My Forbidden Royal Fling

by Clare Connelly

  ‘I’m perfectly happy in my life.’

  ‘How can you be when you’re so alone?’

  ‘Alone is the last thing I am.’

  I suck in a deep breath, his words like a sledgehammer at my side.

  I spin round to face him in time to see him pick up the contract. ‘You’re right, Your Highness. There’s no future here. You want more than I could ever give you—or anyone.’

  * * *

  ‘It’s a beautiful day, Your Highness.’

  I blink across at Claudia, a frown on my face.

  ‘Sorry?’

  She gestures to the window I’m sitting at, pointing at the blue sky. ‘Why don’t we go for a drive into the country? Have a picnic somewhere, hmm?’

  My smile is tight and dismissive. ‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s not necessary. I’m fine.’

  We haven’t discussed the details of my love life. Three weeks ago, I came back to my apartment with tear-streaked cheeks and Claudia drew me into her arms and held me. Without knowing what happened—though I’m sure she’s guessed some of it—she knew I was devastated. Since then, she’s been a godsend, clearing my schedule as much as possible, minimising any requirements for me to go out in the world, to be seen and behave as normal.

  I don’t feel normal.

  I feel broken in a way that must be obvious to anyone who looks at me.

  ‘At some point, you’re going to have to face this,’ she says gently, propping her hips on the desk at my side, studying my face with worry.

  ‘Face what?’

  Her sigh is just audible. ‘Whatever is making you feel like this. Why don’t you tell me about it?’

  My eyes clamp shut. I remember how certain Claudia was that Santiago was every bit as bad as his reputation, but the truth is she was wrong. He’s nothing like people assume, but for me that’s even worse. Loving him was too easy.

  ‘I can’t.’ My voice cracks.

  She sighs again. ‘Then tell me what I can do to help.’

  I’m tempted to respond with ‘nothing’, but suddenly it occurs to me that that’s not true. My eyes widen as realisation starts to firm inside my chest. I rejected Santiago because of duty—a duty to my parents and my people, a wish to do them proud. Becoming another notch on Santiago’s bedpost would have been insupportable. I walked away from the only man I’ve ever loved because it was the right thing to do. And now I have to take the next step, cementing the break between us, making it impossible for me to change my mind. He was offering sex, that’s all. How could he have expected me to jeopardise my reputation for something he sees as meaningless?

  I fix Claudia with a cool stare, but as I speak I feel as though my heart is turning to ice. ‘Would you contact Heydar for me? I’d like to meet with him for lunch.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘THANK YOU FOR meeting me,’ I say quietly, nerves fluttering inside my belly.

  ‘Of course. It would be poor form to turn down a lunch invitation from the woman I’m to marry.’

  I move quickly, so the fork to my left clatters to the ground. I wince apologetically and dip down to retrieve it. Per my request, he and I are alone on the balcony, just the two of us—no staff to overhear this very private conversation and, more importantly, no chance of a photographer capturing this moment.

  ‘That’s what I wished to speak to you about.’

  ‘The wedding?’ He nods. ‘I suppose it’s time. Your coronation is set for three months?’

  I toy with the stem of my wine glass. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And three months later, we’ll tie the knot?’

  A lump forms in my throat. ‘I didn’t know about our engagement until after they’d died.’ I fix my gaze on the view beyond him. The city sprawls beneath us, elegant and ancient.

  He shifts his head to the side. ‘My parents told me when I was a teenager. I had been dating a girl, and they felt it fair to prepare me for my future.’

  I bite down on my lower lip. ‘I wish my parents had told me in person, but I suppose they thought there wasn’t a need. I would have liked a chance to discuss this with them.’

  ‘Understandably.’

  He’s so nice, so patient. I wish more than anything that I cared for him, but I don’t. At least, not enough. ‘After they died, I became fixated on doing absolutely everything I could just as they would have wished. I imagined them beside me often––heard their praise, feared their disappointment and drew comfort from any opportunity that showed me clearly how they’d wish me to behave.’

  My eyes bore into his. ‘Marrying you is something I’ve never questioned, because I know how happy it would have made them. I think that in marrying you it would be a like bringing them back, in some way.’ I shake my head. ‘It’s very hard to explain.’

  ‘I understand,’ he agrees gently.

  And I really think he does. ‘I want them to be proud of me, but lately I’ve come to realise that I can’t ignore my own instincts completely.’

  He sips his water, waiting for me to continue.

  ‘Marrying you because our parents wished it doesn’t make sense. Not any more.’ Santiago’s eyes fill my mind, giving me courage, even when I know the future I’m carving out for myself doesn’t involve him.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to live my life following the blueprint my parents laid out for me, but I’ve come to understand that doesn’t entail doing everything just as they might have wished. It’s about living with decency and honour, about loving this kingdom and country so much that I always work to make it better and safer, more prosperous, for our people. A blueprint isn’t necessarily about ticking items off a list, but being true to a set of core values, values they drove into me since birth. But it’s also about balance.’

  I fold my hands in my lap. ‘I’m not just a princess. I’m a person too. And while my country deserves my best it doesn’t deserve all of me. I can’t marry a man I don’t love, Heydar. No matter how much my parents wished it. I’m sorry.’

