Gall twisted his insides that she should believe that.
‘Alphonse gave me nothing.’
And Stefan wouldn’t have taken it if he had tried.
‘I ended up in property because it was the only job I could find.’
He could still taste the bitter tang of grief, fear and desperation. He’d arrived in London buoyed up by a sense of freedom and relief that he’d finally escaped his father, determined to find out what had happened to his mother. His discoveries had caused a cold anger to burn inside him alongside a raging inferno of guilt.
His mother had suffered a serious mental breakdown. The staff at the hostel that had taken her in had had no idea of her identity, but to Stefan’s eternal gratitude they had looked after her. Though Eloise had never really recovered, relapsing and lurching from periods of depression to episodes of relative calm until illness had overtaken her.
In his anger and grief he had started his search for a job under an assumed name, changed his surname by deed poll and got himself new documentation, determined to prove himself without any reference to his royal status.
It hadn’t been easy. And he would be grateful for ever to the small independent estate agent who’d taken pity on him. His need for commission had honed his hitherto non-existent sales skills and negotiating had come naturally to him.
‘Luckily I was a natural and it piqued my interest.’
Holly tipped her head to one side. ‘But how did you go from that job to a multibillion-pound business?’
Was that suspicion in her voice? The idea that she still believed Alphonse had funded him shouldn’t matter but it did.
‘I worked hard and I saved hard. I worked multiple jobs, I persuaded a bank to take a chance on me, I studied the market and invested in properties until I had a diverse portfolio. Some properties I bought, did up and sold, others I rented out. Once my portfolio became big enough I set up a company. It all spiralled from there.’
And when it had he had resumed his own identity, wanting the world to know what he had made of himself.
‘You make it sound easy.’
‘It wasn’t. Point is, though, I did it on my own.’
Holly was silent for a moment, almost absentmindedly forking up some Udon noodles. ‘So what about today? That site we visited? It looked like it was in a pretty poor area.’
‘It is. We’re building social housing. Projects like that are taken on by a separate arm of my business. The problem with the housing market is the huge differential in regional properties, and overall houses are becoming unaffordable—which is wrong. Equally, there is insufficient social housing and the system can backfire, or people are expected to live in unsafe, horrible conditions and not have a lot of redress. I work to try and prevent that. I plough a proportion of the company’s profits back into building more houses, better houses. More affordable houses. Both for young people to buy and people who can’t afford to buy to rent at reasonable prices. And for those who haven’t the money to afford the most basic of rent. The amount of homelessness in rich countries is criminal and—’
He broke off.
‘Sorry. It’s a bit of a pet peeve I have. No need to bore you with it.’ But it was a subject that he felt strongly about. His mother had spent periods of time homeless, too ill after her breakdown to figure out the benefits system.
‘I’m not bored either,’ Holly said softly. ‘I think your commitment to put money into the system, to help people, is fantastic. Your enthusiasm lights up your face.’
She lifted her hand in a mirror gesture of his earlier one and touched his cheek, and his heart pounded his ribcage.
‘I admire that. As well as your phenomenal success. I feel bad that I believed Alphonse funded it.’
‘It’s OK.’ He knew the whole of Lycander believed the same; his father’s propaganda machine had churned out fictional anti-Stefan stories with scurrilous precision.
‘But why don’t you set the record straight?’
Her hand dropped to cover his; she stroked her thumb across the back and his body stilled as desire pooled in his gut.
‘There is no point. For a start, who would believe me? Plus, at the end of the day I did walk away from Lycander.’
‘Then why do you want Il Boschetto di Sole? You own properties throughout Europe. Why do you want one Lycandrian lemon grove if you have no love for Lycander at all?’
An image of his birthplace suddenly hit him—the roll of verdant fields, the swoop and soar and dip of the hills, the spires and turrets of the architecture of the city, the scent of lemon and blossom and spices borne on a breeze...
Whoa. It was a beautiful place but he owed it nothing. Rather it was the other way round. His father had taken away what was rightfully his and this was a way to redress the balance. A way to take his mother’s ashes to their final resting place. That was what was important. This visceral reaction to Holly needed to be doused, and this emotional conversation with its undertones of attraction needed to cease.
‘I’m a businessman, Holly. Why would I pass up the chance to add this to my portfolio?’