by Annie West
She’d thought for so long that she was destined to be Queen of St Ancilla. Even the university degree she’d completed hadn’t been done with the aim of securing herself a job. Her job was supposed to be supporting Paul and the people of St Ancilla. She’d been trained from birth to be a royal, to serve a nation. As a teenager she’d thought of a career, but after her betrothal had thought that that was impossible.
Now it wasn’t only possible. It was vital.
What would she do with her life? She couldn’t see herself returning to Tarentia to live in her parents’ shadow for ever.
She had to start thinking of the future. A future away from St Ancilla, though she’d come to love the place. A future where she worked at something other than being royal.
Eva clutched at the kitchen bench, for a moment overwhelmed by the enormous changes she faced.
But this was a positive. She could build a career and be independent, not tied to the royal court, always living up to impossibly high expectations.
She just had to decide what that future would be. Hopefully something fulfilling. Something where she could make a difference.
Footsteps descending the staircase cut through her thoughts and she moved to the coffee machine. It was easier to focus on making a perfect espresso than grapple with the issue of her future. There’d be plenty of time once she left here. An endless lifetime ahead without Paul.
Don’t think like that.
Think of this as an opportunity. Think about the freedom to work at something you enjoy. The freedom and independence.
Her nape prickled. Paul had arrived. Her body always told her when he was looking at her.
Straightening her shoulders, she practised a nonchalant smile. All she had to do was agree on how they were going to break the news of their split and she could leave.
She ignored the cramping pain through her middle.
‘Here.’ She turned, that small smile pinned to her face. ‘Just the way you like it.’
She held out his coffee but Paul ignored it. Slowly he looked up from his phone. His brow was crunched in a scowl that drew his eyebrows close. Deep lines cut around his mouth and his jaw looked as if it was carved of granite.
‘Paul? What is it?’ Her heart leapt. ‘Bad news?’
Belatedly he reached out and took the cup, only to place it on the table beside him.
He pulled a chair from the table for her. ‘You’d better sit down.’
He must have read her sudden fear for he shook his head and his mouth curved ever so slightly. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not bad news from Tarentia. Your family is fine.’
His eyes cut to his phone. ‘But we have a problem.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
EVA WATCHED PAUL take the chair next to hers. ‘Tell me.’
His dark-blue eyes bored into hers. There was nothing lover-like about his gaze now. Though there was concern. ‘Last night. That scene behind the night club.’ His mouth hooked down at the corners. ‘It’s all over social media and the press.’
‘I don’t understand.’ But that was just her brain rejecting his words. Looking into his grim features, Eva understood this was all too real.
‘You were right about others being in the vicinity when you went out the back door. Someone had a phone and used it to snap a photo.’
‘Of you fighting?’
Eva recalled Fabrice’s hot breath and grasping hands. His heavy weight against her. His violent snarl as he’d promised retribution for that knee to the groin. She’d been so thankful when Paul had ripped him off her. She wasn’t a fan of violence but in the circumstances she could feel nothing but gratitude and relief that he’d intervened. But a shot of the king brawling in a back alley would be a PR nightmare, even though he’d been saving her.
Paul shook his head. ‘No. The photo is of you and him up against the wall.’
Bile rose at the thought. It was bad enough to live with the vivid recollection, to feel that phantom clutch of greedy hands and the slide of those wet lips. But to have others see what had happened...
Eva’s shoulders hunched as she pulled her arms in tight against her body. She felt grubby, tainted. It did little good to say she’d done nothing wrong. That it was Fabrice who should feel shame. But, despite logic, something deeper and more primitive scoured through her. She didn’t want to hear this. Even more, she didn’t want everyone else to know about it.
‘So the press are reporting the attack.’ She told herself it would be a nine-day wonder. That after the initial flurry of interest it would be forgotten.
‘Not exactly.’
She looked up sharply and didn’t like the expression she saw on Paul’s face. Anger but something else she couldn’t name. ‘What?’
‘There’s only one photo and it’s of you. You and...’
‘Fabrice,’ she said through clenched teeth. Was that even his real name?
‘Fabrice.’ He leaned back in his seat, as if getting more comfortable, except every line of his rigid body spoke of tension. ‘The story splashed everywhere is that you were making out with him willingly. That, far from wanting me to interrupt, you were planning to go off with him to...’
Something jammed high up in Eva’s chest as if someone had stuck a knife between her ribs, catching her lungs in the process so she couldn’t breathe.
Finally, she forced out the words. ‘Say it.’
Serious eyes held hers and now the expression she read there was overwhelmingly of sympathy.
‘To have sex. Apparently you were on the prowl, looking for a one-night stand, until I came and butted in. The stories about what happened next are sketchy, presumably because there aren’t photos. In some versions there was a fight. In others I simply grabbed you and marched you back to the palace.’
Pain banded Eva’s torso. Breathing actually hurt.
