King's Ransom Page 17

  She wasn’t on any kind of birth control now. She wasn’t sexually active, and until Andre had reentered her life she’d had no intention of being sexually active, so she wasn’t prepared to prevent an unwanted pregnancy. Unwanted pregnancy. That’s a laugh. If I were pregnant with Andre’s child it wouldn’t be unwanted. But it would break my heart under the circumstances.

  No, she couldn’t go to Andre through the secret passageway until she was protected. And that meant either finding a doctor here in Drago, or waiting until she could see her own gynecologist in Los Angeles. And no way did she want to wait weeks before—

  Then it occurred to her. Sabrina had an ob-gyn here in Drago. Juliana couldn’t be certain, but Sabrina’s ob-gyn was probably one of the few female doctors available, not only in Drago, but in all of Zakhar. I need to get that name from Bree tomorrow, and see if I can make an appointment.

  * * *

  Andre couldn’t sleep waiting for Juliana to come to him that night. He lay on his back in his lonely bed, watching the shadows cross the room as the moon moved across the night sky, watching the tapestry against the far wall. But it never moved, never so much as twitched.

  He’d been so sure she would come to him. Why? Why were you so sure? Because of the way she’d looked at him last night at the foot of the staircase, compassion mixed with yearning in her lovely violet eyes. As he’d stared at her he’d envisioned what it would be like to lay his burdens down temporarily and lie in Juliana’s arms, finding the peace and comfort only she could give him. To absorb the emotional sustenance she would bring, and rise strong, reenergized, ready to take up his burdens again. And even more, knowing she would be there always. That when he needed her, she would be there, just as he would be there for her when she needed him. Forever and a day.

  He lay in his bed waiting for her—hot, hard and aching—until the moonbeams told him it was long past midnight. Until he realized she wasn’t coming to him that night. Maybe she never would. No, he told himself, pressing his lips sternly together against that defeatist attitude, turning over to find a cool spot on his pillow. She loves me. I know she loves me. And she will come to me...someday. Someday soon. She will come to me because she wants me the same way I want her. She will come to me.

  But he was leaving Zakhar early tomorrow. A long-standing commitment to address the United Nations in New York, followed by a state visit with the President of the United States—neither of which could be rescheduled—meant his plane would depart long before Juliana awakened, and he’d be gone for a week. He’d already charged Zax with the task of personally ensuring nothing happened to her in his absence—a task Zax had accepted without demur—but leaving the country now was unfortunate timing. If Juliana were planning to come to him tomorrow night, or the night after, he wouldn’t be there. He had hoped—prayed—she would come to him tonight.

  He touched his arousal, settling himself into a more comfortable position, cursing under his breath that he couldn’t control his reaction when he thought of her, couldn’t prevent the throbbing pulse of sexual desire that invaded his body...and his dreams. Now that Juliana was here...in Zakhar...in Drago...in his own palace, seeking release without her wasn’t an option. He would just have to suffer...and wait.

  Come to me, Juliana, his heart pleaded as sleep finally claimed him. Come to me.

  * * *

  “Cut! And that’s a wrap, everybody. Especially you, Dirk. I think that’s it for you.” The director looked at his assistant, who nodded, confirming this was Dirk’s last scene on-site. There might be a few scenes back at the studio, and some voice work, but Dirk was free to leave Zakhar.

  Juliana collapsed into a chair, for once not worrying about her costume. She wouldn’t be wearing this one again, so it didn’t matter. She watched as Dirk made the rounds of cameramen, lighting technicians, grips, makeup crew, wardrobe, supporting cast, extras, gofers, assistants and everyone else, shaking hands and sincerely thanking them all for doing such an excellent job on this movie. This wasn’t new for Dirk—he’d been doing it on every movie Juliana had made with him, another lesson he’d taught her about professionalism. I might be the star, he seemed to be saying, but this is a team effort and I couldn’t do it without you.

