Seduced (Royal Expat Series Book #1) Read online

“I’m glad you didn’t; this was a much nicer greeting,” she affirmed.

  “Glad to be of service,” he grinned, stealing another lingering kiss, tilting her chin up with one finger in order to capture her lips. Matilda felt the now familiar dizziness from his proximity, and immediately leaned in for more.

  “I thought you wanted to keep our relationship on the low down,” Damian teased her between kisses.

  “Mmm, who cares,” murmured Matilda.

  “Not me,” Damian said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, making her heart flutter. “I want the world to know that you’re all mine.”

  “We can’t,” Matilda sighed reluctantly. “It has to be a secret for now.”

  “As you wish, my lady,” he said.

  “So where are we going tonight?” Matilda asked, excited about the surprise Damian had promised her.

  “Follow me and you’ll soon find out,” Damian grinned.

  -

  As Damian and Matilda walked away from the bar together, their hands intertwined and their bodies close as they talked and laughed, a shadow pulled away from a building. It crept stealthily forwards as the couple turned a corner, making sure to stay in the shadows as much as possible to prevent being noticed.

  The figure was of a man, tall and lean, but with wiry, powerful muscles under his dark clothing. Although his face was shrouded and a dark cap pulled low over his eyes, the man’s close-set eyes could still be seen, dark pools of black with a faint glitter reflected from the fading evening sun. His thin lips pulled into a bitter, satisfied smile as he raised a digital camera, snapping a picture of the oblivious couple as they walked down the street, without a care in the world.

  -

  Matilda was both nervous and excited as they wound their way through the streets of Georgetown and down towards the river. She wondered where they were going—whether he was really leading her somewhere exciting or whether he was making it up as he went along. When she questioned him about it, he merely smiled mysteriously, telling her to wait and see.

  “I’ve been to DC dozens of times,” he explained finally, as they left the roads of the city for a small, beautiful trail which wound its way through the trees and along the river. “I’ve found all the secret spots where you can be at peace, away from everyone else. I love the city—its bustle, its people and its history—but sometimes the places where nobody ever goes are the best of all.”

  “Where does it lead? This trail?” she asked, looking on ahead at the endless green, the river flowing gently to their left.

  “Oh, it goes on for miles and miles—all the way to the ocean if you follow it far enough. But what I wanted to show you is just a little bit further up…”

  Matilda followed him, unable to help admiring his confidence and mysterious air as he led her further and further up the river. Nobody had ever done anything as spontaneous with her before. Every date she had been on was tame, carefully planned and uninspired. Every holiday she had experienced had been littered with public engagements and marred by bodyguards and crowds of staring people. Making her way into the countryside, following a rushing river, was almost like a dream for her. She felt more like a real princess than ever, being singled out by the handsomest of princes. Why couldn’t being a princess always be like this?

  Finally, Damian led her from the path and into a thicket of trees next to the river, pulling her towards a tiny, run-down gatehouse hidden from the view of the path or the river.

  “Here,” he said with pride. “I discovered this many years ago, when I was hiking around this trail. Even though it’s only a few miles from the city, it’s a part of the Chesapeake National Park which nobody ever really goes to. Hang on a sec.”

  Matilda watched as Damian strode towards the little hut, then looked back at her, grinning.

  “It’s not locked—come and see!”

  Matilda followed him towards the small shack and he opened the door, showing her the interior. Inside was a small rowing boat, unchained and seemingly waiting for them.

  “Surprise,” Damian grinned at her. “I found this ages ago. There’s nothing more incredible than taking a rowing boat out on the quiet water in the moonlight, all by ourselves. Are you game?”

  Matilda could only nod. She was delighted that he would share this secret with her, of all people. She felt like she was being invited into his own private world, and it was like magic.

  As she watched Damian rowing them out into the still, clear water of the small lake separated by a thin stretch of land from the river, she felt as if her heart had always been missing a piece, and now it was complete. How was it possible for him to make her feel that way in such a short space of time?

  “I always think more clearly out here,” Damian told her. “Somehow I feel more at peace with myself.”

  “I know what you mean,” Matilda agreed. “Everything seems so clear.”

  “You’re the only one I would want to share it with,” Damian said. “Something about you makes me want to be near you. I couldn’t get you out of my head at all. That’s not usual for me.”

  “I couldn’t get you out of my head either,” Matilda confessed, feeling self-conscious as she said it. A tiny part of her half expected to laugh in her face and say “Just kidding!”, but he looked down at her with an expression on his face which made her truly believe that he was sincere.

  “That’s good,” Damian gave her a warm smile which made her toes curl up with happiness. “I’ve been thinking about your smile, and the way you look down and blush whenever I give you a compliment—it’s adorable. And I can’t forget how fucking beautiful you are when I’m inside you.”

  Dropping the oars, Damian leant over and kissed her, pouring all his desire into the one kiss, so that Matilda felt that all the breath had suddenly been sucked out of her lungs. She let his body guide hers, let it wash over her, and surrendered herself to the passion of the night. After all, why not? It was just the two of them, under the soft silvery light of the moon.

