Royals_For Their Royal Heir

by Abby Green

  ‘My assistant sends me updates on any news coverage.’

  Leila looked wounded. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Alix gritted his jaw. ‘Because I was hoping you wouldn’t see it.’

  Leila waved an arm. ‘Well, the whole of France has seen it now.’ She looked down to where the magazine was on the floor and read out, ‘“Who is the exiled King’s latest mystery flame?”’

  Alix caught her chin and moved it towards him. He felt her resistance. When she was looking at him he said, ‘They don’t know who you are and I’ll make sure they won’t. Please—trust me.’

  Something moved across her face—some expression that Alix didn’t like. Eventually she said, ‘This has to end after tonight, Alix. I’m not made for your world and I don’t want to be dragged through the papers as just another one of your women.’

  Alix rejected everything she said, and a sense of desperation rose up inside him—that need to make her his. But he couldn’t articulate it. So instead he used his mouth, moving it over hers, willing her to respond—and she did, because she was as helpless against this as he was.

  * * *

  The following morning when Leila woke up it took her a long time to orientate herself. She was in a massive bed, with the most luxurious coverings she’d ever felt. She was naked and alone. And her body ached. Between her legs she was tender.

  And then it all flooded back. Alix had led her in here last night and stripped her bare, as reverently as if she was something precious. Then he’d laid her down and subjected Leila to what could only be described as a sensual attack.

  An attack that had been fully consensual.

  It was as if everything he’d taught her had been only the first level, and his lovemaking last night had shown her that there could be so much more. Alix hadn’t been tender or gentle. He’d been fierce, bordering on rough, but Leila blushed when she thought of how she’d revelled in it, meeting him every step of the way, exulting in it, spurring him on, raking her nails down his back, begging hoarsely for more, harder, deeper...

  Even the fact that her picture had been in that magazine, albeit not identifiable, had faded into the background now.

  She had a vague memory of finally falling asleep around dawn, with Alix’s arms tight around her. Leila frowned as another memory struggled to break through her sluggish thought processes. Alix had kissed the back of her head and said, ‘You’re not going anywhere...this isn’t over...’

  Leila frowned. Had she heard that? And what could it mean? The prospect that Alix had decided that something more permanent might come out of what they had made her silly heart speed up.

  She needed to talk to him.

  Leila got out of bed and made her way to the opulent bathroom that her small apartment could have fitted into twice over. Once showered and dressed, she made her way to find Alix, hearing his low, deep tones before she saw him.

  She smiled. Even his voice made heat curl in her belly as she recalled the way he sounded in bed—all earthy and husky and desperate... Maybe, just maybe, there was something different between them? The fact that she wasn’t like his usual women—

  Leila stopped in her tracks outside the door when she heard her name.

  Alix spoke again. ‘Leila’s perfect, Andres. She’s beautiful, accomplished, intelligent, refined.’

  Leila blushed to find herself eavesdropping like this—and to hear herself being spoken of this way.

  But Alix sounded a little angry when he spoke next. ‘The very fact that she didn’t want to be seen with me is a point in her favour. She’s totally different to any other woman I’ve ever been with.’

  Leila frowned minutely. A point in her favour? It sounded as if she was being graded.

  She went to move forward, to let him know she was there, but when she got to the doorway she saw he was standing with his back to her, looking out of the window. So he didn’t see her.

  And when he spoke again his tone had the little hairs standing up on the back of her neck.

  ‘To be perfectly honest,’ he went on, ‘I couldn’t have possibly engineered this to go better if I’d planned it to happen. We’re on the brink of a referendum that will return me to the throne and the ruling party haven’t a clue. They probably think I’m still sunning myself with her on a beach in the Caribbean. Everything is falling into place at just the right time.’

  Leila stepped back through the doorway, out of sight, horror coursing through her, her skin going clammy with shock.

