King’s Chosen Read online

  That was where he'd met Alexandra. Or rather where she'd first sunk her claws into him. And before her, it had been Natasha, and before that, Tiffany.

  They could've been clones. Beautiful, elegant, charming, attentive, and single-mindedly dedicated to achieving one goal—snagging a wealthy husband.

  With each one, Sam had hoped this time it would be different. After all, some of the women attending those events were CEOs of companies and top-tier executives, but he’d never been lucky enough to be approached by one of them. The ones who gravitated toward him had only one thing in mind, and contrary to their sales pitch, it wasn’t sex, it was matrimony.

  As the saying went, lunacy was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Since the last breakup, Sam was doing his damnedest to ignore attractive women in general. He was tired of the drama, and he needed a break to clear his head.

  It wasn't easy. Temptation was everywhere. Like that pretty accountant in the elevator, with her glasses and her sensible shoes and her guileless eyes. It was all fake. Underneath the unassuming, nice girl façade there was probably just another viper. After all, she was a junior partner in a large CPA firm, which meant that she was smart, calculating, and interested in money.

  A nice girl. Right. Not in his world. Maybe they existed in fairy tales.

  "Don't you have anything better to do than harass me?” Sam glared at his partner. “I'm not sitting here and scratching my balls. I have work to do."

  Gregg grinned. "Actually, I need to get back to my office and pick up one of those gift certificates the guys from Perfect Match gave us. I'm going to take it home and schedule myself a virtual hookup."

  “Have fun. Just remember that those gift certificates represent half of our compensation.” The other half was in the company’s stock.

  The job they'd done for Perfect Match wasn't one of Sam's better deals. The company was young, and all their investment capital had gone into developing their sophisticated hardware and software. In addition, it had been a cyber security nightmare that had taken months to implement. The main reason Sam had agreed to take it on at that price was that the CEO was an old buddy of his and Gregg's from Caltech.

  Besides, he believed the company had promise, and if it succeeded, their stock would one day be worth a lot more. Not only that, in the long run they would become a well-paying client. With plans to expand their services globally, they would need a lot more cyber protection and Sam’s company would be the natural choice.

  Given the glowing reviews of the beta testers, the service had great potential. Especially once they reached a volume that would allow them to lower their prices. Currently, it was out of reach for most.

  “Oh, I will.” Gregg waggled his brows.

  "You really enjoyed the test run."

  When they'd been approached, Gregg had volunteered to check it out before they committed to a complicated job that initially wasn't going to bring in any money.

  "It was all they'd promised and more. You should try it."

  "I will, just after you tell me all the details of your fun-ride." Which wasn't going to happen. Gregg, who had no problem butting into Sam's love life, was very tight-lipped about his own. Real or virtual.

  "Let me tell you one thing, Sam. Women are just as horny as men. Perhaps more so because they have better imaginations. Give a woman a safe environment to explore her sexuality, and she'll blow your mind." With that, Gregg pushed to his feet, pulled out a folded envelope and dropped it on the desk. "Here, your perfect, custom-made girlfriend awaits."

  Sam arched a brow. “I thought you forgot to pick up the gift certificate and that’s why you were back.”

  “I did. I forgot to pick one up for you. That one was mine.”

  3

  Did you hear from them yet? Lisa read the text message from Bridget, the same one she’d been sending her every morning for the past week.

  Not yet. Once I do, you'll be the first one to know.

  I’d better be. I'll text you tomorrow.

  “Was it Bridget?” Charlotte put her coffee mug down.

  “Yeah. Same question as yesterday and the day before. It said on the company's website that it would take them between one and four weeks to find my perfect match.”

  “It has been a week.”

  Lisa shrugged. “They still have three more to go.”

  “I hope it won’t take that long. We are all dying of curiosity. My birthday is coming up next, and I’m going to start throwing hints that this is what I want, but first I need to hear from you if it’s worth it.”

  “Provided they find me a match.”

  “They will.” Charlotte walked to the sink and rinsed out her mug. “I’m off to work. I’ll see you later.”

  “Have a great day.”

  Smirking, Lisa lifted her mug and took a sip. If no match could be found for her, she'd get a refund.

  She was banking on that. In fact, the way she'd answered the hundreds of multiple choice questions, she’d practically guaranteed no sane guy would want any part in it. Basically, she'd let her girly imagination run wild, and there was no way any guy would match that.

  It wasn’t that she'd purposely lied on the questionnaire, just that the type of guy she'd described didn't exist outside of fairy tales. Kinky ones. Well, kinky by Lisa's prudish standards. Her friends would've laughed at what she considered unconventional.

  Only three more weeks to go, and she'd get a refund and forget all about that stressful episode.

  For what her crazy friends had paid for that service, she could buy Lancôme's entire line of moisturizers and facial creams.

  Before heading out the door, Lisa checked her hair and applied some lipgloss. In case she ran into her mystery man on the way to her office, she needed to look at least decently put together. Not that she expected to get anything more than a nod, but it would make her feel better to know that she didn’t look frumpy.