How could that be, when she knew full well the media’s ability to turn the most innocent glance into something totally different? The press spun stories out of air, inventing feuds, rivalries, love stories and so much more. Not that she’d been a particular victim.
But this... Turning the most shocking, frightening experience of her life into salacious gossip for the masses... She pressed her hand to her stomach, clamping her lips shut as nausea hit.
‘Here.’ Eventually she heard Paul’s voice, soft near her ear. He wrapped her hand round a glass. Eva looked down and saw she held a half-full glass of water, its surface rippling as her hand shook.
‘Thanks.’ She sipped it, forcing the liquid down her constricted throat. That gave her something to focus on other than the raging whirl of emotions inside.
Putting down the glass, she held out her hand for his phone. ‘Show me.’
Hers was still in the small bag she’d taken with her last night and the battery was flat.
‘I don’t think you really—’
‘No, I’m sure I don’t want to see what they say.’ Determined, she held his gaze. ‘But I need to. Please.’
Reluctantly, he placed in on her palm. Her fingers closed round it tentatively, as if it might bite. Her mouth curled in a bitter smile. It was too late to worry about getting hurt. The damage was done.
Even so, the next five minutes were a test of her endurance. Her stomach curdled as she read the stories and speculation about her. When she saw the photo, her stomach cramped so hard she thought she’d vomit.
From this angle you couldn’t tell the embrace was forced. It was obvious he’d kissed her and the position of his groping hand at her breast was revoltingly clear.
Her hand was up against his shoulder. Eva recalled shoving with all her might. But that could look as though she’d clung for support.
The shot was taken from one side. Fabrice’s face was unclear but the side of Eva’s face was in focus, including one of the distinctive sapphire earrings she’d worn
to the ball that night. And, if there’d been any doubt about her identity, the engagement ring Paul had given her was there for all to see. A pear-shaped blue diamond. It was truly distinctive.
A shudder passed through her then she gave the phone back to him and got up, collecting both his coffee cup and hers.
‘Where are you going?’ Instantly Paul was beside her.
Did he think she was going to storm off?
And do what? Track down Fabrice, whose surname she didn’t even know, and force him to admit what had happened?
Complain to the press?
Rant on social media?
Eva breathed deep and tipped the cold coffee out of the untouched cups.
‘To make us fresh coffee.’ She didn’t need the caffeine. She already had so much adrenaline storming through her bloodstream, she’d be wired for the rest of the day. But it gave her something to do.
‘I’m sorry about this, Eva.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ She sent him a sideways glance, noting the harsh set of his steely jaw.
‘It is. I should have thought about photos. But all I could focus on was making you safe and getting you away from there.’
Eva concentrated on measuring the ground coffee. ‘And I’m grateful.’
She couldn’t let herself dwell on how she felt right now. Or on the temptation to seek comfort in his arms.
From the corner of her eye she saw him rake his hand through his hair. The gesture pulled his thin sweater taut across his chest and her breath snagged. Not in distress but appreciation.
Her emotions were all over the place. If Paul turned to her now, took her hand and whispered seduction in her ear, she’d follow him back up the stairs to that round tower-room and let his loving push all this grimy gossip from her mind.
He didn’t.
Of course he didn’t.
‘We’ll deal with this, Eva. Don’t fret.’
She shot him a stunned glance, then realised she shouldn’t be surprised. Paul had a protective streak a mile wide and a well-honed sense of responsibility.
But Eva was no longer his responsibility.
‘You don’t need to get involved. I’ll handle it once I’m gone.’
‘Gone?’
She frowned, her thoughts on what she had to do next.
Eva handed him his tiny cup and picked up her own, sniffing the rich aroma, telling herself she’d feel stronger once she’d drunk it.
‘Once I’m in Tarentia. We’re no longer engaged, remember?’
For a second he stood motionless, regarding her. Then he lifted the cup and drank, not even grimacing as he swallowed the scalding hot coffee.
He half-turned to put his cup down then faced her again, the picture of assured, powerful male. To her dismay, Eva really did feel tempted to lean against that broad shoulder and let him take charge.
‘You’re upset, and that seems to have affected your memory. Fortunately, I have perfect recall. I raised the possibility of breaking our engagement and you didn’t like the idea. We agreed to discuss it today.’
‘Okay, we’ll discuss it now.’ She sipped her coffee, willing the warm liquid to make her feel stronger. ‘I agree that we should end the engagement. It’s sensible for us to split up.’
A half-smile hooked up the corner of Paul’s mouth. Despite the sick feeling lurking in her stomach, his smile sent delicious warmth cascading through her. As if they were still upstairs in bed and the only thing on their minds was sex.
‘I disagree.’
‘You what? It was your idea!’ She felt her eyes round as she stared up at him. She’d never seen Paul look quite so...immovable. But then she’d never taken an opposing position to him before. Until last night.
Eva took in his widened stance, crossed arms and a glint in his eyes that signalled his intention to be very obstinate indeed.
‘Now, more than ever, we need to stick together.’ He spoke softly but his voice hit a low register that gave his words gravitas. As if his decision was best and there could be no reasonable argument.