  Alix laughed and it was harsh. ‘Since when has love had any relevance when it comes to the wife I will choose? The important thing is that she’s falling in love with me—I’m sure of it. This will be nothing like my parents’ marriage...toxic from the inside out.’

  He continued, oblivious to the devastation taking place just outside the door as the full import of what he was saying sank into Leila.

  ‘How do I know? She was a virgin, Andres...a woman doesn’t give that up easily. To return to power with a fiancée by my side will put me in a much stronger position. Leila will make a great queen, I’m sure of it. She’s the right choice.’

  He was silent again, and then he spoke in a low voice.

  ‘No, I’ve no doubt that she’ll say yes. If I need to reassure her that I love her too, to achieve my aims, then so be it. It won’t be a hardship. And the sooner we have children the better—an heir will be the strongest sign of stability for Isle Saint Croix. A sign of hope and things moving on.’

  Leila’s heart was pounding so hard she thought she might faint. Sweat was breaking out on her brow.

  She was a virgin...a woman doesn’t give that up easily. If I need to reassure her that I love her too...then so be it.

  For a moment a sharp pain near her heart almost caused her to double over. What Alix was proposing to do made her feel sick. He would embark on a life with her based on lies and falsehoods just so that he could present the whole package to his precious island. An island that he was on the brink of regaining after he’d let her believe that it was a far distant possibility—not imminent. He’d lied to her face! And he would father a child purely to further his own political aims!

  The irony was like a slap in the face—her own father had rejected a child for the same reasons. But Leila was in no mood to appreciate that dark humour now.

  All their conversations took on a sinister glow now. His questions about her opinions on politics—had that been to make sure she wasn’t some kind of raving anarchist? His questions on her opinions on anything had just been an interview.

  And the intensity of their lovemaking—had that been to make sure Alix felt she could sustain his interest long enough for him to father an heir?

  What broke her out of her shock was the fact that Alix had stopped talking. Feeling sick, Leila walked to the door, silent on the carpet. He was still standing at the window with his hands in his pockets. Master of all he surveyed—including, as he obviously believed, his innocent, gullible lover. A ruthless man who saw her only as a vehicle to help him regain his throne.

  Leila felt the slow burn of an anger so intense it made her tremble. She only wanted one thing: to walk away from Alix and forget that she’d ever met him, forget that she’d repeated the sin of her mother: falling for the first man to seduce her.

  * * *

  Alix’s brain was still whirring after the phone call. Had he really told Andres that he was prepared to make Leila his wife? His Queen?

  Yes. He waited for a sense of regret, panic or claustrophobia. But even now it felt right. He’d never met anyone like her. She was sweet, innocent...and yet not so innocent any more. His body tightened as he recalled how quickly she’d learned, her shyly erotic, bold moves in bed, how she’d taken him in her mouth and tasted him a few short hours ago.

  His body went still. A familiar figure walking quickly across the square came into his line of vision and his breath caught.

  It was Leila, and she was carrying her holiday bag—the only wom
an he’d ever known not to travel with twelve pieces of luggage. Where was she going? His skin prickled uncomfortably when he recalled the phone conversation—was there a chance she’d overheard him?

  But if she had why was she walking away? What woman would walk away from the prospect of a man like him making their union permanent?

  A small voice whispered: A woman like Leila.

  Alix was about to follow her when his phone rang again. He picked it up and said curtly, ‘Yes?’ He could see her now, disappearing into her shop, and he didn’t like the flare of panic in his gut. The feeling that if he didn’t follow her he’d never see her again.

  ‘Your Majesty, are you there? We need to discuss plans for when the result of the referendum is announced tomorrow.’

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow was when his life would change for ever. That reminder was a jolt to Alix. A jolt that told him he was in danger of losing focus when he needed it most. Over a woman. Even if she was the woman he’d chosen to be his Queen, she was still just a lover, a woman, peripheral to his life.

