Billionaire's Runaway Princess (7 page)

Marisol
was impressed by the clothes Cheryl brought. The underwear was lacy and fit her perfectly. There were a couple pairs of slack and shirts, as well as skirts. There was a selection of T-shirts and button downs. Marisol felt very blessed that Cheryl went through so much trouble for her.

For tonight, Marisol picked a pair of black jeans and a white button-down shirt. Her hair was growing in from the close crop that she kept because of the wigs she usually wore, so she picked at it with her fingers, twisting it into small dreads to give a different look to it. Looking in the mirror, with no wig and no make-up, Marisol understood why the police officer at the hotel didn’t recognize her. She didn’t look like her state pictures at all.

Cheryl had set the table, including a bottle of wine, when Marisol came out of her bedroom. The buzzer at the service entrance rang, and she took the bag and wrote out the tip. This time she put ten dollars as the tip which, judging by the disinterested look on his face, was probably more in line with what he usually got.

Marisol wasn’t sure if she should put out the food in bowls, but then heard the front elevator open as she hurried to bring bowls to the table.

“Hi,” she said when he came to the table.

“What’s all this?”

“I have it on good authority that you like Thai.”

“Oh that wicked woman,” said Ryan, but he smiled an earthshattering grin when he looked at Marisol. “Very nice,” he said. “Let me get out of these work clothes. Turn on the television, will you? I’d like to watch the closing stock reports. And while you’re at it, bring the food to the coffee table. I know my mom has a thing for eating at the table, but at night, I like to relax a bit before I work again.”

Ryan returned wearing a pair of sweats and a black tee that hugged every muscle in his arms and chest. He was gorgeous, and her knees weakened at the sight of him. She had never felt this way about a man, and she turned her eyes away, afraid she would betray her emotions.

“Come,” he said, patting the couch beside him. “Sit with me.”

Marisol settled in next to him as he filled a plate and handed it to her.

“You have to try the Panang curry. Very spicy, but very good.”

He made his own plate, and when the stock news came on, he watched it intently. When it was finished he huffed.

“Well, that didn’t turn out so well,” he said.

“What?”

“I’ve been watching the news on a company I wanted to invest in, but it appears they don’t have the goods to make a purchase worthwhile.”

“What company is that?”

“Dalaysia Mining. The government of Kreigov optioned all the stores of Dalaysia’s indium oxide in a new trade agreement.”

“You’ll have to tell me. Why is indium oxide so important?”

“It’s important to my company because it’s an ingredient key in making touchscreens, which is one thing KelTech, my company, makes. It’s rare and expensive, and Dalaysia’s supplies have been nearly tapped out, but my people have been working on ways to mine and extract the ore in places that were deemed too expensive to mine in the past. I was going to buy the shares of Dalaysia Mining to assure a supply of it for my company.”

“You’re talking about a hostile takeover?”

“Not so much hostile. I wouldn’t want day-to-day control of the mines, because I know nothing about it, but with new sources of the ore, such a sale would have improved my stock and Dalaysia Mining’s. As it is now, Kriegov will drain the mines dry and all Dalaysia Mining will get out of it is cash—which I suppose motivates some people, but that country’s problems run deep, and the trade agreement isn’t enough to pull Dalaysia out of its troubles. At most, it forestalls an economic collapse for five years.”

Marisol chewed her inner lip while listening to Ryan’s assessment of her father’s negotiation. If Ryan was right, her father had made an agreement out of desperation to keep ahead of imminent ruin.

And she part of that deal. Anger flared at the Vattakovs for taking advantage of her country’s precarious economic condition.

“You seem to know a lot about a tiny country,” said Marisol.

“I like geography and became fascinated with the little countries in Europe,” he said. His ears were tipped red again.

“Geography,” said Marisol, not quite believing his story.

“My teenage obsession helped me understand different parts of the world,” he said. “Because of that, I’ve been able to position my company to be in the top five of the world’s producers of touchscreens.” Ryan turned his blue eyes on her. “But what about you? Did you have any teenage obsessions?”

Marisol shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t have time for any. I was busy with school and uh, the family business.”

“The family business,” he said with a smile. “And what would that be?”

She looked into Ryan’s warm eyes as he searched hers. He wanted to find out more about her, that much she was sure of. There was something there in his blue orbs that seemed like longing. Marisol licked her lips, gazing at this incredibly sexy man. Heat rushed through her as she became incredibly aware of how close he was to her. She searched his face and saw his kindness and generosity and her heart melted. Without taking time to think she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

The first contact of hers against his sent heat through her body and she moved closer pressing her body against his. The taste of him overwhelmed her and her heart thudded against her chest. Ryan responded tasting her lips with hungry nips. His tongue pressed forward and she opened her mouth needing everything her. She had never felt such delicious pleasure at kissing another and couldn’t help but feel a burning need to get even closer to him.

