‘I don’t know why I’m surprised. Don’t know why it still gets to me when it’s always been the same.’ She tried to smile but failed.
‘He doesn’t talk to you?’
‘Only to give orders. He’s never once told me he’s proud of me. Never once said Well done, or Congratulations,’ she mumbled. ‘He waited more than half his life to get the wife and son he wanted. But he lost his wife. And he didn’t get a son. He got me. I’ve always been a disappointment.’
The hurt in her voice burned. He drew her closer still, wrapping his arms around her, wanting to protect her. But the wound was already there. ‘He should be so proud of you.’
‘Nothing I’ve done has ever been enough.’ She turned her face into his neck, hiding her eyes from him. ‘He doesn’t care. He never has.’ Her fingers curled into his shirt. ‘I won’t let that happen to our baby,’ she whispered rawly.
‘Nor will I,’ he promised.
He felt her body shake in a broken sigh. Was she crying? He bent to look into her face, but her eyes were resolutely closed.
‘I’m tired,’ she said.
‘I know.’ He lifted her into his arms.
‘I can—’
‘Just let me.’
He carried her into his apartment, kicking the door shut with his foot. He went straight to the dark bedroom and, still holding her close, climbed onto the bed. He carefully stroked her back, pleased when she didn’t try to slip away. Instead she snuggled down, her head on his chest, her body half blanketing his.
‘You have such courage, Stella,’ he whispered roughly. Her strength felled him. ‘He’s crazy not to know how amazing you are.’
But he felt her shake her head.
‘I’ve been so alone for so long,’ she confided in a quick rush of words, as if afraid to admit it.
‘You’re not any more,’ he promised. He was here for her. He wanted to be here for her. And he wanted her to lean on him. Because of him she’d have to face so many firsts. He wanted to be at her side for all of them.
He felt her release another shaky breath and she burrowed closer still. He toed off his shoes and awkwardly reached for a soft blanket to keep them both warm.
‘Just sleep, sweetheart.’ He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers, his own tension ebbing as her fingers tightened on his. ‘Everything is going to be okay.’
And maybe it would be.
He kissed the top of her hair and held her as close as he could. Eventually her breathing became more regular, then deepened. A wholly different kind of satisfaction thrummed in his blood. Contentment. She’d turned to him and he’d comforted her. She rested easy now, in his arms.
He wanted her to be happy. Seeing all those people clamouring for a piece of her tonight had made him think properly for the first time all week. She’d handled it beautifully, but he’d changed her life, taken so many choices from her. Hell, he’d even stopped her from running in fresh air. He wanted to fix that as best he could—he wanted to make this work.
When he woke they were still fully clothed in their formal ball wear, curled tightly together in that close embrace. She was still deeply asleep, and it was hours past her usual wake-up-and-train time. Her peace gave him immeasurable pleasure. But he couldn’t wait until she woke. He needed to make plans.
Carefully he disentangled himself and crept out of the bedroom to shower and dress in another room.
Walking through the lounge twenty minutes later, he checked the newspapers that had been delivered. He’d been right: her approval rating was sky-high. They all thought she was beautiful. They’d captured stunning pictures of her in that soft dress and they’d caught Eduardo looking at her in a way that would leave no one in any doubt of his desire for her.
His phone buzzed.
That last picture on page one is perfection.
Matteo commenting. Matteo knowing that Eduardo would have checked today’s papers already. Yeah... Because Eduardo always did his job very well.
But he didn’t want their relationship to be a job. And now the lack of privacy rubbed at old, unhealed wounds. He didn’t want the world encroaching on something that had become so personal. He needed time and space to find balance with Stella.
And to get that he was going to have to tell his iced-up brother the truth.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SLEEPILY STELLA REACHED out a hand, but encountered only the cool, empty sheet. She opened her eyes. Was Eduardo awake and gone already?
She checked her watch and was stunned to see she’d slept in for the first time in years. And she was still in her ballgown! She rolled onto her back, bereft of his company. She should go for her run, but for once she didn’t want to. She wished Eduardo was still holding her with such care. Her whole body ached with want for that. Her heart ached too. For once she’d felt treasured.
But she made herself move. She’d go for a swim. Water always eased raw wounds.
She stripped out of her dress, pulled on a swimsuit and robe, then stole down the stairs to get to the ground level. As she darted along the rose-covered walkway towards the poolhouse she saw the two brothers standing near the tennis court gate. And as she stepped closer, she could hear, because their voices were rising in volume.
‘This was the best—’
‘You should have told me beforehand,’ Antonio interrupted Eduardo, icily furious.
‘This is the heir, Antonio. Don’t you see that?’ he snapped back.
Stella knew she shouldn’t stay and listen. She should turn and walk away before they saw her. Or step forward so they did see her. But she couldn’t. She stayed right where she was, hidden by foliage.
‘What I see is that you’re a bigger fool than I thought possible.’
Stella realised Eduardo had just told his brother about the baby—and now the Crown Prince was more disapproving than ever. As she’d known he would be.
‘I’m not the impetuous idiot I once was. From every angle this was the best solution,’ Eduardo answered back. ‘You know I’m right.’
