Their Royal Wedding Bargain

‘Sexual attraction. Biology.’ His eyes pinned her to the spot and all she could think about was sex. Something hot and dark passed between them before he blinked, deliberately severing the connection. ‘I’m referring to this thing between us that you’d like to pretend doesn’t exist. Fortunately, it will fade soon enough. In the meantime I don’t need to know if you’re a morning person or a night person and I don’t want to know if there is any common ground between us. If you want this to go easier you’ll stay on your side of the bed—metaphorically speaking—and I’ll stay on mine.’

Shaken by the harshness of his tone, and her own hurt response at how little he wanted to do with her, Alexa hid her emotions behind an arched brow. ‘Okay, well, that does make it easier. Now I don’t have to rack my brain trying to make small talk while I’m here. Thanks for the heads-up.’

‘Alexa—’

‘You know, if you ever get sick of women falling in love with you, just show them your grouchy side. It will cure them of any fantasies straight away.’ She kept her tone deliberately light but she could tell by his frown that he wasn’t buying it. Still, she didn’t care. She was close to tears because, after their brief moment of camaraderie the night before, she’d thought he liked her, if only a little.

But that was what came from being too needy and she’d thought she’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

And suddenly she was assailed by a feeling of loneliness she hadn’t felt since Sol had died, old feelings of inadequacy threatening to swamp her.

‘Alexa—’

‘Sorry, I have to go.’ Knowing that her emotions were way too close to the surface and refusing to cry in front of another man who didn’t want her, she quickly dumped the cold remains of her coffee in the sink and rinsed the mug. ‘I’m all sweaty after my yoga workout. Thanks for the coffee. Have a nice day.’

Escaping down the hall, she headed for her bedroom, her ears straining to hear if he followed her. Of course he hadn’t. Why would he?

She released a breath she told herself was relief, an ache in her chest she didn’t want to acknowledge. What did she care if he didn’t want to be friends? She didn’t need his friendship either. She didn’t need anything from him.

Grabbing her laptop from her satchel, she set it on the bed and typed in her passcode. Two weeks stretched before her as endless as two years, and she pulled up the files she’d been working on before the wedding.

If she did nothing else, these two weeks she could at least work. There was plenty of it, and she had to prove to her father that she could do this. And to herself. Besides, anything was better than this horrible hollow feeling of rejection inside her chest that she had never wanted to feel again.

CHAPTER SIX

A MAN’S HOME was usually his castle, but right now Rafe’s castle—his ‘castle in the clouds’—felt more like a prison. Only it wasn’t a prison keeping him locked in; it was a prison keeping him locked out. This past week he’d found it safer staying at the office for as long as possible rather than risk returning home, where he might run into his delectable wife.

But even for a man who kept long hours, this routine was exhausting, especially since it was past midnight for the fourth night this week and he still wasn’t home.

It was either stay away or be rude to Alexa again, as he had been that first morning. Finding her in tight-fitting yoga gear, frowning at his coffee machine like a cute disgruntled kitten, had nearly had him lifting her onto the counter, stepping between her legs and telling her that the only instruction she needed was in how to pleasure him.

Just thinking about it was enough to make his body burn. So instead he’d been rude and hurt her when he’d dismissed her invitation of friendship. And he hadn’t liked hurting her. Hadn’t liked dimming the light in her clear, green eyes.

Normally he was laid-back and calm. Normally he’d come home from a hard day at work and put on some rock music, maybe play a little jazz or classical Chopin depending on his mood. Sometimes he’d grab a cold beer from the fridge and turn on the football, catch up on some of the highlights. Other times, if he was tired after a night networking at one of his clubs, or being with a woman, he’d grab whatever Mrs Harrington had left for him in the fridge, wash it down with an accompanying Burgundy and head straight to bed.

Simple. Easy.

He rarely questioned his routine, and if he ever felt a little lonely, or restless, he hit the gym.

Now he found himself looking for signs of Alexa in his home. Like the sweater she’d left over the back of a chair last night, and the hairband she’d left in the kitchen the night before that. He probably owed her an apology for being so distant all week, but that would involve speaking to her and the last thing he wanted to do was to encourage her to want to be ‘friends’ again. Friends didn’t want to tear the other person’s clothes off at just the sight of them, so that was out of the question.

‘We’re here, sir,’ Stevens said, alerting him to the fact that he was sitting in the back of the Mercedes and the engine wasn’t even running.

‘Great.’

He gave Stevens a curt nod and headed for his lift, thankful when he found his apartment shrouded in darkness because it meant that Alexa would be once again in bed.

Placing his computer bag on the sofa, he noticed a pair of socks sitting on the side table, along with an empty mug of herbal tea and a scattering of magazines.

Shaking his head, he wondered how he was supposed to forget she was living with him when she left tiny reminders of her presence lying around. Not to mention the sweet scent of her perfume that lingered in the air.

Gritting his teeth, he dumped her

mug in the sink and her socks in the laundry before heading to his room.

Strangely, keeping people at a distance and compartmentalising his life had never been one of his issues before, but he had to admit that he was struggling with Alexa.

Nine days.