My Forbidden Royal Fling Page 16

  He makes a noise that is a cross between a laugh and a furious grunt. ‘Damn it, stop being so stubborn and look.’ He opens the book in front of me, and for a few seconds I continue to stare resolutely ahead before concluding it’s childish to the extreme.

  ‘Fine,’ I huff, focussing on the illustrations. I expected them to be a version of what had first passed my desk over a year ago, but these are completely different. Frowning, I look more closely.

  MARLSDOVEN CROWN ARTS PRECINCT

  I lift a hand to my mouth, clamping it there, tears filling my eyes. It doesn’t make any sense. My fingertips tremble as I turn the page and study the drawings in more detail. Enormous glass structures to capture the river views and exquisite park-land are punctuated by tall, modern towers that spear into the sky, each housing accommodation. Two are marked as residential, one as offices and an additional two as hotels.

  The glass constructions are labelled neatly: library, performance arena, art gallery. There are several wrap-around balconies and restaurants.

  My fingers trace the drawings and I shake my head. ‘It’s like you’ve reached into my mind and created a fantasy.’

  ‘That was, more or less, the brief.’

  I jerk my face to his, not understanding. ‘But Santiago, why? This isn’t... You’re building a casino.’

  His eyes burn into me with an intensity that takes my breath away. ‘I no longer have any interest in casinos.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I sold that part of my business.’

  My jaw drops. I lift a hand to his shoulder. Despite the fact I’m sitting down, I feel like I need support, or a reminder of reality. Nothing makes sense. ‘I’m sorry. I’m struggling to understand. How can that be?’

  ‘The casinos are incredibly lucrative. It was not difficult to find a buyer.’

  ‘But you’re—they’re a part of what you do. You love them.’

  ‘I did,’ he agrees with a nod. ‘But not any more.’

  ‘When did you decide this? Why didn’t you tell me last time we met?’

  ‘I hadn’t arranged it then.’ He stands up, moving away from me. I stare at the chair he had just occupied, my mind sluggish in the face of these revelations.

  ‘I understand from your Prime Minister that the date of your coronation has been brought forward to April?’

  ‘Yes,’ I confirm numbly.

  ‘I see.’

  Silence falls between us, sharp and uncomfortable. I am conscious of his breathing, heavier than usual. I sense that he wishes to say something else, but he doesn’t.

  I fill the silence eventually. ‘Your apartment’s nice. Do you live here?’

  He turns to face me, but he seems distracted. ‘Sí.’

  My breath catches in my throat; it takes all my willpower to seem perfectly calm in the face of that admission. ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since a week after...we last saw one another.’

  ‘Oh.’ I stumble over the word, my mind spinning. All this time, he was within miles of my palace? When I was looking out over this city, craving him, missing him, he was right here?

  ‘I don’t understand why you did this.’ I run a finger over the plans. ‘But I’m...grateful, I think.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘I don’t know. I feel...guilty, too. That casino was your dream.’

  ‘Not any more.’

  I frown, standing and moving to his side. ‘Santiago, what happened?’

  ‘If I built that casino, you would have come to hate me.’ He spears me with his eyes. ‘And, every day you looked out on it, you would have hated me more. I realised I couldn’t live with that.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hate you for that.’

  ‘Of course you would. And you should. One day, someone will build a casino in Marlsdoven, Freja. I believe it’s inevitable. But that person will not be me.’

  I had come to terms with his damned casino; I had loved him despite it. And yet now gratitude steamrollers into love, and I feel as though I’m going to turn into a blubbering mess. I’ve already thrown myself at Santiago once, though, and made a fool of myself by declaring my unwanted love. For months I have lived with the pain of his rejection. I won’t do it again. I have to get out of here before I say too much.

  ‘Thank you.’ I scrape the chair back abruptly, standing and moving around the table, putting furniture between us out of desperation. He watches me with a haunted look in his eyes.

