The Royal's Obsession (12 page)

Anastasia had wanted this exercise to prepare her for New York, and in that, it was extremely successful. She had forgotten how much the men of her acquaintance talked. They went on and on, and though the good ones, like Paul, might check to make sure that she was interested, there was never any of the silence that she had come to love on the
Wild Waves
.

More than once, she interjected with her opinion, simply so that she wouldn't be stuck as Paul's audience, and though he looked at her a bit oddly, he seemed to want to hear what she had to say.

As they finished up their dinners, he shook his head admiringly at her. “This trip has been good for you, Anastasia,” he said, making her raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it's always lovely seeing you so tan and fit, but it's more than that. You really feel as if you have grown and changed. You've become a woman to be reckoned with, and I have to say that is extremely attractive.”

“Thank you for saying so,” she said with a smile, but Paul shook his head.

“that wasn’t an empty compliment,” he said. “I was making…let's say, a statement of intent.”

She blinked at him. She had gone out expecting a pleasant dinner. She had not expected to encounter whatever this was.

Paul went on. “You and I have known each other for some time, and I like to think that we've always been friendly and held each other in high regard. I find your views on conservation and water fascinating, and I have always hoped that the wife that I chose would have some pet cause to devote herself to.”

Anastasia wasn't sure if she was more offended by the idea of him choosing a wife or of that wife having a “pet cause.” Paul didn’t seem to notice her reaction—he just kept talking.

“So I don't think that I'm being too hasty when I say that I would like for us to get to know each other a bit more when we get back to New York. I think we could start with a few dinners, perhaps whip out to the Hamptons to see what we think? It would be an advantageous match for both of us if we suit…”

She was building up to a towering rage, but then suddenly, she began to laugh. She realized that Paul, who was known to be quite handsome, looked completely small and insignificant to her. Surprisingly, he was laughing as well, watching her with a gaze that was distinctly possessive.

“That's your truth, isn't it?” she asked between giggles. “That you want a wife that you choose, who's tan and fit, and who has a cause that she devotes a bit of her time to, but not too much of it. Is that right?”

“Yes?” His laughter died out.

“No. I'm sorry. No. Good night, Paul. Maybe I'll see you back in New York.”

She left the restaurant at a brisk walk that stopped just short of being a run. She knew what the truth was now, and she knew who had to hear it. Anastasia was set to get back to the hotel as quickly as she could, but she didn't count on running into the exact man she was looking for the moment she stepped onto the street.

Pedestrians split around the two them, giving them a strange little oasis of quiet in the center of the sidewalk. Streetlights turning on added flickering light to the scene. Anastasia's mouth was dry as she stared at him, half believing that he was some sort of vision that she had conjured.

“Augustine—”

“Let me talk,” he said roughly. “Please. I need to say some things to you.”

Apprehensive, she nodded. He looked intent and almost fearful himself. When he took her hand, she could feel him shaking a little.

“Anastasia, some weeks ago, we had a…difficult conversation where we swore to be honest with each other. More than that, we swore that we would always share our truths. You have been…as transparent as the waters of the Aegean with me, and even when we began together, I knew what a precious gift that was. I knew how much it was worth, and I can only excuse my behavior by saying that I was overwhelmed.

“What we had, I should have fought to keep. I need it with every breath, and when I saw you go out tonight, it was as if you were taking my heart with you. I should have fought for you, but I didn't, and when I thought it was too late, I felt something in me die.”

“Augustine—”

“No. I need to finish. I am done with lies, even the lies that I tell myself. I am done with fear, and I am done with thinking about a world that will not allow what I want. I am a man who shapes the world and rides the sea, and I will make it fit what I want…as long as you are willing…”

Her hand was covering her mouth, her eyes wide. As she watched, trembling, he removed a velvet box from his pocket.

“Anastasia, this is my truth, and it will stand forever if you will allow it to. I love you more than I love the motion of the waves or the wildness of the sea. Will you marry me? Together we will create a world that will allow us both what we need.”

He opened the box to reveal an enormous sapphire the same color as the Aegean at night. It was surrounded by glittering diamonds, and she had never seen a finer gem.

“Yes,” she whispered, her heart beating so hard she thought it would burst. Once she said it, she couldn't
stop
saying it.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she cried, and she leaped into his arms.

She was laughing and crying and nearly delirious with joy, and the crowd around them burst into applause.

“My truth is that I love you,” she said softly. “No more and no less than that. I love you and I want to spend my life with you.”

His smile was radiant as he pushed the ring on her finger, and she knew that they would never be apart.

Seven Months Later

“Did you know that you can tell Shakespeare's comedies from his tragedies by whether there is a wedding or a funeral at the end?” said Trinity, straightening Anastasia's veil.

Her best friend and maid-of-honor's comment had come out of nowhere, but Anastasia looked up, grateful for the distraction.

“I had thought that getting to know Augustine and meeting him on the
Wild Waves
was a romance, not a comedy.”

“All of the best comedies have romances in them,” said Trinity firmly. “After all, you are a better Beatrice than you are a Juliet.”

“Yes, absolutely no stabbings at all.” Anastasia fussed with the hem of her dress. “How do I look?”

“For the thousandth time, beautiful. You are going to be incredible, Ana.”

