The King's Captive Virgin. Natalie AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN, you don’t know where she is?’ King Giorgos Nicolaides glared at his security chief.

      The uniformed man shifted and took two attempts before answering audibly. ‘I have the entire team on it now, Your Majesty.’

      ‘Now?’ Giorgos, ordinarily so cool that people genuinely believed he had ice in his veins, was lethally close to losing his temper. ‘You’re telling me that Princess Eleni hasn’t been seen since late this morning, yet I am only hearing about it “now”?’

      It was hours after she’d last been seen. It was now evening—dangerously close to darkness.

      ‘She went into the hospital but never made it to the usual ward that she visits.’

      Every muscle in Giorgos’s body strained as he fought to control his innate instinct to sprint from the palace and start combing the streets for his sister.

      Breathe. Think. Assess. ‘So where did she go?’

      The man before him paled at Giorgos’s soft query. ‘We’re working on that, Your Highness.’

      ‘I assume you’ve checked all available security footage?’

      He fisted his hands in a fierce attempt to hold back the rage threatening to overwhelm him. Why had his supposedly elite security soldiers waited so long before informing him? Unacceptable.

      ‘Her guard is to be fired,’ he snapped, unable to resist the need to take some kind of action. ‘As soon as she is found I want him gone.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’ The man all but fled from the room.

      Giorgos took no satisfaction in knowing that other heads would also roll once the situation was under control, because for now he needed every one of those ‘elite’ soldiers to be out there trying to find her. Trying to rescue her.

      Because she’d been taken—Eleni never would have left the hospital willingly. And when he got his hands on the foul bastards who’d stolen her with the intention of doing heaven knew what—

      He halted his horrendous thoughts and stalked the perimeter of the large room. Find her. They just had to find her. Fast.

      ‘Sir—’

      Giorgos whirled back as the soldier re-entered the room. As he registered the expression in the man’s eyes he felt his blood chill. This was a man who’d faced horrors before—not only in war, but in natural disaster rescue and recovery operations. He’d experienced the gamut of human devastation. And right now he looked wary. Why?

      ‘What?’ he rapped. His brain couldn’t compute complete sentences.

      ‘One of the street cameras shows—’

      ‘What?’ He stalked forward and gestured at the laptop the man held. ‘Show me.’

      Impatiently Giorgos stared at the screen. The footage was grainy, but the identity of the woman on the screen was unmistakable. Giorgos watched his younger sister walk alongside a tall man—away from the hospital—to a car parked not far along the quiet side street. He watched as she got into the car and allowed the man to drive her away.

      The man who’d held no gun or knife or any kind of discernible weapon. The man who’d almost been smiling. There’d been no apparent coercion, no apparent threat. Giorgos’s blood ran so cold he actually shivered.

      His sister had chosen to leave.

      The very night her royal fiancé was flying in to see her she’d run away with another man. And it had taken Giorgos only that one look at the man to know Eleni was in big trouble. That slimeball held his head high and had an arrogance to his long stride. He wasn’t afraid to be seen and he clearly knew what he wanted—Princess Eleni Nicolaides. And now it seemed he had her.

      The question was why—what was he going to use her for? But that answer was also blindingly obvious. The man was a predator, an experienced seducer—Giorgos recognised it instantly because once upon a time he, Giorgos, had been a using bastard like that too.

      He clenched his fists, seething with impotent fury. He didn’t blame his sister, only himself. She was naive and innocent and young and she’d been duped—no doubt about that. Bitter bile burned the back of his throat. This was entirely his fault. He should have protected her more, should have kept her safer... But heaven knew he’d tried. Right now he couldn’t understand how this man had got access to her.

      ‘Who is he?’ He breathed the question slowly.

      Before his security chief could answer Giorgos’s mobile rang. He froze, his gaze locked on that of his soldier. They both knew very few people had his personal number. He forced out a breath as he snatched the phone from his pocket and swiped the screen.

      ‘Giorgos, it’s me.’

      His sister scrambled to speak before he had the chance to.

      ‘Eleni. Where are you?’ He was so relieved to hear from her he barked his words like bullets. ‘Come back to the palace now. Do you have any idea of the trouble you’ve caused?’

      But she didn’t answer immediately—and her pause put Giorgos back on high alert.

      ‘I’m not coming back yet, Giorgos. I need time to think.’

      ‘Think? About what?’ Giorgos didn’t think at all before berating her. ‘Your fiancé is already here. Or had you forgotten that you’re about to go on tour with him?’

      The image of her calmly walking away with that other man replayed in his mind—walking away from her duty, from her country. How could she? He’d never have believed her capable. She’d always embraced her role and been accepting of her future. Everything was perfectly prepared and the plans had been in place for over two years. This was an excellent match for her—she well knew that, as royals, their lives could never entirely be their own.

      ‘I can’t do it, Giorgos.’

      ‘Can’t do what?’ His impatience almost got the better of him.

      There was another moment. Giorgos listened closely to the unnatural silence, sensing a new level of danger.

      ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said softly.

      He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t bear to think.

       Pregnant.

      With one word he was transported back to another time—to another woman. The split-second recollection of the devastation that had ensued slammed into him as if it had been yesterday.

      ‘Prince Xander isn’t the father,’ she added.

      It was his worst nightmare—he’d longed to protect her from exactly this kind of mistake.

      ‘Who?’ he finally whispered. ‘Who?’ That ferocious anger was unleashed.

      ‘It doesn’t matter—’

      ‘I’ll kill him. I’ll bloody—Tell me his name.’

      ‘No.’

      His rage ran unrestrained and he shouted into the phone. ‘Tell me his name, Eleni. I’ll have him—’

      ‘Call