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“No. You’re angry about the article and I get that; I was too. That’s not the article I wanted to write--,”
“It had your name on it,” he interrupted, with a skeptically raised brow.
“I’m aware of that.”
He lowered his head, so his eyes were close enough that she could see flecks of gold in amongst the green. “There were things in that article that only I knew – things that I told you in confidence, having never revealed them to another soul. I confided in you, I trusted you…”
Her guilt cracked wide open, flooding her with pain and angry recriminations. “I know.” It was just a husky whisper.
“I suppose I should be grateful to you, in a way.”
“Why?” She blinked up at him, and made the foolish mistake of sucking in a deep breath. She’d hoped it would calm her fluttering nerves but instead she caught a hint of his masculine fragrance and her knees almost buckled underneath her.
“I don’t trust easily. I never have before, anyway.” He pressed his th
umb and forefinger to the flesh beneath her chin, lifting her face to his so their eyes were locked. “And yet…”
The words tapered off and it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the palace. They were floating in a vacuum, darkness, past, misunderstanding and pain, and yet the same magnetic tug held them in its thrall.
“You were a mistake,” he said finally, breaking the spell and dropping his hand. “Trusting you was the worst error in judgement I’ve ever made. I was blinded by your beauty – what a fool. As if I hadn’t been with beautiful women before! What was it about you, Eleanor? Why did I feel like you were different?”
Her pulse was thick and fast in her veins. “Maybe I was different.”
“Yes.” He said with a touch of fury. “You’re by far the most manipulative, dishonest bitch of a woman I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”
She stumbled backwards at the furious epithet, until her back connected with the cold stone wall. But he wasn’t done.
“You lied to me with every breath you took and then you used what I’d told you to destroy my father’s life and legacy. That article will forever be associated with him – never mind all the good he achieved in his lifetime. Your stupid, invasive article will be on every internet search for anyone who chooses to type his name. You wrote an article for the sake of amusement and titillation and you destroyed an old man in the process. You damned well nearly destroyed his business too. And now you think you can come here and what? Do exactly the same to my sister? Or to the Sheikh – who happens to be one of my best friends?”
Eleanor could barely catch her breath. “This piece will be restricted to political observations.”
His snort was scathing.
“I mean it! I’m reporting on the importance of the royal heir…”
“My nephew.”
She bit down on her lip, something about the phrase so utterly humanizing that she saw a glimpse of Apollo as he’d been before. As he’d been three years ago when they were falling in love and everything had seemed so much simpler.
“In an abstract sense, yes. But the article won’t hurt… I haven’t written anything like that piece since I left The Crier.”
Another snort, this time rich with disbelief.
“I mean it! You can have a look online and see – I give gossip and cheap speculation a wide berth these days, believe me.”
“Believe you? Not for a billion dollars.”
She tried not to show how much his words had hurt, but they clawed into her soul like rabid tigers.
“That’s your prerogative,” she said with her head held as high as she could muster. “But now, I really must be getting back to work.”
Apollo’s laugh was almost genuine. He dragged a hand over his jaw and shook his head, fixing her once more with his direct gaze. “You aren’t going anywhere near my sister, nor her husband. You aren’t staying in this country or this palace for another hour.”
Eleanor’s mouth gaped while she tried to collect her thoughts.
Taking advantage of her palpable surprise, Apollo curved a palm around her elbow and began to guide her down the stairs. But at the first landing, she whipped around, pulling out of his touch.
“Stop. You can’t be serious about this! I’m sorry for what I did three years ago, Apollo. If I could take it back, I would. But my feeling sorry doesn’t equate to you getting to frog-march me out of the palace. I’m here with a valid work license, and you have no authority here – not over me, or anyone.”
