Guarding His Royal Bride. C.J. Miller

Iliana’s position on the queen’s staff, it divided her loyalty.

      Yet she yearned for Demetrius DeSante. No other man ignited her blood as much as he did. Queen Serena had said she was fine with Iliana seeing DeSante. Granted, that was before the dictator had decided war was the only way and had shown he was willing to go to the mat over any infraction against Icarus.

      Iliana didn’t want to be in a relationship with someone who didn’t think her opinion mattered. Could she give him another chance? Was that what was already happening?

      Maybe her emotions had shifted away from anger when their hands had touched. Iliana wanted to touch him, but he rarely reached for her. Demetrius could light her up with a look, and that was power. They hadn’t slept together, not even close, and yet she was hungry for him.

      She felt a sudden burning need to explore the part of their relationship that was a mystery to her. “I’ll need to inform Serena we’re traveling to Icarus.”

      Demetrius didn’t smile, but his eyes gave him away. “Come, then. No time to waste. As we drag, someone could be arranging to send another team of assassins. Perhaps the second squad will not be as incompetent as the first.”

      * * *

      Iliana hadn’t traveled to Icarus before, and its capital city of Daedalus, where the president’s home was located, wasn’t what she had expected. She had seen pictures of Icarus, but witnessing it in person told a different story.

      The pictures in the media of Icarus were of filthy slums, dirty children running wild on the streets and a general sense of desolation and despair. Icarus, or at least Daedalus, was nothing like that.

      The streets were hectic, but they were lined with businesses that seemed clean, bright and industrious. Sidewalk easels announced the sale of food, clothes, trinkets and even skateboards.

      “You seem surprised,” Demetrius said. He was seated across from her in the back of the extended town car. He had his tablet on his lap, but his intense dark blue eyes were locked on her.

      She wouldn’t lie. “This isn’t what I expected.”

      “I’ve been inviting you to visit for months. It took someone trying to kill you for you to take me up on my offer.”

      He was blunt, but he didn’t sound upset. “I have my reservations about being involved with a war-hungry leader.”

      He smirked. “I am not war hungry. If I wanted a war, I wouldn’t have backed down from the fight with Rizari.”

      “You backed down because the new king of Rizari is your best friend.”

      “I have no friends when it comes to protecting the interests of my country. Casimir is a man I respect. We are close like brothers.”

      She flinched. “If you don’t have friends, what am I to you?” A question she had pondered often.

      “A woman I am interested in pursuing. A woman who I would like to marry.”

      “Marry?” The word sent shock waves through her. A man hadn’t brought up marriage before, at least, not a marriage with her. She had once discovered a man she was dating was married and had ended the relationship, but that was her and marriage in a totally different context.

      Iliana didn’t dwell on past mistakes. It was typical of the men she met to want to sleep with her and have fun with her. Maybe it was a vibe she was giving off.

      To have a powerful and desirable man like Demetrius speak those words to her made her ego purr.

      “I assume you wish to be married?” he asked, leaning close, his piercing navy eyes seeing into her soul.

      She calmed her racing heart. Demetrius was intense and direct, and she couldn’t overreact. He’d see fits of hysteria or giggling as unattractive, and, inexplicably, it was important to her to be seen as desirable by him. “Yes. One day. To the right man.”

      “Tell me—who exactly is the right man? What makes him worth waiting for?”

      “Do you have to ask so many complex questions?” She was deflecting, but she didn’t want to talk about her future husband and the man she hoped he would be. Demetrius would see that he was wrong for her, and the relationship would be over before it began. She definitely had the sense something was starting now. A fling or a one-night stand maybe, and a hot, passionate and fun one at that.

      “You are avoiding answering my question,” he said.

      “Because the man I want to marry is not a checklist I’m looking to fulfill. It’s a feeling. I want to be swept away.”

      She was grateful he had the decency not to laugh at her. Iliana had a fanciful side that had landed her in trouble with men before. She’d been inspired by her parents’ relationship. They had met on a blind date, had a whirlwind romance and had been inseparable until the day they’d died. Older and wiser now, Iliana knew not to project what she wanted onto a man. She had to have her eyes open to who he was and accept him, flaws and all. Who was the man in front of her? A violent dictator—ruthless, blunt and drop-dead sexy.

      Demetrius’s home was another surprise. It was a large, rambling three-story house, not as ornate as she had expected. It looked well maintained but in need of softening. He had no flowers in the garden, no curtains in the windows, nothing to add contrast to the gray stone exterior.

      The sedan circled to the back of the house. To her right was what might have been a beautiful, lush garden many years earlier. Some plants were overgrown; other patches of the garden were bare. A large stone wall surrounding the space was beginning to crumble. Didn’t that bother Demetrius? He was detail oriented and precise. Wasn’t he concerned about the state of his home? As president of Icarus, his residence should reflect his power and wealth.

      They parked behind the house, and Demetrius opened the car door and climbed out. He took her hand and helped her out of the black sedan. Heat surged between them. Now that they were out of the public eye, could she step closer, rub against him, make it clear she was interested in moving their relationship forward, at least the physical aspects of it?

      She lost her nerve. He placed her hand on his arm and led her into the house.

      Much like the exterior, the inside was plain. Little furniture, white walls, clean, but it didn’t look occupied. “You live here?” she asked.

      “Yes.”

      This was his primary home? “It looks bare.” No knickknacks, no artwork and nothing on the table or sofa.

      “I haven’t had time to decorate. I’d like my wife to do that.”

      It wasn’t the first time he had commented about tasks he wanted a wife to perform. She was certain he didn’t mean to offend her, although it struck her as presumptive to assume a woman would have time or interest in remodeling a home. “What if your wife doesn’t want to decorate your house?”

      He shrugged. “Then, she can hire someone to do it the way she likes. Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t view my wife as my servant or believe that her role is to please me. My intention in allowing her to decorate is for her to find our home comfortable and pleasing.”

      It was all she could do to keep from swooning. Though she and Demetrius had trouble communicating, sometimes his words blew her away. Her parents had put her first in their lives, but since they had died, no one made her the top priority. No one went out of his or her way to please her.

      “Show me your favorite room in the house,” Iliana said.

      Demetrius’s lips twitched. She half expected him to deny her request. “Follow me.”

      She followed Demetrius up two flights of stairs to the top floor. At the end of the hallway, he opened the double doors. This had to be his bedroom. His favorite room was his personal sanctuary, and she was inside it. A surge of happiness swept over her and she was genuinely pleased he had brought her here.

      Unlike the