  ‘Why did you bring the coronation forward?’

  My own response is quiet. ‘Why not?’ I run my finger over the chair-back. ‘My destiny has been plotted out for me since birth. Why delay the inevitable?’

  A muscle jerks in the base of his jaw. ‘I see.’

  I swallow past a lump in my throat. Leave, now. ‘Well...’ I pull on the strap of my handbag, trying to smile. ‘If that’s everything...?’ What kind of fool am I that even now I hope he’ll say something, that he’ll offer me what I desperately want?

  But he’s quiet. Watchful. His body is tense, shoulders held firm.

  And, as I turn to leave, he doesn’t try to stop me. Every footstep draws me further from him until my hand is on the door, turning the handle.

  ‘Wait.’ His voice is no longer commanding. It’s heavy with surrender, desperate. ‘Stop a moment.’

  My shoulders slump because, for all that I’d been hoping he would stop me, I can’t take much more of this.

  ‘I have to go. Claudia’s waiting in the car.’

  He swears under his breath, so I turn to look at him. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, staring at the plans on the table. My heart twists.

  ‘So everything is confirmed?’

  I frown. ‘I don’t understand. With the building?’

  ‘No, Princesa.’ His features are haunted. ‘With your marriage.’

  All the air rushes out of me. ‘I...’ It hadn’t even occurred to me that he wouldn’t know. But why should he? My engagement to Heydar hadn’t been public knowledge, and there’s been no report in the press that we’ve broken it.

  ‘Just tell me.’ Now it’s Santiago’s turn to grip the back of the chair as though he needs the support. ‘I appreciate that you’re trying to choose the right words, but I would prefer to have the facts.’

  My lips part in confusion. He sounds so wounded, as though his whole life rides on the status of my betrothal. Why?

  ‘Will it happen soon?’

  I shake my head, anguished.

  ‘When?’

  ‘We’re not getting married.’

  His head whips up to face mine. For a second, it’s as though he can’t speak. He stares at me, reading me, as if perhaps I’m lying—though for what purpose, I can’t say.

  ‘You’re not getting married?’

  ‘Not to Heydar,’ I respond with a small shrug. ‘But one day, I guess.’

  ‘What happened?’ The words rush out of him, startling me.

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Humour me.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Please.’

  With a sigh, I pull on my handbag strap once more. ‘Are you looking for more ego stroking, Santiago? Do you want to hear that it’s because of you?’

  ‘Was it?’

  ‘Well, partly. It didn’t seem very fair to marry Heydar when I was in love with someone else.’

  He drags a hand through his hair so it stands up at odd angles. ‘And are you still in love with me, Princesa?’

  I blink at the question, my heart in my throat. I can’t deny how I feel, but at the same time I’m furious with him for asking me.

  ‘Forget I asked. I have no right. I’m sorry.’

  I don’t understand what’s happening. I spin back to the door, but now I hear him moving, his footsteps quick. Just as I open th
e door, his arm reaches past me, pushing it closed again. I spin round, angry, but the look of resignation on his features silences me. His head is bent, and I know enough about agony to recognise it in someone else.

  ‘Let me tell you something before you leave. Please.’

  That word again! It’s so unlike Santiago. I nod crisply but don’t remove my hand from the door.

  ‘The day at the palace...’

  I groan, because I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to think about the way we argued, about the way he told me he didn’t love me.

  ‘I was so angry. That photograph of the two of you was all I could think of, Freja. It tormented me and came to life inside me, so by the time I saw you I was filled with darkness. I came to Marlsdoven hoping to prove that what I felt for you was all in my head.’

  I look away. ‘I see.’

  ‘No, you don’t. Because, even if that was my intention, I hadn’t been at the palace for more than two minutes before I realised how complicated this is. How much I’d missed you. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You were so beautiful, so regal, so incredibly confident. And I was proud of you—proud that even for a few nights I was a man you wanted to be with. But it was all an illusion—you’d never really be mine. There was always Heydar and that photo in the back of my mind.’

