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‘You mean spite him.’

‘That too.’

The silence thickened the longer she stared into his eyes, where bitterness and implacable determination burned like eternal twin flames. Tilly sank into disbelief as she realised Alex Montesi, Crown Prince of Montaurella, wasn’t joking.

She nipped her lower lip. ‘It’s preposterous—’

‘It’s perfect.’

‘What’s wrong with you?’ She frowned. ‘Are you so jaded, so hell-bent on causing trouble that you’ll marry the daughter of a woman you loathe just to antagonise your father?’

‘Pretty much.’

He said it so casually, but she felt the wave of enmity and her breath hissed. That wall of anger had been within him the entire time she’d known him. It was the only emotion she’d ever seen in him. On the rare occasions Alex roamed the palace corridors with cynical, biting disdain, Tilly stayed as far from him as possible. Because every time they crossed paths he struck with coldly delivered sarcasm undermining her place there, mocking her work in the museum as pointless. Erik invariably appeared and tried to lighten the atmosphere before a visibly disgusted Alex disappeared in a moody cloud. All those photos online showed him laughing, his hedonism renowned and honestly applauded. But in the palace, around Tilly, that supposedly charming Alex was as rare as a damned unicorn.

He hated that his father had moved on so soon after his mother’s death and Tilly was inextricably tied to that complicated, ugly mess. Now, aside from his own father, Tilly was the main target of his wrath. So this idea, this proposal, was insane. And yet fascinating because he truly seemed serious.

‘He’ll be angry.’ Tilly ventured a step forward, wanting to see how far he’d play it.

‘He can be as angry as he wants.’

‘He might disinherit you.’

‘Maybe.’ His cynical grin flashed.

The one she hated. It didn’t count as a smile. Even if he was still appallingly handsome with it. ‘Do you want him to cut you off completely?’

‘It’s a miracle he hasn’t already.’

Didn’t Alex give a damn about his country? How could he have such careless disregard for his own people, especially when they—for reasons unfathomable to Tilly—forgave his wild, personal exploits and seemingly adored him no matter what?

‘Erik would be a better heir to the throne,’ she said.

‘Gosh, Tilly. For the first time ever, I completely agree with you. This bodes well for our happy marriage.’ He leaned closer. ‘But no, I will inherit the crown. Erik doesn’t deserve that burden.’

‘Why consider it a burden? Because it’ll inhibit your proclivity for endless parties?’

His smile sharpened. ‘No, even when I am King, I’ll never settle.’

Of course he wouldn’t. Tilly had seen the stream of stunning women pictured on the yacht he had moored out there in the vibrant blue bay—an endless succession, all smiles and sexiness in the sun.

‘Then why propose to me now?’

‘Our brief union will be a nuclear disaster. Any suggestion of a second attempt at matrimony will forever be silenced.’

‘So much for happy…’

‘Don’t you want to explode his plans?’ His gaze narrowed. ‘He’s trying to take advantage of the worst thing that’s happened in your life.’

‘I’ve had worse things happen to me than some fake video,’ she snapped.

‘Okay.’ He paused. ‘Then take control of this.’

‘By anchoring myself to you? As if you wouldn’t be every bit as controlling. You’re as bad as he is at letting me finish a sentence.’

Another beat, then he breathed. ‘There’s nothing I’ll ask of you other than to be by my side. Not for long and not in any way real. When we divorce after a couple of months, you get a massive pay-out.’

‘I don’t want a massive pay-out.’