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That was the truth.
Alix looked so obdurate right then that it sent a prickle of fear down Leila’s spine. ‘I’m not getting rid of it just because I’m not suitable wife material any more.’
He frowned. ‘Who said anything about getting rid of it?’ His frown deepened and then an expression came over his face—something like disgust. ‘You suspected you might be pregnant that day, didn’t you?’
Leila’s face got hot. She glanced down at the floor, feeling guilty. ‘I hadn’t got my period.’ She looked up again. ‘But I didn’t want to say anything. I had no reason to believe it wasn’t just late, and I was hoping that...’ She stopped.
‘That there would be no consequences?’ Alix filled in, with a twist to his mouth.
Leila nodded.
‘Well, there are. And rather far-reaching ones.’
More than fear trickled down her spine now. But before she could ask him to clarify what he meant he moved towards her. He stopped—too close. She could smell him, imagined she could feel his heat. She wanted to step back, but wouldn’t.
‘You lied to me.’
Leila frowned. ‘But I only just found—’
‘About your father. You said he was dead.’
Leila felt weak again. She’d conveniently let that little time bomb slide to the back of her head while dealing with this.
She glared at Alix. ‘You lied too. You lied about the fact that you were poised to take control of your throne again and just using me as a smokescreen.’
Alix appeared to choose to ignore that. He folded his arms. Eyes narrowed on her. ‘Why did you lie about your father?’
Leila turned away from him again, feeling like a pinned insect under his judgemental gaze. He came alongside her. She bit her lip. He was silent, waiting.
Reluctantly she said, ‘It was my mother. It was what she always said. “He’s dead to us, Leila. He didn’t want me or you. And he only wanted me to prostitute myself for him. If anyone asks, he’s dead.”’
Alix stayed silent.
‘I was aware of who he was—his perfect life and family. His rise to political fame. Why would I ever admit that he was my father? I was ashamed for him. And for myself. It’s one thing to be rejected by a parent who has known you all your life, but another to be rejected before they’ve even met you.’
She and her mother had seen both sides of that coin.
Alix’s tone was arctic, he oozed disapproval of her messy past. ‘We found out that the press sat on the story of your identity in order to dig into your past and see if they could find anything juicy. And they did. Your father is already doing his best to limit the damage, claiming these reports are spurious—an attempt to thwart his chances in the election.’
Leila hated it, but she felt hurt. Another rejection—and public this time. ‘I’m not surprised,’ she said dully. And in front of Alix. Could this day get any worse?
Apparently it could. From beside her he said briskly, ‘The press conference will be taking place in an hour’s time. I’ve arranged for a stylist and her team to come and get you ready.’
Leila turned to look at Alix. ‘Press conference? Stylist? What for?’
Alix turned to face her. His expression brooked no argument. ‘A press conference to announce our engagement, Leila. After which you’ll be leaving with me to come back to Isle Saint Croix.’
For some reason Leila seized on the most innocuous word. ‘Back? But I’ve never been...’ Her brain felt sluggish, words too unwieldy to say.
A sharp pinging noise came out of nowhere and Alix extracted a sleek phone from his pocket, holding it up to his ear. He took it away momentarily to say to Leila, ‘Wait here for the stylist. I’ll be back shortly.’
And he was walking out of the room before she could react.
When she did react, Leila felt red-hot lava flow through her veins. The sheer arrogance of the man! To assume she’d meekly roll over and agree to his bidding just because he had a King Kong complex!
Leila stormed off after Alix, going down seemingly endless corridors that ended in various plush bedrooms and sitting rooms, and a dining room that looked as if it could seat a hundred.
She eventually heard low voices from behind a closed door and without knocking threw the door open. ‘Now, look here—what part of I don’t want to marry you didn’t you understand the first time I said it?’
