Protecting Her Heart

By Nicole Murphy

The final book in Nicole Murphy's steamy, sexy science fiction trilogy brings back an unforgettable character for her own unforgettable story…

Plissa Waltric has made mistakes: being a bitch to the Prince of Rica was probably not the best career move. But she's really tried to make the best of her punishment for almost killing Kernan Radaton – turning things around at the Rican Balcite Mining Company, training a replacement, and waiting for the King of Angonia to forgive her and let her return home.

Thanks to her role in protecting the RBMC, it looks like Plissa might finally be free. But with the end of her punishment in sight, the very last thing Plissa needs is a secret from her past to make an appearance. Unfortunately, Paolo has always done just as he pleases, and it pleases him to rekindle his relationship with Plissa. But the secretive organisation of capaz de pensa is outlawed now, and Plissa's past involvement could risk her whole future.

With Paolo back in her life–and her bed–it soon becomes clear that her future is not the only thing she's risking. Plissa has always valued her head above her heart, her ambition over her relationships. Now she needs to figure out what is really important, and what she is willing to sacrifice to get it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jun 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9780857992628

Nicole Murphy

Nicole Murphy is the author of the Dream of Asarlai trilogy, and a couple of dozen speculative fiction shorts. As Elizabeth Dunk she's published contemporary romance with Escape Publishing and in June will be releasing a collection of paranormal erotic novellas, also with Escape.

Book preview

Chapter One

TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO

The swish of the front door signalled that Paolo was home. Plissa Waltric sent out a pulse of energy from her mind and as one, the lights went out and the transponders she’d placed around the room started to send out the broadcast.

Let the fun begin.

The door to the lounge room opened and Paolo was silhouetted in the light from the hallway. Plissa took a moment to admire his body — wide shoulders, strong chest, narrow hips, thick thighs — before she sent a mental message to him.

‘Close the door.’

‘Ooh, playing are we?’ He spoke aloud and she could hear the smile in his voice. He stepped into the room and the door swished shut. Plissa sat in the far corner, wrapped in black, so hopefully he hadn’t seen her in the brief light that had illuminated the room.

‘What’s the game today?’ Paolo loved when they played. Particularly when it ended the way Plissa intended this game to end — in blissful surrender to each other.

‘Come find me and you’ll see.’ By only speaking to him mentally, and softening her thoughts, Plissa hid exactly where in the room she was.

She heard Paolo take a step, then another. A buzz from one of the transponders signalled he was trying to communicate mentally.

‘Have you turned on mufflers?’ he said. ‘Is that why I can’t find your mind?’

‘It’s no fun if you can find me right away.’ She had the code to overcome the transponder. She knew it would be frustrating him that she could communicate with her mind when he couldn’t. ‘I want you to only know you’re close when you actually touch me. Believe me, you want to touch me.’ She pushed the black wrap off her shoulders, unveiling her lingerie-clad body. She sent Paolo a mental picture of what she looked like, showing him the memory of herself standing before the mirror as she prepared rather than where she was seated right now.

‘Solas dios.’ Breath hissed between Paolo’s teeth, the first sign he was becoming aroused. ‘Your body is a delight, my love.’

Plissa smiled. She worked hard to hone her figure. She couldn’t do anything about her height, and she’d never have the flat stomach and hips that were fashionable, but Paolo made it very clear that her full breasts and round buttocks were everything he wanted.

Her muscled legs and arms had been declared unfeminine and not sexy by some men, but Paolo wasn’t the only lover to show her that wasn’t everyone’s opinion. He was, however, the only man she was going to love from now on. For the rest of her life.

Paolo stepped across and then forward, accurately avoiding one of the armchairs to come to the centre of the room. Plissa stayed very still — the transponder would not muffle the sound of her movement. A buzz from another corner — Paolo had sent the mental message in that direction.

‘Use your hands, darling. Like I’m using mine.’ Plissa reached up and cupped her breasts.

‘What are you touching?’ Paolo took a tentative step forward.

‘My breasts.’ She squeezed and only just managed to contain the quiver of delight that ran along her nerves.

Plissa hoped Paolo found her soon. The transponder would be messing with his mental signals, and he’d have to rely on nothing but touch. A difficult situation for a capaz de pensa to be in.