  As Lisa parked in the office building’s underground and headed toward the elevators, she glanced around, hoping to spot the object of her fascination. Curiosity had her wondering what model car he drove. Knowing that would give her some insight into his personality.

  Was it a sexy Porsche, or a stately Mercedes?

  It wasn’t that Lisa was impressed by money or expensive cars, but judging by his expensive suits, her guy wouldn’t be driving a Honda.

  Or maybe he had a driver?

  That would explain why in the three years she’d been working in the building she’d never seen him in the parking garage, only in the elevator.

  Three years, wow. That was a long time to pine for a stranger.

  She should grow a set and approach him.

  Right, as if she would ever have the courage to do that. A guy like that would probably laugh his ass off if a girl like her propositioned him.

  With those unsettling thoughts running through her mind, Lisa was almost afraid to see him walk into the elevator. She was going to blush for sure and give herself away.

  Thankfully, he didn’t.

  Lisa should’ve felt relieved, not disappointed.

  At her desk, she booted up her computer and checked her emails. Most were from clients, others were from stores following her around on the net, but only one made her heart skip a beat.

  Lisa got up, walked to her office door, locked it, and then went back to sit at her desk. For a few moments, she just stared at the screen, afraid to click the email open. There was no way someone had picked up her fantasy.

  Shit. What was she going to do now?

  Because if someone had, she would actually have to do the things she’d put on that damn questionnaire, and she was too much of a chicken to do so even in a virtual world where no one knew who she really was.

  “Okay, Lisa. He’s not going to jump out of the screen at you and tear your clothes off. Just read it.”

  Visualizing that made her chuckle, releasing some of the tension. Mouse hovering over the email for a couple mo
re seconds, she forced herself to click it quickly before courage deserted her.

  Dear Ms. Montgomery,

  Congratulations.

  A perfect match was found for you. Please confirm the date and time of the appointment by clicking the link below.

  After all that mental preparation, the email was underwhelming. But then what had she expected? Details? A script?

  For an accountant, she had a very vivid imagination. Releasing a breath, she looked at the date again.

  Damn, Saturday was only two days from now, and she had no good excuse for rescheduling the appointment. Besides, it was allowed only once. If she couldn't make it the second time either, the money would be forfeit.

  Better to get it done sooner than later. Less time to stress and obsess.

  With a shaky hand, Lisa pressed the confirmation link.

  A moment later another email came in.

  Dear Ms. Montgomery,

  Thank you for confirming the appointment. Please make sure to arrive on time.

  Wearing comfortable clothing is recommended.

  Okay, so no Spanx and no pantyhose.

  4

  At two o'clock on Saturday, Lisa arrived at A Perfect Match offices, wearing a loose T-shirt, yoga pants, and flip-flops. It didn't get more comfortable than that unless she took the bra off. But there was no way she was showing up in public without one. Her breasts were nice and firm, but her nipples tended to react to the slightest drop in temperature. An air-conditioned space was all it took to get them stiff and pointy.

  "Good afternoon, Ms. Montgomery." A pleasant-looking young woman welcomed her with a smile. "I'm Sarah." She offered her hand.

  "Hi." Lisa shook it.

  Thank God it's a woman. She would've died of embarrassment if the technician was a man.

  "I assume that you've read all the instructions and explanations, but before I hook you up, I want to go over the major points and see if you have any more questions."

  "Sure. But first I need to know if you've tried it." Getting instructions from someone who'd never done it wasn't going to cut it.

  The girl giggled. "Of course I did. All of us working here have done it many times. We were part of the beta team who helped tweak the program."

  Lisa released a relieved breath. The tech’s admission made her more comfortable to ask her questions. "Did you enjoy it?"

  "It's addictive. But I'm enjoying it more now that there is a larger pool of people. Before, I was scared of sharing the experience with one of my coworkers. We were all looking at each other, searching for clues.” She rolled her eyes. “Talk about awkward.”

  Sarah's honesty and openness about her experience made Lisa more comfortable. "I can see how it could be embarrassing. I wouldn’t want my coworkers to even know I’m doing this, let alone chance to have one of them as my virtual partner.”

  Unbidden, the handsome face of her elevator crush popped into her head. She wouldn’t mind sharing the fantasy with him, but then she would have to quit her job and move to another city because she would die of mortification if he suspected it was her.

  "Yeah. But there were also plenty of volunteers. So no one knew for sure. But enough about me. Let's go over what you should expect."

  "Shoot."

  "First of all, just like in a dream, the perception of time is misleading. You may experience virtual days or even weeks in the span of the three hours you're allotted."

  Lisa nodded.

  "Everything will feel real. Your brain cannot distinguish between artificial neural input and reality. Some of it will even manifest physically."

  "I understand."

  "There are safeguards built into the program. You can't die. If your stress levels reach a certain threshold, the program will shut down immediately. You also have a safe word to freeze it, but even if you forget it, and that can happen when you're totally immersed in the virtual universe, the monitors will detect signs of distress and freeze the program for you. You can override the freeze by simply saying 'continue.' Any questions?"

