Virgin for the Trillionaire (Taken by a Trillionaire Series) Read online

  Jessica reached the window, shot him a triumphant smile then rappelled down looking unfazed by the newness of it. When she was back on the ground, she released the rope, stepped out of the harness and dropped it at his feet. He was about to say something when she raised her hand to silence him. Her chest rose and fell quickly, hinting that she was not as calm as she let on. “Don’t kiss me again.” She walked away with her head held high in true princess fashion.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Simone rushed over as soon as Jessica entered the foyer of the hotel. “How did it go?”

  “Hard to say.” It was better than the truth which was—horrible. Had I tried to, I couldn’t have done more to get sent home. Covering her eyes briefly with one hand, Jessica groaned. What was I thinking?

  I wasn’t.

  All he had to do was look at me, and I was a puddle of lusting idiot at his feet.

  “Come on, let’s get you changed.” Simone led the way back to the changing area while murmuring, “I’m sure you did fine.”

  Jessica followed and didn’t say much because her mind was still spinning. As she changed back into the conservative pants suit she bought for the conference she glared at her reflection. You have really bad taste in men. That egotistical pig probably sees this conference as his harem of the month.

  “My country. My rules.” Isn’t that what the prince had said? What a jackass.

  I can’t believe I kissed him. Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s probably already flirting with the next woman.

  After fortifying what was left of her pride, Jessica exited the changing room. Simone was standing there waiting for her. Before she thought it through, she asked, “Simone, I think I should go home.”

  Simone looked genuinely concern. “No. Why would you say that?”

  Lacking the ability to call her parents or her friends for advice, she confided, “He kissed me.”

  Simone didn’t bat an eyelash.

  Of course, she’s not shocked. There’s something really wrong here. Jessica continued, “I wish you looked surprised. The conference isn’t all what I thought it would be. My instincts tell me to run.”

  “But?”

  “My parents were so proud of me for coming here. I’m ready for a career change. I could really use the prize money. If I leave now it’ll feel like I gave up too easily.”

  “And maybe you liked the kiss, yes?”

  Yes. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “I agree, but I would not like to see you leave over it.”

  A thought occurred to her and she asked, “I could leave, right? If I wanted to?”

  “Of course.”

  “And if I asked to keep my passport in my room?”

  “I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem. Come, lunch is being served. You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten something.”

  As they walked side by side, Jessica asked, “I always tend to overthink things, and I’m trying to stop that. If your daughter weren’t married, Simone, would you have let her attend the conference?”

  Simone looked away. “The invitation would have been an honor.”

  An honor? That does not make me feel better. It makes me wonder if there is more going on here than anyone is willing to say. They reached the hallway of the room where lunch was being served when Simone halted abruptly. Jessica looked around and noticed an older man sitting at a table near one of the windows. He was dressed in a light gray suit that was a few shades darker than his hair.

  He waved for them to approach. Simone nodded but looked nervous.

  “Who is that?” Jessica asked.

  “Heinrich,” Simone answered quickly and bowed her head in deference.

  Upon closer inspection, the resemblance to the prince was unmistakable. Jessica’s mouth went desert dry. “Is he the king?” He was a good thirty years older than Ballasare, but he had the same wide shoulders, strong jaw, and striking blue eyes. He also looked a lot like the picture of the king she’d seen online when she’d googled the country.

  “Jessica, do not ask questions. Let him do the talking.”

  The man rose to his feet as they reached his table. “Simone, I see Ballasare has you working as well. How is everything going?”

  Simone bowed her head briefly then answered, “Smoother than expected. We will likely end the day with about thirty participants.”

  Thirty? Holy crap, the eliminations were happening fast.

  “Much more reasonable than three hundred,” Heinrich said. “And who is your charge?”

  Jessica held out her hand in greeting. “Jessica Quincy.”

  The man didn’t move, and Simone made an apologetic face. “The American.”

  He looked her over then gave her a firm handshake. “Miss Quincy. You may call me Heinrich. I work here at the hotel.”

  Only because he had the same arrogant air as his son, Jessica gave in to an impish impulse. “Nice to meet you. What do you do here?” Simone shot her a warning look.

  From the pause after her question, she gleaned he hadn’t expected anyone to ask. He frowned. “I’m in management.”

  Management? How dumb did these men think women were? “So, you’re the person I would call if the air conditioner in my room goes out?”

  “No,” the man answered and waved for her to take a seat at the table.

  Simone laid a hand on Jessica’s arm. “Miss Quincy was about to go to lunch.”

  “Bring her meal here,” Heinrich commanded.

  “As you wish,” Simone said as she backed away.

  Jessica had spent a good portion of her young life feeling nervous around people. The more she’d tried to please them, the less she had. Even if Heinrich was the king, she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. She was finally living her life on her terms.

  “Tell me about your parents, Miss Quincy. Were they concerned when you came here without them?” Heinrich asked.