‘This is not what I wanted for you,’ Antonio said harshly, his voice an icy whip.
‘She’s exactly what we need her to be.’ Eduardo now sounded as ice-cold as his brother. ‘Haven’t you seen the papers? After that wedding picture was leaked Matteo planted the few details necessary for her to be a hit. After last night’s performance her success is snowballing. She’s just what San Felipe needs. I can control this, Antonio.’
‘Can you control her?’
‘Of course.’
Stella closed her eyes at Eduardo’s arrogance and his cold, businesslike assumption. After he’d been so tender last night. This hurt. This hurt so much more than anything.
‘So this is not a love match?’ Antonio said bluntly.
Stella’s world stopped in that moment of silence before Eduardo answered. And then her husband was as brutally blunt as his brother.
‘What prince has ever married for love?’
Humiliation burned a hole in her heart. Swiftly she turned, sprinting back inside. She’d known she shouldn’t have listened. She’d known this was an orchestrated marriage of convenience. But to know that Eduardo wanted his child to become the Crown Prince, even when he saw his brother suffer under the weight of the role, even when he railed against the constraints on himself...
She didn’t want those pressures and limitations and ‘controls’ for her child. She didn’t want the lack of choice. She didn’t want the lack of love.
And she didn’t want it for herself. She wanted what she’d had a taste of last night—tenderness, caring, someone to be there for her. But it had been a charade—part of his Prince Charming act. It had only been to control the situation, to control her and create a successful ‘story’ for the royal family—more San Felipe myth.
She’d thought she was no longer alone. She’d been so wrong. She’d never been as alone as she was now. And it had never hurt so much.
* * *
Eduardo realised his mistake as soon as he’d made the facetious reply. He’d been trying to play it as emotionlessly as Antonio. But he’d forgotten.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered.
It was too late. His brother had disappeared beneath an even thicker layer of ice. Eduardo hadn’t been able to break through it in a decade. He didn’t think anyone would.
Antonio had vowed to devote his life to duty when Alessia died and he was cemented in it now. Eduardo had made a vow too—to help his brother however he could. To try and make amends. To try and share some of his burden. Because he remembered the old days, when his brother had teased him, telling him his hair was too long or his jokes too lame. When they’d laughed together. He hadn’t heard Antonio laugh in so long.
‘I would have married for love.’ Antonio’s voice was like the thinnest, sharpest shard of ice.
It was the rarest hint of emotion.
‘I know.’ Eduardo bent his head. He’d caused hurt twice over. ‘Stella needs to go back to Secreto Real, Antonio. She needs time to rest and adjust. I’m sorry.’
Sorry for so much more than wanting some time out.
‘Then cancel your engagements and stay with her. Not even you can be seen to discard your new bride so quickly.’ Displeasure flared in his eyes.
Eduardo burned inside but took the hit silently. He had no intention of ditching Stella.
‘But not until after the opening night at the opera tonight,’ Antonio added. ‘Salvatore Accardi is going to be there, and I need you to maintain cordial relations seeing as neither of us are going to marry his precious daughter.’ Antonio looked bitter as he mentioned the notoriously corrupt nobleman both brothers preferred to avoid. ‘Then you can go.’
‘Fine.’ All Eduardo wanted was to be back on the little island with Stella, with the time to build on the fragile foundations forming between them.
Leaving Antonio, he walked towards his apartment, wondering if Sleeping Beauty had woken. His phone buzzed. He paused in the middle of the corridor when he saw the contact’s name on the screen.
He answered swiftly. ‘Dr Russo? Is anything wrong?’
‘No, I just wanted to let you know I’ve secured a specialist to see Stella early next week. As you know, I’ve tried to alleviate her concerns, but she’s still apprehensive, of course. I read her mother’s file at the hospital and the haemorrhage she had didn’t stem from an inheritable condition. Also, Stella is much younger than her mother was—fitter and stronger too. I think seeing the specialist will reassure her. We’ll set up more frequent appointments from there.’
Eduardo stood rooted to the spot, utterly shocked as the doctor continued.
‘She will have a full scan at that appointment too. I know she enjoyed listening to the baby’s heartbeat on Friday.’
Stella had heard the baby’s heartbeat? She’d seen the doctor and not told him? And what the hell had happened to her mother?
Eduardo forced himself to answer. ‘Indeed. Thank you for your discretion in coming to me directly. Come to me always where her health is concerned.’ He wanted to know every damn thing. And he was furious she hadn’t told him.
‘Of course, Your Highness.’
He ended the call and just stared at his phone for a second. Then he veered away from his private apartment to his office on the intermediary floor. He grabbed Stella’s personnel file, seething with self-directed anger for not reading it closely enough. But he’d skipped those bare facts detailing her parents—he’d wanted to get the facts about her. Now he stopped to check that earlier information.
Stella had been born just before midnight on April the twenty-third. Her mother had died on April the twenty-fourth, a mere two hours later.
Her mother had died because of complications on delivering her daughter. Was that why her father was so hard on her—because he’d never forgiven her?
