The Princess and the Prix

by Nell Stark

  “The pain woke me again,” she said. “But at least I got to see the sunrise.” When Alix seemed somewhat impressed at her positive attitude, Thalia felt proud of herself. “And you?” she asked, not wanting to lose this tenuous connection.

  But a shutter fell over Alix’s eyes, concealing their expressiveness. “I slept fine.”

  The dark smudges beneath her eyes told a different story. Thalia wanted to stand up and pull her close and insist she tell the truth, but standing up would take minutes to accomplish, and besides, who was she to make demands of Her Serene Highness? Stop pushing me away, Thalia wanted to tell her. Let me back into your life. We’ll both sleep better. Alix wouldn’t have brought her here if she hadn’t still felt something, would she?

  The sound of footsteps on the flagstones stopped Thalia from making any kind of declaration. When a woman in House Canella livery came into view, holding her sunglasses, Thalia looked to Alix.

  “It seemed as though you might need them,” was all she said.

  “Thank you.” Thalia put them on, and the world dimmed just enough to be bearable. When the woman moved off to tend to the plants on the far side of the terrace, Thalia saw the opportunity for them to have a real conversation. “Would you like to sit?” She felt absurd asking Alix to take a seat on her own terrace, but she seemed on the verge of leaving as quickly as she had arrived, and Thalia wanted to make the most of this chance.

  “I will, for a while,” Alix said, seeming almost surprised by her own words.

  She took the chair next to Thalia’s. They were separated by only a few feet—the width of a small table—the closest they had been since Alix had held her hand in the hospital. The hairs on the nape of Thalia’s neck prickled as she tried to keep calm at Alix’s proximity. But if she remained too calm, would Alix get the wrong idea?

  “So,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant, “what are your plans for the day?”

  “I have a luncheon at the Villa d’Este this afternoon with a potential investor from Milan.” Alix’s eyes were closed as she soaked up the sun’s rays, affording Thalia the opportunity to observe her silently. Short hair suited her, as did the subtle shift she had made in her wardrobe. Collared shirts had replaced her scoop-neck tops, lending her a more androgynous air. Had the change been deliberate, or instinctual?

  “I hope it goes well,” was all she said aloud. She was letting the seconds tick past. She had to say something, to start somewhere, but she couldn’t stop looking at Alix. The triangle of pale white skin exposed by the top two undone buttons begged for the worshipful touch of her lips. She wanted to remove Alix’s shirt slowly, kissing every inch as she went. She wanted to nibble at the edge of her navel, then down until she reached the apex of her thighs. Desire rose like a tsunami, drowning her logic and reason, washing away all the carefully crafted apologies she had committed to memory.

  “Alix,” she said hoarsely. “I want you.”

  Alix’s head snapped around, but her expression was impossible to read through the dark shell of her sunglasses. “I don’t know how to respond to that,” she finally said.

  If not for the slight quaver in her voice, Thalia might have thought her words had made no impact on Alix whatsoever. But Alix wasn’t unaffected—she was trying not to betray weakness. Thalia could recognize the impulse from a mile away.

  Confronted by Alix’s clear discomfort, she realized her error. Honesty was a virtue, but it could also be used as a weapon. Their romantic relationship was over because she had ended it. Alix had given her sanctuary and hospitality despite the awkwardness, because for whatever reason, she still cared about Thalia’s well-being. And Thalia had just repaid those gifts by going on the offensive and putting her on the spot. To tell Alix she wanted her, out of the blue, after being the one to end their intimacy…how self-centered could she get? Alix must be so confused.

  Awash in self-loathing, Thalia’s only clear imperative was to fall back on the apology she should have delivered in the first place.

  “That was very selfish of me,” she said, wishing she could see Alix’s eyes. “And unfair. I was thinking of myself—of what I feel and what I want. I didn’t think about how that would make you feel.” The words were pouring out of her in a rush. “I’m not going to apologize for what I said, because I meant it. I mean it.” She took a deep breath. “I made a mistake when I told you to go, back in Russia. I was being selfish then too. I want you, Alix. That’s the truth. But I should never have put you in a situation where you feel uncomfortable in your own home.”