His tongue slid against hers claiming her mouth and her only thought was that she needed more from him.

Ryan cupped her breast in his head running his thumb over her nipple which became hard and sending waves of heat through her. She felt as lit up as Christmas tree and burning ten times as hot.

Suddenly Ryan pulled away. He was breathing hard as one hand held the back of her neck.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he said.

Marisol sat back feeling stung by his rejection. Tears gathered in her eyes but she stood up quickly.

“Of course,” she said turning her head away.

“Marisol,” said Ryan. “It’s not that you aren’t beautiful, because you are.”

“Please, Mr. Kelley,” said Marisol coldly. “Save me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech. I’ll just go to my room now.”

“Marisol, please,” he said.

She stalked away angry, but not as much at Ryan as herself. What was she thinking? The last thing she needed to do was drag him into the mess of her life. He’d done enough for her already.

Marisol felt a strong hand on her arm. She stopped in her tracks, strung tighter than a violin string. Part of her wanted to shake his arm off, but another wanted to throw herself into his arms. Instead, she drew herself up straighter and looking over her shoulder, gave him the most royal look of disdain she could muster.

“Please remove your hand,” she said. Her voice was ice. Ryan’s hand slipped slowly from her arm.

“Good night, Marisol,” he said sadly.

***

Marisol
tossed and turned all night. She couldn’t get their kiss out of her mind, and just the thought of it gave her shivers. She had little crushes as she grew up, but nothing compared to the longing she felt for Ryan Kelley. It was as something had awakened in her and taken root. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it played on her mind the whole night. His sexy kisses made her burn with the fires of lust. And that was wrong.

Lust was a sin. It had to be. And a further complication was that technically, Marisol was engaged. Looking at another man lustfully wasn’t forbidden just by the Church but also by her position as Princess of Dalayasia. She was supposed to be a moral example for her people.

Some example she was.  But God couldn’t mean for her to marry the lustful and drunken Tristan, could he? Those two qualities alone would make Tristan ineligible for marriage within the church.

Marisol was confused.

She trembled in her bed, wanting to be close to Ryan even though she knew it was wrong, and he’d made it quite clear he didn’t want the same thing. The memory of their shared kiss inflamed a desire in Marisol that banished all rational thought.  There wasn’t anything more she wanted to do than to hold, kiss, and touch his body.

Could something that felt so good be so wrong?  They had been together for nothing more than a few snatches of minutes together in the past couple days. She recognized that they barely knew each other. Yet there nothing about him that she disliked, and everything she adored. He was kind and generous. Ryan cared for the people in his life, his sister, his mother, and the people at the shelter.

Ryan wasn’t just a handsome man. He was a wonderful man, the kind that women dreamed about.

And she didn’t have a single clue as to what to do about it.

Marisol finally pushed herself out of bed to face the duties of the day. Breakfast for Ryan was the first thing on the list.

But she didn’t spot him in the apartment. Marisol knocked on the door of the office and didn’t find him there. Plucking up her courage she knocked on his bedroom door, but there was still no answer. Nervously she open the door and found it empty. No sounds of running water came from the bathroom.

Ryan had left without a word to her.

Marisol huffed feeling disappointed. Then the back door buzzer rang and Marisol went to answer the door. When she opened it, she was greeted by a huge bouquet of red roses in a vase.

“Excuse me,” said Marisol. “Who are these for?”

“The card says Marisol,” said the deliveryman behind the roses. “Is she here?”

“I’ll take them.”

Marisol took the flowers into her room and opened the small card.

Marisol,

Sorry, I was so forward last night. Let me make it up to you by taking you to dinner.

R .

“Forward?” It was her that had practically attacked him. He was the one who’d pulled back. At least he didn’t think badly of her, and she was going to have dinner with him.

Her only problem now was what was she going to wear?

Looking
over the sizes on the clothes that Mrs. Kelley bought her gave Marisol a clue as to what size to buy. The problem Marisol had was that she didn’t know how formal or casual the dinner would be.

She looked through the contact information in the computer and found Ryan’s work email. Opening the email file, she typed him a letter:

Ryan,

Thank you for the beautiful roses. I hadn’t ever received such a lovely bouquet. I would happily go out to dinner with you anyplace you wish. What are we wearing? Casual? Formal? Something in between? It doesn’t make a difference to me, because I look forward to spending time with you anywhere you request.

