"Two Princes"

PROLOGUE

1996 The Phoenician Desert, The Levant Coast of The Mediterranean Sea

Rhys dreamt about her again, but she didn’t matter anymore.
Focus on today, he thought. They will pay for what they did to his family.
He waited on a hill above the only road to the compound in sniper position on his belly,

holding an M-16 rifle. A lone cedar tree was the perfect cover from the convoy he was expecting in fifteen minutes.

The tree was an anomaly; its roots grew so deep that it found enough water and nutrients to survive for hundreds of years, deep below infertile desert. The desolate landscape stretched four hundred kilometers in every direction, only stopping at the mountains to the west. There were no hills in the arid, uninhabitable desert except for the one with the tree.

The large tree was a reprieve as the sun scorched the ancient land. It was place Rhys never called home, but felt connected to it just the same. In his corrupted soul, there was an insatiable need to avenge the murder of his innocent family.

An eye for an eye. He will spill blood today.

Rhys’s piercing emerald eyes burned beneath the silk pashmina wrapped around his face as he squinted into the bright morning sun. His “Guns and Roses Tour 1989” shirt stuck to his body with sweat.

On the horizon, sandy dirt swirled into the air. The convoy was on its way; his very expensive information was accurate and right on time. He’d reached deep into his generous monthly allowance to acquire the arrival plans, and it was worth it.

Rhys wired the isolated stretch of road to detonate at a delayed impact to obliterate all the vehicles. Should there be any survivors, he would shoot to kill.

The convoy was five and a half minutes late, and the wait was excruciating. His pulse raced throughout his body. The planning and money spent all for that moment, and he was alone. His cousin should’ve been with him, but Jay wanted to negotiate with the bastards who called themselves The Phoenix instead of avenging their family name. He believed Rhys’s need for revenge was only for his own twisted reasons, and it did nothing to stop the bloodshed.

The Phoenix thought they could burn everything and rise again, but Rhys would do the burning. The Phoenix would be destroyed, Jay would be lost to history, and Rhys’s legacy would be that of a hero. His perfect cousin, who the entire family revered and looked to for leadership, was not as strong as everybody thought. When Rhys took the throne, Jay would be nothing. He’d beat Jay for the first time. Although his father and grandfather wouldn’t be there to witness, everyone else would.

Rhys’s source told him to expect three trucks, but he counted five through the widening dust cloud that darkened the air.

Shit! All heavily armored, American made. Almost there!

The bombs triggered in sequence, causing Rhys to jump from beneath the tree as metal flew in all directions in a spectacular wave of destruction. Dismembered bodies launched from the damaged vehicles. The triumph of his accomplishment made Rhys’s cock stiffen as the air and sand splattered with blood. The power and control that eluded him for far too long was finally coming to him. This was a high like no other, and he already craved more.

He ran down the side of the hill, lit a flare and touched it to a wick that set fire to the dynamite cord and the shape of a cobra ignited, visible from miles away. His signature. The “Snake” had struck.

It will not be the last time.

Scurrying back up the hill, he jumped into his U.S. Army issued, camouflage-painted Jeep Wrangler and sped away across the sandy terrain. In his wake, a dust cloud met the black smoke that rose from the carnage of his conquest.

CHAPTER ONE

1996 Santa Monica, California

Cori stared blankly above her boss’s head. She was sleep deprived from a late night with Bill, the physical therapist who was fun and just what she needed, but who she wouldn’t see again.

Her one-nighters had increased to a new partner each a week as she searched for some connection with these guys, sadly not finding any, but it was fine. She had her job and her friends and was too busy to work on a relationship. Only if she could find something like she’d had with Rhys. A connection for sure, but not the work of a committed couple.

Cori’s eyes blurred as she thought about the impetuous young man who was in and out of her life for three years, never asking for a commitment, just showing up for a fix. The thought of him made her hot and bothered with memories of how he’d been the one lover that scorched her body every time he touched her. With his gorgeous face and hypnotizing jade green eyes, she knew there would never be another one like him.

She tried many times to forget the morning almost two years ago when she’d finally walked away from Rhys. She answered the early morning phone call, never a morning person and barely able to function before two cups of coffee and a few cigarettes. The sexy voice on the other line caused a chill to run up her spine, and she bolted upright, asking where Rhys had been since she last heard from him six months prior. He told her he was in New York, but waited to say more. She wasn’t sure what to expect from him on that call. Theirs was no traditional affair, and definitely did not have a future, even though he was the closest she ever had to a relationship. She missed him.

