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‘Forget I brought it up,’ I say with the appearance of calm, remembering that I am a princess and I have been taught not to lose my temper. Or at least not to show that I’m losing it.
He shifts his body weight, one hand caressing my cheek. ‘Do you want me to say I hate the idea?’
I blink my eyes closed, pleasure briefly feathering my heart.
‘I do,’ he concedes after a beat. ‘I’m a regular, red-blooded man. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t have some reservations about a woman I’m sleeping with moving on so quickly. Is that what you want to hear?’
Not even close. He’s not jealous, he’s possessive, driven by ego—there’s a vital difference there.
‘That seems like a double standard,’ I say unevenly.
He presses a finger to my lips. ‘In all this time, you are the only one who has brought others into this. You talk about the women I’ve slept with and the man you will marry. You say to me that you hope our relationship will make you more likely to desire him and you ask about the women I will see when you return to Marlsdoven. There are realities beyond what we share, but I am not the one making us face them.’
I flinch at his summary of the situation. Everything is so messy, and I hate mess.
‘We have to face them, though,’ I say simply, my throat thick. ‘I’m marrying Heydar. Not tonight, not tomorrow, but in a few months, after my coronation. And I will never be able to see you again.’
He wouldn’t want to see me again anyway. If he did he’d fight for me, of that I’m certain. Santiago is not the kind of man to lose anything or anyone he values. I mean nothing to him, and, the sooner I accept that deep in my heart, the better. It will never hurt less, but at least the knowledge will save me from making a fool of myself.
A muscle jerks at the base of his jaw, and then he kisses me hard, his lips claiming mine. It’s as though he can’t find the words to respond to me, so he’s seeking to reply bodily, tormenting me with a desire that’s eating me alive.
His kiss stirs something deep in my chest. A reality I probably already know. A sharp, dangerous knowledge that I don’t want to keep hold of. I push it away resolutely, returning his kiss with all the desperation I feel—a desperation born from the fact I am leaving Spain within hours and, for the good of everyone, can never see this man again.
As pleasure floods my body, reality breaks my heart.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HE’S QUIET BUT I don’t want to read anything into that. Whatever question his silence raises, I already have the answer.
I’m leaving soon, and that will be the end of us. He doesn’t look at me as he drinks his coffee, concentrating instead on the newspaper in front of him. I watch him read, mar
velling at this small, ordinary action, and am struck by something unusual.
My parents used to do this.
How many mornings did I walk into the dining room to find my father reading the paper, mother opposite him? It is the most ordinary reflection of every day domesticity, and sharing it with Santiago now makes me anxious, because it’s such a lie. I know I’m reading too much into it. I stand uneasily, moving towards the window. Across the room, my small suitcase is packed, stuffed with all the things I brought. Clothes that will remind me of Santiago for ever. The cap sits on top, ready for me to resume my disguise.
‘We haven’t talked about the casino,’ I say, glancing at my wristwatch at the same time.
He lifts his gaze to my face and my heart stops beating. The golden light from behind me frames him until he shimmers. I ache for him but I know that can’t happen. Like ripping off a sticking plaster, I have to go.
‘We can discuss it over email,’ he says quietly. ‘But I see nothing in your requests that is...unreasonable.’
My eyes sweep shut. He’s going to agree to my terms... Because he thinks they’re fair or because we’ve slept together? Uneasiness grows. ‘Thank you.’
The rustling of paper draws my attention back to him. He stands, walking towards me. ‘I’ll drive you to the airport.’
I anticipated this suggestion and have my response ready. ‘I want to take a taxi. I’ve never done that before.’
His eyes war with mine, a challenge in their depths. ‘Then I’ll come with you.’
I hadn’t anticipated that response, but I demur easily enough. ‘It’s too risky; too many people...my security guards. I’d rather say goodbye to you here. Privately.’
I wonder if he’s going to overrule me, as he did with the trip here, but after a moment he nods. ‘Fine.’ He rakes his fingers through his thick, dark hair and I wonder if he’s experiencing a similar maelstrom of emotions as I am.
I’ve never been with a man before. I have no experience of any of this, particularly not with saying ‘goodbye’, but I have bags of history when it comes to knowing what people expect of me.
This should be light-hearted. Nothing about what we’ve done was ever going to be serious. We both knew that coming into it. I force a bright smile to my face. ‘I’ve had a lot of fun with you,’ I say, wondering how it became so much more meaningful than just ‘fun’.