Sincerely,

Marisol

She studied the message and thought she’d struck the right tone. Marisol wanted Ryan to know that she wasn’t angry with him. If she thought it was proper, she would have said more, maybe add some Xs and Os, but that would be too much.

Before long a message popped up on the screen.

Dear Marisol,

I want to do this right, but don’t worry about what you’re wearing. Suitable attire is being sent over by messenger. See you at seven.

R.

At seven Marisol was ready. The beautiful a-line Kelly-green dress was obviously expensive. Lace rimmed the pleated skirt, and around the neckline and down the sides of the dress. A pair of gold sandals accompanied the gift. The combination was understated and elegant. Marisol liked the look.

When Ryan opened the front door his eyes went wide, and he seemed to like the look too. “I like when a woman is ready on time,” he said.

“I like it when a man shows up on time.”

“Then let’s go,” he said holding out his arm. “The car is downstairs.”

Marisol’s heart fluttered against her chest as Ryan sat next to her. He was especially handsome in charcoal wool suit, crisp white shirt and burgundy tie. It took all her will power not to stare at him.

“Where are we going?” Marisol could barely contain herself. Dinners out were a rarity for her as a princess. Media stalked her and her father relentlessly, and her father was a private man. Now, however, since the police didn’t even recognize her though they were searching for her, she felt comfortable going out with Ryan.

“A little place I know. I haven’t been in a while.”

The car pulled up to an Italian restaurant. When they entered a large man with dark hair and eyes raised his arms.

“Mr. Ryan, so good to see you.”

“Hello, Al. This is Marisol.”

Al squinted as if trying to remember something.

“Hello, Miss Marisol. Please. I have the best seat in the house for you.”

“Al,” said Ryan smiling, “According to you, all your seats are the best in the house.”

“Sit, sit. I’ll bring wine and appetizers. Baked Eggplant stuffed with shrimp. I know you like that.”

“Yes, Al, that’ll be fine.”

“And for salad, Insalada Caprino—delicate baby greens with goat cheese and raspberry vinaigrette.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“And what would you like for the entree?”

“You know I only come here for the lasagna, Al.”

“Yes, but the lady might like something different? Ah. No matter. I bring lasagna for both of you, and something different. You must broaden your palette, Mr. Ryan.”

Al rushed off as if serving Ryan was the greatest mission in his life.

“Wow,” said Marisol. “Al really likes you.”

“We’re old friends,” said Ryan.

Al was back quickly with a red wine, and another waiter brought their salads and a basket of sliced Italian bread.

Ryan was relaxed and casual, and he chatted about his days at college, where he’d worked two jobs and went to school full-time.

“That’s where I met Al,” he said. “One of my jobs was pizza delivery. Al was working a second job at the pizza joint making pies.”

Marisol couldn’t help but notice how houselights played off his blond hair, or the day’s end stubble that graced his chin. Every so often, Ryan would touch her hand, which sent tingles through her.

“So tell me about you school days,” he said.

“It was all very boring,” said Marisol.

Ryan’s face got very serious. “I’d like to hear about your life, Marisol. You know I’d listen to anything you’d have to say.”

What was she going to tell him? That she was a princess that ran away from her family and her obligations to her country? That she found her fiancé so abhorrent that she took off without a thought of how she was going to take care of herself? That multiple law enforcement agencies were looking for her even now?

“You know,” he said gently, “If you’re in some kind of trouble, I would help you.”

She opened her mouth to speak when a middle-aged woman approached the table.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Aren’t you Princess Marisol of Dalaysia?”

Marisol looked into the woman’s face, panicking. Her mouth went dry as she formed her next words. “Sorry. I get that all the time, but no, I’m not her. I share her dress-size and her first name, but those are coincidences.”

“I could have sworn—” 

“Sorry. No.”

“You know they’ve listed her disappearance as a kidnapping?”

“No,” said Marisol as she fidgeted with her hands under the table. “I didn’t know, but if I were her and kidnapped, I’d hardly be sitting in the middle of a New York restaurant having dinner, would I?”

“I suppose not,” muttered the woman. She moved off, but kept looking back at her as Marisol panicked. She felt the need to get out of the restaurant.

“Ryan,” she said. “All this rich food is too much for me. I need some fresh air.”

“Of course.” He placed a generous amount of bills on the table. “Let’s get out of here.”

He put his hand around her waist as they left the restaurant. In the car, he told Jerry to take a spin around Central Park.

“That was strange,” said Ryan.

“What was?”

“That lady in the restaurant. Why would she think you’re Princess Marisol?”

Ryan looked at her so earnestly that she couldn’t lie to him, but if she told him, what would he do? He’d said he would help her, but that was as Marisol the housekeeper, not Marisol the Princess of a small and insignificant county half a world away.