‘I love your breasts.’ Paolo continued to speak aloud, although a buzz from the far corner of the room suggested he was still trying to find her mentally. ‘I love how they fill my hand, so soft and warm. I love how your nipples press against my palm and how you gasp and sag against me when I suckle on you.’

Plissa’s breasts swelled and tingled as if he were performing the very actions he spoke about. She gave them another squeeze and her body responded with a flush of readiness between her legs.

‘I want you to do that. Find me quickly, so you can suckle me. Then touch me and feel how wet I am.’

Another buzz from the transponder nearest her, and Plissa grinned.

‘Turn the mufflers off, darling, and then I can be with you.’

‘All right.’ With a flick of her mind, the part of the apparatus that hid her mind from his was turned off. But still the other aspect of her invention, the one that messed with his signals, stayed on.

He sent out the signal again and this time she felt it, but so did all the transponders. The message that returned to him was that she was in five different parts of the room.

She heard him spin around. ‘How is that possible…?’ he murmured.

‘Something wrong, my love?’

‘What are you doing?’ He took a step forward — away from her, she noted. ‘How are you able to respond to me from every part of the room?’

‘What do you think?’

A pause, then he laughed. ‘You did it. You perfected the transponder. You clever, amazing, sexy woman.’

His voice rang with pride and it was that more than anything that fired Plissa from arousal to full need and desire.

With a push of her mind, she turned off the transponder and turned on the lights. She stood and by the time Paolo realised where she was and turned to face her, her hip was cocked, her body on display.

‘Want to come congratulate me?’ Plissa reached behind her, unclipped her bra and slid it down her arms.

In two steps Paolo was on her, pulling her tight against his body. He kissed her, his tongue thrusting deep into Plissa’s mouth. Plissa responded, wrapping her arms around him.

He released her mouth, and with one arm around her waist, pushed on her shoulder, bending her backwards. Paolo wasn’t much larger than her but he was strong, and Plissa let him take some of her weight, arching her back so her breasts pushed forward. Paolo took one in his mouth, sucking hard and as he’d said, Plissa gasped and sagged against him, holding herself by grasping his shoulders.

‘A genius wrapped in a sexy body,’ Paolo murmured against her sensitive skin. ‘What man could resist you?’

‘You seem to be doing a bit of resisting, since you’re not inside me yet,’ Plissa said.

‘Allow me to make up for that.’ Paolo swung her around and pushed at her back. Plissa bent and put her hands on the chair she had been sitting on. He pulled her panties down, then she heard the zip and swish of his trousers hitting the floor. Plissa opened her legs, closed her eyes and sighed with satisfaction as she felt the hard head of his cock find her core and press into her, slowly.

‘Clever, clever, sexy girl,’ Paolo said as he ground into her. ‘I wonder if the capaz de pensa know how lucky they are to have you. I know how lucky I am.’

He withdrew and speared into her and Plissa arched her back, pressing herself against him as bliss spiralled through her body.

Within moments, the only communication was the slide of their bodies, the exciting friction of Paolo moving within her. Tension and pleasure built until Plissa could take no more. She cried out as her orgasm crashed over her and seconds later, Paolo grunted as he poured himself into her.

They stayed locked together for a moment, panting, then Paolo pulled away. Plissa slowly straightened, deliciously stiff, and turned to watch her lover stagger over to the lounge and collapse on it. She walked over and curled up next to him, laying her head on his chest.

‘I hope when you demonstrate the transponder to the order you’re not going to do it like that,’ Paolo said.

Plissa smiled. ‘No. I’ll do a sensible, boring, look-at-how-amazing-this-thing-is demonstration. You’re the only one who gets the deluxe sexy version.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ Paolo’s hand moved up and down her back. He loved to touch her, even after they’d had sex. It set him apart from every lover she’d ever had.

The fact she liked him, wanted him, expected nothing from him, set him apart from every lover she’d ever had.

‘How was your day?’ Plissa said.

Paolo shrugged. ‘The usual.’

Which was code for his training as an assassin was progressing well, and he was doing things he found difficult to think about and certainly didn’t want to talk about. Plissa lifted her head and kissed the curve of his chin.

‘I love you.’

