This involved a move to Mumbai, where her mother reportedly hailed from. But the trail ends there, and to all intents and purposes Sunita seems to have vanished.
‘Frederick?’ Marcus’s voice pulled him from the article and he looked up to see his chief advisor’s forehead crease into a frown. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing.’ Under the sceptical gaze Frederick shrugged. ‘It just sounds unlike Sunita to give up her career.’
Sunita had been one of the most ambitious people he knew—had been defined by that ambition, had had her career aspirations and goals mapped out with well-lit beacons. The idea of her jacking it all in seemed far-fetched at best.
Marcus drummed his fingers on his thigh. ‘Could her disappearance have anything to do with you?’
‘No.’
‘What happened?’
‘We spent a few weeks together—she moved on.’
‘She moved on?’
Damn. ‘We moved on.’
‘Why?’
Keep it together. This is history. ‘She decided to call it a day as she’d garnered sufficient publicity from our connection.’
Marcus raised his eyebrows. ‘So she used you for publicity?’
‘Yes. To be fair, she was upfront about that from the start.’
More fool him for thinking she’d changed her mind as time had gone on. He’d believed their time together, the long conversations, the laughter, had meant something. Well, he’d been wrong. Sunita had been after publicity and then she’d cut and run. Yet there had been something in her expression that morning...a transitory shadow in her tawny eyes, an errant twist of her hands that had belied the glib words dropping from her lips. But he hadn’t called her on it.
Enough! The past was over and did not bear dwelling on because—as he knew with soul-wrenching certainty—it could not be changed.
Marcus’s dark blue eyes met his as he resumed pacing. ‘So weeks after this publicity stunt she disappeared off the modelling scene? That doesn’t make sense.’
It didn’t. But it had nothing to do with him. Two years ago Sunita had affected him in ways he didn’t want to remember. He’d missed her once she’d gone—an unheard-of weakness he’d knocked on the head and buried. Easy come, easy go. That was the Playboy Prince’s motto. Sunita had gone—he’d accepted it. And then, mere months after her departure, Axel had died and his life had changed for ever.
‘I’ll look into it,’ Marcus said. ‘But right now you need to focus on this list. Potential brides. A princess, a lady and a marquesa. Take your pick.’
Frederick accepted the piece of paper but didn’t so much as glance down. ‘What do you mean, “look into it”?’
‘If there is any chance of potential scandal we need to shut it down now. So I plan to find Sunita before April Fotherington or any other reporter does.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then I’ll send someone to talk to her. Or go myself.’
‘No!’ The refusal came with a vehemence that surprised him. However it had ended, his time with Sunita had marked something—his last moments of joy before catastrophe occurred, perhaps. He didn’t want her life tainted...didn’t want Marcus or his minions to find her if she didn’t want to be found.
‘It needs to be done.’ Marcus leant forward, his hands on the edge of the desk. ‘I understand you don’t like it, but you can’t take even the smallest risk that there is a scandal floating around out there. The crown is at stake. The throne is rocking, Frederick, and if it topples it will be a Humpty Dumpty scenario.’
Great! A Humpty Dumpty scenario—exactly what he needed. Of course he could choose to ignore the warning, but that would be foolish. Marcus knew his stuff. The sensible option would be to allow Marcus to go ahead, investigate and deal with any problem. But for some reason every fibre of his being cavilled—dammit, stupid though it sounded, it wasn’t the honourable thing to do.
A small mocking smile tilted his lips as he faced his chief advisor. Frederick of Lycander—man of honour. Axel would be proud of him. ‘Fine. I’ll check out Sunita.’
Marcus’s blue eyes narrowed. ‘With all due respect, that’s nuts and you know it. The press will jump on it.’
‘Then let them jump. I’m the boss and this is what’s going to happen.’
‘Why?’