Marisol snuggled against Ryan’s warm body as he lay with his face in the pillows. Apparently, this was his preferred sleeping position, as he’d slept that way most of the night. Marisol didn’t sleep. She wanted to spend every waking moment of these hours with him. Soon, she would have to leave and go back to the life that was ordained for her.
The light stole through the windows, and Marisol knew she couldn’t stay much longer. She gave him one last gentle kiss on his temple and silently rose from the bed. She padded across the carpeted floors and opened the door that led away from Ryan. A tear slid down her cheek. What she would give to stay with him forever. During their night of lovemaking, she’d realized she loved Ryan Kelley. No one from this day forward would be able to convince her that what happened last night was sinful or profane. In Ryan’s arm she felt like she’d touched the heart of the Almighty, and that could never, ever be wrong.
Marisol dressed in the clothes she’d come in and picked up the elevator key. She would leave it with Danny, but she couldn’t depart without leaving a note for Ryan. He deserved at least that much for all he had given her. She switched on the household computer and called up the email program.
My Dearest Ryan,
You’re everything a woman could ask for. If there was any other way, I would stay with you forever, but I have to go back to my real life now. I’ll always remember you, and I will alway love you.
Goodbye,
Marisol
She hit send and then closed the cover to the computer. With a heavy heart, she walked out the service door, but to her dismay the elevator wouldn’t open. Thinking this odd, she walked back into the apartment and crossed to the front door. This time, the elevator opened.
“Marisol?” She heard Ryan calling for her, and she hurried into the elevator, her heart pumping in fear. The last thing she wanted was a tearful goodbye scene with Ryan. She was torn up enough as it was. When Marisol hit the lobby, she felt something was off. Danny looked at her with fear in his eyes.
“What’s wrong, Danny?”
Danny’s eyes flicked to the front doors, and there to her horror, she saw at least five police cars, lights flashing. Police officers stood behind the cars, their guns drawn.
The elevator dinged again, and Ryan stood there wild-eyed. He grabbed Marisol.
“What are you doing? Why are you leaving?”
“Ryan, don’t,” Marisol said, but many things happened at once. The door opened, and something rolled on the ground.
“Cover your eyes,” called Danny. A loud bang and a flash of light assaulted her. Men streamed in, shouting to get on the ground. Ryan pushed her down and then covered her body with his. Then she felt Ryan pulled off of her, and she looked up to see a police office putting handcuffs on him.
“Let him go! Let him go!” Marisol screamed, but other officers picked her up, one on each side.
“Is this her?” asked one.
“Looks a lot like her,” said the other.
“Your highness.”
The gravelly voice could only belong to Gustav, her father’s head of security, who had just entered the building.
Marisol looked at him as she shook off the arms of the policemen.
“Gustav, tell them to let Ryan go.”
“Who?”
Marisol pointed to Ryan, who was being restrained by a police officer.
Gustav’s eyes narrowed. “The kidnapper?”
“Ryan didn’t kidnap me.”
“File the charges,” said Gustav, disregarding her words. “I’ll bring the princess’s statement later.” He took Marisol’s arm and pulled her along. She gave one look to Ryan, who turned his head away. His eyes held anger, and she didn’t blame him. She’d gotten him into this mess, but didn’t know how to get him out of it.
***
A line of reporters waited beyond the police cars. She was assaulted almost immediately as she walked past the line of cars.
“Princess Marisol, can you tell us about your ordeal?”
“Where have you been these past three days?”
“Were you hurt, Princess?”
“Who was the man who kidnapped you?”
The questions were flung at her at random, and she shielded her face from the cameras with her free arm. Gustav opened the door of a black limo and nearly propelled her inside with his arm. She landed on a seat. Next to her was her father, with Tristan on the opposite bench.
“Daughter, thank God, we found you. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, Father, but—”
“The man is in custody,” said Gustav from the open door.
“Good,” said King Francois.
“Man?” said Tristan archly.
“No, Father, not good. Ryan has been nothing but kind to me. You must make sure he gets released immediately.”
“And what were you doing with this man?” demanded Tristan. “This man who was so good to you?”
“None of your damned business, Tristan,” snapped Marisol.
“Watch your tongue with me, woman. We’ve been worried sick about you. Your father has been beside himself the whole time.”
“Like you care about anyone but yourself. If you didn’t put your hands up my dress at the reception, I wouldn’t have left in the first place.”
“He what?” Her father’s eyes sparkled with anger.
Tristan’s face turned a particular shade of purple.
“You left? On your own?” Marisol had never seen anyone so indignant as Tristan Vattakov. “How dare you? How dare you embarrass all of us?” He raised his hand, and she shrank into the seat as she anticipated the blow.
Before the strike could land, her father caught Tristan’s hand mid-air.
“Get out of this car, now,” he said in deadly quiet voice.
“But your daughter—”
“Deserves better than you.”
“But the trade agreement—”
“Is off. Your father represented to me that you were ready for marriage, but your behavior, including the assault on my daughter, shows me otherwise. No trade agreement is worth the unhappiness of my daughter. So get out now.”
Francois Duvaingnon didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to, because his words come out cold and harder than if he had yelled.
Tristan blanched. “My father will hear of this outrage.”
“He most certainly will,” said the king. “Gustav, show Prince V
attakov the way out.”
Spitting protests, Tristan left the limo.
“Driver, the hotel,” said the king.
Marisol’s father wrapped his arms around his daughter.
“I’m so sorry, Marisol,” he whispered. “I should have known that someone like Tristan Vattakov was no good and certainly not worthy of my daughter.”
“Father, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’ve let you down. And now, because of me, our country will suffer.”
“Shush, daughter. You’re with me, and you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
“But you don’t understand. They arrested Ryan. The police think he kidnapped me. He’s in a lot of trouble because of what I did.”
“Well, if he knew who you were and didn’t do anything to return you to me, he should be in trouble.”
“Father, no. You do not know this man. He is good and kind. He volunteers his time at a homeless shelter He—”
But her father’s phone rang, and he answered it.
“Yes, yes, of course. No, no more public spectacles. A hospital would be just that. Find a physician to come to our hotel.” He ended the call.
“Physician?” said Marisol.
“I want to make sure you’re in good health, daughter.”
“But I am. Nothing bad happened to me, father, I swear.”
“Your promises do not mean much to me right now, Marisol. You’re my daughter, and I love you, but this whole mess involved three law enforcement agencies and the United States government. They will want detailed answers from us for the time, energy, and expense they put into searching for you. I cannot simply say my twenty-one-year-old daughter ran away because she didn’t like the man she was to marry. It is an embarrassment all the way around, not just for you, but for our country. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Marisol, shrinking into the seat of the limo at the weight of her father’s condemnation. “But Ryan—”
“Should have known better that to get involved. Now he will have to suffer the consequences for that.”
Marisol hung her head. She’d messed up badly, spreading a trail of destruction from Dalaysia to America. And the worst of it was she’d hurt the people she loved in the process.