  -

  “Damian…,” Sylvie said thoughtfully into Matilda’s ear as she sat compiling data in the archives.

  “What?” Matilda sat up, alarmed, wondering if her thoughts had somehow been projected onto the screen in front of her. She looked around at Sylvie grinning like a fat spider who has just discovered a treasure trove of juicy flies.

  “So that’s his name, hmm? You doodled it in the corner of the notes you left on your desk.”

  “Oh, did I?” Matilda blushed at her blunder. She was still such a schoolgirl!

  “Not to worry, I won’t tell a soul—who is he?” Sylvie asked, her face full of lively curiosity.

  “He’s… just some guy I have a crush on,” Matilda lied. Although she liked Sylvie, a lifetime of experience had taught her never to fully trust someone with her secrets. The less people knew about her, the less information could leak out to the media.

  “Oh really? You’re glowing like that just over a little, unrequited crush?” Sylvie teased.

  “I’m not glowing, am I?” Matilda wondered. When she looked in the mirror, she saw the same pale face and dark hair, the same wide, innocent green eyes, despairing over how boring she looked compared to some of the golden, glamorous girls Damian must have met in his travels. She looked young and plain.

  “Like a beacon,” Sylvie confirmed. “I’ve honestly never seen anyone so happy in this archive in my life. It’s usually full of dry old men and women who haven’t so much as thought about sex in a decade, let alone had any.”

  Matilda reflected over the last week, during which she had seen Damian every night. They had talked, laughed, made love over and over, and she still couldn’t seem to get enough of him. He was under her skin, filling her mind and overflowing into every aspect of her life. There was barely a second where she wasn’t picturing his face or lingering over a conversation they had been having the night before. Even when she slept, all she dreamt of was Damian, his gentle, warm voice, his never-ending resource
s for new and exciting places to show her around the city, and his strong arms encircling her.

  “Hello? Earth to Matilda?” Sylvie tried, waving her hand in front of Matilda’s face.

  “Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry.” Matilda realized she had sunk into a daydream. Discreetly checking for drool (she had been pondering Damian’s razor sharp abs) she tried to look composed and professional.

  “Well, damn,” Sylvie said, looking faintly envious. “If that’s not love, I’ve never seen it. I remember the first time I met my husband—fat and balding now, I’ll grant you, but back in the day he had a butt I could have eaten my dinner off and licked clean after…”

  Matilda stopped listening as she thought about the envy on Sylvie’s face. She knew the expression all too well. She had worn it herself many times as she had looked at couples holding hands in public, looking into each other’s eyes, and smiling. Even people who were hanging out with friends and laughing together, without a care in the world, caused her to feel a tiny twinge of jealousy. Now, somehow, she was the lucky person. How had it happened?

  She thought back to the conversation she’d had with her sister the night before.

  “You’re being careful, aren’t you?” Caroline had asked her as they chatted via Skype. “You haven’t got into any scrapes?”

  “No, of course not,” Matilda has said. “I’ve been doing great at work and been taking in a lot of the sights around the city, but that’s it, I swear.”

  “How are you getting on with Colin?” Caroline queried. “You are making sure not to go out without him, aren’t you? You never know in America—it might be dangerous.”

  “Caroline, it’s the safest city I’ve ever been to—much safer than London,” Matilda assured her. “I couldn’t get in trouble if I tried.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you,” Caroline said. “There’s something…you seem, I don’t know, different. I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “I’m happy, Caroline,” Matilda translated for her. “Could that possibly be it?”

  “I guess,” Caroline said slowly. “I’ve never seen you in this mood before. It’s like you’re looking at everything optimistically, I guess. It’s so different for you. You always seemed so restless at home. Nothing any of us did could make you happy.”

  “I finally have some freedom,” Matilda said. “It’s refreshing. Was it so surprising that I wasn’t happy whenever we did anything at home? A restaurant always meant other people gawping at us, and a trip to any public place was always more of a photo opportunity than a nice day out. Now I can be myself and go where I like without so much as a second glance.”

  “It just seems like it’s more than that. There’s not a guy, is there?” Caroline asked shrewdly.

  “Please,” Matilda scoffed, putting on a masterful expression of scorn. “I work in an archive full of people three times my age. The only person anywhere near my age is Sylvie, and she’s at least in her thirties, probably her forties.”

  “If you say so,” Caroline said, not entirely convinced. “Oh, by the way, I thought you’d want to know that daddy’s arranged three interviews for me this week.”

  “Jobs?” Matilda asked blankly. She didn’t think that Caroline wanted to do any work outside of the charity events she organized for the family.

  “No, idiot—marriage interviews,” Caroline said. “I’m 22 already. Daddy thinks it’s high time I found a suitable husband.”

  “So you’re letting him arrange your marriage? Caroline, this is the modern day,” Matilda said, astounded. “Even our cousins got to pick their own spouses.”

  “I know, but I agree with him that it’s the best way to find someone suitable,” Caroline said primly.