“Please, Marisol,” he whispered. “Let me help you.”

Marisol snuggled under his arm, trying to find a place of shelter, but there was none. If one woman recognized her, many more people would do so too. Soon there would be no alternative. She’d have to go back to her father, and go back to her old life. “If it were only that easy, Ryan, but it’s not,” she said sadly.

Ryan ran his thumb across her bottom lip, and she looked up at him. His eyes were half-lidded as he trailed his hand down her neck.  He lifted her head up with two fingers and bent over pressing his lips to hers. Marisol felt a rush of pleasure as he kissed her and she open her mouth to him. Their tongues touched and quickly Marisol was drawn into her passion for Ryan.

She couldn’t have him for the rest of her life, but she could have him now, for one night. This would be the night that she treasured for the rest of her life. When things got dark and ugly, when her royal husband treated her like a broodmare, and her children scorned her for being weak, she could look back on the time when she’d held the man she desired above all others in her arms and gave all of herself to him.

“Let’s go home,” she said.

***

They
ran to the elevator at Ryan’s apartment building, and Marisol grabbed Ryan around the neck and pulled him to her for another scorching kiss. He cupped the round globes of her ass and pulled her to him. Hip to hip, Marisol felt the hard evidence of his desire pressed against her. His eyes were slightly glazed now and he licked and sucked on her neck, and down to her breasts, rolling a nipple between his index finger and thumb. She gasped from the electric shocks it sent through her body.

The elevator door opened, and they hung onto to each other, kissing and nipping as they made their way to Ryan’s bedroom. Marisol pulled at his suit jacket, and he took it off. He pulled the zipper of her dress and pushed the dress off her shoulders and down to the floor. With a growl he yanked her lacy bra off, letting her generous breasts free. He pushed her against the wall just inches from his bedroom and sucked in her nipple sharply.

Marisol whimpered as he continued to suckle. Every moment of his mouth on this sensitive bud sent heat through her. He fell to his knees and kissed her mound through her lace panties. With one hard yank the delicate fabric ripped and she was totally naked before him. He lashed her with his tongue making noises of enjoyment, and then it moved lower to her folds were he laved the soft petals of her entrance with loving strokes.

He raised her leg over his shoulder and sought her most intimate places with his silken mouth. Sparks flew up her spine, and a gathering pleasurable pressure built in her core. With a rush of white flame, she broke apart, bucking her hips into his face while calling his name.

He held her there as her breathing calmed, then stood and kissed her with a unstoppable passion. She tasted herself on his lips and that with his scent all around her made her lightheaded with wanting more from him.

“Let’s go to your room,” she said.

He nodded and opened the door, and then pulled her in and swept her into his arms. In a few steps he laid her on his bed. She looked up at him as he pulled apart the tie and took off his slacks. His shaft tented his silk boxers and Marisol had a sudden urge to see it.

With one swift motion she sat and reached for the boxes and yanked them down. Ryan’s shaft pointed directly at her, like a compass pointing north. It was long and wide and she though she’d never seen a man naked before, thought it incredibly beautiful. She reached forward and licked the tip and Ryan moaned.

“God lord,” he said. “You have to stop that. It feels too good.”

But having a taste of him, she wanted more and kissed his length up and down, adding licks of her tongue. His manly scent filled her nose and she knew more than anything that she wanted him inside her.

He pushed her away gently.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “This is great, but I want more than this.”

She nodded. “I do too,” she admitted breathlessly.

Ryan leaned forward and she leaned backward. They held each other in a passionate embrace. She loved the feel of his skin on hers.

“Wait,” he said. Ryan broke away and turned toward his nightstand and took out a condom from the drawer.

Marisol giggled.

“A good Catholic boy,” she said with a grin, “With condoms.”

“Well, obviously not so good, but I won’t be irresponsible either.”

She watched, licking her lips as he rolled the condom on his thick length. In a second after that, he wrapped his arms around hers, licking behind her ear and making her moan.

He kissed her neck, her breasts, and down her stomach, but he slipped a finger inside her.

“Wet, so wet,” he huffed. “I need you, Marisol.”

“I need you too, Ryan. Now.”

Slowly he entered her, inch by inch, and it drove her crazy. He stopped a second, his eyes getting wide.

“You’re not—” he whispered, shocked.

“Not anymore,” she said. “Ryan, I want this. I want you more than anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said.

With a sharp pain, he filled her, but it was gone in a second, and the raw sensation she had felt quickly subsided as he moved inside her. Joined with him she rose again, her heart beating wildly, and the rush of sensation caused by his rhythm brought her to her peak once again. She clung to him as she came, screaming his name, and he followed, calling hers.