  Dirk came back to Juliana last, holding out his arms to her. She stood and walked into his embrace, clinging to him tightly, little pinpricks at the back of her eyes. She didn’t know when she would see him again, but she knew without a doubt they would never do another movie together. And that’s the only thing I’ll miss about acting, she realized with a shock. In Jetsam and King’s Ransom—the start of her film career and the end—she’d starred opposite Dirk.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything. For believing in me, for believing I could play Tessa better than anyone else.”

  Dirk loosened his embrace and stepped back from Juliana. They’d always been very careful not to give rise to any gossip about their relationship, knowing their on-screen chemistry would always make people wonder. “You would have become a star without me, babe,” he told her with a smile. “It might have taken a little longer, but the writing was on the wall.”

  “Thanks. But it’s not just that you gave me my first break—you also taught me about being a professional. And that’s not a little thing.” She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “So when are you and Bree heading out? When’s your flight?”

  Dirk made a face. “We leave just after seven tomorrow morning. Come by and say goodbye to Bree tonight, okay? But not too late. I want her to have an early night and be rested before the flight.” He gave her a considering look. “You’re not coming back to Hollywood, are you? Not permanently. You’re staying here with him.”

  “You know me too well,” Juliana murmured.

  One corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “It won’t be easy, you know, not for either of you. But I will say this. He seems like a decent man, even if he is a king.” He hesitated, then asked enigmatically, “Does he know the truth?”

  She shook her head, her smile sad. “I told him, but he doesn’t believe me.”

  Dirk whistled tunelessly. “And he still loves you?” He reached over and flicked her cheek. “Babe, that’s a powerful love. Don’t let him get away.”

  * * *

  A week later Juliana toweled herself off after a long, luxurious bath. I needed that, she told herself. Another long day of filming had left her exhausted, but the bath had revived her. Rejuvenated her. Not to mention it had left her smelling sweet and clean the way a woman wanted to smell when she intended to entice a man. And not just any man, the man she loved.

  She was careful not to rub her hip where she’d applied the patch five days ago, and instead just patted it dry. She turned so she could see her hip in the mirror, checking anxiously to make sure the patch was still adhering securely to her skin. It was, and she was protected.

  Tonight. She smiled to herself. It had been a long, long week, made even longer by the fact that Andre hadn’t even been in residence in the palace for most of that time—she’d found out by chance he’d left the country, something Zax had confirmed when she ran into him on the set. So even if she’d gone to Andre without waiting for her birth control to be effective, it wouldn’t have mattered, since he wasn’t there.

  But he hadn’t told her he was leaving. He’d sent her a formal thank-you card for filming the Red Cross appeal for donations—handwritten by one of his secretaries on thick cream-colored stationery with the royal seal of Zakhar on the cover and personally signed by Andre—but that was all.

  That lack of communication would have to change. Not just about relatively minor things like schedules, obligations and commitments, but about important things. About what they were thinking. Feeling. About their long-term goals. Dreams. Desires.

  Andre had arrived home today. Juliana knew that, even though he hadn’t even come to watch the filming as he used to do. Hadn’t sought her out. So tonight she would go to him. Tell him everything.
Ask him the questions she’d wanted to ask for eleven years, and finally hear his explanations. And she would make love with him...the way she’d longed to do since their one and only night together.

  She stepped into her silk-and-lace undies—one of the few luxuries she allowed herself—then pulled a clean, oversize T-shirt from the dresser, making a little face as she did so. Wishing for the first time she had something more...sexy. More...seductive to wear for Andre. A T-shirt seemed so prosaic. Certainly not romantic. And she wanted to be romantic tonight of all nights. Too bad, she told herself with a rueful smile. Should have thought of that earlier. She wasn’t going to wait another night just so she could set the stage. Andre would just have to take her as she was. She was pulling the T-shirt over her head when the phone by her bed rang.

  The palace operator spoke in her ear when she answered the phone. “I have a Mr. Marty Devens from Los Angeles on the phone, Miss Richardson,” she said in her pretty, accented English. “Would you like to take the call?”

