gone on, and she’d grown older, the world’s fascination with her and her love-life had assumed gargantuan proportions, making it even more unlikely that she would indulge.
Not that she’d met anyone who’d made her feel like indulging.
Except for the man who is here right now, in your house...
She pushed that inflammatory thought aside. And then she heard a sound and looked up and froze, even while simultaneously melting on the spot.