  About a thousand, but none that Lisa could articulate. "I don't know. What do people usually ask?"

  "Will they remember it. Yes, you will. Another common question is whether your partner will be able to recognize you on the street. The answer is that it depends on the avatar you choose and the way you describe your ideal man. The software combines the two inputs and creates an avatar your partner finds desirable and that you're comfortable with. The more the avatar looks like you, the better the experience because it feels more real. But it's up to you. Before the program begins, you'll be presented with your avatar, and you'll get to choose which features you want to change. You can decide to keep your eye color but change your nose. Make your breasts larger, your legs longer, slimmer waistline. Those are the most common ones for women. Guys want to be taller, more muscular, and better endowed. A few want a stronger jawline, but that about sums it up for men. Women tend to go for a whole makeover."

  Lisa smiled. "That part I'm actually excited about."

  "Why? Aren't you excited about finding your perfect match?"

  "To tell you the truth, I'm terrified. According to your website, I'm not going to remember who I am in my real life, and a whole new backstory is going to be uploaded into my brain. I'll think of myself as a different person living in a different world."

  "But that's the fun part. Fantasy at its best. And when you wake up, it's going to be exactly the same as waking up from a dream. You'll be back in your real life. But unlike most dreams, you're going to remember everything from the virtual experience as well."

  "It still scares the crap out of me."

  Sarah frowned. "You may need a mild relaxant.”

  “Don’t mind if I do. But I don’t want it to make me loopy or diminish the experience for me.”

  Was it her talking? She sounded as if she was excited.

  “No problem. I’ll give you something very mild only for the first half an hour. After that, I’ll check your stress levels. If you’re doing okay, I won’t give you any more.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Let me hook you up and check your vitals." Sarah pushed to her feet and motioned for Lisa to follow her into the adjoining room.

  A theater-style recliner occupied the center of the room, with an ominous-looking helmet thing the size of a salon hair dryer hovering above it. An assortment of wires stretched from the helmet to a big rectangular console behind the chair. The rest looked like what one would expect to find in a hospital room.

  It didn’t look sexy at all, but maybe that was why Lisa was breathing easier. Or maybe it was Sarah, with her honesty and friendly attitude.

  "If you need to go to the bathroom, now is the time," Sarah said.

  "Good idea."

  "Over there." The tech motioned to the only other door besides the one they'd entered through.

  When Lisa came back, Sarah motioned to the chair. "Take a seat.”

  Taking a deep breath, Lisa got on the contraption, which was much more comfortable than it looked.

  "Tell me your avatar's name, again."

  Oh, God, here it goes. "Princess Annabel."

  When Lisa was a little girl, she’d dreamt about being a princess. She still thought it would be cool to play one, and the name Annabel sounded so much more exciting than plain old Lisa.

  What she wondered, though, was what kind of a guy fantasized about playing the part of her prince?

  5

  Annabel mixed a tiny drop of black paint into the green, dipped her brush in it, and applied another stroke to her landscape. The meadow below was breathtaking, the grass so vividly green that she was having a hard time matching the color.

  The view from the top of the hill was well worth the long climb, including hauling up her easel and all her other art supplies. Not that Annabel had carried any of that. But she’d felt sorry for poor Mary. By the time they'd crested the hill, her maid had been huffing and puffing. Annabel had sent her back
to rest and come back later with a lunch basket. At least that was the excuse she’d given the girl. As much as she liked her, Mary was way too chatty, and her prattling wasn’t conducive to Annabel’s creativity.

  Alone with the breathtaking nature, with nothing to disturb the serenity and magnificence of the setting, Annabel did her best work.

  Except, her reprieve hadn’t lasted nearly as long as she’d hoped for. She could hear someone climbing up the hill, and by the familiar huffing and puffing, it was Mary back with the picnic basket.

  It wasn't time for lunch yet, was it?

  Sometimes, while absorbed in her painting, Annabel lost track of time.

  She turned around just as Mary finished the arduous climb. Given the sheen of sweat on her forehead and her rosy cheeks, the girl must've run all the way up.

  “My lady," she said breathlessly as soon as her head crested the hill.

  "What's wrong, Mary?"

  "The Prince.” Mary bent down, placing her hands on her thighs. “He is on his way. He wouldn't listen to anyone. The chief advisor sent me up to warn you. He is delaying the prince as much as he can."

  A prince? Which one? There were dozens of them.

  Their corner of the world was comprised of many small to mid-sized monarchies, and one big one—Algenia—the superpower that shielded them all from other superpowers.

  The small monarchies didn't need to keep an army, just an honor guard for their monarchs and a small police force. The downside of the arrangement was that half of the taxes collected went to Algenia as payment for their protection. All in all, not a bad deal. Keeping an independent army would've cost just as much if not more.

  "Which one is he?"

  Mary looked at her with wide eyes. "The Prince. Prince Thorsten."

  Oh, shit.

  Annabel looked down at her simple dress and the paint-splattered apron she'd put over it. She'd come up here to paint, not expecting any visitors, and certainly not the bloody Crown Prince of Algenia.