‘Six mill...’ Jag scowled. ‘How is that possible in so short a time frame?’
‘You are a very popular monarch, Your Majesty, especially since the world is expecting you to announce your betrothal to Princess Alexa this weekend. And, with all eyes on Santara at present because of the impending summit, I’m surprised it’s not more.’
Jaeger cursed viciously. He had completely forgotten about Princess Alexa.
‘Quite,’ Tarik agreed. ‘But, speaking of your prospective engagement, I have King Ronan on the phone. He is furious that it seems you are entertaining a concubine—his words, sir—after agreeing to marry his daughter. He is threatening to call off the engagement and boycott the summit.’
Jag stared at Tarik. For the first time in his life his brain was struggling to keep up with the turn of events. As beautiful as Princess Alexa was, Jag had no real desire to marry her other than the convenience of it. She understood his world and, from what he knew of her, she was as logical and pragmatic as he was. She was also polished and poised. Any leader would be fortunate to have her on his arm. Not only that, but marrying her would strengthen ties with Berenia, Santara’s third neighbour.
‘Miss James is not my live-in mistress,’ he bit out. ‘And I have not formally agreed to marry Princess Alexa.’
‘I know, Your Majesty, but King Ronan is clearly of the impression that you have.’
‘That’s because King Ronan is a pushy bastard who tries to manipulate people.’
‘Of course, sir. But it is important that you have a plus-one this weekend. If King Ronan is not pacified he will not allow Princess Alexa to attend as your escort. And you know it is never a good idea to attend these events alone.’
Yes, he did, but he had more pressing matters to consider right now than a plus-one. He dragged a hand through his still damp hair. By rights he should be furious with Regan for this stunt—and he was—but part of him couldn’t fault her ingenuity. Hell, he might even admire it if she wasn’t causing him so much grief in the process.
‘King Ronan is holding for you, Your Majesty. He wants to speak with you personally.’
‘Of course he does.’ Jag snatched up his cell phone from his dresser. ‘Transfer the call to my personal
number,’ he ordered, his brain having gone from sluggish to full-on alert as he went into automatic problem-solving mode.
‘Yes, sir.’ Tarik flicked his finger quickly across the screen on his tablet. ‘And Miss James?’
Jag scowled. ‘Leave Miss James to me.’ He’d strangle her as soon as he placated the volatile King of Berenia and made a decision about whether or not to marry the Princess.
Striding down the marble staircase en route to the garden suite, he brought his phone to his ear. ‘King Ronan,’ he said smoothly. ‘I believe we have a small problem.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘COME ON, JUST sit still,’ Regan crooned. ‘Please, just for another few seconds.’
Her camera shutter clicked as she photographed a pair of olive and yellow birds with elegantly turned-down beaks. It was clear by the way they danced around each other and rubbed their beaks together that they were a couple, and their antics made her smile. They reminded her of hummingbirds back home, and she’d always had a soft spot for photographing couples—both animal and human. Everyone loved the notion of finding their soulmate, and she found that ‘couples’ sold well as stock photos.
She checked her viewfinder, satisfied that the pretty pair would be very popular when they were uploaded onto her website. The light was magnificent in Santara, making the exotic colours of this timeless land pop. Just looking at the sweeping sands of the desert beyond the palace made her itch to explore it.
As concentrated as she was on capturing a shimmering mauve dragonfly hovering above the azure-blue of the pool with her lens, there was no mistaking the moment the King stormed into her suite. She heard the heavy door to her room bang forcefully against the wall, and turned to see a small cloud of white powder float to the floor from where the ornate handle had gouged the plaster.
Regan moved to the arched doorway and then blinked. King Jaeger stood inside her room, dressed in a pair of tailored trousers that hugged his powerful legs, an unbuttoned pristine white shirt, and that was it. His legs were braced wide, his hands held loosely at his sides, and he wore an expression on his face that could level a mountain. Regan couldn’t prevent her eyes from running down the darkly tanned strip of flesh from his neck to the trousers that sat low on his hips. Dark hair covered his leanly muscled chest, arrowing down to bisect abdominal muscles you could probably bounce a coin off.
Her mouth ran dry as her gaze continued on down to his feet.
‘I think you forgot your shoes,’ she said, appalled to find that she even found the sight of his bare feet sexy.
The door closed behind him with a thud.
‘And possibly your sense of humour,’ she added, trying to lighten the mood and stop herself from obsessing about his body.
‘If I were you I’d be very worried right about now,’ he drawled menacingly.
She was. Worried that she couldn’t stop thinking about sex whenever he was around. It was becoming insidious.
‘About?’ she asked, deciding to brave out his obviously bad mood. It wasn’t possible that he’d found out about her post so quickly. Not unless he had ESP, or security cameras in her room. She cast a quick glance at the corners of the ceilings. Nothing there. Thank heavens.
‘How did you do it?’ he asked softly.