  It was the second time that day that she’d been asked about her parents. She hadn’t seen anything in the paperwork about being able to bring anyone with her, but she was beginning to wish she had brought them. There was a lot the signed contract hadn’t explained, something that had felt less scary when she’d been on US soil. “Yes, but they understood it was important to me.”

  “What does your father do?”

  There was a time, especially when she had been surrounded by children whose parents were professors or Nobel Peace Prize winners, she felt embarrassed, but she refused to apologize for them either. Both of her parents were hard workers and she admired that about them. “He’s a car mechanic. He owns a small shop in Idaho.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She’s an accountant, mostly for his shop but she takes on extra work at tax time.”

  “Brothers? Sisters?”

  “No, just me. I always wanted a sibling, but my parents got a dog instead.” It was a joke most people smiled at, but Heinrich merely rubbed his chin with one hand as if he were weighing her answers.

  “Children?”

  “Do you mean do I have any?”

  “I would hope not,” he said with another frown. “No, do you want them, and if so, how many?”

  “I haven’t thought much about it.”

  “You should before you marry.”

  “There is no imminent threat of that happening, so I’m not worried.”

  “How old are you?”

  “That’s a rather personal question.”

  “How old?” he asked firmly.

  “Twenty-four,” she answered automatically in response to the authority in his voice.

  He shook his head as if he didn’t approve of her answer. “Have you met Prince Ballasare yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  Jessica blushed and prayed Simone would return soon. “Nothing. He was very nice.”

  “Nice?” Heinrich asked. His eyes narrowed, and she felt a small kick beneath the table. She lo
oked at him sharply, but when he didn’t apologize she thought his foot might have slipped. “Tell me about last person to make you angry.”

  Your son, she thought but didn’t say it. He had tilted his head to the side and was . . . watching her carefully. Is he examining me? He wants to know who last made me angry. No. He wants to know how I responded. What would be the purpose of that? This man is testing me. “Did you just kick me?”

  “Answer the question,” he said in a voice that might have cowered another woman.

  Jessica had practically grown up in her father’s garage. His employees as well as his clients came from all walks of life. Some were polished, some were rough and vulgar. She’d watched him calmly put both types in their place when they crossed a line. “I will if you do.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, and his manner relaxed. “I see why you’re still here.” A hint of disappointment entered his eyes. “You’re too old, though.”

  “To win the competition? I wasn’t aware of an age requirement. Plus, shouldn’t it be the opposite? I’m more mature with more experience.”

  “Which will benefit you, I’m sure, in America.”

  What? Jessica was just about to ask him what that was supposed to mean when Simone arrive with a plate of food.

  Simone looked back and forth between them as if trying to gauge their moods. She held out the plate but did not place it on the table. “Miss Quincy has a written exam at one o’clock. It might be a good idea for her to rest before then.”

  He waved the plate away. “No test will be necessary. Escort her back to her room. I will speak to Ballasare.”

  Confused, Jessica didn’t move to stand. “Why won’t the test be necessary?”

  “It will be okay, Jessica,” Simone said in a soothing tone. “Come with me.”

  “Am I being sent home?”

  “Jessica,” Simone said her name as a request.

  Jessica looked at the man across from her. “If I am, don’t I at least have the right to know why? And before you say it’s my age—I’m twenty-four, not ninety-four.”

  “Simone, please gain control of your charge.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” She passed the plate of food off to a staff member who was walking past then closed a hand around one of Jessica’s upper arms. “Please don’t make this difficult.”

  “Me, make it difficult? I’ve done everything I’ve been asked to. I flew all the way here. Handed over my phone when I was told to. I even wore an embarrassing amount of spandex to do a Spiderman impression for some over-sexed prince. If I’m being disqualified, I deserve to know why.”

  “Over-sexed prince?” Heinrich stood, and his face tightened with displeasure. “What has my son done?”

  Well, that settles two questions: one, he is the king and two, my big mouth is going to continue to get me into trouble in my twenties. Dammit, I thought I was past that.

  “Miss Quincy, choose your next words carefully. Lying to the king is an offense punishable by death.”

  Death? Death? She thought at first he was joking but Simone’s hand tightened on her arm and pulled her close to her side. Oh, shit. He means it. I’m an American citizen. He has to let me go, doesn’t he?

  “My domain. My laws.” Ballasare’s words came back with terrifying clarity.

  Simone looked more concerned than afraid, which was slightly reassuring. “Your Majesty, Miss Quincy and anything that may or may not have happened no longer matters, does it, since she will be leaving tonight?”

  Looking only slightly mollified, the king said, “I suppose. I will speak to Ballasare, though.”

  Simone gave him a placating smile. “One mistake is understandable. Three hundred women would be enough to confuse any man.”

  The king grudgingly nodded. “Always jumping to his defense. Small wonder you are his favorite aunt. You will not be able to sway me, though, if I discover he is wasting our time with foolishness. I will make a choice for him.”

  This is a wife hunt? No, that’s crazy. I must be misunderstanding.