  Alix sat up and swiveled in Thalia’s direction, gripping the edge of her chair. “Did you just say that you think breaking off our relationship was a mistake?”

  She sounded angry. She had every right to be. “Yes. Please…can you take off your sunglasses? I need to see your face. Please.”

  When Alix didn’t react for a moment, Thalia thought she might refuse. Finally, she pulled them off, revealing too-bright, green-flecked eyes.

  “I want you to know how I feel, but I don’t want to push you. And by just blurting it out, that’s exactly what I did. Let me take back the pressure. But not the words themselves.”

  Alix cleared her throat. “I may not have any practice at…this.” She gestured into the space between them. “But I know enough to be sure I don’t deserve to be bullied or manipulated. You bullied me out the door last month, and what you just said seems designed precisely to manipulate my feelings.”

  “I know.” Thalia felt sick. “I know that’s what it seems like. And I know there’s nothing I can do to convince you otherwise. But for what it’s worth, I’m telling the truth.” She swallowed hard. The nausea she was experiencing felt almost identical to her sickness before a race. “You said you don’t have practice at ‘this.’ Well, I don’t, either.”

  “Excuse me?” Alix leaned forward, her features sharp in disbelief. “You’ve been with how many women, exactly?”

  Thalia winced at her accusatory tone. “Okay, yes, I’ve been with a lot of women. But not like this. That’s what I mean.” When Alix’s frown deepened, she hurried to explain. “I’ve never been interested in a real relationship. In monogamy. In commitment.” Words that had once frightened her now rolled easily off her tongue. All because of Alix. “You make me want those things. You’re not just some…some roll in the hay. You’re not a fling. I want to be with you, Alix. Exclusively.”

  When a tear slipped from Alix’s left eye to trail down her cheek, Thalia’s heart broke. She wanted to kiss it away, but knew she couldn’t. She had said what she needed to, and promised not to be manipulative. What happened to them next was no longer up to her.

  Blinking furiously, Alix swiped the droplet away. “I still don’t know what to say. I need…I need some time to process this. It’s difficult to trust you.”

  The words were a knife, but one she deserved. Biting her lower lip, she fought back her own swell of emotion and nodded. “I understand,” she whispered.

  Alix returned her sunglasses to her face. “I’ll check in on you tonight,” she said. And then she was gone.

  Thalia wanted to turn and watch her go, but that would be too painful, and not just on her ribs. As she stared unseeing at the lake instead, she let the tears roll down her cheeks. She was so tired—as battered emotionally as she was physically—and the only person she had to blame was herself. Alix had accused her of issuing ultimatums and not being willing to have authentic conversations. Both were true, but now that she was finally trying to change her ways, was it too late? She had to confront the possibility that she had hurt Alix too deeply for the wound to heal. Nauseous and aching, she cautiously turned onto her good shoulder and curled in on herself, searching for some trace of comfort. Exhausted again, she closed her eyes. Patience had never been her strong suit, but now, it was all she had to give.

  *

  By the third day, Thalia was feeling stronger. Alix watched from the window of her bedroom as she slowly picked her way down the st
one stairs leading to the quay that stretched out into Lake Como. Alix leaned forward enough to rest her forehead against the cool glass pane. She had managed to get some work done over the last few days, but only through sheer force of will. Having Thalia under her roof was beyond distracting. Alix could only keep her at arm’s length for so long. Eventually, she would have to make a decision: to bridge the space between them or walk away. The status quo was not an option.

  I want to be with you, Alix. Exclusively.

  The words were an inescapable echo in her mind. She heard them everywhere—whether she was trying to sleep or trying to concentrate or trying to relax. What if she had done what she wanted in that moment—to get on her knees before Thalia’s battered body and confess that the desire was still mutual? Did she have the mental and emotional resolve necessary to open herself to Thalia again?

