The Holiday Escapes Collection. Sandra Marton

his legal wife and that he’d be calling Interpol immediately.

      Instead, there was silence.

      “It’s complicated,” he said weakly.

      The word was a stab to her heart. “Complicated?”

      “I pawned my grandmother’s tiara a few years ago, but the glass version looks almost the same,” he said defensively. “I intended to buy it back, but never got around to it. Your engagement ring is real though!”

      Why was he talking about jewelry? Who cared about that? She choked out, “But the other things—”

      “Well, technically I suppose you could say that I was already married, but my so-called wife has been comatose for a year. She’s a vegetable. I never loved her, Rose, but I needed money, don’t you understand? I have an image to uphold. And I swear to you,” he said urgently, “Laetitia is nothing to me.”

      “You’re married,” Rose whispered numbly, feeling like she was in a nightmare. She felt Xerxes move behind her, felt the warmth emanating off his strong body. “Our wedding today was really fake.”

      “I had no choice. You wouldn’t let me touch you!” Lars said. “I hired an actor to lead the vows. It was easy. None of my friends knew about Laetitia. The day after we eloped, my stupid, brainless wife drove her car into a telephone pole.”

      Rose sucked in her breath.

      As if sensing he’d gone too far, Lars changed his tone. “You’re the one I love, petal, my perfect bride. You are the one I truly want as my wife. I always intended to renew our vows, legally, as soon as Laetitia died. The doctors say she’s fading fast,” he added eagerly. “She could die any day.”

      “You…” Her throat closed. It took her a minute to force out the words. “You want her to die?”

      “Of course I do!” he said. “I need you, my beautiful Rose. Please, petal, you have to believe…”

      But Rose heard no more. The phone fell from her numb hands, clattering to the marble floor.

      She stared dimly at the sparkling diamond ring on her hand. She’d pledged her faith to a man who was not free. And worse than that, a man devious enough to twist Rose’s innocent words into the justification for his deception. A man heartless enough to want his comatose wife to die.

      Rose had believed in him. She’d thought she’d truly married him. And in a few hours more, she would have given him her virginity.

      How could she have been such a fool?

       The entire fairy tale had been a lie.

      Her knees collapsed. Peeling the diamond ring off her finger, she threw it across the room, where it ricocheted off the bookcase. Covering her face with her hands as she wept, she sank to the white marble floor.

      Xerxes picked up the ring from the floor, along with the dropped phone. He put the phone to his ear.

      “So,” he said coolly. “Shall we trade?”

      She dimly heard Lars’s furious shouting in response.

      “This is my last offer,” Xerxes said carelessly. “I will allow you to keep your castle, even to keep the car you bought with her money. But you will give her up, along with the rest of her fortune. You will complete the divorce within the week. Or you will regret it.”

      More shouting.

      Xerxes’s gaze was dark as he looked down at Rose. “We both know you will agree. And Växborg? Do it as soon as you can. Your mistress is a beautiful woman.” His lips curved into a cruel, sensual smile. “Any man would commit crimes to possess her.”

       Chapter Six

      AFTER he ended the call, the library was silent. Rose heard only low, soft snuffles that she realized were her own sobs.

      Her captor stood over her, and she felt his silent, considering gaze upon her. She tried to stifle her weeping but could not.

      All she could think about was that Xerxes had been right. Lars had betrayed her. Tricked her. He’d used her own idealistic nature, her belief in loyalty and love, against her.

      He’d never loved Rose at all. He’d only wanted her body. He was already married, and he’d been waiting…waiting for…

      “He’s waiting for his wife to die,” she whispered aloud.

      She felt Xerxes touch her arm. “I know.”

      She looked up. His dark eyes were surprisingly gentle.

      “Come,” he said in a low voice. “You’ve had a rough day. I’ll take you to bed.”

      She was unable to resist as he took her hand in his larger one, lifting her to her feet. She trembled at his touch, barely feeling strong enough to hold the bodice of her wedding gown closed with her other hand. She pressed her fingers against her heart. She felt faint, her knees weak as she tried to walk. Stopped.

      She looked up at him in the dark, shadowy hallway. She saw the roughness in his expression. He was everything Lars was not: brutal, ruthless, vengeful. Truthful.

      Abruptly, Xerxes lifted her into his strong arms, holding her against his chest. She felt the rush of electricity, the overwhelming awareness sizzling through her just as it had when he’d first touched her, when he’d kissed her on the plane.

      He didn’t know that it had been her first kiss. And that her whole body trembled now with all the desire and yearning of twenty-nine years of loneliness.

      He carried her down the shadowed hallway and up a sweeping flight of stairs. The rhythm of his footsteps was heavy against the marble floor, mingling like percussion against the music of the roaring surf outside.

      She glanced up at his face. His expression was brutal, even cruel. And yet he held her so gently. She’d thought him some kind of malevolent demon, but perhaps he wasn’t. Perhaps he was a dark angel, who’d unexpectedly come to save her.

      At the end of the hall, he used his shoulder to push open a door with a low creak. Supporting Rose’s body with one arm as if she weighed nothing at all—which she probably did, compared to him—he switched on a small lamp with his free hand.

      She dimly saw a large, Spartan bedroom, utterly masculine, devoid of color. The walls were white. The bed was black. The wide windows had a balcony overlooking the moonlit sea.

      He set her down on the bed. Looking down at her, his eyes were dark as night. Dark—and full of hunger.

      He was going to kiss her again. She knew it. He was going to kiss her, despite his promise. Promises meant nothing to men. They’d meant nothing to Lars. Now Xerxes would ruthlessly possess her. He would take everything she had once hoped to give her husband in innocence and faith.

      Rose no longer had the strength to fight.

      He pushed her back against the enormous bed. Slowly, he pulled the fabric of the bodice from her clenched fingers, leaving her silken bra and the bare skin of her belly in clear view. She felt the magnetic force of his body over her own, his powerful strength and size as he stared down at her, pinning her with his dark gaze.

      She stared at him numbly. She had to fight. Why couldn’t she fight? She breathed, “I…I hate you.”

      His sensual mouth curved as he looked down at her. “I don’t need you to love me. I just need you to obey.”

      Rose closed her eyes, waiting for him to rip the wedding dress down her legs and throw his body over hers. Waiting for him to ravish her without hesitation, to ruthlessly and brutally seduce her naked body.

      She almost didn’t care. She’d lost herself completely. Just a few hours ago, she’d been idealistic,