  “Of course.” Juliana wondered what Marty could be calling her about, and then, with Marty’s first words, shock and disbelief settled in.

  Chapter 15

  Juliana put the phone down, tears oozing from her eyes. She’d managed to hold off until she hung up the phone, but now...now she could cry for Sabrina. Sabrina, who was dead on a hospital operating table. And the twin daughters she’d tried so desperately to stay alive long enough to give her beloved husband were in neonatal intensive care—prognosis guarded but not optimistic.

  Dirk was crazy with grief, Marty had just told her. Inconsolable. Oh, Bree. Bree, Juliana mourned, catching her breath on a sob. What will Dirk do without you? Oh, Dirk, I’m so sorry. I wish I could be with you now. I wish I could say something to comfort you.

  But there were no words. Nothing anyone could say to bring Sabrina back, and that was the only thing that would comfort Dirk in the first wildness of his grief. How tragically she remembered that kind of grief, when it seemed as if Andre was dead to her all those years ago.

  Heartsick, she crawled under the covers and huddled there, shivering, but not from the cold. Thinking that she couldn’t go to Andre...not now. Not when her heart was breaking over Sabrina and Dirk.

  Bree’s dead and Dirk might not survive. That was all she could think of. Bree’s dead and Dirk might not survive. She couldn’t possibly sleep, couldn’t possibly turn her emotions off enough to fall asleep, because the phrase kept repeating in her head. Bree’s dead and Dirk might not survive.

  On that thought she fell asleep, but it was a fitful sleep as she tossed and turned. When she woke hours later, unrefreshed, her first thought was for Dirk. She picked up her cell phone and placed a call to Marty. “How is he, Marty?” she asked as soon as the phone was answered.

  “Not good. I wouldn’t tell anyone except you, but I’m afraid for him. I don’t think he’s...rational. I tried to talk to him about the...the arrangements. About Sabrina’s funeral. But it’s as if he can’t even hear me. He’s in some other world. He keeps talking about how this is God’s punishment.”

  “Oh, Marty...”

  “Yeah. I always thought Dirk was so strong. But now I see a lot of his strength came from Sabrina. She was always there, standing by him, believing in him. Helping him believe in himself.”

  She took a deep breath. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Whatever I have to do, with Dirk the way he is. Thank God I’ve got power of attorney from him. Otherwise...”

  “I want to be there for the funeral,” she told him. “Please hold off long enough for that. We’re almost done here. Today’s the last scheduled day, so if we can wrap things up I’ll take the first plane out of here...probably this weekend. But I can’t be sure exactly when I can get back, so...”

  “Don’t worry. I know Dirk would want you there. I’ll make sure the funeral’s at least a week from now. And maybe the additional time will give Dirk a chance to come to his senses, too.”

  “What’s the word on the babies?” Please, God, she prayed. Let them be all right.

  “I’ve been to the hospital, and as Dirk’s attorney I’m getting regular updates. The babies are holding their own, that’s about all I can tell you at this point. But they’re so tiny, Juliana.” He cleared his throat and she knew emotion was getting to him, too. “You’ve never seen anything so tiny as Dirk’s little girls.”

  Juliana’s heart squeezed as if a hand had invaded her chest. “Thank you for letting me know, Marty,” she said. “Please keep me posted.” She managed to keep her voice steady, but inside she was crying again. Oh, Dirk! I’m so sorry.

  * * *

  The mood on the set that morning was somber, subdued. Everyone had heard the news about Dirk’s wife, and everyone was shocked. The story had been plastered across the internet, and though many of the details were luridly wrong, the basic fact was true—Sabrina was dead. Many of the people on the set had known Sabrina, if only casually, but they all knew Dirk. Liked him. Respected him. Some even loved him—he was that kind of man. So no one was in the mood to film the last scenes on a movie that bore Dirk’s stamp until Juliana made a speech.

