But that didn’t matter.
There was no point wishing she was anyone but who she was, a risky venture he should never have tangled with. As he followed, his mind raced through every pitfall that could arise from this. By the time he boarded his helicopter again, he knew only one option was open to him and that was to ensure this never happened again.
Because contrary to what he had so loftily attempted to deny, Violet had almost come within a whisker of sliding beneath his guard, creating havoc.
He didn’t intend for it to happen again.
Two months later
Violet stood up shakily along with the cathedral full of the crème de la crème of European royalty, a Russian oligarch or six, and wall-to-wall dignitaries and celebrities. In unison, they watched the wide doors of the Duomo di Montegova, the sixteenth-century cathedral located on its own picturesque hill in Montegova’s capital, Playagova, to catch a first glimpse of the bride as she slowly made her way down the aisle.
While she made a pretence of being agog, her mind was far away, spinning wildly enough to give a whirling dervish a run for its money.
She wished she could stop thinking about everything that’d happened since that night in Tanzania. At least then her head wouldn’t spin so hard she feared she would pass out.
Fists discreetly clenched, she fought through the sensation. Under no circumstances could she break down here, now. Her mother’s eagle eyes would zero in on her and Margot would demand an explanation of what she’d termed ‘Violet’s odd behaviour’ in the past few days. Violet could only thank goodness her twin sister Sage had flatly refused to attend, and her older sister Charlotte, who’d held a secret flame for the Crown Prince, had been too morose at the announcement of Remi’s marriage to notice Violet’s less than radiant appearance.
No, she couldn’t give in to the hysteria bubbling beneath her skin.
She definitely couldn’t give in to tears. She’d succumbed to them a few times already, and these days it seemed as if tears waited around the corner, ready to exploit any unsuspecting emotion she succumbed to.
So she plastered a smile on her face, turned towards the advancing bride, hoping that her make-up would cover the worst of the shadows that had gleefully mocked her when she’d looked in the mirror that morning.
Thank God she’d declined her mother’s invitation to share a suite at the five-star hotel they’d been booked into for their stay in Montegova.
And thank God her mother was too busy lamenting the fact that Crown Prince Remi had slipped through her clutches, eliminating himself as suitor for her older daughter, to pay closer attention to Violet.
As she’d been doing for the last few weeks, her mother would spend most of her time gossiping and giving her opinion about the longevity of the upcoming nuptials, freeing Violet to wallow in her misery.
Violet didn’t have an opinion one way or the other. She’d only seen the bride, Maddie Myers, very briefly at the pre-wedding party thrown by the Queen two nights before, and Violet would be the first to admit that she hadn’t been at her best that evening either.
But then who could blame her?
You only have yourself to blame, the voice that had been haranguing her endlessly insisted. Recalling her behaviour that night at the waterfall, she felt the blood drain from her face. Weeks later, she could barely believe that had been her.
How she’d wrapped her thighs around him and urged him on. How she’d flaunted her rock-solid contraception in his face afterwards and promised he had nothing to worry about.
How very wrong she’d been.
Wrong and completely compromised.
She’d stopped bothering to decipher the ins and outs of how the contraception that was meant to be reliable had failed her. All she knew was that it had, and the promise she’d given now needed to be taken back. Because the very thing he’d feared had happened.
She was pregnant with Zak Montegova’s child.
An incontrovertible fact that had the power to render her speechless every time she thought of it. And she’d had a lot of time to think about it ever since her period had failed to make an appearance.
‘Ah, here’s Zak now,’ her mother said, anticipation throbbing in her voice. Completely unaware of the fresh barrage of shock she’d just delivered to her daughter.
Heart banging against her ribs, she followed her mother’s gaze.
Zak was escorting the bride, the confident half-smile aimed at Maddie sending discreet sighs throughout the cathedral.
Violet wasn’t one of swooning crowd. Been there, done that. The consequence of it was growing inside her this very minute. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but gaze at the stunning image he made in his impeccable best man’s suit.
In the weeks since she’d last seen him, he’d stayed true to his word and given her nothing to worry about in the work stakes. What he’d failed to mention the morning after their night by the waterfall when they’d boarded his private jet back to New York was that his way of ensuring nothing would adversely affect their working relationship was to remove himself completely from any interaction with her.
Because no sooner had they arrived back in New York than he’d absented himself from the House of Montegova Trust, and departed for parts unknown.