The Queen's New Year Secret. Maisey Yates

so convinced that I don’t know you, and yet, you think you know me, agape? How fair is that?”

      She didn’t think she knew him. But she wasn’t about to admit that now. “You’re a man, Kairos. Moreover, you’re a distinctly predictable one.”

      “If I cared about your opinion at all I would be tempted to feel wounded. Alas, I don’t.”

      He turned onto the private airfield used by the royal family and her heart sank. Her suspicions were very much confirmed. “What is it you think you’re doing?”

      “Oh, I don’t think I’m doing anything. This is the situation, my darling bride, either you come with me now or we do this here in Petras.”

      “Do what, exactly?”

      “Come to an agreement on exactly what we will do now that we are to be parents. And by come to an agreement, I mean what I will decide. Do not forget that I am the king. Whatever laws might govern the rest of the people do not apply to me.”

      Rage filled her, flooded her. “Since when? You’ve never been the most flexible of men, but you’ve never been a dictator.”

      “I’ve never been a father before either. Neither have I ever been in the position of having my wife threaten to leave me.”

      “I didn’t threaten to leave you, Kairos. I left you. There is a difference.”

      “Regardless. Come with me, and we will have a discussion. If you refuse, then I will ensure that I get full custody of our child, and you will never see him. I give you my word on that. And unlike you, when I make a vow, I keep it.”

       CHAPTER FOUR

      KAIROS LOOKED AT his wife, who was seated across the cabin from him on his private plane. He had a feeling she was plotting his death. Fortunately, Tabitha was quite petite or he might harbor some concern over her having access to any cutlery. At this point, he doubted she would hesitate to attempt to take him out with her fork. In many ways, he couldn’t blame her. But he had to guard his own self-interest, and guard it he would.

      There was no room to be soft in this.

      She was having his baby. An heir. Finally.

      At any other time this would have been a cause for celebration. The completion of his duty in many ways. A fulfillment of deathbed promises made to a father he’d never quite pleased during his life.

      The moment he’d found out, the only thought he had was how he could capture her. Keep her with him. He had no idea what he was going to do beyond that. But he had managed to get her on the plane, even though it had taken threats. Now, they were en route to his private island off the coast of Greece. The villa there had always been used by the royal family of Petras for vacations. Kairos had never taken Tabitha there. He had not been on a vacation since he had taken her as his wife.

      Of course, this was no vacation. Some might call it a kidnapping. But he was king. So he imagined he could classify it as some kind of political detention. She was, after all, carrying the heir to the throne of Petras. If she were to leave, it would be kidnapping on her end.

      At least, that’s how he was justifying things. And he was king. The amount of people he had to justify his actions to was limited to one. Himself.

      She didn’t look angry. She looked as smooth and unruffled as ever. Her hands were folded in her lap, her legs crossed at the ankles, her lovely neck craned as she looked out the window. She managed to appear both neutral and haughty, a feat he had only ever seen managed by Tabitha.

      Years of routine. A marriage so mundane he could go days without looking at her. Even if they were in the same room. He would look in her direction, but, he realized, never truly look at her. It was easy sometimes to go a full week without words passing directly between them. Communication with a phone or servant as the go-between.

      And in the space of the past four weeks everything had changed. She had asked for a divorce. Then he’d torn her clothes off and taken her like a rutting animal. Now there was a baby.

      The past four weeks contained more than the past half decade they’d spent as husband and wife. He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around it. Around who he had become in her arms in those moments in his office. He was angry. Enraged that she would walk away from him after all he had done for her. Enraged that half-formed fantasies he had barely let himself dream would never come to be.

      He had imagined they would be married all of their lives. He had never imagined she would end it.

      “Are you quite comfortable?” he asked, because he could think of nothing else to say and he had grown quite uncomfortable with his role as uncivilized beast and the little play they were currently acting out.

      He was the responsible one. He’d never acted out, not once in his life. His father had impressed the weight of the crown upon him at an early age, and Kairos had always taken it seriously. He had seen the consequences of what happened when one did not. Had had it ingrained in him.

      Control was everything. Duty. Honor. Sacrifice.

      He was surprised how easily he had cast it off the moment his wife had handed him divorce papers.

      And so, he was attempting to reclaim it.

      As you kidnap her. Brilliant.

      “Yes,” she said, her tone brittle. “Very. But then, I don’t have to tell you your private plane is luxurious. You already know.”

      “Indeed.”

      “How long had I been working for you the first time we flew on this plane?”

      “A couple of months, surely,” he said, as though he didn’t remember it clearly. He did. There was something so charming and guileless about her reaction to the private aircraft. It had stood in stark contrast to the response of his fiancée at the time, Francesca.

      He had noticed it then, as he compared the two women unfavorably. Francesca was, of course, eminently suitable to be a royal bride. That was why he had selected her. Love had never come into play. She had been raised in an aristocratic family, trained to be the wife of a political leader from an early age.

      Of course, it had all blown up in his face when she had slept with his brother. That might not have bothered him so much, had she not done it quite so publicly. Not that she had intended for it to go public. Ruining her chances of becoming the queen of Petras had not been the plan. That much he knew. Still, a video had surfaced of the two of them together, and that did it for their wedding.

      He needed to find a wife to fill in for the royal wedding that was already planned, and quickly. And so, he had selected Tabitha to be his bride. A logical decision. An acceptable flesh-and-blood woman.

      Perhaps all women were destined to go crazy at some point in their lives. His mother certainly had. Walking out on her husband and children in the dead of night, never resurfacing again. Francesca most certainly had when she’d compromised her position as queen simply so she could experience some pleasure with Andres. Obviously, Tabitha was the newest victim of the craze.

      Or maybe it’s you.

      He gritted his teeth.

      “I was impressed with it then,” she said. “I remain impressed. I am less impressed with the fact that you hijacked my person.”

      “It was a hard-line negotiation, not a hijacking. Surely you see the difference.”

      “The end result is the same to me, so why should I care about semantics?”

      “You were quite impressed with the plane,” he said, his voice hard, “as I recall.”

      “Don’t tell me you remember.”

      “Of course I remember. You were very young. Wide-eyed about everything you encountered here in Petras. Especially