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Dark straight eyebrows drew together. “Is that supposed to make it far less distasteful? Don’t answer that.” Stefan appeared to be weighing his next words carefully. “Lexie, I know Wainwright’s death has come as a shock. This impulsive, reckless behavior is just a reaction−“
“I don’t want to discuss him,” Lexie cut him off abruptly, his patronizing, rational tone grating.
“It’s been seven years−“
“I said I don’t want to discuss him.” It was better to let Stefan continue to believe in his assumptions. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. After all, Peter was dead.
A discreet knock on the door interrupted Stefan, who had been clearly about to say more on the subject.
Leonardo, stern-faced and without betraying a flicker of emotion, intoned, “Your Highness, Mr. Nicolas Fernandez has arrived.”
Lexie shot out of her chair. “What is he doing here?” she asked Stefan frantically, any shred of composure shot.
“I asked him to come,” Stefan replied calmly. “Please show him in.” He rose from his chair and went around his desk, anticipating the other man’s arrival.
Stefan asked him to come? “Why?”
He shot her a quelling look then addressed his secretary. “And please ask Miss Alano to come in, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
One tension-fraught minute later, the object of her obsessive thoughts entered the room followed by a circumspect Theia. Electric blue eyes made a sweeping survey of the room until they landed on her. If he was surprised to see her there, he didn’t betray it. He didn’t acknowledge her. It was expected but it hurt nonetheless.
“Good morning, Mr. Fernandez.” Stefan held out his hand and Nic shook it warily. Stefan gestured for him to take a seat on a spindly-legged ornate couch.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this morning’s meeting, Your Highness?” Nic’s words were polite, but his tone indicated there was no pleasure to be had in the event. He took the couch opposite to Stefan, who had crossed his leg over the other, gentleman-like. The contrast couldn’t be more extreme. One was a study of aristocratic elegance in a dark suit, the other of rugged masculinity in a button-down blue shirt and denims.
Lexie decided to remain standing. Theia took the chair by the mahogany desk, holding her electronic tablet. Was she going to take notes of the proceedings? Lexie thought with some bewilderment.
“I will be direct to the point, Mr. Fernandez, so as not to waste your time. I know you are leaving today for Los Angeles.”
Nic didn’t deny nor confirm it. “By all means, please do,” he replied glibly.
That earned a frown from Stefan, which didn’t look to have fazed Nic one bit. She had seen grown men cower from her brother’s intimidating presence alone.
“I assume you have seen the write-up in the tabloid?”
“What tabloid?”
Theia stood up and came around Nic’s chair, handing him a copy of the paper to enlighten him. He glanced at it for several seconds then cursed violently. Lexie flinched. Stefan remained stoic.
Stefan adjusted the cuff of his sleeves then spoke. “The House of Ligueria cannot afford a scandal at this point in time. Several socialists in Seirenada are trying to stir up trouble and are questioning the relevance of the monarchy. Much as it pains me to admit, my immediate predecessor, my father, undid years of economic progress my grandfather instituted with his negligence and disinterest in his role as Prince. We are now poised for economic takeoff, and I am not giving the socialists any weapon to destabilize the constitutional monarchy.”
“I don’t see what that has got to do with why I’m here.” Nic’s face was stony.
“The Liguerians are very conservative, very traditional. They look up to the royals as having moral ascendancy over their subjects. They will not take kindly to reading about a royal embroiled in an indiscretion and having it splashed all over the media.” He halted and glanced at Theia.
Prompted, Theia began speaking, but she had averted her gaze from Lexie. “Your Highness and I have discussed measures we can take to minimize the damage to Her Highness’ reputation.”
