Dropping the letter onto the bar, she strode to the kitchen, rifling through the cupboards until she found some Tylenol for her headache and swallowed them with some juice she found in the refrigerator. Taking the beverage with her, she sipped it slowly, desperately hoping her queasy stomach wouldn’t rebel, Shea took in her opulent surroundings. Uncertainty set in as she went from room to room as if she were in a trance, not completely convinced she wasn’t having a very odd dream.
I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Can anxiety cause weird dreams? But my head really does hurt, and I’m nauseous. Is it possible to feel real pain in a dream? But if I’m not really asleep and having these strange images, can I really trust that Hayden is truly safe?
Shea shuddered as she searched frantically for a phone, or any device that could get her released from the impenetrable fortress in which she was currently stuck. She found…nothing. Every other kind of luxury was present, but not one thing that would help her right now. Even the computer in the corner only allowed certain functions, none of them any type of communication with the outside world.
“Why am I not surprised?” she grumbled irritably as she slammed a frustrated fist on the computer desk.
Rubare Collina? The deranged person who had written the letter she’d just read was certifiably crazy. She wracked her brain for any information she knew about the island nation. Of course she knew about the existence of the small country, and it was indeed ruled by a monarchy, but it was a far cry from primitive. All the latest technology came out of the nation that was geographically located somewhere off the European coast, and it was more developed and rich with natural resources than almost any other country in the world. And it was progressive — minus the fact that it was still ruled by a king. Rubare Collina was one of the wealthiest nations on earth, and the ruling family was so rich that it was almost impossible for her to imagine.
And what had the crazy guy writing the letter meant about me marrying a prince?
“If I’m really in Rubare Collina…why am I here?” she whispered, perplexed. She had no ties to the country at all, no family history connecting her to the Rubarians. She didn’t even know anybody who lived here.
I can’t have traveled to Rubare Collina without knowing it. Impossible.
Still, she searched her foggy brain for facts. “They speak English.” Shea remembered reading something about the history of the country, and how the people there had developed into an English-speaking nation. The royal family had been sent to the Island from Europe after helping a treacherous European king during a brutal time in history, forced to Rubare Collina in exile. English pirates had inhabited the island centuries ago, and the displaced aristocrats had taken over when they arrived, fighting the pirates for supremacy. Eventually the original inhabitants had to either join them or be killed. The royal family had learned English to communicate, and it had eventually become the national language. Shea was pretty certain that many languages were actually spoken on the island nation, but English was the most prevalent.
No wonder the letter was so well written.
Shaking her head at the incredulous situation, she sat down on the bed again, placed her juice on the bedside table, and wondered what to do next. If she’d really been kidnapped by Rubarians — which she wasn’t even certain was true — she had to escape and prove that there had been some sort of identity mistake. Whoever they wanted, it wasn’t a poor woman like her, and she certainly had nothing with which to pay any sort of ransom. She could barely even pay her electric bill. The thought of her marrying a prince would have sent her into a fit of laughter if she wasn’t so worried about Hayden.
What if I’m not really in Rubare Collina and some nut-job kidnapped me for some other nefarious purpose? What if he’s a sociopathic serial rapist and murderer?
The banging of the heavy door opening in the living room had her on her feet instantly, running to catch whoever had entered. “Wait. Please wait,” she cried out as she tripped on her heels to catch the closing door. “Dammit!” she exclaimed as the bolts slid back in place and she banged on the door fruitlessly. The toe of her shoe nudged a delivery that sat right beside the door, which had been quickly opened and closed. Someone had obviously pushed something inside the plush surroundings incarcerating her.
Shea stepped back as she realized that they hadn’t delivered a thing; someone had delivered a person. Pushing her long, curly, honey brown hair from her face, she gaped at the man on the floor. He was enormous, every muscle in his body bulging with anger at his predicament.
“Are you a prince? You certainly don’t look like a prince,” she mumbled, taking in his worn jeans, boots, and dirty t-shirt. Honestly, he looked a lot more like the serial killer she’d been afraid of in the first place. He was blindfolded, his mouth covered with a piece of heavy tape. Since he was bound, he was practically helpless, but he was struggling against the thick tape around his ankles and wrists, trying to break free.