Paolo squeezed her tight against him and kissed her forehead. ‘I love you too. Thank you for trying to make me feel better.’

It was nice to be needed like this. Not because of her riches, or her intelligence, or what she could do, but to be needed to just love and be loved. It was perfect.

On the table in the middle of the room, Plissa’s communicator buzzed. She looked at it, wondering if she should answer. It went against her natural inclinations for someone to want to talk to her and not be able to reach her, but cuddling with Paolo was so nice.

‘Is that the results from the transponder coming through?’

‘No. I haven’t set up the automatic report yet,’ Plissa said.

‘Then just ignore it.’

Feeling uncomfortable, Plissa made herself relax against Paolo’s body, enjoying the quiet moment.

A minute later, the communicator buzzed again. ‘Seems like they really want to talk to me.’

Paolo sighed, a sign he wasn’t happy, but he released her. Plissa sat up and grabbed the communicator.

The communication was coming from her father’s personal assistant. Wondering what the young man could possibly want to say to her, Plissa answered.

‘Ms Waltric, I’m sorry if I am interrupting you, but I’m afraid I’m calling with some terrible news.’

If he’d called to tell her the company share price had dropped, she was going to kill him. ‘What is it?’

‘Ms Waltric, there’s no easy way to say this so I’m going to just come out with it. Your parents have been holidaying in Haityn the past week and today were returning to Angonia on a commercial flight. News has just come through of an accident.’

The blood in her veins stilled and chilled. ‘What type of accident?’

‘The vehicle has crashed. There are no survivors. I am so sorry, Ms Waltric, but your parents are dead.’

Plissa hung up and put the communicator down. Unconcerned with her nakedness, she stood and walked over to the window, throwing open the curtains. Her and Paolo’s apartment was in a complex in the centre of Tatryn City. She looked out onto the central courtyard with its trees and garden paths and lovely flowers, but didn’t see it.

Instead she saw her parents’ faces two years ago, begging her not to go, begging her to stay, for them to remain a family.

‘We need you, Plissa,’ her father had said. ‘The company needs you.’

‘When are you going to understand I don’t care about the company?’ Plissa had cried. ‘I hate it, and I hate you. Never talk to me again.’

She’d left Angonia, come to Tatryn, found the capaz de pensa and finally some peace. Here were people who wanted nothing from her, except that she be the best she could be. She could explore her own avenues of interest, take on whatever career she wanted, as long as she trained and became mentally strong and professional about whatever she did.

No one forced her to take over a company she didn’t want. To work in an industry she didn’t care about.

It had been a shock when she’d realised her parents’ plans. Plissa had been spoilt as a child, given whatever she wanted, encouraged to think herself the prettiest, smartest, most wonderful person on the planet.

At the age of twelve, she’d come home from school after a session of future careers, fired up about her life.

‘I’m going to go into security,’ she’d announced to her parents. ‘I’m going to be the king’s very own bodyguard. Everyone will love and fear me.’

‘Don’t be silly, Plissa,’ her father had said. ‘You’ll be taking over Waltric Distribution.’

Plissa had been momentarily stunned — her parents had never told her ‘no’ before. Then she’d pushed it away. Her parents just didn’t understand how important this was to her. Once she showed them they’d let her do what she wanted. Like they always did.

On this they would not budge. Her father started taking her to work, making her meet the staff, teaching her the trade of balcite distribution. Nothing she said or did convinced him it wasn’t going to happen. So the day she turned eighteen and she could legally leave, she’d done just that.

In the last two years, she’d only thought of her parents when they tried to get in touch with her. Otherwise she’d lived as if she were an orphan, with no one to have any consideration for.

But staring at the window, the news of their death still ringing in her ear, Plissa Waltric’s heart broke. She’d never stopped loving her parents, had always believed they would come around and be a happy family again.

Now that was never going to happen. She’d never get to say sorry for the things she’d done to damage the company (and she’d done some impressive things). Her parents wouldn’t get to apologise for not understanding and for forcing something on her she didn’t want.

Forever, her final memory of her parents would be of yelling at them and walking out.

‘Darling, what is it?’ Paolo came and stood behind her. He put his arms around her and embraced her, his flaccid cock pressed against her buttocks, clammy and slimy.