  Hindsight told her that their initial relationship had always been doomed to fail. Now that she had tried “no strings attached,” she realized she didn’t want that. For her, the strings were necessary. The stakes needed to be high. She wanted to invest in her significant other, and she wanted that person to be invested in her right back.

  Thalia had spoken of monogamy. Of commitment. Never in a million years had Alix expected to hear those words leave her mouth, but they had. And a significant part of Alix wanted nothing more than to nurture the fragile emotional connection they had been slowly in the process of forging before its sudden unraveling. As she thought about it, she realized that Peter’s death had been the catalyst for everything falling apart. Thalia’s anger and grief had contributed to her recklessness on the track, and if Alix were being honest with herself, the specter of Peter’s horrible accident had shaken her deeply. Could their relationship really go anywhere? Thalia wasn’t going to stop putting herself in danger. If they rekindled their romance, Alix would have to stand by and watch her race. She would have to patch her up whenever required. What kind of life was that?

  A life plenty of people manage to live, her rational mind whispered. The partners of police officers and firefighters and military servicemen and women—all of them lived with the burden of knowing their loved one might return from their work hurt, or not at all. And they were only the tip of the iceberg. Plenty of athletes had died in service to their sport: skiers, rock climbers, equestrians. And while one could argue that fighting fires was certainly more necessary to the continuance of the human race than jumping horses, both kinds of vocations were valued by society.

  Besides, death wasn’t unique to dangerous jobs. During her brief stint in emergency medicine, she had seen young, healthy people suffer heart attacks. And anyone could be struck by a car while crossing the street. Death was certain. Life was uncertain.

  Which meant it should be cherished. Celebrated. Enjoyed.

  But even so, that didn’t mean she was obliged to throw herself into a relationship with someone who engaged in risky behavior as a matter of vocation. In this respect, at least, she was the mistress of her own destiny. No matter what she might feel now, if she distanced herself from Thalia, she would eventually get over those feelings. Wouldn’t she?

  Blinking, she pulled back and focused not on the lake but on her dim reflection in the window. If she had truly wanted to distance herself from Thalia, why on earth had she invited her here? Why was she having this internal debate right now?

  Unwilling to plumb the depths of her own motivations any further, Alix turned away and began to prepare herself for dinner. This would be the first night that Thalia felt well enough to join her for the evening meal, and Alix would need every ounce of poise at her command.

  *

  On the evening of the fifth day since their arrival, Thalia decided she’d had quite enough of Alix avoiding her. They weren’t going to make any progress so long as they barely spoke to one another, and if Alix wasn’t going to initiate more contact, she would find a way that wouldn’t seem manipulative. She had thought they might be able to talk during dinners, but the presence of the waiters dissuaded her from bringing up any personal topic. The last thing she wanted was to do something to further compromise Alix’s trust in her. This was the twenty-first century, not the sixteenth: one of the villa staff could easily record their conversation on their phone and then sell it to the tabloids.

  As desperate as she was to speak with Alix, Thalia had resolved to hold off until they could be truly alone. And since showing up at her room might be conveyed as too pushy, Thalia was forced to wait and watch and content herself with discussing the weather over their perfectly prepared meals while she schemed up ways to put Alix in a position where honest dialogue would be possible. Ironically, she needed to get Alix away from Villa Canella. In frustration, she finally turned to the Internet, which informed her that the marina outside Villa d’Este included sailboats that could be chartered for a two-hour tour. That was perfect. Trapped on a boat in Lake Como, Alix would have to listen to her. Now, all she had to do was successfully pitch the excursion.

  “I was thinking,” she said as the salad course arrived—a tower of lettuce artfully adorned with tomatoes and bleu cheese, festooned with ribbons of vinaigrette, “of chartering a boat to tour the lake tomorrow. And I was wondering if you’d like to come.”