She hesitated for a moment before kneeling beside the muscular body propped up against the wall. Should she release him? Or was he safer being bound?
He can probably tell me what’s going on. He’s obviously another victim. Either that or he’s part of this whole elaborate setup.
Deciding to at least let him talk so she could question him, she grabbed the bulky tape over his lips and jerked it free before pulling the blindfold from his head. Her heart skittered as she met an unforgettable and furious pair of hazel eyes that knocked the breath from her body.
“Bryan?” she whispered tremulously, confused.
“Shea?” he answered huskily. “What are you doing in Rubare Collina?”
It’s him. It’s really him.
Shea moved back instinctively, staring at the man who had changed her entire world five years ago…and who’d then left her without a thought or a backward glance. Well, she wasn’t certain if he’d looked back at her or not because she’d been sleeping, but she’d assumed he hadn’t turned around as he’d left. She’d never heard from him again, but he’d come in and out of her life during a very life-changing night.
“Is that really where I am? Rubare Collina?” It was almost unfathomable that she had come this far without knowing. “Why?” After five years of silence, why was he here now? Why had he been bound and imprisoned with her? What the hell was going on?
Bryan nodded sharply, still pulling against his restraints. “Release me,” he commanded. “I’ll explain.”
She thought she heard him mumbling something about somebody named Simon and how he had said kidnapping a prince wasn’t a tradition. Or maybe she just hadn’t heard Bryan correctly because he was muttering angrily under his breath.
Crossing her arms in front of her, she debated whether or not it was safer to leave him tied up. “I’m not sure that I should turn you loose.”
“You’re afraid of me?” he asked in a raspy, insulted tone, his intense eyes boring into her.
“Right now, I’m afraid of everyone,” she snapped back, rising to her feet so she felt more powerful than she really was right at the moment. “I’ve obviously been drugged, kidnapped and dragged halfway across the world if you’re telling the truth. I think it’s only logical to be a little wary.” She was more than just a little distrustful, but she didn’t want Bryan to know that she was nearly petrified right now.
Bryan’s presence was both terrifying and comforting. She doubted that he was a murderer. If he was, she would be dead by now, their previous encounter in New York having given him more than enough time and
opportunity to extinguish her life.
She wrapped her arms around her waist in a protective gesture, shivering, probably from the after effects of whatever drug had been used to sedate her and the shock of the entire situation.
“Let me loose, Shea,” Bryan cajoled softly. “If you let me go, I’ll tell you what happened. It’s not whatever you’re thinking, I can guarantee that. It’s stranger than anything you can imagine. Hell, it’s stranger than even I can comprehend, and I’m Rubarian.”
The low, sultry persuasion in his panty-droppingly sexy, accented voice caused her to shudder as she looked into his sane-looking but still angry, hazel stare. Yeah, he looked ticked-off, but he didn’t look like he was ready to cause her physical harm. Unfortunately, he was dangerous to every female hormone in her body; his raven hair, chiseled features and enormous, muscular body were unchanged. He looked almost exactly the same as he had five years ago; like he looked in her dreams almost every night.
“You’re Rubarian?” Shea had always wondered what nationality he’d been. She’d assumed he was Italian, but his accent wasn’t quite Italian, and definitely not completely French. It was combination of both, yet it was…unique. Bryan spoke English as well as she did, but his accent was unlike any she’d ever heard before. Regrettably, it was also incredibly hot, making him all the more irresistible, as she’d found out very well years ago. Every word that came out of his mouth sounded seductive, even if it wasn’t meant to be.
He nodded, his stare unwavering as his eyes roamed over her. “What in the hell are you wearing?”
“Work clothes,” she shot back at him, refusing to feel guilty because he had kidnapped her from the club. So what if he had to deal with her bimbo attire. What she wore for work was none of his damn business.
“You work dressed like that?” he growled.
“Yes. It’s a required uniform.” One that she despised, but wore only because she needed the money the cocktail server position provided.
“Where?”
