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Lia took a deep breath.
Yes, she would. She and Rafael were cut off, alone. No court to watch them, no parliament to answer to, no media to track their every move. What happened here no one would ever know about. There was no one to judge her, no one at all.
She didn’t know what her future was going to look like and that was terrifying, but tonight was certain and he was here.
A rush of something went through her, excitement, anticipation, or something else, she couldn’t tell what, but she grabbed on to it with both hands and held on tight.
What about marrying him? What about wanting to be chosen? What about giving in?
Sex didn’t have to mean marriage and she wasn’t giving in. She was choosing for herself. And while he might not have wanted to marry her if she wasn’t pregnant, hedidwant to sleep with her. He’d chosen her in that sense.
And your heart? What about that?
But Lia ignored that thought. Her heart had nothing to do with this. For the first time in her life she could do whatshewanted to do, not what anyone else wanted her to do, and that’s all that mattered.
Rafael kept tabs on the calls, social media notifications and emails that kept pouring in, while at the same time monitoring the state of the weather via the internet.
They’d be cut off from the outside world for some time since it was clear it wasn’t going to stop snowing any time soon and all the mountain passes were blocked.
As he hadn’t managed to get Lia’s agreement on the marriage idea yet, he continued to maintain radio silence with the outside world. Which he wasn’t sorry about in the slightest since it meant they would remain undisturbed.
Constanza delivered refreshments to the living room, small perfect sandwiches and delicate cut fruit. Some pastries as well as orange juice and a pot of coffee.
Rafael dismissed her and set out the food himself, arranging it just so on the coffee table in front of the fire.
The room was nicely warm now, the snow outside making it seem as though it was dark, even though night was still a few hours away.
It felt cosy, intimate, reminding him of Gian’s study all those months ago, the first time he’d walked in...
Rafael paced along the echoing hallways of the palace. It was late and he couldn’t sleep. He often couldn’t, there was too much going on in his head, and so he roamed the palace at night, trying to solvethe day’s problems with some good old-fashioned pacing.
He’d been surprised to find out how much he enjoyed being Regent—it was just the kind of challenge he liked—and he’d enjoyed being a big brother, too. More than he’d anticipated. Matias had got over his wariness after the first couple of months and had thrown himself into the business of learning how to be King. He’d proved to be a quick study and had blossomed over the past couple of years. He would be a good king for Santa Castelia, Rafael was sure.
His footsteps rang on the old stone floor as he strode down one of the narrower hallways.
He’d dismissed his guards for the night and it was good to be alone, since he hardly ever was. It gave him time to think.
One of the doors in the hall stood slightly open, light shining through.
Afterwards, he was never sure what had made him stop since an open doorway wasn’t unusual, though it was late for someone to have a light on. Perhaps it was the faint, aromatic scent of cigar smoke drifting into the hallway that made him stop. Because that scent was familiar. Gian smoked cigars that smelled like that.
He took a quick look around, orienting himself, and realised he must be standing outside Gian’s office. It seemed the first advisor was still working, even though it was late.
Rafael went to the door and pushed it open, wondering what was keeping the old man up till nearly midnight. But it wasn’t Gian who sat at his desk.
The desk lamp was on, casting a warm glow in the small room. Bookshelves lined the walls, the shelves crammed not only with books but keepsakes, photos, bits of stationery, letters and all kinds of other things.
The desk itself was oak, large and heavy, the surface of the desktop scattered with pens and paper, a computer screen and an old keyboard, a blotter that had been doodled on, and old cups of coffee.
And a pair of pretty bare feet, complete with blue toenails.
Rafael blinked.
A woman sat back in Gian’s chair with her feet on the desk. In one long-fingered hand she held a crystal tumbler full of an amber liquid that had to be alcohol of some kind and in the other a lit cigar.
It was Amalia, Gian’s daughter. The same daughter who was promised to Matias.
Rafael had met her only once before, when Gian had shown him the agreement between Carlos and himself that Carlos’s son would marry her. A match that Rafael had no issue with since the De Vita family was ancient aristocracy and very suitable.