  His eyes probe mine and I hold my breath, worried he’ll be angry, worried he’ll try to convince me. But after a moment he smiles. ‘Perhaps you’ll fall in love with me over time?’

  But he’s joking, or at least not serious.

  ‘I won’t,’ I respond firmly. ‘I wish I could,’ I add after a moment. ‘But, as it turns out, it’s not possible.’

  ‘No?’

  I shake my head, refusing to be drawn on the matter of Santiago, yet I suspect he understands what I’m not saying.

  ‘In trying to live my life as my parents would have wished, I think I’ve been ignoring one of their most important lessons—to be true to myself. I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise.’ He stands and moves to the railing, looking down over the view I love so much. ‘I’m surprised, of course. I fully intended our wedding to go ahead. But I respect your decision.’ He turns to face me. ‘I adored your parents, you know.’

  My heart skips a beat.

  ‘Your father was a frequent visitor at our palace. He was a funny, kind man.’

  My smile is immediate. ‘Yes, he was.’

  ‘And I believe you’re right. He would wish you to follow your heart, Freja, and it clearly isn’t leading you to me.’

  I shake my head silently.

  ‘May I make one suggestion, though?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘What if we become friends? I think that would have made our parents happiest of all.’

  Relief bursts through me. ‘I’d like that, Heydar. I really would.’

  * * *

  ‘Have you had a chance to peruse the plans yet, Your Highness?’

  I blink at Henrik before shaking my head. ‘I’m sorry. Plans for what?’

  ‘The del Almodovár construction.’

  �
�Oh.’ Heat lashes me. It’s been three months since I last saw Santiago and I can barely hear his name without breaking out in a sweat. I miss him in a way that defies reason and sense. I dream of him every night without fail. Well, not dream, exactly, because to dream I would have to sleep, and I find that sleep mostly eludes me. But I remember him. I impose him into my life and my bed, so that I reach for him at all hours and imagine his hands on my body. It is frustrating and soul-destroying, so each morning I wake with a deeper sense of loneliness than the day before.

  I have deliberately avoided doing anything to make this harder, which includes typing his name into an Internet search browser or looking at the information I’m being bombarded with about the casino.

  ‘You should see how the design has panned out,’ my Prime Minister continues. ‘I think you’ll like the direction he’s taken the project in.’

  ‘I will,’ I lie. ‘I just haven’t had a moment.’

  ‘Of course. Your coronation preparations must be in full swing.’

  I force a smile to my face.

  ‘You will come to the ground-breaking, though?’ he asks. ‘The media will be there. It’s important, I think, that you are seen to support the project.’

  My eyes close for a moment and then I nod. I know I can’t ignore it. Henrik is right. My absence would indeed be conspicuous. ‘Yes, I’ll be at the ground-breaking, Henrik.’

  * * *

  The moment my car pulls up I see him. How can I not? Even in a crowd of faces, Santiago is impossible to miss––tall, broad-shouldered, wearing jeans, and a dark jacket in deference to the fact the temperature has turned cool. I dig my fingernails into my palms to stop myself from doing something truly stupid, such as running to him.

  I want to.

  I want to so badly.

  But I can’t.

  For one thing, everything’s changed between us. He hasn’t called or texted since that morning in the palace three and a half months ago. I don’t doubt that he’s moved on, though thank God I have no confirmation of that. To see photographs of him with another woman would kill me.

  The door to my car is opened and the crowd grows quiet. In the distance, there are rope garlands with people lined up behind them. I must greet them first, before I join the assembly of officials. I step out of the car and an enormous cheer erupts. Without needing to look in his direction, I feel his eyes on me, their intensity searing my soul.

  Walking towards the first cluster of people, I accept a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear. I stop and chat to an old woman, who remembers meeting my mother, then a young girl, who is dressed in a gown and tiara. She gives me a hand-written invitation to her birthday party, and as I hand it to Claudia I whisper to ask her to send cupcakes as a birthday present. On and on it goes, for twenty minutes at least, before finally I’m at the end of the line and Henrik awaits.

  ‘Your Highness...’ The Prime Minister beams from ear to ear. ‘How delightful to see you.’

  I focus on his face, but it doesn’t matter. My peripheral vision has picked up Santiago. I’m aware of his proximity and know that I must soon come face to face with him. I don’t know if I have the strength for this.

  Claudia, beside me, puts her hand briefly on mine, squeezing it, and I know then that she understands. She’s pieced it all together. Her gesture does indeed give me some strength.

  Turning to face Santiago is like being struck by lightning.

  He is the same, but different. His hair has been cut shorter, and I see that what I had thought were jeans are actually the dark trousers of the suit he wears. There is no tie, but he looks so formal compared to usual garb. His dark eyes stare through me, and my heart rabbits against my ribs so hard it hurts.

  ‘Your Highness.’ He bows low. ‘Thank you for coming.’

  It’s a perfectly respectable greeting that gives little away. I force myself to smile, but it’s almost impossible. ‘Naturally.’

