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‘How did you find me?’
‘Saw your picture in the paper, knew you the moment I saw who you were—amazing. You were an ugly little thing when you were born, red and screaming.’ He gave a shudder of distaste.
‘I have no money,’ she repeated flatly.
‘But you can get it. I don’t think your posh husband is going to be quite so keen if he finds out your dad has a prison record. Can’t you see the headlines now?’
This overt attempt at blackmail took her breath away. She looked at him in utter disgust. It was not often that you came across someone without a single redeeming feature, but it seemed that her biological father was one of those people. It was hard to face, but it was the cold, stark truth, and better to face it and move on.
A great sentiment, but at that moment all she wanted to do was weep until she had no tears left.
‘Go to hell,’ she said conversationally.
‘I don’t think you quite understand—’
The sound of a chair scraping the floor made parent and child spin around.
‘No, it is you who do not understand. How long did you go away for the last time—five, out in two? I think you’ll find that the law is less sympathetic to blackmail... With your record what are we talking, fifteen...?’
‘Now, hold on, I came here to see my little girl,’ he blustered.
Seb took a step closer, towering over the older man not just in his physical presence but his character. ‘Not your little girl, my woman. You will empty your pockets, you will leave now and you will never come back. Believe me, you’ll live to regret it if you don’t.’
Looking visibly shaken, the older man began to back towards the door. Once there he raised his fist and shook it at them both. ‘You’ll be sorry when I sell my story.’
* * *
‘I’m sorry.’
Seb turned, the pallor of her face causing him a spasm of alarm.
‘What if he does?’ she said, struggling to control the bubble of hysteria she could hear in her voice. ‘The royal deal.’
‘Forget him...’ he roughed out. It was Mari he was worried about. ‘Forget the bloody deal.’
She blinked, misunderstanding him. ‘Of course, the dinner.’ She took a deep breath. ‘People will be arriving. We need to greet them. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.’
‘It doesn’t matter...’
He was talking to air, as she had whisked out of the room and straight into the royal party.
Jaw clenched in frustration and left little choice, Seb painted on a social face and followed her.
* * *
Ironically, after dreading it Mari found herself dealing with the dinner without even a flicker of nerves, because she had bigger things to worry about now than using the wrong fork or forgetting the name of a famous guest.
She knew it was only delaying the inevitable, but as far as she was concerned it could go on forever. There was zero point pretending—she’d seen the seething contempt in Seb’s eyes when he had given her father his marching orders. In Seb’s eyes she was tainted. Where did that leave them?
Nowhere good.
The royal prince seated to her right said something and she smiled and nodded, not having a clue what he had said, but glad of the opportunity to look anywhere but at Seb. Normally at ease in any social situation—she had always envied him his poise—he had barely said a word to anyone all night.
‘You are a lucky man, Seb.’
Seb tore his eyes from Mari and wondered why the hell it had seemed like a good idea to have her seated at the opposite side of the table. This damned meal was just going on and on forever.
‘I know,’ he said, thinking better late than never. Gutless, he thought in self-disgust. I’ve been bloody gutless. His way of dealing with his feelings for her, his solution, had been to quash them... Gutless!
‘Give the chef my compliments.’
‘Sure,’ Seb returned as the waiter took away his untouched plate, cutting off for a moment his view of his wife. His wife sitting there looking poised as a queen while inside she must be... Pride and love welled up in his aching throat. While he was eaten up with shame that he’d not been able to protect her from the truth, at least he could protect her from anything that waste of space imagined he could do. The moment this damned thing was over he’d tell her.
It was not the only thing he planned to tell her.
‘A toast to our lovely hostess.’
Seb, fighting a losing battle to control his impatience and frustration, closed his eyes and thought, Not another one!
Maybe he said it out loud, because the woman to his right laughed. Frankly he was past caring.
Her scattered wits were dragged back to the moment and the toast directed to her. Mari bowed her head in what she hoped passed for gracious thanks and...there was nothing, just a deep wrenching pain that made her cry out and bend forward, tumbling into blackness.
