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That thread of sympathy that he’d buried and frozen beneath the layer of his icy rage tugged harder.
So, she didn’t come looking for you that night the way you thought, and she didn’t tell you about the baby. Did you even bother to ask her why not? No. You dragged her from her wedding, locked her in this limo and shouted at her.
Unease twisted deep in his gut.
He’d never been a warm, empathetic man, but he was never cruel and especially not to a woman, let alone a pregnant one.
Then again, this was what always happened with Lia. She got to him in a way no other woman ever had and so he had to be on his guard.
He’d already made one catastrophic error of judgement and had only compounded it today. There was no need to make any more.
The snow was coming down even harder and the temperature of the car was a little chilly. That gown she wore wouldn’t exactly be keeping her warm.
‘Are you cold?’ he asked, keeping his voice casual, which was his preferred method of modifying himself. ‘I’ll turn the heat up.’ He didn’t wait for her to respond, fiddling with the temperature controls until he was satisfied.
She ignored him. ‘What do you mean I’m yours? What about Matias?’
The unease inside him twisted harder. So much for the example he’d been trying to set his brother. Moderation, control, cold focus. The country before all else. He’d modelled exactly none of those things.
Matias wouldn’t be so much furious at Lia’s loss as he would be at the loss of the future he’d planned. The bride he’d been promised. The upending of everything he’d thought set in stone.
He never appreciated her for who she was and you know it. He wanted a queen. He didn’t wanther.
Possessiveness wound through him, the angry, passionate thoughts that he’d tried so hard to keep buried. Because it was true. Matias liked Lia well enough, but he didn’t know the heart of her. She had moderated herself so completely for him that Matias had commented once or twice to Rafael that he found her dull.
But Lia wasn’t dull. She was the opposite. Fiery, intense, rebellious. A little impulsive, yet sharp as a knife.
He doesn’t deserve her. But you do.
Rafael crushed that thought flat. Such entitlement. No one deserved anything. You had to work for it.
‘Matias will survive,’ he said, focusing on all the things that needed to be done instead of the things that seethed beneath the surface of the ice. ‘Leave that to me.’
A new bride would have to be chosen and Lia’s parents would have to be compensated. Gian would demand it and that would be expensive. Then again, the treasury was obscenely healthy these days, which was all thanks to him. Santa Castelia could afford it.
It was the finding of a new bride that would be difficult, but that didn’t mean one couldn’t be found. A bride more suited to Matias’s personality than Lia ever was.
The political ramifications, though, would have to be dealt with and quickly. Lia didn’t need to be a part of that. He’d take her to his private residence in the mountains and leave her there until he’d handled the fallout.
Then he’d marry her himself. There was no other option.
They’d both made a mistake that night, but the lack of contraception had been his error and his alone. An error that he would fix as soon as possible.
That’s fine. Tell yourself you’re marrying her because of all these other things and not because you want her for yourself.
It was not a particularly pleasant thought, mainly because it brought him face to face with his own baser urges. Urges that for the past fifteen years of his life he’d controlled without effort. Until he’d met her.
Yes, he did want her, he couldn’t deny that, and a tiny part of him felt nothing but satisfied at this turn of events. Almost as if fate had delivered her into his hands, which was fanciful of him. Still, fanciful or not, he couldn’t refuse that gift. He wouldn’t.
‘You didn’t answer the question. What about me?’ She’d modulated her voice into that low, pleasant tone that she used with everyone, clasped her hands in her lap. The Crown Princess back in control.
He wanted to tell her that there was no point in her princess façade now and definitely not with him, but the situation was already flammable and he didn’t need to strike another match.
‘You? You, I’ll take to my residence in the mountains.’ Rafael relaxed back against the seat, extending his arms along the top of it and stretching his legs out so that they nudged her skirts. ‘Then I’ll go to the palace and inform them of our intended marriage.’
‘Our marriage?’ Her modulated tone vibrated as she sat bolt upright, every part of her rigid. ‘Ourmarriage?’
He gave her a long, steady look. ‘I’m a bastard,princesa.You can’t think I’d let our child be born out of wedlock.’