  “Oh, Caroline,” Matilda sighed. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

  Since that conversation, Matilda had been wondering whether, but for her decision to move to America, her father would be trying to do the same thing for her. She could envision the type of marriage interview Caroline would be sitting through. Men in their late thirties, dried-up and dull, chosen for their political importance, their business connections or simply their money and reputation. They’d do their duty by her and breed little heirs to the throne, but behind her back, they’d be having dirty little affairs with their secretaries whilst Caroline sat at home, lonely, never even knowing what love felt like.

  Matilda wouldn’t trade in what she had with Damian for that lifeless political world. How could anyone be contented with an arranged marriage? She pitied her sister now, rather than envying her for her practical outlook on life. Where her sister was marrying herself off through a sense of duty, she was living the romance of a lifetime with a sexy American who had come to sweep her off her feet. It was better than any romance novel she had ever read. The only black mark on her horizon was that her relationship with Damian couldn’t remain a secret forever.

  She thought back to each lie she had told Colin over the past week—early nights, going out for a breath of fresh air and meeting some friends from work. Every time he seemed to swallow the excuse without complaint, and he had been making only a small effort to keep on top of her movements.

  She was getting good at telling lies to her family, and part of it scared her. The other part of her, however, was proud, and excited to have such a big secret all to herself. She loved the secret rendezvous, the intimacy of knowing that Damian was entirely hers, and the excitement of getting away with it. It was something a girl could get addicted to.

  She realized that Sylvie was still talking, and politely tried to pick up the thread of the conversation.

  “…used to be so spontaneous, and now he thinks it’s a romantic gesture if he picks his socks up off the floor. I’d give anything to be your age again.”

  Matilda smiled sympathetically at Sylvie, and internally danced with excitement at the thought that, in five hours, she would get to see Damian again. Against that, everything else paled in comparison

  -

  Matilda dressed carefully in a loose cotton dress, perfect for the humid weather currently winding its way through the city, and tied her hair back in an elegant but casual knot. Her entire body was thrumming and, like a caffeine addict about to enjoy a steaming hot, aromatic cup of coffee, she was eagerly anticipating the delicious feel of Damian’s lips on hers. She practically danced her way to their usual meeting spot a few blocks from her apartment, telling Colin that she needed to do some research at the library for her work.

  She turned the corner, her senses straining for the first sight of Damian’s tall, athletic body, leaning casually against the brick of the building. She spotted him, and immediately her heart started beating faster, her lips automatically stretching into a smile.

  “Hi, babe,” he greeted her, giving her a long, lingering kiss. “Mmm, you taste like strawberries and cream.”

  “More like ham sandwiches, probably,” she said, and he chuckled.

  “You always taste amazing,” he told her. “Ready for another adventure?”

  “Yes, please,” she said eagerly. Over the past week, Damian had shown her so many amazing spots in and around the city. From the first day on the boat, they had explored the nooks and crannies around the parks, enjoyed searching through quirky stores in Dupont Circle and eaten at amazing little restaurants in local spots like Chinatown and as far out as Rockville, where Damian had promised, and delivered, some of the best food she had ever eaten.

  She had been blown away by his independent spirit and his seemingly unending knowledge of great spots to visit. She delighted at the feeling of his arm around her shoulders as they walked to where his car, a battered old sedan, was waiting.

  “Food first?” he asked. “I know a great Thai place.”

  “I’m starving,” Matilda said.

  She leaned back in the faded passenger seat, intrigued as ever with studying his profile as he drove. She still couldn’t wrap her head around why someone so handsome and exciting would be with someone du
ll and boring like her.

  “You’ve been to Thailand, right?” she asked, eager to hear his stories about his travels. He gave her a lazy smile, and turned off the street and headed north.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I travelled through Thailand for about a year. It’s got to be my absolute favorite cuisine. You ever tried Thai food?”

  “Not really,” Matilda admitted. “Just Chinese.”

  “Oh, you’re going to love it,” he said, and Matilda thrilled at how excited he sounded to introduce her to something new. “When I was in Thailand, I tried a khanom chin nam ngiao—you ever heard of it?”

  “No,” Matilda admitted.

  “Oh, man, it was hilarious. It was one of the best things I ever tasted. A native guy I met invited me to his home and told me this dish was a specialty, and it was his grandmother’s recipe, so I knew it had to be fantastic—and it was!

  “I only asked afterwards what was in it. I thought his English was wrong when he told me.”

  “Why? What was it?” Matilda asked, fascinated.

  “It’s fermented noodles with pork blood,” he said. “Absolutely delicious, but you have to do a double take when someone tells you you’ve been sucking down pork blood,” Damian said frankly. “They make it by curdling the blood, then dicing it. Really flavorful.”

  “I’m not sure I’d eat that,” Matilda admitted. “Although we do eat blood pudding in England.”

  “Yeah, it tastes pretty good,” Damian admitted. “Don’t worry, though, the place I’m taking you does plenty of good stuff which doesn’t have anything too outlandish in it.”

  “I trust you,” laughed Matilda. She loved his casual attitude to the outlandish, and she longed to prove to him that she, too, was adventurous. Although she felt like she could be herself around him, a part of her still longed to impress him and show him that she wasn’t just a silly little girl.

  They reached the restaurant, a little place tucked into a side street, with small, cozy tables and tranquil music playing.