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‘Now Zaffira is your escape. You’re safe there. You can work there, but still watch over Montaurella.’ She gazed out of the window to his island fortress. ‘You care about it.’

‘I love it. Always have, always will. But he’s making it seem seedy. And greedy. It could be better.’

‘When you’re King, you can make that happen.’

He looked down at the wide strap of his watch and his face tightened. ‘We need to get ready—the guests will be on their way.’

‘Already?’ She was shocked. Bereft. They’d finally been communicating on a deep, open level and now they had to frock up and face the world. Because Alex was dutiful.

He looked at her with simmering emotion in his stormy eyes. ‘Are you going to be okay to get through this?’

There was no question he would be, but facing Domenico without obvious loathing was going to be the performance of her life. Alex did that on the daily. She would do this for him. For his love of his country. But the rest would be no performance at all—not to stand beside him, not to reveal her feelings for him—so very real and unwavering. Always. She wanted a night with Alex—her prince—to dance with him in the ballroom and let the world know how proud she was to be with him. And after this one night she would tell him. Just not now. Not when emotions were raw and he was wary. Like her, he didn’t want pity. But how she felt wasn’t that. It was deep and true and had been there longer than she’d known.

‘Yes, of course.’

As she watched him, that remote distance slid in place again and for a split-second she thought she’d disappointed him somehow.

‘You have something to wear?’

Oh. Hell. She’d forgotten. ‘I’d better go and find a dress. I’m no Cinderella—there’s no fairy godmother.’

‘Good thing you’re not because that would make Erik an ugly stepsister, right? And me.’ He pulled a face and began to laugh. ‘Not really working. You’d better go—you don’t have long.’

He straightened and headed towards his dressing room. Beneath the charming exterior the iron was back—locking everyone out. Including her. Glancing at the clock, she saw they’d totally lost track of time, but Tilly felt as if she’d lost something far more precious than a few hours.

Chapter Sixteen

Alex’s phone rang as he shaved. He snatched it up. Tino wouldn’t call without imperative reason. ‘What have you found?’

Alex dropped his razor before he cut himself and braced on the counter as he listened, his heart thumping. ‘Send me the paper trail. I want every shred of evidence in my inbox immediately.’

‘It should be there now.’

He ended the call and went straight to his email. He breathed carefully as he read the damning overview. The gift of artworks to his father’s private collection—that no one knew anything about—and their subsequent sale for millions that then disappeared into investments not even a wet-behind-the-ears trader willing to bet it all on red would risk. What had the idiot been thinking?

In the last five years Domenico had borrowed money from a businessman with shadowy qualifications. Committed fraud. Covered up a gambling addiction. He’d put himself—the King—at risk of extortion. His impartiality decimated. And the repayment plan Francesco had wanted in place?

Alex glanced up, catching the second his pale reflection was swept away by a flush of fury. He carefully exhaled, calming the mottling, then collected his razor. He would get through tonight—there were all those guests, there was Tilly.

But tomorrow, everything was going to change.

He dressed swiftly, then stood at the window, gazing at Zaffira, carefully controlling the resurging rage. He needed to think. He needed to prepare. He needed to end this.

He just needed to get through tonight first.

‘Sorry I took so long.’

He turned as Tilly arrived back in his apartment. The bronze dress clung to her body, draping across her curves as if she were a Greek goddess brought to life. Athena and Aphrodite merged—fierce and beautiful, full of both love and fight.

As she neared, her pupils flared. ‘Are you okay?’

He jerked his head up and down. He’d half wanted her to refuse to attend tonight. To ask him to run away with her and abandon all responsibility. But of course she didn’t—dutiful, loyal, sweet Tilly would try to ensure safety for them both. She had pride and courage.

‘Are you sure?’

He cleared his throat. Twice. ‘You look stunning.’

She pointed to her hair ruefully. ‘I didn’t have time to tame it.’