My Forbidden Royal Fling

‘It would be more accurate.’

‘Your hatred makes no sense.’

‘Not to you perhaps.’

‘So explain it to me.’

I bristle, swallowing to bring back moisture to my dry mouth. ‘There’s no point. It hardly seems to matter. My personal feelings on the casino are by the by. I’ve accepted that your development will go ahead. All I care about now is making sure my country gets the utmost financial reward from the endeavour.’ Again, I hear the words, and they are laced with condemnation. I wish I could control my emotions but a hatred for gambling—and an awareness of its evils—has been drummed into me for a very long time. I cannot think of my uncle or my parents without being conscious of the enormity of this betrayal.

My breath burns in my throat.

‘It is not by the by to me.’ His nostrils flare with the statement and for a moment my stomach swoops with something like pleasure. His interest is flattering and dangerously addictive. I quickly remind myself that it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Santiago: he has to understand people, things, problems. It’s in his nature to know everything he can about a person.

‘Tell me,’ I murmur. ‘When you first began trading in the phantom stock-market scenario, how did you do it?’

The conversation change annoys him. I wonder if he’ll brush the question aside to return to interrogating me but he doesn’t. ‘I researched trends. I watched carefully. I immersed myself in everything I could on the matter. Why?’

It’s just as I suspected. He has to understand everything and, right now, he’s trying to understand me––but only so he can turn me to his advantage. It has nothing to do with wanting to know me, or caring about me as a person.

As a child, I was winded once when I fell off a horse. I landed on my back and all the air was drummed from my body, so I lay staring up at the clear blue sky, stars dancing on the lids of my eyes. My nanny’s terrified face had hovered on the periphery of my view with me unable to offer any form of reassurance for many minutes, until slowly my lungs remembered their purpose and accepted air once more. I feel that again now, without the provocation of a fall. Several realisations slam into me at once, each on their own with the power to knock my lungs to oblivion.

I want him to care about me.

I have had no one to care about me for a very long time.

I care about him.

I feel the colour drain from my face and quickly drop my face to look at my toes. In a rare tilt of the cap to vanity, I had them painted a pearly pink before coming to Barcelona. What was that if not an admission that I’d hoped my toes might be seen by this man?

‘You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,’ he murmurs. ‘Do you disapprove of my techniques? Were you hoping my answer would somehow make your argument for you?’

I’m glad for the reminder of our discussion, and even more so for the lifeline he’s thrown me. ‘In some ways, it does.’ My voice is a little hoarse. ‘You are highlighting the differences between gambling and trading, though I’m not sure it matters. I wasn’t the one who drew that comparison in the first instance.’

‘No, it was me. Risk and reward, the story of life. Here’s another expression that is bandied about––“nothing ventured, nothing gained”.’

My eyes fire to his. ‘Surely it could also be, “nothing ventured, nothing lost”,’ I point out, my uncle heavy in my heart.

‘That is a very boring way to live.’

‘What you call boring, I call safe.’

‘Safety from the privileged perspective of your palace is a very different consideration.’

I feel that judgement again, the same vein that had run through our first meeting and that has reared its head again here. ‘You dislike the fact I’m royalty.’

His sneer shouldn’t have made him more attractive, but somehow it does. ‘I dislike any form of social elitism.’

‘Says the man with the million-dollar yacht?’

‘Bought with money I earned.’

‘You don’t think I earn my money?’ And out of nowhere I feel rage and frustration boiling through my blood. I stand up, needing to throw my words not only at Santiago but into the sea, the sky, to have them heard on some elemental level.

‘I have given my life over to my people,’ I say angrily, stalking towards the yacht’s railing. ‘I have no privacy, no personal life, and until twenty-four hours ago I had never taken a lover. Did you know, Santiago, that you are the first man who’s ever so much as kissed me? You have no idea what I have given up because I am royal. You talk about the privilege of my position without having any idea of what I have sacrificed.’

His expression gives little away, but he stands and walks towards me, his eyes raking my face, his body moving closer to mine.

‘Don’t you think I live every day with a horrible resentment right here—’ I press my hands to my ribs ‘—at what is expected of me?’