The
Wild Waves
had been decked out in fragrant white and gold roses, while silk banners fluttered high above. The enormous yacht was swarming with the people closest to Anastasia's family and to the royal family of Greece. It was a comfort of some kind to know that over the last few hours, Augustine was likely being kept calm by his brother Apolo.

“I don't know what happens next,” she found herself saying. “I always told Augustine that I would tell him the truth, but I can't look forward. I am afraid that…that perhaps he will be disappointed in me, or perhaps we will be a poor fit.”

Trinity took her friend's shoulders firmly, waiting until Anastasia was looking into her eyes.

“Ana, listen to me. You two are amazing. You are taking a chance, but that is what everyone in love does. You have found passion and love with Augustine. After that, everything is details, okay?”

Anastasia took a deep breath. She knew that Trinity was right. The question of where they would spend their time, where they would live and how they would live together would be answered later on. After the turmoil and tempestuous waters that she and Augustine had sailed in together, everything else was going to be easy. As long as they were together, she realized that there was nothing they could not do.

The wedding coordinator cracked the door open, waving Trinity forward. Trinity squeezed her hand one last time, winked at her, and started down the aisle.

As she had in rehearsal, Anastasia took ten deep breaths, and then she opened the door. She stepped forward into bright sunlight and a sea that was achingly blue. The deck was lined with chairs, and as she made her way down the red-draped aisle, the guests stood respectfully as she passed by. She could hear the appreciative murmurs and even the odd sniffle, but all of her attention was focused on the end of the aisle and the man waiting for her there.

Augustine was dressed to stun in a well-fitted black tuxedo. Though his expression was grave, she could see a twinkle in his dark eyes, and a wealth of love there as well. She was faintly aware of Trinity, who stood to the left, and Apolo, next to Augustine, but everything else was faint and unimportant compared to the man who had finally given her a truth that she could believe in.

Almost in a daze, she made her way to the front. At the priest's direction, she and Augustine turned to face each other, taking hands. As the priest began the blessing, her groom mouthed “I love you,” to her. She gave him a brilliant smile in response.

This is real,
Anastasia thought, and then, with a warm glow, she realized something much more important.

This is true.

THE END

Click here

to subscribe to our newsletter & get EXCLUSIVE updates on all offers, secret previews, and new releases!

ANOTHER STORY YOU MAY ENJOY

Royal’s Forbidden Love

By: Sophia Lynn

Free preview below!

Royal’s Forbidden Love

By: Sophia Lynn

All Rights Reserved.
Copyright 2015-2016 Sophia Lynn

CHAPTER ONE

The Dauphin was a risky choice for her. One of the most exclusive clubs in Manhattan, it was far away from her usual stomping grounds in Brooklyn. Not that Angie Marsh really had stomping grounds. Recently, she might have been said to have
lying down and crying grounds
or perhaps
moping grounds
, but she was doing her best to get over that.

That was largely the reason why she had finally ventured out on a Thursday night to a club where she knew exactly one person. Bridget was a friend of a friend who was struck sorrowful and wide-eyed at Angie's story.

"And he left you?" the striking brunette had asked. "Practically at the altar?"

"Well, the deposits on the wedding hall and the catering were non-refundable, so I don't know exactly if it was at the altar …"

"That's so terrible," Bridget had said, her eyes filling with tears. "Look, why don't you come to the Dauphin? It'll get your mind off things, there's plenty to do and see and to have done to you …"

Before Angie could figure out if the woman was kidding or not, a golden ticket had been shoved into her hand, and Bridget had wandered off.

Angie had stood there staring at it for a moment before shoving it in her purse self-consciously. There it had waited all week, and finally, on a Thursday night when she had been assured that Bridget would be there, she ventured out.

Angie realized as soon as she got behind the velvet rope that this was a mistake. These were not her people. They were all sleek and gorgeous, movie stars, models, and the movers and shakers of the New York business elite. She was a diminutive archivist in a shiny dress.

The dress caused a wince, but it wasn't a big one. It was a present from her sister for her bachelorette party, a lovely slinky dress that called back the Roaring Twenties. Beaded with gold sequins, Angie liked to think it gave her a kind of retro appeal, but if she was being honest with herself, she was simply wistful about an era where a woman could have an ever-so-slightly boyish figure and still be considered to look good.

She had taken a quiet place at the back of the club for almost twenty minutes, watching the gorgeous people strut about. She wondered briefly what it would be like to know that you were that perfect—that wanted. It must feel terrifying.

Angie shook her head; she knew that coming here tonight had been a mistake. She had a ticket, she had used it, and now she needed to get back home.

What was she thinking? She had a job interview to get to later this morning. She started wondering if the heartbreak was really getting to her brain. There was something terrible about being lonely at home, but she quickly realized that being lonely in a crowd was worse.

She decided that in order for the evening not to be a full loss, she would have one drink. There would be one drink, and then she would splurge and call a cab to get her back to Brooklyn. She could then honestly tell her sister and her friends that she had gotten all the way out to Manhattan for a drink, and they would realize that she was on the path to healing.

It would be great.

She dodged through the crowd to get to the bar. At just a hair over five feet tall, Angie was shorter than everyone present. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was held back with a golden clip that matched her dress, but she was grimly certain that she was the only one who had noticed it.