LITMIR.BIZ

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a phone to make a collect call to the United States, the woman handed Hannah her own from her dress pocket.

      But the phone operator couldn’t reach Hannah’s father for him to accept the collect call. They tried twice before Hannah gave up.

      “You can try again later, as many times as you need,” the front desk clerk assured her. “I will be here all day.”

      Hannah did try three more times, but each time she had the operator try to place the collect call, her father’s answering machine picked up.

      By the end of the day, Hannah had resigned herself to the fact that she’d be stuck in Raguva at least another day. If not longer.

      For the first twenty-four hours after Hannah left, Zale wanted revenge. He fantasized about hunting Hannah down and making her suffer as he was suffering.

      He was still angry the second day after she’d left, and plotted her downfall, but now when he imagined doing something to her, he was doing something to her body. Something … pleasurable.

      He hated himself for even thinking of her, much less desiring her.

      The fact that he could imagine taking pleasure in her body baffled him after everything that had happened.

      Why was he even thinking about her? How could he want her? She’d manipulated him and played him and he should hate her.

      He didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when he loved her.

      Zale ran a hand through his short hair, knowing he’d only been in love once before. It’d been six years ago when he’d lived in Madrid. She had been young, brilliant and vivacious, a breathtaking Spanish beauty, but when his parents had died he’d retired from football and ended their love affair, moved back to Raguva and never once looked back.

      Zale knew how to move on without looking back. He knew how to be ruthless, relentless, hard.

      And he’d force himself to be ruthless and hard now.

      She was gone. And there would be no forgiveness. No second chances.

      But when he pictured Hannah, he didn’t want to be ruthless and hard.

      On the third day Zale woke, even more angry and frustrated than when he went to bed.

      He would find her. He would. He’d take her in his hands and make her pay.

      But first he had to find her.

      Zale spent the morning making inquiries before turning to Krek at noon. Turns out he should have started with Krek as his butler already knew where Hannah could be found. “The Divok Hotel, Your Majesty, under the name of Hannah Smith.”

      Zale tried to hide his irritation. “How did you know where she was?”

      “Her Highness is distinctive. Word quickly spread.” “No one told me.”

      “Everyone knew you were unhappy with her—” “Does everyone know why?”

      Krek shrugged vaguely. “Lovers’ quarrel, something of that nature.”

      “They are aware the wedding has been called off?” “Yes, Your Majesty, but they’re all hoping that you’ll come to your senses and forgive her so the wedding can be on again.” “It’s not going to happen.” “Whatever you think is best, sir.”

      “Krek, I know you heard us fighting. I know you and half the palace must know the truth. She isn’t Emmeline d’Arcy. She’s an American impostor.”

      “Yes, Your Majesty.”

       “Krek.”

      The butler bowed. “Will you be going out, sir?” Zale glowered at him. “Yes.” “Very good, sir.”

      Zale was annoyed that he’d be showing up at the unassuming Divok Hotel with full escort, but he couldn’t very well go alone. He was a king. There was protocol. And safety was always an issue, even in his own country.

      Zale waited in his armored car as his security guard checked out the hotel, securing the front and back entrances before allowing him inside.

      The front desk clerk’s welcome was effusive. Beaming and bowing, she showed him and four of his bodyguards up to the top floor, which was where she’d given Hannah Smith a room. “It’s one of our best rooms,” she said, “and every day I make sure she has fresh flowers.”

      Zale thanked the clerk for the kindness she’d shown Hannah Smith, and knocked on Hannah’s door.

      He waited a moment, gut tensing, and then knocked again. Finally she opened the door a crack and peered out, her long hair messy, her face pale with deep shadows beneath her eyes. The interior of her room was dark with the blinds still drawn although it was almost noon.

      She blinked at him, obviously stunned but sleepy. “What are you doing here?”

      “I don’t know,” he answered grimly before gesturing to her room. “May I? The hallway isn’t the most private place for us to talk.”

      She nodded, tucked her hair back behind her ears and opened the door wider. “Come in.” While his security detail waited in the hall, Hannah turned on the lights and opened her blinds and smoothed the covers of her rumpled bed.

      He glanced around the small, Spartan room with the bouquet of violets in a little glass vase next to the bed. “Why are you still here?”

      She winced at his sharp tone. “Because I can’t afford to leave.”

      “You should have told me.”

      “And what would you have done? Laughed in my face? Or thrown me in prison?”

      He shrugged. “I was angry. I still am.”

      She sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed and tilted her chin up at him. “My father has sent me a credit card and my passport by express mail. It should arrive this afternoon. I’ll be leaving soon.”

      “Not if I arrest you.”

      “Is that why you brought so many of your palace guard? Expecting me to put up quite a fight, aren’t you?”

      “You don’t sound remorseful at all.”

      “What can I say that I haven’t already said? I’ve apologized again and again, and I meant every word—”

      “So say it again.”

      A tiny frisson of sensation raced down her back. Something in his voice hinted at danger. Or perhaps it was the expression in his eyes. But suddenly the room felt sexually charged. “I’m sorry.”

      “That’s it? That’s your most sincere, heartfelt apology?”

      “I gave you my sincere, heartfelt apology two nights ago and you threw it back in my face.”

      “So? I want to hear it again. I want to feel your sincerity. I want you to prove your sincerity.”

      “How?”

      His hot amber gaze raked her from head to toe. “I’m sure you can think of something.”

      A shiver raced through her—nerves, anger, as well as anticipation. “You can’t kick me out of your palace and then expect me to invite you into my bed.” “Why not?”

      “Because I don’t want to sleep with you,” she retorted fiercely.

      “Good, because I can assure you we won’t be sleeping.” “It’s not going to happen. You were horrible. Mean. Cruel.” “Yes, yes, I was all of the above. So how will you pleasure me?”

      “I won’t.”

      “You will.” He closed the distance between them, stopping in front of the bed, his thighs inches from her knees. He was standing so close that Hannah’s skin prickled and the fine hair at her nape lifted. Unfortunately there was nowhere to run. Not on the third floor with four

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