Yes, their lovemaking was more than just physical—even she would admit that there was an emotional joining happening between them—but that didn’t alter the fact that neither of them was looking for anything more than a transitory space of simply being together.
She moved down his body, her lips touching the hard landscape of his chest, the ache inside her intensifying as her tongue tasted the saltiness of his skin, his need pressing into her belly.
But before she could go any further he reached down and pulled her upwards, flipping her over in the process. Eyes aflame, he moved on top of her, his head dipping to her breast, his fingers moving between her legs, softly exploring.
‘Are you ready?’
She nodded, hot, dizzying desire stripping away her ability to speak. Her hips were moving restlessly, needing him, the heat in his eyes burning her up.
And then he moved into her.
Their gazes holding one another’s, they stared and stared into each other’s eyes, a silent message of connection, of regard, of care, beating out between them.
And when his movements quickened she lifted her hips higher to meet him, and they fell apart together, the intensity, the intimacy of sharing such a powerful and elemental moment almost breaking her in two.
* * *
They sat on the sofa in the living room to record their last interview, the terrace doors open, the warm midday heat flowing in on a breeze.
She was desperately trying not to show it but she was nervous. There was a gentleness, an understanding between them that she didn’t want to destroy by some ill-judged question on her part, or Ivo reverting to his usual guarded self.
She adjusted the cuff of her shorts—Ivo had said he would take her hiking to visit the most westerly point of the island after their interview—and asked, ‘I want to talk about your rowing career, being royal and family life—is that okay?’
He nodded but the tension lines at the corners of his eyes tightened. She wasn’t the only apprehensive one.
‘You’re uncomfortable with this interview, aren’t you?’
He shrugged in answer to her question.
She needed this interview. There wasn’t enough material from their other interviews for an hour-long broadcast, and what was there didn’t give a real insight into Ivo. But could she really make demands on him because of her professional needs...? Somehow none of this felt right any more. She swallowed, wondering if she had served anyone right this weekend. Meeting his gaze, she admitted, ‘I’m struggling with this... I need more content but I don’t want to put you in a position you’re uncomfortable with. Because of everything that has happened between us on a personal level, I don’t have the professional distance I should have.’ She stopped trying to figure out exactly what she was trying to say and, taking a deep breath, added, ‘I want this interview to serve you well. Of course I want it to be insightful and helpful to listeners, but I also want it to represent who you really are, while respecting your privacy.’
‘Why?’
It was such a good question...why, then, was she struggling so much to answer it? She bit her lip trying to put into words the twisting emotion in her heart. ‘I’ve grown to like and respect you... I guess I’m struggling here with balancing how much access you have given me on a personal level to your life and what you want to divulge to the listeners. I don’t want to be overly intrusive in my questioning.’
He considered her for the longest time, seriously at first but then a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. ‘Thank you.’
She waited for him to say something more, her heart kicking wildly at the quiet pleasure in his expression, the warmth glistening in his eyes. Somehow her inarticulateness had got through to him. He understood this interview was a delicate balancing act in preserving what was between them.
She pushed away the thought that all her words were motivated by more than just doing right by him in the interview...that she was trying to maintain something between them that could last longer than this weekend alone.
Ivo’s smile widened even further and once again the fondness between them morphed into heat and desire that danced between them wickedly.
With an exasperated exhale Ivo nodded at the recording equipment. ‘Let’s get this over and done with before we get sidetracked...again.’
Several times this morning they had attempted to get up, but every time one of them stood, the other would drag them back to bed. And when she had gone for a shower, Ivo had followed her in under the hot spray. And later, when attempting to dress, she had got as far as pulling on her underwear before Ivo had pulled it off again, ignoring her giggles and protests...making love to her against the door of his dressing room.
With a shaky hand she pressed ‘record’, looking at the questions she had written down over breakfast as Ivo had caught up with his emails. The easy silence between them had made her heart quicken and she had tried to ignore the temptation of daydreaming about long, lazy weekends alone with him in the future.
Now she said, ‘You attended two international championships and were favourite to win gold at both. But, while you won gold in your second bid, at the first you famously finished fourth. How did you cope with that, especially the well-publicised media criticism?’
Ivo arched his neck, grimacing before he answered, ‘Our performance at the first championships was crushing. As a team we didn’t perform to the best of our abilities and we knew we had let all of Monrosa down. We had known that there were special screenings of the race being staged across the island and were inundated with messages of goodwill. Disappointing our supporters was the worst part. For a few weeks after the race I considered quitting the sport. The effort and hours involved in training at that level are gruelling, but I also questioned my ability on the water.’
‘But you were considered the lynchpin of the team—what did the rest of them say about you potentially leaving?’
He shrugged. ‘We all went our separate ways immediately after the race. None of us was in the mood to talk. The others wanted to be with their wives and partners.’
‘Are you saying that you didn’t talk to them about how you were feeling?’
‘No.’