  Alix pushed the insidious feeling of something slipping out of his grasp out of his head and concentrated on the call. For half an hour. When it was finally over he went to look out of the window again, and when he took in the view, every muscle in his body locked tight.

  Leila was across the square, closing the door to her shop. The blinds were down and she was dressed in jeans, sneakers and a jacket. With a wheelie travel bag.

  And as he watched she hitched up the handle on her bag and started to walk swiftly away from the shop, the bag trailing behind her.

  * * *

  Leila was almost at the corner of the street when Alix caught up with her, catching her arm. She didn’t turn around and he felt the tension in her body.

  ‘How much did you hear?’ He directed the question to the back of her head.

  She turned around then, and Alix steeled himself for some emotion, but Leila’s face was expressionless in a way he’d never seen before. It sent something cold through him—along with a very uncomfortable sense of exposure.

  ‘Enough. I heard enough, Alix.’ She pulled her arm free and said, ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a train to catch.’

  Alix frowned. Just a couple of hours ago he’d left her sated and flushed from their lovemaking in his bed. He’d whispered words to her—words he’d never thought he’d hear himself say to any woman. That sense of exposure amplified.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  Leila looked surprised. ‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’ve got to go to Grasse to discuss sharing new factory space with an old mentor of my mother’s.’

  Alix felt panic and he didn’t like it. ‘No, you didn’t tell me.’

  Leila looked at her watch. ‘Well, I must have forgotten to mention it—’

  She went to walk around him but he stopped her with a hand on her arm again. It felt slender under his hand.

  Leila looked expressively at his hand. ‘Let me go, please.’

  ‘You had no plans to go anywhere until you overheard that conversation.’

  Her eyes blazed into his. ‘Don’t you mean your royal decree?’

  Alix was aware that they were drawing interest from passers-by and he saw the glint of something in the distance that looked suspiciously like the lens of a paparazzi camera.

  He gritted his jaw. ‘We need to talk—and not in the street.’

  Leila must have seen something on his face, because she looked mutinous for a second and then pulled her arm free again and started back towards her shop.

  Alix took her case from her hand, although she held on to it until she obviously realised it would end up in a tug of war. She let him take it and the incongruity of the fact that he, Alix Saint Croix, was tussling over a case in the street with a woman was not lost on him.

  When she’d opened the door to her shop they stepped inside and she shut it again. Alix fixed his gaze on her pale face. ‘Why were you leaving?’ And without saying goodbye... He bit back those words. Women didn’t say goodbye to him—he said goodbye to them.

  She folded her arms across her chest. She was mad at him—that much was patently obvious. ‘I was leaving because I need to sort my business out. And also because your arrogance is truly astounding.’ She unlocked her arms enough to point a finger at herself. ‘How dare you assume that I’m falling in love with you? We’ve only known each other for two weeks. Or did you think that because I was a virgin I had less brain cells than the average woman and would fall for the first man I slept with?’

  Alix felt something violent move through him at the implication that there would be more men and that he’d just been the first.

  Now she looked even angrier. ‘You told someone called Andres I was a virgin. How dare you discuss my private details with anyone else?’

  Alix gritted his jaw harder. ‘Unfortunately the life of a royal tends to be public property. But it wasn’t my right to divulge that information.’

  Leila huffed a harsh-sounding laugh. ‘Well, that’s a life I have no intention of ever knowing anything about, so from now on I’d appreciate it if you kept details of our affair to yourself. You can rest assured, Your Majesty, I’m not falling in love with you.’

  Alix told himself she wouldn’t have run like that if something about overhearing that phone call hadn’t affected her emotionally.

  His eyes narrowed on her. ‘So you say.’

  ‘So I mean,’ Leila shot back, terrified that he’d seen something else on her face. ‘I’ve saved you the bother of having to pretend that you feel something for me, so I’ll save you more time with the undoubtedly fake romantic proposal you had in mind...the answer is no.’

  Alix lifted a brow. ‘You’d say no to becoming a queen? And a life of unlimited wealth and luxury?’