Their arrangement was fine with her because career came first, and it was just for fun whenever Rhys would visit. He fed a spontaneous, wild side of her life, always willing to indulge in some kink or role play. The sex was explosive and addicting wherever they could find space to be.

“I wanted to hear your voice,” he told her, sounding uncharacteristically insecure.

Together, they were the kind of fire that would spark and explode in waves of blazing sexual need. And even if the fire burned out, smoldering embers remained. Rhys always found a way to ignite them. They were never meant to last. Even though she didn’t mind being tied to the bedpost every once in a while, his mind games outside the bedroom could get under her skin.

“I’m getting married,” he announced, releasing a deep exhale.

It felt like a boulder dropped into her stomach, even though his words didn’t register at first. Cori thought he was joking, and he’d ask her to meet in New York for the weekend, or that he was at her front door wearing only a bowtie.

His prolonged silence helped her realize Rhys was telling the truth. Cori tried not to get emotional, but tears welled in her eyes. It was hard to breathe in her tightened chest. This has to be one of his games. Everything in her head and heart battled the silly notion that maybe she loved him in a small way. Her breathing got shaky and labored as she tried to stifle her emotions.

“Are you crying?” Rhys’s snickering at Cori’s tears was a sadistic reminder that he was a coldhearted ass and not worthy of her.

Listening to him mock her emotional reaction to his bombshell, Cori realized she knew little about him. He lived a life that she avoided questioning. Doing so had never bothered her until now.

“I want to meet her,” she blurted. “Bring her to L.A. I want to do a tequila shot with the woman who is going to marry you.” She tried to stifle her tears by covering her mouth.

“Cori, you can’t be upset about this. You wouldn’t marry me,” he shouted. “I asked you.”

She searched her memory for a conversation anywhere close to him proposing. Only one instance rolled into her consciousness.

“Asking if we could live together, knowing we’d kill each other? That wasn’t a fucking proposal, Rhys,” she barked.

Living together was not what their relationship was about. She kept him at arm’s length, and he did the same. But he wanted to get married? Settle down? Cori couldn’t see that with any man. Especially not Rhys. Not now, not when her career was finally taking off.

“Have a nice life,” Cori told him, ending the call and their attachment for good.

Coming to her senses, Cori shook out her hands when she stood to flick away her anger. She was late for work.

He didn’t care about her. Rhys was a cold bastard who roped some girl into marrying him. Cori was done. She opened her nightstand drawer, pulling out a photo of the two of them from a trip to Napa. She ripped it in half and threw it in the trashcan.

Marriage wasn’t in her plans. Cori refused to give up her career for anyone. She wanted multi-million-dollar business deals and to travel the world. If Rhys wanted to marry someone, fine. Good luck to his wife. He found a better match in someone willing to be controlled by him.

Cori blinked out of her memory in time to hear her boss’s announcement, brushing off whatever came with thinking of Rhys.

“I’d like to congratulate Scott and Steve on taking over the Calloway account. I’m sure you guys will kill it!” Jacob Rosenthal said in his thick Long Island accent.

Wait, what?

Cori snapped out of her dazed memories of Rhys and shot a look of shock at her boss, Jacob, before he called the meeting to a close. Then acknowledged Cori’s reaction with a curt nod.

Jacob was a fair and charismatic boss, and the best in the business. He did, however, promote and give important tasks to his drinking buddies or any pinstriped suit that would tell a dirty joke.

Cori’s chest burned. How did those dimwits get a multi-million-dollar account before she did? This was a travesty! She was far better than them. She was sure it was because she was a female. This would not fly without a fight.

Her colleagues whispered behind her back, knowing what she was going to do, as Cori followed Jacob out of the conference room with her teeth clenched, gripping her notebook and pen. She didn’t care what they thought, she never did.

They had all witnessed her explosive reactions to being told not to get emotional and how a man would handle things better, storming out of meetings or away from a heated conversation, and once in her rage and frustration she’d even thrown a stapler at the whiteboard after everyone had left the conference room, making a sizable hole, that she had to pay to replace.

Jacob turned to address Cori when they reached his assistant Sarah’s desk. “Not here, Cori. In my office.”

He took a folder from Sarah before motioning for Cori to follow him, closing his office door behind them. Cori kept her chin in the air as she passed Jacob, sitting in a leather club chair across from his desk. Jacob sat next to her instead of at his desk. He crossed his thick right leg

over the left thigh and slid his arms on the rests, glaring at her. Then his look softened and he shook his head with a smirk.