  ‘There’s a shovel over here!’ Henrik’s tone is jolly, perfectly at odds with the depth of my feelings.

  ‘I understand you are going to dig the car park?’ Santiago murmurs in a light joke.

  I don’t smile. ‘Just a ceremonial shovel, I’m afraid. No free labour today.’

  ‘Pity. Car parks are always the most expensive part.’

  I lift my eyes to him and feel as though the world has tipped completely off its axis. I lose my footing a little but he shoots a hand out to steady me, pressing it to my elbow then releasing again just as quickly—almost as if I imagined it, as if he can’t bear to touch me.

  I stare at him, stricken, panic making it impossible to think straight. People are watching. Photographers are everywhere.

  ‘Your Highness?’ Claudia’s voice drags me back to reality. ‘This way, please.’ She inserts herself between Santiago and me, gesturing towards a small timber platform that’s been erected for the purpose of today.

  I’ve done this sort of thing dozens of times in my life, yet my hands shake when I’m given the shovel.

  Henrik makes a short speech about the importance of design innovation and the twenty-first century, the impressive work Del Almodovár Industries has achieved around the world and the promise for a new generation that this precinct will bring.

  There is applause when he’s finished, and then I do my part—smiling brightly as I wield the shovel, delicately sifting dirt around to ensure the press pool has a chance to get a decent photograph of the historic moment.

  I hate to think what my father would say.

  * * *

  ‘Princesa, wait.’

  His voice is low, something in the tone causing my feet to slow. I’m within sight of my car. Another minute and I’ll escape.

  ‘Freja.’ He speaks my name low enough that only Claudia and I hear.

  I stop walking and turn to face him, not even capable of offering a civil smile.

  Up close, and almost alone with him, my legs feel completely hollowed out.

  ‘Mr del Almodovár,’ I murmur. ‘What can I do for you?’

  He’s frustrated and annoyed by that. His eyes flash to mine, irritation obvious in their depths. ‘I’d like a moment of your time.’

  Panic flares in my breast. I cannot tell you how badly I want that too. I shake my head. ‘It’s not possible. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Then when will it be possible?’ he demands, his teeth bared.

  ‘Her Highness’s schedule is quite full,’ Claudia offers.

  ‘I believe Her Highness can speak for herself,’ Santiago responds with icy disdain.

  I glare at him, then turn to Claudia. ‘It’s fine.’ I put a reassuring hand on her arm. ‘I’ll meet you in the car.’

  Alone with him, I speak quietly. ‘There are people and cameras everywhere. Please remember that.’

  ‘Have you looked at the plans?’

  This is what he wishes to discuss––the bloody plans?

  I shake my head. ‘I sold the land to you, Mr del Almodovár. The nature of your casino construction is no longer of interest to me.’

  He swears in Spanish, low in his throat. ‘Stop calling me that, as though I mean nothing to you, or I’ll kiss you right here to prove what a liar you are.’

  I gasp, my eyes flaring wide.

  ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

  ‘Try me.’ He stares at me for several seconds then shakes his head with obvious frustration. ‘I don’t care what your plans are this afternoon. Cancel them and come to my apartment.’

  I know for a fact my schedule is empty, courtesy of a vigilant Claudia, but I don’t tell him that. ‘Why?’

  ‘To discuss the plans, for a start. Do you still have a key?’

  I shake my head. ‘I threw it away.’

  I can see that angers him. I’m strangely pleased.

  ‘Fine. Call me when you get there and I�
�ll buzz you in.’

  ‘It’s not—’

  ‘Seriously, Freja. Do not fight me on this. I’m not above dragging you into my car.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘WHAT IS IT?’

  My pulse is rushing so loudly in my ears, it’s all I can hear. Alone with Santiago in his apartment, I feel the ghosts of past heartbreak and they’re threatening to eat me alive.

  ‘Please, come in.’

  He gestures into the penthouse. It’s nothing like I’d expected. Elegant and somehow homely. Not the blank-slate hotel décor I was imagining.

  I grind my teeth together, hating that we are like strangers now, hating the distance between us, hating that I’m pretending to be angry at him when I’m actually just angry at the impossibility of our situation.

  ‘No security guards?’

  ‘I thought it best to keep this visit completely off the record,’ I murmur.

  ‘Heaven forbid anyone should know you came here.’

  My heart stammers. ‘What did you want to discuss?’

  He drags a hand through his hair, pinning me with his gaze. ‘Many things.’

  My stomach swoops. ‘I don’t have long.’

  His jaw clenches. ‘Have a seat, Princesa.’

  I startle, opening my mouth to snap back something at him, but then I close it again. Fighting with him only ever leads to one thing. I move to the table and pull back a chair, settling into it with a straight spine.

  He brings me a cup of coffee without actually offering one. I nod my thanks. Then he’s quiet, striding the length of the table before stopping, staring at me for a second and turning on his heel, striding back. I watch, flummoxed and confused, my heart in my throat.

  ‘Here.’ He grabs something off the table and brings it to me. I recognise the papers—his logo is emblazoned on the corners.

  I ignore it. ‘I told you. I’m not interested in seeing your casino plans.’