  Leila’s stomach roiled. ‘I’d say no to a marriage devoid of any real human emotion living in a gilded cage. How can you, of all people, honestly think I’d want to bring a child into the world to live with two parents who are acting out roles?’

  Alix’s eyes were steely. ‘You weren’t acting a role this morning.’

  Immediately Leila was blasted with memory: her legs wrapped around Alix’s waist, fingers digging into his muscular buttocks. What had she turned into? Someone unrecognisable.

  She huffed a small unamused laugh. ‘Surely you don’t mean to confuse lust with love, Alix? I thought you were more sophisticated than that?’

  His face flushed at that but it didn’t comfort Leila. She felt nauseous.

  ‘Look,’ Alix said tersely, ‘I know that you’re probably a little hurt. The fact is that the woman I choose to be my Queen has to fulfil a certain amount of criteria. We respect each other. We like each other. We have insane chemistry. Those are all good foundations for a marriage. Better than something based on fickle emotions or antipathy from the start.’

  Something dangerously like empathy pierced Leila when she thought of what he’d told her about his parents’ marriage.

  And then she thought of his assessment of her being a little hurt, and the empathy dissolved. The hurt was all-encompassing and totally humiliating. The last thing she wanted was for him to suspect for a second how devastating hearing that conversation had been.

  ‘You never even told me you were so close to regaining your throne,’ she accused.

  Alix’s jaw was hard as granite. ‘I couldn’t. Only my closest aides know of this.’

  ‘So everything—the whole trip to your island—was all an elaborate attempt to throw your opponents off the scent? And what was I? A decorative piece for your charade? A convenient lover in the place of the last one you dumped so summarily?’ Leila laughed harshly and started to pace. ‘Mon Dieu, but I was a fool, indeed. Two times in a row now.’

  Alix sounded harsh. ‘I am not like that man, and you were not a fool.’

  Leila’s gaze snapped back to his, but she barely saw him through her anger. ‘Yes, I was. To have believed for a second that a trip like
that was spontaneous.’ She recalled something else about the conversation she’d overheard and gasped. ‘You had someone take those pictures of us, didn’t you?’

  Alix flushed. He didn’t deny it.

  Leila shook her head and backed away from him. The tender shoots of something that she’d been frantically trying to ignore finally withered away. She’d thought they’d been sharing intimate moments alone...he’d led her to believe they were alone on the island. She’d bared her body and soul to this man and he’d exploited that. She had to protect herself now.

  She needed to drive him away before he saw how fragile she really was underneath her anger.

  She affected nonchalance. ‘To be perfectly honest, Alix, I used you.’

  * * *

  I used you. Alix reacted instantly, with an inward clenching of his gut. Pain.

  An echo of the past whispered at him—another woman. ‘I used you, Alix. I wanted back into Europe and I saw you as a means to get there and restore my reputation.’

  He went cold and hard inside. ‘Used me?’

  Leila nodded and shrugged lightly. ‘I wanted to lose my virginity but I’d never met anyone with whom it was a palatable prospect...until you walked into the shop.’

  Her eyes were like hard emeralds.

  ‘It was only ever about that for me, Alix. And excitement—I won’t deny that. My mother was over-protective, but now I’m finally free and independent, and I’m not about to shackle myself to some marriage of convenience because you deem me a suitable candidate for being your bride and the mother of your precious royal heirs.’

  A mocking expression came over her face.

  ‘I’m annoyed that you used me for your own ends, but that’s the extent of any hurt. And surely you don’t think you’re the first rich man to invite me up to his suite for a private consultation?’

  She didn’t wait for a response.

  ‘Well, you weren’t the first, and you probably won’t be the last.’

  Alix’s vision blurred for a moment at the thought of Leila going into another suite, smiling at some man, taking out her bottles. Getting under his skin. Concocting the perfect scent for him like a sorceress. Sleeping with him.