‘Don’t touch me.’ Plissa pushed him away. How could she be happy with him, with this life, when it had robbed her of the last two years with her parents? Years that she could have used to overcome their problems and ensure that when they were taken from her, they knew that she still loved them.

Peace, they’d died thinking their only daughter hated them. How could she have done that to them?

‘Plissa?’

‘I have to go back to Angonia.’ Her voice was flat, even to her own ears. Devoid of emotion.

‘Why?’

‘My parents…’ She couldn’t say the words. She waved her hands in the air.

‘Has something happened to them? Are they all right?’

‘No.’ Nothing would be all right ever again.

‘Oh, darling. I’m so sorry.’ Paolo put his hands on her shoulders. Plissa shrugged them off. ‘What can I do?’

‘Nothing. I’ll go back to Angonia. Do what I must.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No. This is between me and my parents. It doesn’t concern you.’

‘All right.’ She felt the warmth of his love reach around her via a mental message. She didn’t allow it in.

Within the hour, she was at the Tatryn flightport, awaiting the next vessel to Angonia. As she’d left Paolo, she could see the concern and confusion in his eyes.

She was confused as well. Just two hours ago, she would have happily wished her parents to perdition. She loved being a trainee with the capaz de pensa. Loved the life she’d established with Paolo.

Now, she knew that this life was over. Just like that. Her parents had died, and they’d left a legacy of two things — the Waltric Balcite Distribution Company, and her.

It was clear what she must do. It no longer mattered that she’d spent the past eight years railing against the idea. In her parents’ name, she had to take over the company.

She hadn’t said goodbye to Paolo. She couldn’t bring herself to do so. But he’d get the message when she didn’t return.

He was no longer her future. Angonia, and the world of balcite distribution, was.

***

TODAY

The Rican Balcite Mining Company warehouse was a hive of activity. Huge hooks moved along the ceiling, lowering and picking up piles of balcite and masitum and then moving them to the end of the building where they were loaded onto transporters.

Dozens of people buzzed around, alternating between inputting information into their readers or directing the hooks as they picked up the items necessary to fill each order.

Despite all this, it was quiet. The only noise was the whirr and hum of the hooks as they moved on their tracks. The workers on the floor were using mental communication to direct the hook operators in the rooms near the ceiling of the expansive room.

Plissa Waltric stood near the staircase up to the operator’s office, watching closely. Making a mistake here could have major ramifications on the planet below. What if a distributor got too much of a certain item? They’d probably not send it back, and they could flood the market and affect the price. If they got too little, their business would suffer, and it was important for the economy of the entire planet that all balcite distributors remained healthy businesses.

It was also important that the RBMC maintain its reputation, even though it was the sole supplier of balcite on the planet. There had already been one attempt to remove the mining license from the company. It would destroy the community of Rica, and anything that had the potential to even slow the production of balcite needed to be avoided.

‘Plissa.’

She turned and nodded at Mikhal Wulsh, who was her deputy. She had been working with the young man for six months now, and had no doubt that he was ready to take the reins as head of distribution for the RBMC. She only had to convince the King of Angonia and the Prince of Rica that she had served her punishment. The King of Angonia she figured she’d have a chance with, particularly with his soon-to-be fiancée on her side.

The new Prince of Rica, however, hated Plissa with a blinding hot passion. Cassandra Wiltmore-Radaton would be a more difficult opponent.

‘I wanted to show you this.’ Mikhal held out a reader. ‘Jin Yeung has just put in a new order, and it’s intriguing.’

Plissa took the device and closed her eyes, sliding into place the lenses that helped her with her reading. Then she looked over the document.

Mikhal was spot on with the word intriguing. Yeung had doubled the amount of masitum he usually ordered, an amount that would use up the rest of his contracted allotment and mean that for the last quarter of the year he’d be without masitum at all.

That wasn’t good. Masitum, a by-product of the balcite mining process, was the main energy source for the planet, and Yeung was the largest distributor in the north of Angonia, which meant he was the main supply for the religious colony of Zagham. If he didn’t have enough masitum for Zagham as the year moved into the colder months, they could be in trouble.

Plissa closed her eyes to shift the lenses away and then looked at Mikhal. He understood her unspoken question.

