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As if embarrassed by the emotional revelation, the Prince resumed his brisk, impersonal tone. “I will have Pygmalion transported to your ranch in Argentina. My staff will get in touch with you to handle all the pertinent details.”
“I don’t want Pygmalion,” Nic said tonelessly, flopping on a couch, thinking he wanted to get drunk after this conversation was over.
“It is yours, Mr. Fernandez. I do not renege on a deal, and you have delivered your side of the bargain satisfactorily.” Stefan was back to his imperial-sounding self.
“With all due respect, Your Highness, I will not repeat myself. Thank you, but I don’t want that bloody horse.” He wanted nothing to remind him of Lexie. Better to make the cut clean and not let the wanting fester.
“I see,” the Prince responded in an odd tone.
Nic could imagine the Prince’s eyebrows drawing together as he puzzled over his behavior.
“I see,” Stefan repeated more slowly as if he had solved the puzzle. “Very well. I will recompense you in a manner I see fit.”
Nic sighed. “No recompense whatsoever needed, Your Highness. Just keep Lexie safe.” This time, he was the one who had to repeat himself. “Just keep her safe.”
* * *
Hung over, sleep deprived, and in need of a bath, Nic decided he had to see Lexie one last time before she was gone from his life forever. He was that much of a masochist. He pulled on his jeans, a rumpled shirt, and a cap before making his way to Beverly Hills.
A bottle of whiskey for company illuminated some thoughts that Nic had tried to shove down a do-not-go-there mental compartment. The remembered hurt in her eyes tortured him. The alcohol allowed him to admit that he absolutely could not fucking bear it if Lexie’s feelings for him changed once she got hold of what real life with him had to offer her. He wasn’t poor, but only polo allowed him access to move in the rarefied circles of the likes of the Duke of Walkden. Melissa’s betrayal over choosing a wealthier, more powerful man had hurt his pride. Losing the baby he had not even had the chance to see or hold had gutted him. Lexie falling out of love would finish him. So, Nic reasoned in his alcohol-addled brain, not being with her was key to his survival.
He had to explain this to her, make her see. It was him, not her. Last night he purposely bungled things up so bad to make her reject him. But he had to let her know this thing with her meant the fucking world to him. He was going away because she already meant too much to him. It was like a fever in him, and the only thing that would break it was confessing his soul to her one first and last time. Selfish bastard that he was, he wanted to leave her with a bloody good impression of him. What a laugh, he thought bitterly. What a fucking laugh.
It was half past one when he drove through the wrought-iron gate of the mansion. He had a throbbing headache, and the time it took security to let him through seemed longer than the five minutes it actually was as evinced by his wristwatch. He must have looked a fright on the CCTV camera and the bodyguards probably hadn’t recognized him at first.
He hadn’t even rung the doorbell when the massive door was thrown open by a livid-looking Blair. The contrast to her laid-back character was such that Nic was taken aback by the change.
“You conniving bastard!” she yelled hysterically, her eyes filled with rage. “And to think I encouraged her to be with you because I thought you were different.” Her chest was heaving. “And all along you were in cahoots with that snake Butler!”
Nic gazed at Blair as if she was talking in Greek because she wasn’t making sense. Or maybe, he was just really, really knackered.
“Don’t play innocent, Nic. You have such nerve showing your face here.” She flung several pieces of paper at him that he hadn’t noticed she had been holding, hitting him squarely on the chest. It fell to the ground. He crouched down to pick them up the same time Blair banged the door shut with a loud thud.
He gazed at the photo for several seconds before processing everything. It was several photos of Lexie. The first one he saw was of her lying on a bed, asleep. She was turned to her side, her hands pillowing her hair, a hint of cleavage. Her hair was swept off her shoulders, revealing her bare back, the tattoo on her right shoulder blade and her dress rumpled on her hips. The second one was a closer view of her profile in slumber. And the third was a shot of her from the back, apparently taken from a party. Butler’s party, he swore as he recognized her dress from last night. The fourth photo had zoomed in on the tattoo on her back, leaving no doubt that the first two photos in the series had indeed been of the Princess.