“Jacob—” Cori began, unsettled from the injustice she just witnessed, but Jacob held up his hand to stop her.

“Let me start,” he calmly pleaded. “Yes, I gave them the Calloway account. Stan is my buddy. We will never lose that account. I gave them a softball.” He lowered his salt and peppered chin and raised his eyes to her to make sure she was following him. He loved sports analogies.

Cori tugged at the hem of her skirt, pulling it down to cover her thighs, and then looked him squarely in the eye, ready to listen.

“Clear your schedule for the rest of the week. You are coming with me to meet a potential new client for a damage control campaign. This company is battling several lawsuits and needs some good press. Rick will be there only as a consulting guide. If we get the job, it’s yours. You’ll have a team of your choice, and you will have the first account of this type.” He peered at her like a parent teaching her a lesson in self-control. “See, no need for a scene. Right?” She nodded, slightly ashamed. “Cori, with your problem-solving skills, you are going to master this business. Stay hungry. I promise, it will come to you.”

Her insides fluttered in excitement. “I really want it, Jake!” she blurted, quick to change her tone, then tugged down her skirt again. "I want Sarah on my team.”

Jacob laughed. “I knew you would. Let’s get the account first. It’s different and I know you are not familiar with the shipping industry, but it’s an image campaign like any celebrity or corporation.” He handed her the file Sarah gave him. “Salas Shipping Corporation. Read up. It’s complicated.”

“You won’t regret this, Jacob.” Cori assured him, shaking his hand as they both stood. “I know.”

She left Jacob’s office and headed to her indistinguishable cubicle with her nose buried in the file. Cori peeked over the edge of Sarah’s cubicle to wink and let her know she’d gotten the promotion.

Cori and Sarah remained close friends from when Cori was an intern. Sarah was just as ambitious as Cori, but she didn’t have the same education or opportunities. They bonded over their dreams of world domination and corporate success with dirty martinis twice a week.

At Cori’s cubicle, she sat on the expensive, ergonomic chair she’d bought when she started her job of handling press releases, event planning, and budgets for advertising campaigns.

Now she could add manager to her title with the new account. This meant she’d soon have her own team, her own office, and she’d be the second woman in the company to do so. Cori wanted a mentoring relationship with the only other female manager in the company, Linda Raskin. Cori even approached her after work one day to ask if she wanted to get a drink, but Linda refused, giving Cori a cold speech about how she hadn’t been helped when she first started, either. It fueled Cori to plan on recruiting all the women she could when she got the Salas Shipping account.

With further reading of the file, she learned about an oil spill from a damaged Salas Shipping Corporation tanker off the coast of Louisiana in the past year. The ecological and litigious repercussions were a disaster. A project like that, and being the first “crisis management” client the firm hoped to represent, was exactly what she needed to stand out from the crowd.

CHAPTER TWO
1996 Beverly Wilshire Hotel, Beverly Hills, CA

Jay Salas sat on a large brown leather couch across from his uncle in the hotel bar. A low, dark wood table separated the men. Matching wood panels polished to mirrored shine decorated the walls, and over-stuffed club chairs and sofas created pods for powerful men to conspire as they made deals. Tobacco smoke wafted into the lobby, filling the space with a cloud.

Jay despised the place, but his uncle stayed there whenever in Los Angeles. Jay preferred to stay by the beach in Santa Monica, not in that stale old hotel.

Damn it, Rhys. Jay thought as his uncle spoke.
“Tell me, again, what are we doing here, Jaal?” Jay’s uncle Nico questioned. The manperspired profusely and didn’t look well. Nico took poor care of himself, despite being Crown Prince of Safina and the distinguished figurehead of The Salas Shipping Corporation. He worked too much, traveled between time zones, ate a poor diet, and rarely slept. Sleep was rare for the two since their family was murdered nine months ago.

“We need her to find Rasha.” Jay exhaled and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Exasperated, he rubbed his hands together and shook his head as he explained the plan for finding his cousin Rhys again. “We can get to know her and find out what she knows.”

Jay’s father, Jacques, had received an intelligence memo about a stockpile of explosives stolen from a U.S. Army depot close to the main village of Safina, clipped to a fax from the Cayman Islands, revealing a large withdrawal from Rhys’s private account. Jay was sure Rhys planned revenge on the murderers, and they were running out of time to stop him.

Jay knew if his cousin took matters into his own hands against the terrorists it could cause an instability in the already volatile region of the Middle East that his grandfather had fought to quell during his sixty-year reign as king of the tiny kingdom of Safina.