‘First thing I did was I contacted Yeung,’ he said. ‘He wouldn’t tell me why he’d changed the order, and was incredibly defensive about it. So I went onto the news channel and searched for everything that’s happened in his community lately. There’s been a resumption of hostilities between the two main families, the Pling and the Jose. I did some research and it turns out Yeung is intimately linked with the Pling family. His wife is Jeph Pling’s niece. Jeph is the head of his family. The Jose family are food processors, and their factories require huge amounts of masitum. I think Yeung is trying to affect the supply of masitum in the region to cause the Jose family maximum difficulty as the weather gets colder.’

Plissa smiled and nodded her respect. The thing that had drawn her to Mikhal in the first place was the young man’s thirst for knowledge. He wouldn’t make a decision unless he had all the information he could gather. She worked the same way, which was why she felt sure he would be a great head of distribution for the company.

‘What do you think we should do?’ Plissa said.

Mikhal tapped his chin. ‘If we fulfil his order, then we could be inadvertently doing damage to the economy of the area. There are people whose livelihoods depend on the factories continuing to work at full capacity throughout the year. If we don’t fulfil his order, then we’re stepping into a dispute that we shouldn’t be part of. The solution would seem to be to fulfil his order now, but ensure that there is enough masitum delivered to the area to cover the final quarter. It is within the charter of the RBMC to organise special deliveries of masitum in moments of crisis. I’ve looked at the current order status of the other distributors in the area and there’s one capable of taking on an extra supply of masitum — Hayden Blue. He appears to have no affiliation with either family. So as long as we can ensure we can argue that it is a crisis, we can deliver the extra masitum to Blue and the factories should be fine.’

‘How does having to supply extra masitum to the Antonian region of Angonia affect overall supplies?’

‘Both Brendin Spillworth and Marc Long in Haityn have not taken their full order of masitum so far this year. It has been a warm season in Haityn. Looking at the long-term weather predictions, and past orders for the cooler period, it is unlikely they will need to take that masitum in their upcoming orders, so we will have enough to cover the crisis delivery.’

‘Well done. You’ve come up with a very elegant solution. See that it is carried out.’

Mikhal grinned, that wonderful display of pride he always wore when he’d done something clever. Then he rushed off to put his plan into place.

Yes, Mikhal was ready to take over management of the distribution lines for the RBMC. The sooner it happened, the sooner Plissa could get off this moon and back where she belonged — head of Waltric Enterprises, the largest company on the planet.

‘Ms Waltric.’

And here was the chance to begin her quest, Plissa thought as she turned and nodded a greeting to the Prince of Rica. Cassandra was younger than Plissa. Shorter. Less experienced. Less able. There were a million reasons why Cassandra should be kow-towing to Plissa. Except for the accident of birth that made her a ruler. No matter how rich or powerful Plissa became, she’d never be able to put one over Cassandra.

Damn her forever to the icy moon surface.

‘What brings you here?’ Plissa could barely keep the contempt from her voice, even though she knew she needed to butter Cassandra up. But it was the young woman’s fault Plissa was here — it was her obsession, her overly emotional way of attacking a problem, that had caused the moment Plissa had nearly destroyed her life.

Plissa took a deep breath. No, she’d come to admit that it was her own fault — she should have kept her cool, not let Cassandra goad her. But when the other woman had brought up Plissa’s parents…

‘What brings you here, Your Highness.’ Cassandra corrected her with a grin.

Plissa bowed, mockery apparent in the overt flourish at the end. ‘Your Highness. What brings you to the warehouse? Surely you have more important things to tend to.’

‘Nothing is more important than the distribution of the mine’s products, Ms Waltric. Not for Rica and certainly not for me.’ Cassandra looked around. ‘You’ve rearranged the supplies.’

Plissa had to restrain from grinding her teeth. Once Cassandra had been the head of distribution for the RBMC and she’d done a terrible job of it. But she couldn’t see that, and Plissa didn’t dare educate her.

‘Our efficiency dividend has increased by twelve per cent,’ Plissa said.

‘Well, that sounds good, but I will talk to the workers. Their health and occupational safety is important.’

There was no one who pissed Plissa off more than Cassandra, and the young woman seemed to go out of her way to achieve it. What other reason could there be for intimating