  “As is your right, of course, but have some faith in him. He has always known his duty.”

  With a nod, the king waved dismissively toward Jessica. “He has, and I gave him my word that I would let him choose, but he has chosen to do so publicly, and therefore I cannot stay completely uninvolved. Handle this problem quietly. With luck, he won’t even notice her disappearance.”

  Problem? Disappearance? Panic shot through Jessica, and she tried to pull away from Simone. Simone’s the prince’s aunt? I don’t understand what’s going on.

  “You’re safe,” Simone said beneath her breath. “Bow your head.”

  Jessica’s head shot up proudly instead. She could bow her head out of respect for another person’s culture, but the idea of doing it out of submission was unacceptable to her. She met the king’s eyes and squared her shoulders. You’re not my king.

  The king shook his head in disgust. “Americans.”

  Simone stepped slowly away, dragging Jessica with her. “You are displeased with the process, not with this one woman, but all will be done as you wish.”

  “Make sure that it is.”

  Jessica didn’t fully start breathing again until they were several hundred feet away from the king and turning down a different hallway. Only then did she pull her arm away from Simone. “What the hell was that about?”

  “Not here,” Simone said in a low tone.

  “Yes, here. I’m freaking out. I don’t know what this conference is actually about, but I don’t want any part of it. I’m going home.”

  “You are. Please, this can all go well for you. Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll give you some time to pack your things, then we’ll head to the airport.”

  “I want my phone and my passport. I’ll get my own transportation home.”

  “That’s not possible,” Simone said as they stepped into an elevator together. “Please, you can trust me.”

  “Can I? Because I’m starting to think this conference is one big deception. I don’t know what the purpose of it is—slave trade, kidnapping, or some twisted reality show for your country—but I’m getting a cab to the airport, and I’m getting the hell out of here.”

  Simone rubbed a hand over one of her temples as if the conversation were giving her a headache. “Pack up your things, and I’ll meet you back at your room. If you wish to fly out on a commercial plane, I’ll assist you in locating a flight. We don’t have many that come here.” She turned and gripped Jessica’s hand in hers. “When I return, you can call your parents, but remember you signed a non-disclosure contract. I implore you to not talk about your time here. It would not end well for you.”

  “Not end well for me? Are you saying I’m in danger?”

  Simone sighed. “In your country, have you ever heard people speak badly about Rubare Virgina?”

  “No. I didn’t know anything about your country until I was invited to the conference.”

  “Exactly. We are a very private people. If you make it back to the United States be grateful you did and forget you were ever here.”

  “If I make it? If?” The word echoed through Jessica. If? She tried to wrap her mind around the new reality being presented to her. Things like this didn’t happen except in books or movies.

  Jessica’s thoughts were still chaotic when she stepped into her hotel room and promised Simone she’d pack quickly. What was this place, and were the other women safe? I can’t just leave them here. What if the ones who were “sent home” weren’t? There has to be something I can do. Some way to find out before I leave.

  Simone won’t tell me. She said I could trust her, but clearly, she is related to the king so she would go along with whatever he’s doing.

  Jessica paced her hotel room. Okay, even if I find out that something sinister is going on here, what can I do? Who can I tell? Maybe I need to wait until I’m safely back in the US and then go to the authorities with my concerns. Who would I call? The FBI? CIA? Some w
atch group? Would anyone believe me?

  Would it be too late?

  Simone said it wouldn’t end well for me if I said something. What would happen? Would it put my parents in danger?

  She shook her head. I’ve watched way too many thrillers. I need to calm down, separate what I know from what I fear and act from there.

  The phone beside her bed beeped. She almost let it ring through but then picked it up. “Yes?”

  “Jessica. Come to lunch with me.” The deep, masculine voice that had turned her on earlier now sent shivers of apprehension down her back. If he thinks I’ll go to lunch with him, he doesn’t know his father is sending me away.

  The king told Simone not to tell him.

  I don’t understand any of this. What do these people want? Why did they bring me here? And what do I need to say or do to get the hell off this island?

  As Ballasare waited for Jessica to agree, he chided himself for canceling his appointments with the last eighteen women. He’d forced his way through meeting two more of them, but quickly realized he didn’t care if they had worn the outfit or not. Nor did he care how they responded to being asked to scale the wall. He was only curious about one woman. In fact, until he determined if she was suitable as a wife, meeting with other candidates would be a waste of time.

  He’d asked Theo to arrange significant cash prizes for everyone, enough to make their trip to the island worth their time, and send them home.

  Except for Jessica.

  “You’ve chosen already?” Theo had asked, his voice rising with surprise.

  “To a certain degree. There is only one I want to know more about.”

  “After the first challenge? Isn’t that a bit hasty?”

  “I understand your concern, Theo. I also thought it would take much longer, but I put a good deal of time into ensuring that only the most suitable women were invited. Jessica has all the qualities I’m looking for. I’m not saying she’s my final choice, but I intend to spend the rest of this week getting to know her.”