  ‘It was just a picture.’

  ‘I found it impossible to believe that.’

  I breathe out slowly, dropping my hand from the doorknob.

  ‘I don’t know if this post mortem is helpful,’ I say honestly. ‘That morning was one of the worst of my life. I’ll never forget how it felt to tell you that I loved you and have you—’

  ‘Please don’t.’ He lifts a finger to my lips. ‘Don’t remember that morning. Not like that.’

  ‘How should I remember it?’

  ‘I knew you were different to anyone I’d ever been with, but since the first moment we met I’ve been fighting you—telling myself one more night would be enough, then another and another. And until that morning I’d never understood why I refused to see what was right in front of me.’

  ‘But you do now?’

  His smile is ghostly. ‘Only because you made me understand. No one has ever loved me before. Not my parents, no one. You told me you loved me, and gave me something I wanted so much, but what if you took it away again? What if I let myself love you and you decided you were wrong? What if you married him anyway, and I could never love you? What if I had to live the rest of my life knowing you were out of my reach? I tried to convince us both that this is just sex, because sex is safe and I understand it. But it was never that with us, Freja. It was never just that.’

  My knees are tingling.

  ‘I didn’t change the plans because I had any hope of winning you back. But I love you, and that means I want to make you happy—with all that I am, for the rest of my life. Even if all hope is lost.’

  I shuffle backwards, pressing my spine to the door. ‘You love me,’ I repeat, nodding slowly, as if to commit his words to memory.

  ‘Of course.’

  There! A glimmer of his trademark arrogance shines through. I slant him a sidelong glance, but the cynicism I’m going for is ruined by the sheen of tears in my eyes. After four months of heartbreak, I don’t know if I can believe him so easily.

  ‘Why haven’t you called?’

  ‘And say what? I thought you were getting married to him? Worse, I thought you’d brought the wedding plans forward? And what could I say? That I realised too late I’m completely in love with you? You deserve better than that. All I could hope was that you were happy, even if that was without me.’

  ‘You’re telling me this now?’ I point out, my pulse ravaging my system.

  ‘You’re not engaged any more.’

  I mull on that.

  ‘I didn’t deserve you then, Freja. I don’t deserve you now. But at least by giving you this...’ he gestures to the windows and the view of what will become his construction site ‘...I’m honouring you in a way that will bring you joy—the kind of joy, I hope, that those few days in Spain gave me.’ He lifts his hands to cup my cheeks, staring into my eyes. ‘Those days were the best of my life.’

  It’s too much. I lift a hand to his chest, curling my hands in his shirt for a second, tempted to drag him close—except instead I push him away. He’s surprised and moves backward without much effort.

  ‘Damn you, Santiago. Why didn’t you realise this four months ago?’

  He nods unevenly. ‘I know. It’s too late.’

  ‘It’s not that.’ Again, I lift my hand to his chest, not pushing him away now. ‘It’s just—do you have any idea what I’ve been through? To love someone like I love you and think they don’t feel the same way?’

  ‘You were so brave,’ he says quietly. ‘To admit how you felt, even with all the obstacles we faced. You do realise nothing’s changed, Freja? I’m still someone your people will be scandalised by.’ He leans forward, his eyes probing mine. ‘I want to be in your life, but we have to work out how to do that to avoid a scandal. I believe this apartment gives us an opportunity to see one another without anyone ever finding out.’

  ‘No.’

  His face tightens. He’s afraid I’m rejecting him. And for a second I’m in awe of the power I apparently wield over this man. But I can’t let him feel pain for a moment longer. ‘That’s not good enough. I don’t want you to be some illicit secret. I’m not ashamed of you. I truly believe you are the best man in the world, and if anyone has a problem with our relationship then it’s exactly that: their problem.’

