Roman was silent for a moment. ‘The youngest Princess?’
Khal shrugged. ‘If she is willing, so be it. If not, I will retreat and regroup—as always.’
Roman nodded, glad that all hope was not lost for the two nations.
* * *
Olivia stood in her dressing room and placed the elegant emerald tiara upon her head for the last time. She met her own eyes in the mirror with a mixture of sadness and excitement, knowing that after tonight everything would change.
And yet everything had already changed for her.
Would anyone notice that everything inside her had undergone a massive transformation in the past few days?
With sudden momentous clarity she realised that for the first time in her life she truly didn’t care. From tomorrow she would be giving up her right to succeed to the throne voluntarily, and making the leap into actually leading Mimi’s Foundation. She was done with being a pretty face who smiled and waved. The time had come for her to use her own two hands to make the difference she craved.
Perhaps once all of this was over she might appreciate this moment more—the sudden power she felt as she left her suite and began to descend the grand staircase on the way to take her life back into her own hands. But at that moment she felt neither powerful nor relieved.
She had given her virginity and her heart to a man who had repeatedly warned her that he would treasure neither. She knew now that romantic souls could not simply choose to behave otherwise. She could not switch off the part of herself that yearned to feel loved, no matter how much she willed herself to.
A lifetime of training had taught her how to relax her facial muscles into a polite mask of indifference, even while emotions threatened her composure. Harsh decisions would likely need to be made, and comfort zones abandoned. But for the first time in her twenty-six years she was not worried about the unknown.
Olivia couldn’t recall the grand palace ballroom ever looking more beautiful. As she descended the long staircase into the crowd of guests below she reminded herself to smile and hold herself tall and proud.
Perhaps one day in the far future she might look back on this night and yearn for a moment like this. But even as the tug of uncertainty threatened she pushed it away. She had made her decision and the time had come to put herself first.
The Sheikh had not been half as forbidding as she had anticipated—in fact he had seemed more pensive than anything as she had carefully outlined her reasons for refusing his proposal. His gaze had seemed knowing as he had enquired about Roman’s treatment of her, but perhaps that was just her own sense of guilt.
She had her own reasons for keeping her affair with Roman private. She wanted to treasure her time with him, not have it sullied by the judgement of others. Either way, she had taken her power back and it felt great. The marriage would not be going ahead.
But she was not naïve enough to think that the hardest part was over.
Even as the thought crossed her mind she looked up to see her father watching her from across the ballroom. They had not yet formally met, but by now she assumed he would have spoken with the Sheikh. He would know that she had refused the proposal and he would be planning his punishment for her supposed betrayal.
Let him plan, she thought with a solemn shake of her head. He had no control over her. Not any more.
A commotion near the entrance caught her eye and she looked up to the top of the staircase to see a man pushing past the guards to descend the steps with ease. Two Royal Zayyari guards in crisp white and purple uniforms flanked him, holding off the Monteverre palace guards with ease and forcing them to stand down.
Roman.
Her mind went completely blank as the man she loved advanced towards her, his powerful frame accentuated by a perfectly tailored tuxedo.
‘What are you doing here?’ she blurted, so taken off balance by his appearance that it made her insides shake.
‘It’s good to see you too, milaya moya.’
His voice was like a balm to her soul. She hadn’t realised how much her silly lovesick heart had yearned to hear it again. Just one more time. It had barely been twenty-four hours since she had left Isla Arista, and yet it felt like a lifetime since she had stood in front of him. Since she had looked into his slate-grey eyes as he had broken her heart with all the practice of a pro.
He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the booming voice of her father as he advanced upon them from the other side of the room.
‘Guards! Get this criminal out of my palace this instant!’ King Fabian was livid, his cheeks a bright puce as he came to a stop a few steps away from where Roman stood.
The ballroom seemed to have become very quiet all of a sudden, and Olivia was thankful that the room was only half full as the guests had only just started to arrive.
‘King Fabian—I was hoping I would see you tonight.’ Roman’s eyes narrowed, his shoulders straightening with sudden purpose.
Olivia reached out as Roman took a step towards her father, her hand on his arm stilling his movements. ‘This is my fight, not yours,’ she said, steeling herself as she turned to her father.
‘The Sheikh has said that you refused his proposal after your little trip with this thug,’ King Fabian spat. ‘Judging by the lovesick puppy expression on his face, I can take a good guess as to why.’