  Alix had picked up her fork, but now she put it down. “Are you certain you feel well enough?”

  Thalia considered the question and her possible answers. She didn’t want to offend Alix’s hospitality by confessing to her cabin fever, especially since the “cabin” was practically a chateau, and very much in the lap of luxury. But she was used to exercising for a significant portion of every day, and now that her ribs weren’t quite so tender as they had been, the inaction was unfamiliar and unwelcome. It would have been a different story had she and Alix been a couple, of course—they could have spent hours watching silly movies, or taking slow walks along the lakeshore, or best of all, holed up cuddling in bed. But as it was, all the frustration—physical and emotional—was conspiring to drive her insane.

  “I’m sure,” she said, hoping she sounded reasonable and not desperate. “I’d like to see the view from the water.”

  When Alix’s gaze strayed to the lake, visible from the floor-to-ceiling windows on the eastern side of the room, Thalia held her breath and prayed. When she turned back, her gaze was measuring. Had she seen through the premise?

  “It is beautiful,” she said finally. “And the weather tomorrow should be perfect for a sail.”

  The weather, again. But this time, it was blowing in her favor. “Does that mean you’ll join me?” She held her breath.

  “Yes,” Alix said, before concentrating on her entrée.

  The rush of exhilaration reminded her of stepping onto the third-place podium in Monaco. Thalia smiled triumphantly down at her plate. She could celebrate this victory, but she still had a long way to go.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The roar of the speedboats was vaguely reminiscent of the sound of racecars at a Grand Prix. It was fitting, she supposed—the team was flying to England today for a week’s preparation before the race. This morning, she had called Alistair to wish them a safe trip. She had spoken with their top test driver, James, who would be taking her place. She had tried to joke with him about taking care of her car, but her joke had fallen as flat as a tire on glass shards.

  For the second race in a row, she would earn no points. If Lucas won, he would pull far enough ahead that there was virtually no chance of Petrol Macedonia regaining the lead in the battle for the Constructors’ Cup. At the thought, twin pangs of grief and anger brought tears to Thalia’s eyes. When she passed them off with a yawn, Alix frowned.

  “You’re tired.”

  “I’m okay.” She forced a smile, and then forced thoughts of racing out of her mind. There was no use in brooding over lost opportunities, especially since the fastest way to make it back to the track was to focus on healing. Besides, this afternoon’s excursion had nothing to do with her professiona
l life, and everything to do with her personal one. “I’m really looking forward to this.”

  They were waiting on the quay for their captain to finish inspecting his boat. It was a beauty: forty-five feet long with an immaculately polished deck and elegant green sails. When making the reservation, Thalia had requested that once they were under way, the captain and his crewman give them as much privacy as possible. She had thrown in an obscenely generous tip to ensure their cooperation.

  The captain—a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard—emerged from the hold and stepped off the boat to greet them. He introduced them to his crew, a younger version of himself. If either of them recognized her or Alix, they gave no indication. So far, so good. Privacy was a precious commodity, and she didn’t mind paying up for it.

  The only part of the experience Thalia couldn’t control was Claude, and she waited anxiously as he cleared the vessel. Upon his return, he stationed himself near the lifeboat mounted on the stern. Thalia was relieved when the captain guided them to a slightly recessed space in front of the main sail where two chaise lounges flanked a small table on which a bottle of champagne sat on ice. When Thalia picked it up, Alix shot her a look.

  “Do you know how to open one of those without spraying it everywhere?”

  Thalia had to laugh. “Trust me,” she said, referring to more than the champagne. She twisted the cork gently, feeling Alix’s gaze on the movement of her hands, and it slid out with only a gentle pop.

  “Maybe I should,” Alix murmured when Thalia handed her a brimming flute.

  Hope rushed into the empty, aching space in her chest that had nothing to do with her injury, but she didn’t want to pounce on the words and make a big deal. Contenting herself for the moment with an answering smile, she raised her glass.