  His eyes widen, but he shakes his head. ‘I can’t let you do that. I know what your role means to you.’

  All my pleasure evaporates as I realise the glaring flaw in our plan. He loves me, but he’s not offering me the things I need. For a moment I’d forgotten, but I can’t just have a secret boyfriend in an apartment near the city. ‘For how long?’ I ask quietly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘How long will you stay? For as long as the construction is going on?’

  His brow furrows.

  ‘Because I do need to get married one day, and have children. I know how you feel about those things, but I can’t ignore all my obligations...’

  ‘You misunderstand me—but that’s my fault, not yours.’ Before I realise what he’s doing, Santiago del Almodovár bends down on one knee, his hand on my hip. ‘The greatest privilege in my life would be marrying you and raising our children with you. I know it’s an uphill journey, that my reputation will take some work to overcome, but there is nothing I have ever wanted more. And when I want something, querida, I move mountains to get it.’

  I laugh, a laughter born of sheer, overpowering happiness. ‘I know that.’

  ‘Wait.’

  He stands quickly and walks into the kitchen, opening a drawer before returning and kneeling down once more. He holds up a small velvet box.

  Despite what he’s just said, this feels so much more real now. I find it hard to breathe. He lifts the lid and the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen stares back at me. An enormous bright white diamond stands in the centre, surrounded by a circlet of black diamonds. ‘It reminded me of you,’ he says after a moment. ‘It made me think about goodness overpowering darkness. It’s how I’ve felt every day since knowing you.’

  I kneel down then, ignoring the ring, despite its beauty. ‘I need you to know something,’ I say quietly.

  ‘Go on.’ I hear his fear, and a small sob tears through me despite my happiness.

  ‘Please don’t look like that. I will never stop loving you. There is nothing you can do, nothing you can say, that will change how I feel. I love you for who you are in here.’ I press a hand to his heart. ‘Because you are good and kind and thoughtful and, when I’m with you, I feel as though there’s nothing in the w
orld I can’t do.’ I soften my voice. ‘But I will always regret implying that your reputation is something to be ashamed of. Everything you’ve done in life, all your choices, have made you who you are, and I am lucky beyond words that you love me as I do you. Do you understand?’

  * * *

  In the end, any worry about Santiago being accepted by my country was completely unnecessary. His billion-euro investment certainly paved the way—barely any mention of his existence before me was made. And, thanks to a few well-placed interviews, the narrative of Santiago’s life had a far more accurate bearing on the truth of his character than the tabloid junk I’d seen in the past.

  His reputation as a courageous fighter who overcame adversity to make his mark in the world was written about in all the papers, so too was his philanthropic endeavours. Even I didn’t realise how much of his fortune he donates to child poverty and anti-hunger initiatives each year. By the time our wedding day rolls around, I know two things for sure: there is no one on earth who will make a better Queen’s Consort and the people of Marlsdoven love Santiago almost more than they do me.

  I have no nerves. No anxiety. Only excitement. The chapel is packed with family and friends—Heydar and his brothers sit in the front row, on my side. Santiago’s parents are absent, and I didn’t force the issue. It doesn’t matter; the love surrounding us is palpable. Claudia serves as my Maid of Honour and is genuinely overjoyed for me. The train of my dress is almost half as long as the chapel’s aisle, far heavier than any tiara I’ve ever worn, but I don’t care. I feel weightless.

  At the reception, we barely get to speak—well-wishers have come from all over the globe. I spy Heydar and Claudia dancing together and feel a spark of curiosity about the two of them—they would be very well suited!

  As the night draws to a close, Santiago and I are alone, finally man and wife with the future before us—a future that I trust to be bright and long.

  Seven years later

  ‘Try not to fuss, little one.’ I catch Santiago’s eye and smile, before turning my attention back to five-year-old Clara.

  ‘It’s heavy,’ she complains, lifting a hand to the delicate child’s tiara.