  “I know we’re all in shock right now,” she said when everyone was assembled. “And I for one don’t want to be here. But until this movie wraps I’m stuck here. We’re all stuck here. I think we owe it to Dirk to be professionals, the same as he is. Let’s finish this movie for him. So we can all go back and give him our moral support as soon as possible.”

  She looked around the room, taking in the tearstains on some faces, including Maddie’s face as well as that of Neil Grantham, the actor who was playing Dirk’s grown son Raoul in the movie. Dirk had taken the young man under his wing, patiently coaching him the same way he’d done with Juliana on Jetsam. Working with him one-on-one to get the best performance out of him, but not just for the movie. Because he wanted to help others be the best they could be, just as he always tried to do his best, too. One of the scenes today was between Eleonora and Raoul, an intensely emotional moment between mother and son. If they could get through that scene, they could get through the rest. “Can we do that for Dirk?” she asked the group, but her eyes never left Neil’s face.

  She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat when Neil’s expression changed, resolution replacing the shock and sadness. “I can do it,” Neil said, his eyes steely, looking more like the Raoul of the history books than he ever had before. Then everyone else chimed in—the cast, the crew, even the director, a longtime friend of Dirk’s.

  * * *

  Juliana had already changed costumes and had her makeup refreshed in a break between scenes when she looked up and saw Andre—ever-present bodyguard at his side—standing a short distance away, watching her. She walked over to him, taking in the slight strain in his expression. Maybe most people wouldn’t have seen it, but she did because she loved him.

  “I was sorry to hear about your friend,” Andre said softly before Juliana could say anything to him. “You and she were very close, yes?”

  She nodded mutely, then said in a voice as soft as his, “She was like the older sister I never had, and in some ways like the mother I hardly remember. I could tell her things I could never tell anyone else.” She blinked rapidly to hold back the tears that would ruin her makeup. “That’s why it hurt so much when you accused me...” She didn’t have to finish. She knew Andre understood what she was referring to.

  “I am sorry, little one. I did not understand. Not then.”

  Juliana glanced at Andre’s bodyguard, wanting to say more but unable to speak what was in her heart in front of him. She knew all Andre’s bodyguards had to be discreet—he wouldn’t tolerate one who wasn’t. But she still couldn’t talk freely in front of them. Andre understood that, too.

  “Damon,” he said, not turning his face away from Juliana’s. “Please give us privacy.”

  “Yes, Sire,” the bodyguard replied promptly, moving far enough away so they wouldn’
t be overheard, but close enough to still guard Andre...should it be necessary. And his gaze continually swept the room.

  “You are returning to Los Angeles for the funeral,” Andre said before she could. “My private plane could take you...and anyone else who wishes to go.”

  Touched by his offer, Juliana thanked him but shook her head and said, “The funeral won’t be for at least a week. Marty—Dirk’s agent and mine—is arranging everything, so I don’t have to rush back. But I do have to go.” She didn’t want to leave Andre, not now, but she had to attend the funeral. Not only for Dirk, but for Sabrina, too. And for herself. To grieve...and to accept her friend was never coming back.

  “And then...?”

  She took a deep breath. “I want to return to Zakhar,” she said on a rush. “If...if you want me to.”

  He went very still, almost as if he were afraid to breathe. “Come to me, Juliana,” he whispered. “I have been waiting forever. If you come to me I will know—”

  “Juliana?” Maddie’s voice interrupted them. “They’re waiting for you on the set.”

  Juliana turned. She wanted to tell Maddie to tell the director he’d just have to wait. But that would be unprofessional, would fly in the face of everything Dirk had taught her. “I’ll be right there,” she told Maddie. She waited for her assistant to leave before saying, “I have to go. They’re waiting.” Regret colored her words, and she prayed he would understand.

  His faint smile told her he did. “Go,” he said, touching her cheek with one finger, but careful not to mar her makeup. “Duty comes first. Did you think I would not understand?” He laughed softly. “You wrong me, little one. Duty I have understood from the beginning. Just...come to me when you can. That is all I ask.”