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Lia would come home with filthy, torn clothes and wild hair, and receive a lecture from her mother about how a future queen needed to be immaculate.
She was not immaculate now.
What kind of thanks is that for all your parents’ hard work?
Something that felt like grief wound through her and she turned away from her reflection, forcing the thought from her head.
She didn’t want to think about her parents, not yet.
Instead, she got rid of her underwear, then stepped under the shower, letting the stream of blissfully hot water warm her up and wash away the memories of the day.
As the water fell around her, she gently touched the slightly rounded curve of her stomach and a wave of protectiveness went through her. She had no idea what kind of mother she would be, but she certainly wasn’t going to weigh her child down with a heavy load of expectations the way she had been.
She wasn’t going to tell them how hard she had worked for them or how difficult it had been to conceive. How many tears had been shed and heartache endured simply for the privilege of having her.
She wouldn’t lecture them about the sacrifices that had been made and how her happiness was dependent on theirs, and didn’t they owe her that? Hadn’t she been through enough for them?
So much for not thinking about your parents.
Her hand cupped her stomach as the grief turned into a sharp, painful kind of anger. Then from out of nowhere, Rafael’s voice drifted through her head.
‘That was whattheywanted, Lia. You said yourself that no one ever asked you what you wanted. They didn’t even think about you... So why nail yourself to a cross you didn’t even build?’
She’d told herself for years that she was happy with the opportunities her parents had given her, because that’s how they’d phrased the betrothal to Matias. An opportunity to prove her worth and make them proud, as her father had said. As if just existing wasn’t enough and she had to do something more.
She hadn’t questioned it. Her mother had talked a lot about how hard it had been to conceive and that by the time they’d gone through the IVF process, they were older parents. And that they didn’t have the energy for a child as ‘volatile and high maintenance’ as she had been.
She loved her parents and so she’d tried to be good, to control the worst of her behaviours. To not have tantrums when she was angry or cry when she was upset, or shriek too loudly when she was having fun. To be well behaved and good, and to never give them a reason to regret having her.
She’d done that for years without question.
Until one night when she couldn’t sleep, she’d been out walking the palace halls and had found the door to her father’s office open. And she’d gone inside, because she was curious, poking around and finding a whisky bottle and a box of cigars.
Because it was midnight and no one was around, she’d taken a sip of that whisky. Then she’d tried one of those cigars. She’d felt reckless and rebellious, all the things she never allowed herself to feel during the day, and so she’d kept doing it.
Then one night Rafael had caught her. She’d brazened it out by offering him a glass of whisky, which he’d then shocked her by taking. Then he’d sat down and they’d talked and talked. She’d thought it had been a one-off, but a couple of days later he’d come back and they’d resumed talking.
She’d realised then that he didn’t care about her behaviour. That she didn’t have to moderate herself with him, that helikedher when she was ‘volatile’.
Just as she’d liked him. And then more than liked. She’dwanted...
And you still do, so why not have a night with him? Just one. And maybe it will vanquish this need for both of you.
Lia blinked through the water running down over her face, the thought catching her unawares, making her stomach swoop and dive.
As she’d already thought, she had the luxury of choice now. While she didn’t want to marry him, that didn’t mean she couldn’t sleep with him.
Three months ago she’d chosen to go to Matias and it had only been an accident that had led her to Rafael’s bed. But she could choose differently now.
Now she had the freedom to choose him because she wanted him, not so she could forget him. And he was hungry for her, too. She’d loved that. Loved how desired he’d made her feel that night.
So why couldn’t she have that again? Why couldn’t they both have it?
Lia turned off the water and got out. She dried herself on a warm, fluffy white towel, then pulled her underwear back on and dressed in the sweats that had been on the bed.
They were clean, smelling of laundry powder, but there was no doubt as to whose they were, because they swamped her. The pants weren’t so bad because she had a little baby bump, plus they had a drawstring she could pull tight around her hips, but the hoodie was a different story. It swamped her, extending down to her knees and she had to roll the sleeves up hugely.
She was wearing his clothes. His.Rafael’s.