Taken aback, she paused, shocked but also upset at the extent to which Ivo had isolated himself. She couldn’t imagine being part of a team and not talking openly about something so crucial. ‘Didn’t you share how you were feeling with them at any point...or with anyone else, for that matter?’
Once again he shrugged. ‘What was the point? It wasn’t going to change our loss. I soon realised that I was wasting energy focusing on my disappointment and that I needed to concentrate on the end goal—to bring a gold medal back to Monrosa. After the first bid we reviewed every aspect of our training plan, from our nutrition to our race schedule. And it worked. We became a much stronger team. From a defeat you can become stronger, if you focus on what you want to achieve.’
He was shifting the conversation away from the fact that he didn’t talk to anyone about how crushed he must have felt after the first bid. No doubt deliberately. Could she push him on it? How would he react if she did? Why did this feel like such a tightrope of an interview? What did it say about their relationship that she was so worried about driving him back beyond the wall of silence he so favoured, by asking him to explore in greater depth his thoughts and feelings? This was crazy...she had a job to do. ‘Can I take you back to the fact that you didn’t talk to anyone about how you were feeling during that time...didn’t you find that difficult? Didn’t it make it worse not being able to talk about it?’
Ivo frowned at her question and for a moment she thought he was going to gloss over it, but then with a minute shake of his head he answered, ‘At the time I was of the mind frame that no amount of talking would make a difference—’ he paused and smiled ‘—but thanks to the last few days with you I’m starting to appreciate that s
haring experiences can be beneficial.’
She grinned at that, blushed even. ‘It’s a careful balance between protecting yourself and honesty, isn’t it?’ Holding his gaze, the intimacy of their lovemaking so vivid and poignant, she admitted, ‘I know you probably won’t agree but on balance I think I’d prefer to lead an open life.’
‘Actually I do think you’re right...it’s the braver option, to be open.’
Taken aback by his words, she studied him for a moment and asked, ‘Do you really?’
He nodded. ‘Yes.’
She had to remember her listeners. Would any of this make any sense to them? She needed to ask him direct and challenging questions that pushed him to be more open, but inside she rebelled at the thought that she might upset the sensitive balance between them. She gritted her teeth, realising that she was scared of giving him a reason to walk away from her. Was what was between them so delicate, so easily broken? ‘You were given the nickname the Machine because of your reputation for being impenetrable. Are you saying that you wished you were more open...or that you want to be in the future?’
‘I’m private by nature and it has served me in the past...but as my life and career change I’m starting to appreciate the need for openness as well. Whether I can translate that understanding into actual behaviour, time will tell.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘As they say, old habits die hard.’
‘Who in your life do you want to be more open with?’
Her question earned her another wry smile. ‘Thanks to our interviews, I guess I now have the opportunity to be more open with the wider world. I’m talking about aspects of my life that I’ve never shared before. But it’s with those close to me, my family in particular, that I realise that I need a more forthright relationship.’
She nodded encouragingly, wanting him to say more, trying to ignore the thought that she wished he would say that he wanted a closer relationship with her, but hating herself for having such a ridiculous wish when Ivo had never given her any reason to hope for such a thing happening. And mentally she performed an eye roll, frustrated with herself for yet again trying to camouflage her own insecurities by the lure of the distraction and safety of a relationship.
She almost sighed in relief when Ivo spoke again, glad that at least he was moving the interview along and not getting bogged down in rambling inner thoughts as she was. ‘Because I attended boarding school as a teenager and then my rowing career dominated my life in the following years, my relationship with my family is somewhat distant, and it’s something I know I need to address.’
She was glad. She gave him an encouraging smile, the tension in his expression lightening. She studied her notes, not wanting to think that from tomorrow, other than what she would glean from conversations with Alice and Kara, she would never know how his attempts to connect with his family would fare. She was in regular contact with her previous interviewees but right now she wasn’t certain what type of relationship she would manage to foster with Ivo going forward. ‘Given the sacrifices a rowing career demands, what was your motivation for wanting to win a gold medal?’
‘I’m incredibly proud to be from Monrosa and I wanted to be able to give something back to the people. I wanted to be able to win a medal for the country.’
‘Dedicating your life for the best part of a decade to achieving that for your country takes huge self-discipline and sacrifice. Do you ever regret it, or did you even question it when you were in the middle of it all?’
Ivo shook his head. ‘No. I’m deeply conscious and appreciative of the privileges afforded me by my position in the Monrosian royal family. I hope that in my athletic career and now in my advisory role in the Treasury that I can contribute to Monrosa’s success and identity.’ Pausing, he rubbed his neck. ‘I prefer to lead a low-profile life. It’s my hope that the public can understand my preference for such a life but know that Monrosa is very important and an integral part of me. Now that I’m living here full-time, I truly appreciate what an incredible country it is. I want to see the country continue to thrive.’ He was visibly emotional when he added, ‘I’m very proud of all of the changes Edwin is making and want to continue to be part of ensuring the country’s continued success.’
