Claiming His Replacement Queen (Monteverre Marriages 2)

‘The interview was released by his family, who are in control of his estate since his death, it seems.’

‘It says here that he passed away four years ago.’ Cressida shook her head. ‘Why release this now? If they were able to break his nondisclosure upon his death.’

‘Four years ago you were not the Queen of Zayyar,’ Khal said with cold derision.

Cressida took a deep breath, feeling it shudder into her lungs. She closed her eyes, trying to calm the panic that was rising swiftly inside her to a raging storm. ‘What are you going to do?’

Khal did not answer; instead he walked to the door and instructed his team to re-enter. The men and women filed in one by one, each one avoiding her eyes, but Cressida could feel them watching her. Judging her. All of a sudden the air was stifling in the sitting room.

‘I need to go to the restroom for a moment,’ she mumbled quietly, Khal barely looking her way as she slipped out of the door into the hallway beyond. Once alone, she lifted her dress up from the floor and moved quickly. She had no idea where she was going; she just had to get far away from the room full of knowing eyes that lay behind her.

CHAPTER NINE

‘WHAT IS THE PLAN?’ Khal addressed the head of his team. ‘We have a room full of foreign dignitaries and politicians. They each have assistants and smartphones and instant updates. It’s a fiasco.’

His head of PR spoke first. ‘I think you need to speak on the matter as soon as possib

le, Your Highness. The longer it is left unaddressed, the weaker our position.’

‘And what you propose I say, exactly?’ Khal half laughed. ‘This information comes just as much of a surprise to me as it would to them.’

‘Yes, but the world cannot know that. We must act as though the Sheikha’s parentage was known to you. That it was a matter of delicacy that you chose not to disclose for your wife’s privacy.’

‘And what is Monteverre’s position on the matter?’ Khal asked, feeling his fists clench at the thought of King Fabian and his underhand measures. It was likely the man did not care one ounce that his daughter had been publicly humiliated in the media. She was no longer a Sandoval, after all.

In the short time that he had been acquainted with Cressida’s father, the man had shown him nothing but dishonesty and a ruthless greed that turned his stomach. King Fabian was not the kind of leader who put his people first. He was not even the kind of man to put his family first, given recent events.

And yet, when he had been contacted with the news that the youngest Princess was willing to accept the marriage, he had not hesitated to accept. Khal thought of the first night that he had met Cressida, once she had realised who he was, and he remembered her words. ‘It has always been part of my duty to my kingdom...’

He had asked her numerous times if she had been forced into accepting this marriage. He had wanted to make sure that she was not entering into their union under duress...

Ignoring the sudden niggling feeling in his stomach, he looked up just as one of the junior assistants entered the room.

‘The Sheikha has retired to her suite,’ the young woman said.

Khal raised one brow. ‘Retired? We are in the middle of a function.’

The young woman winced. ‘Her Highness was quite adamant that she would not be returning, Sire. I was simply asked to convey the message.’

‘I see.’ Khal stood, walking towards the door before he even knew what he had planned to do. ‘Keep the guests entertained. It seems I must retrieve my wife.’

Long strides and a rush of adrenaline had him at the door of Cressida’s room within minutes. He did not knock, entering and closing the door with a thud behind him. She had been standing at the window but whirled around at his sudden entrance.

‘I will not be abandoned in the middle of dinner.’ Khal spoke evenly. It was taking all his self-control not to let his voice boom across the room with the force of his irritation. ‘I understand that this situation is uncomfortable—’

‘I can’t go back in there.’ Cressida’s voice cut across him, loud and clear. ‘I cannot sit and eat my dessert, knowing that the entire room is whispering about my secrets.’

The slight tremor in her voice unwound some of his irritation. She was upset; of course she would be. She had not known that her biological father was dead, that much was clear. But, apart from that, he realised that he had absolutely no idea what the rest of the story was. He had been too preoccupied with the scandal, and how to contain it. He had been Khal, Sheikh of Zayyar. While right now his wife had just needed support from her husband.

‘The whole world will know within the next twenty-four hours, habibti.’ He was surprised at the softness in his voice as he spoke. ‘It is not going to go away. And it is definitely not going to get any easier just by hiding yourself away in your rooms.’

‘I’m not cut out for this; I told you that before you married me. I was not given the same training to live in the limelight that my sisters were.’ She inhaled deeply, turning her face away from him to look out at where the sun was setting on the horizon of the desert. ‘Nothing about me is the same as my sisters, and now you know why.’

‘How long have you known the truth of your parentage?’

‘On some level, perhaps I always knew. Physically, I never inherited the famed Sandoval beauty. I always had the feeling that my father looked at me differently. Almost like he held me in disdain, no matter how I behaved.’ She moved towards the window, her long skirt blowing slightly in the breeze that drifted in. ‘When I was twelve, I found a box hidden away in the back of my mother’s dressing room. It was filled to the brim with letters and some photographs of a man I didn’t recognise. My father found me trawling through these love letters and images. Nothing was particularly graphic or inappropriate, of course; my mother is a queen, after all.’ A cruel laugh escaped her throat, or perhaps it was a sob.

‘What did your father do?’ Khal asked.