Eva shook her head at his stubbornness. She took a sip of coffee, searching for the words she needed to end this once and for all.
‘You can’t afford the scandal, Paul. I know you’ve worked hard to put on a good front for the public. That you want to avoid anyone digging too deep into the royal family’s doings because they might uncover your father’s crimes. It makes sense to end this now, before the media storm gets worse.’
If Paul had looked obstinate and half-amused before, that expression vanished as he frowned.
‘You think that’s what motivates me? Fear of scandal?’
Eva’s brow puckered. That was what her father had said and it made sense, given what she’d heard about King Hugo’s involvement in fraud and outright theft from the public purse.
‘There are reasons I preferred that the press didn’t run with the full details of my father’s crimes at the time. St Ancilla’s finances were seriously compromised. A fortune in investment funds was squandered on the turn of a roulette wheel, money that should have gone into social development projects. Meanwhile, more public funds were syphoned off to cronies.’
A tic started up in the vein at his temple, something she’d never seen before.
‘Since then we’ve worked hard to refinance, attract additional investors and begin, slowly, to make good the losses. Because if the bare facts had been known earlier it would have caused such loss of confidence, the nation itself might have been in peril.’ He drew a breath that made that broad chest rise.
‘For major investors and many of our citizens, the royal family is St Ancilla. That’s why the full details haven’t yet become public. So we could keep afloat long enough to be viable again.’
‘I’m not accusing you of anything.’ He had too much integrity. She knew he wasn’t tainted by his father’s activities.
Paul shook his head and his dark hair flopped down across his forehead, making Eva’s fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and brush it back. It made him look less daunting and even sexier, despite the simmering indignation in his eyes. Instead she moved to put her cup down.
‘But you think I’m running scared of negative publicity.’ His stare bored into hers and heat drilled through her.
‘I don’t give a damn about protecting my father’s reputation. I only want to make good what he and his cronies took. We’ve had a team of forensic accountants and investigators tracking money and preparing briefs of evidence that will go to court soon. It’s taken years of complex investigations to get the necessary evidence.’ He shrugged. ‘And I’m not saying we’re out of the woods yet, financially, but things are better than they were.’
‘I had no idea.’
‘Why should you? We don’t discuss financial matters.’
We don’t discuss anything important. We don’t have that kind of relationship.
Or, they hadn’t. It felt as if last night had changed that.
Paul spread his hands in a gesture that invited trust. ‘If you think for a second I’d abandon you now when you need me, just to avoid bad publicity, then you don’t know me at all.’
‘It sounds,’ she said slowly, thinking things through, ‘that bad publicity is going to hit your family when the court cases start anyway.’
He shrugged. ‘So be it. Crimes were committed and have to be dealt with. Sweeping it under the carpet isn’t a long-term option. As for the publicity, it’s nothing I can’t handle. My siblings aren’t even in the country and my mother is retired from public life, living in France.’
So the decks were cleared. The one who’d face the media storm would be Paul. He had it all worked out.
Something about his expression gave Eva pause, her mind ticking over.
Had this been a factor in him wanting to end their engagement? He’d
said he wanted to make good the dowry money his father had already spent. Had he also planned to ensure Eva wouldn’t be caught up in negative publicity around the St Ancillan royal family?
She opened her mouth to ask then shut it again. Maybe he simply didn’t want to marry her. Didn’t like her enough to spend the rest of his life with her. She felt bruised enough without making him say that to her face.
Eva shrugged. ‘I applaud what you’re doing, Paul. I’m impressed.’ Doubly so because, despite his talk of an international team, she guessed he was the one driving the process. A man who’d inherited the crown in his early twenties and who’d had to manage incredibly difficult challenges, learning as he went. He had enough to contend with.
‘But you don’t need this.’
‘No buts, Eva. We’re in this together. The worst, the absolute worst, thing we could do right now is end our engagement. People would think it confirmed the stories being circulated about you.’
‘What if I say I don’t care what people say? Bad publicity isn’t the end of the world.’
Paul reached out and took her hand. Funny, she hadn’t realised she was cold till she felt his warm fingers enfold hers. She didn’t even try to tug free. His touch was so comforting.
‘I’d say you haven’t thought through how bad it can be. That one photo can taint you for ever.’
His words shafted ice through her. Eva knew she could face what she had to, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. The idea of one incident being misinterpreted and haunting her for the rest of her days made her nauseous.
‘We stick together, Eva. We don’t give the story any oxygen. It’s the only way. Surely you see that?’
Still she hesitated. Instinct told her that, if she was going to break this engagement, the sooner the better. Her emotions were tangled enough already.
She shook her head. ‘It’s not up to us. The story will run, no matter what we do.’
His hand tightened on hers. ‘But it will run its course faster if you stay here in St Ancilla, at my side. If we’re seen spending time together, enjoying each other’s company.’
‘You mean, if you’re seen to trust me.’