For a moment she hesitated in responding, wondering if she was about to destroy just how engaged Ivo was with the interview. And destroy that fragile openness between them. ‘The people of Monrosa and external commentators were shocked when your father announced his abdication. Were you? And what do you think his legacy is?’
He frowned at her question, his gaze cooling. She resisted the urge to ask him another question, to smooth away the sudden tension between them, wanting to test how much he was prepared to accept her probing, how much he was prepared to be truly honest with her.
‘Yes, I was shocked.’ His voice was terse.
‘Why?’
Her heart thumped to see his expression tighten. She had lost him. But still she forced herself to hold his gaze, tilting her head upwards, daring him to push her away.
His gaze narrowed but then he answered, ‘Being monarch was everything to him. Even more so after the death of my mother. It gave him purpose. I never thought he would be prepared to walk away from that, but he did in order to see Monrosa prosper, believing that the country needed more energy and ideas from a younger monarch. I admire him for taking such a difficult personal decision for the greater good.’
Stopping, he considered her for long moments before adding, ‘The following is off the record.’
When she nodded her acceptance, he grimaced and added, ‘But that was not the only reason why my father abdicated. He also did so in order to force Edwin to marry and to have children.’
Had she heard right? ‘Force him to marry?’
‘Edwin and Kara...it was an arranged marriage.’
‘No! But they are crazy about one another.’ She stopped, realising that she was suddenly close to tears. He had to be making this up. None of this made sense. Kara’s marriage couldn’t be a sham. If it was...then what hope did anyone else have?
‘They were always crazy about one another...but it took my father’s interference for them to wake up to that fact.’
‘Are you saying that he orchestrated the whole thing?’
‘I don’t know...perhaps. He definitely wanted heirs to the throne... My father has many faults but he did love my mother greatly. I believe he wanted the same for Edwin.’
‘And for you and Luis?’
He gave a brief nod yes. And she swallowed at the thought that Ivo’s father wanted him to marry. She pretended to draw a line through some of her questions, trying not to think about sitting and watching Ivo’s televised wedding. He might be insistent right now that he didn’t want to marry, but, with time and pressure from his father, would he eventually relent?
She needed to ask him another question but, meeting his gaze, she felt her heart lurch, realising that he had just told her something deeply personal and private. Biting her lip, she longed to ask him why he had shared it with her, but, fearing that she would sound needy and that the question would only serve her own vanity and insecurities, she said instead, not stopping to think about the wisdom of doing so, ‘You’d be a great dad...if you ever decide to be one.’
He raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
‘But you would... I’ve seen you with Gabriela. You’re as soft as putty around her. If I hadn’t seen you with my own eyes and got to know you better this weekend I would have said that maybe you would be a distant dad, a little too rigid and strict. But now I know that you would be calm and strong and stable.’
He gave what almost looked like a regretful smile but then shrugged it off, gesturing to her notebook. ‘I think we should get back to the main interview.’
She nodded and scanned her list, trying to decide what her next question should be while her mind whirred with a multitude of co
ntemplations.
Did he believe her when she said he’d be a good father? Did he trust and value her opinion enough to listen to what she said? Why was she saying any of this anyway? What was she trying to achieve? What type of mother did he think she would be?
Her brain felt such a mess. This was supposed to be about her having fun, accepting the joy of a short-term affair. She wasn’t supposed to be overthinking it all or placing too much importance on what was only a fleeting, joyous outtake on normal life. She needed to get back to the task at hand—now.
‘Going back to what you said earlier about public life—do you feel pressure to lead a more public and open life?’
‘I appreciate how important the monarchy is in Monrosian life and I understand why the public and media want to see and have access to the royal family. But I’m a private person by nature and prefer to lead a more low-profile life.’
‘Have there been times when you have found public life particularly demanding?’
‘Obviously the scrutiny and commentary after our first failed international bid was at times difficult.’ He considered her for a moment and her heart missed a beat at the emotion that swirled between them in those few seconds. ‘But it was in the aftermath of my mother’s death that I struggled most with having to maintain a public presence.’
* * *
His heart was hammering in his chest. He couldn’t believe he was actually admitting all of this. He was supposed to be stoic and never, ever confess to struggling or personal failures. It would be so easy to blame Toni and her questions that went far beyond anything any other journalist had asked of him before. But in truth he wanted to speak, he wanted to be honest about the strains caused by not being able to be true to himself. He wanted others to understand that they were not alone in needing to find self-acceptance. It was as though Toni had unlocked something in him. Was it how natural and good it felt to have someone else in the finca, despite all of his initial reservations about it? Or was it how physically depleted he felt after their endless lovemaking? Or how emotionally calm he felt after looking into her eyes time and time again as their bodies joined, her soft smiles of delight, how eagerly she had accepted his kisses and touches, no barriers, no tension existing between them? Just absolute acceptance of the intimate moments they were sharing.
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