Why hadn’t she told him this last night—he’d thought that she was opening up to him. That he’d helped her in some way. But she hadn’t shared even half of her battle. She hadn’t spoken with him about seeing Dr Russo two days ago. About being scared. About having any kind of scan.
Stella was the epitome of health and strength. She hadn’t even had any morning sickness. Now he remembered that look in her eyes when they’d watched the pregnancy test result. She’d looked terrified. She still was terrified. Of the birth.
But she hadn’t told him. She’d shut him out. And then she’d heard their child’s heart beating without him.
Rejection dug deep, bitter poison in its claws. He’d thought they had a chance. But she’d kept something vital a secret. She hadn’t turned to him. She hadn’t trusted him.
He went back down the corridor and up the stairs to his apartment. Of course she was awake. Of course she was in her trainers, running pants and a grey tee shirt.
He breathed in, trying to stay in control.
‘You’re going on the treadmill?’ he asked.
She nodded and stepped onto the machine.
‘Is all this exercise what’s best for the baby?’ He tested her—would she talk?
‘You said this marriage was what’s best for the baby.’ Stella started jogging. ‘But you plan for this baby to be the next Crown Prince or Princess of San Felipe.’
His focus sharpened. She wouldn’t look at him and was obviously angry—was she sorry she’d talked to him last night? Did she regret opening up to him even that little bit?
‘Right?’ she prompted him. ‘So this baby will have a life of even greater restriction than your own?’
She was back to this again. Pushing for a way out instead of telling him what she was really scared of. Pushing him away.
‘You’ve known all along that this is a royal child,’ he challenged her. ‘The possibility of the crown has always been there.’
‘But you’ve planned it.’
‘I hardly planned for you to get pregnant,’ he said. Her bitterness multiplied his.
‘But you’ve orchestrated everything since you found out.’
‘Because I’ve had to.’ And she appreciated none of his efforts. She didn’t want anything he had to offer. She didn’t trust him at all.
Stella glanced over and saw Eduardo’s expression close down. How could he go so quickly from caring to completely cold-hearted? It scared her. She couldn’t trust in those precious moments of last night because now he gave her that damn silent, ‘dare you to talk first’ treatment. And that made her anger incandescent.
‘Is there some ancient decree that whichever of you has the first child then she or he gets the crown?’ she asked. ‘Is this some kind of sibling jealousy and you’re determined that the lineage will continue from the seed of your loins because you can’t be the one thing you want so very badly?’
She was spouting rubbish now, just aiming to get a reaction other than ice—she didn’t care how.
Now that fire in his eyes kindled—but it wasn’t passion. ‘Says you, the woman who’s spent all her life trying to be the one thing she can’t be—’
‘I am an exceptional soldier.’
‘But you can’t be the son your father wanted.’
She recoiled, jumping off that damn treadmill.
‘You can’t even please him,’ he added.
‘Yet you want to do that same thing to your own child,’ she pointed out to him angrily. ‘To place all those unwanted expectations on a baby.’
‘This is different.’
‘No, it’s not.’ She shook her head. ‘You set everything up. It’s like a slickly edited tourism video. The photos. That sapphire, with that whole legend around it
. Releasing my service record. All fodder for the press.’
‘We need the public to believe in you. In us.’
And he’d gotten them to. He’d also made her believe—in herself and in the possibility of them. He’d known which buttons to push, how to pull her in, because she was so starved of attention and so stupid. He’d been so suave and convincing and she’d fallen in love with him. It had just been a couple of steps from crush to complete adoration. But the tenderness she’d thought he felt for her had been a façade. He was as frozen and as duty-filled as his brother.
‘And that’s all that matters to you, isn’t it?’ She realised now the extent of his emptiness. ‘You’re never going to open up to me,’ she said slowly. To think she’d thought he could love her... No one loved her. And it hurt. ‘You can’t let anyone in. Not your brother. Not a woman. No one.’ She blinked to hold back the stinging tears.
But something had changed in his eyes. He was still watching her intently, but the fire had died. Something cold had taken its place. ‘Maybe the pregnancy hormones are finally getting to you.’
‘No, they’re not.’ She wasn’t letting him pin this on her hormones.
That was when she recognised his expression—it was disapproval.
‘Maybe you’re tired.’
‘Tired of this, yes.’ She was so tired of not being what anyone wanted.
‘Then I’ll see you later, when you’ve had a chance to rest.’ He walked away from her.
‘Seriously? You’re leaving?’
‘I have business I must attend to,’ he said. He was no suave, joking prince now. His eyes were almost as dead as Antonio’s.
‘Business that’s more important than this?’ More important than her?
‘You’re tired, Stella.’
‘And you can’t cope with any emotion, can you? Other than sexual hunger,’ she called after him, satisfied when he turned back to face her. ‘What are you going to do when your child is crying—walk away then too?’ He turned away again, but she stalked after him. ‘You’re as closed-up as your brother. You can’t trust and you can’t love,’ she said, her voice husky and breaking as he got to the door. ‘I’m not staying here.’
The Secret That Shocked De Santis Page 16
