Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,72

His presence was almost too much for the solarium, overflowing with charisma and palpable confidence.

He met her eyes as he stalked by, not shying away from the utter deception he'd perpetrated upon her the whole time.

“You'll catch a fly.” His voice didn't carry, the murmur for her ears alone. He glanced at her mouth, indicating she should close it before someone noticed. Then he was beyond the range of the equipment, sheath hanging at his side.

Chey snapped her mouth closed. Shock held her immobile and fury threatened to immolate her where she stood.

Sander freaking-Fisk was none other than the elusive Dare Ahtissari.

. . .

If her position in the household had not been so precarious, Chey would have read that bastard the riot act up one side and down the other.

Liar. How could he have looked her in the eye all that time and deceived her to such a degree? She paused when the realization hit that she'd slept with the heir to the throne.

Dear God.

What would Mama Queen have to say about that. Her precious boy bedding the help.

A thousand sarcastic, scathing quips burned the end of her tongue, begging for release.

Just that fast, many things that had niggled at the back of her mind made perfect sense. Why he hadn't needed to be in an office as 'head' of security, the freedom to do what he wanted, when he wanted. How all he had to do was make a call and someone jumped to do his bidding. Like leaving the truck at the end of the canoe trail and gathering the horses from the river.

Fisk wasn't his last name and his mother was far from the chef he'd portrayed.

“Miss Sinclair?”

Someone was saying her name. Chey snapped her gaze over her shoulder. Urmas stood there, frowning.

“Yes?”

“Where would you like Dare?”

Oh, oh what a loaded question. A muscle twitched in her jaw. Forced to look back at the array of Royals, she studiously refused to meet anyone's eyes and gestured to a spot behind the Queen's chair next to Mattias.

“That'll do.”

“Are you all right, Miss Sinclair?” Urmas asked.

“I'm fine.” She wasn't fine, she was pissed. Angry as she hadn't been in a long time. Gathering the remote, she transferred further pose instructions to Urmas and waited for everyone to face forward. She could feel the weight of Sander's—Dare's—gaze. Mattias's, too. Just how much did he know about his brother's shenanigans? Had Mattias been in on it?

Unthinkable.

Pressing her lips together, she clicked the shutter twice. Three times.

“Tell them to smile,” she said to Urmas.

He frowned again, then strode forward to request the members smile for the camera.

And so it went. Chey had Urmas arrange the family into a slew of different poses. All the men together. Then all the women. Couples, the King and Queen. Individuals. By the time Chey was through, Natalia was openly complaining and bitching. The Queen required a staff member to fan her while the King finished off his third stiff drink.

Her fury had abated to something cold and unforgiving, movements stiff, gaze anywhere but on Sander. She took only the camera and left everything else for the staff to break down. Sliding it into the case, Chey slung the strap over her shoulder and strode from the room.

“Miss Sinclair.” Sander's voice rose through the solarium.

She kept walking.

Someone gasped.

“Miss Sinclair,” Sander repeated, this time with an edge to his voice.

Chey marched out into the hall without looking back.

. . .

All hell was breaking loose behind her. Chey could hear Natalia demanding Chey be fired for her impudence. The Queen wanted to know exactly what was going on, and SanderDareWhatever-his-name-was left the solarium with her name on his lips. Urmas kept a quick pace just off Sander's flank, failing to rein Chey in with a reprimand sharp on his tongue.

Let them all burn.

Was the money worth this? Not hardly. She would rather sleep homeless in a dumpster than be used at this rate. How she would pay back the money she had already spent, she didn't know. At least a month's rent had been worked off. There was some solace in that.

She made it all the way to the end of the private hall before a hand caught her elbow and spun her around. Not a grab or snatch, but a firm grip that wouldn't be denied.

Chey let him. She used the momentum Sander obtained to bring her hand up for a ringing slap. This was becoming customary between them.

He pulled her to him, daring to bring her even