My Forbidden Royal Fling

‘And your first instinct was to reject the proposal.’

My lips tighten into something like the ghost of a smile. ‘I don’t really have that power. Perhaps if I asked the Prime Minister... But without an alternative that is just as beneficial to our economy...?’ I shake my head sadly. ‘I’m aware that I have a bias here. I know what I want is unreasonable.’

‘But, if there is to be casino in Marlsdoven, you need it to be on your terms.’

My eyes widen as they lift to his. I nod. ‘It has to be worth it. I don’t know how I can make peace with what I owe my father, my uncle, if I don’t at least try to fight this.’

He reaches for his glass and has a drink without relinquishing my hand. ‘Two years ago, when I first started looking to put a casino in Marlsdoven, your government provided me with a list of land options. I chose this site because of the historic nature of the land as well as its primacy within the city––on the river bank, with easy access to the CBD. I am as convinced now as I was then that this will be the best place for the project.’

He’s right. The land is ripe for development.

‘Your government offered me the land,’ he repeats. ‘Did you know that?’

I nod. ‘Every year we discuss which areas might be used and for what purpose. There has long been talk of urbanising that section of the city.’

He considers that a moment, taking a bite of his own meal. I follow suit, tasting delicate spices and butter in the rice. ‘You would prefer a different kind of development.’

‘Yes.’

‘Such as?’

My first instinct is to tell him I’ve never really thought about it, but that’s a lie. ‘I always hoped it could be turned into a culture and arts precinct. Museums, galleries, a new theatre for ballet. Even a stadium for sporting events. I hoped we could celebrate the rich history of our arts, but the funding just isn’t there.’ I expel a soft sigh. ‘The previous government badly mismanaged the budget and, as a result, our country’s finances are in need of conservative management. It isn’t the time to be investing billions of euros into a culture precinct, even though I think it would be incredibly beautiful and a great addition to our country.’

‘And it would make your parents proud.’

My eyes ping to his and I nod jerkily. ‘Yes.’

‘Whereas, by allowing this casino to be built, you feel that you’re betraying them.’

I flutter my eyes closed. ‘I am betraying them. But it can’t be helped.’ I try to smile. ‘I’m old enough to know when I’m fighting a losing battle, Santiago. I suppose the best thing to do now is focus on the positives of your development.’

I can see how unsatisfied he is with that, but he lets the conversation drop, squeezing my hand once before releasing it.

‘How is your entrée?’

‘Delicious,’ I murmur, though I barely taste it. The conversation has filled me with emotional ambivalence. I change the subject awkwardly. ‘Casinos are only a part of your business, aren’t they?’

For a moment I feel as though he’s going to return to our earlier discussion but then he begins to explain that, while casinos were how he first built his fortune, he’s since diversified into a wide array of interests—from hedge funds to tech companies to boutique hotels and banks. He has fingers in many pies.

The food is perfect, and as our conversation moves away from the matter of the casino he wishes to build I am blissfully content. By the time we leave, the restaurant is empty.

‘Oh, my goodness, I didn’t realise how late it is. I’m sorry we kept you,’ I apologise to Enrique.

He smiles warmly. ‘It is no problem. We are always here anyway.’

Santiago embraces him once more, in the Spanish style, then loops an arm low around my waist, guiding me into the night air. In the distance I catch the gleam of his helicopter, and by unspoken yet mutual agreement we slow down, neither of us in a rush to reach it too soon.

‘Thank you for bringing me here. I’ve had a wonderful night. I don’t want it to end.’ I laugh shakily.

He stops walking altogether then, turning me to face him. For the briefest moment, he is stricken, as though fighting a war within himself. He stares down at me, through me, inside me, and then expels a soft, slow breath. He lifts a hand, tucking the brown hair of my wig behind my ear.

‘No?’

I shake my head, incapable of speech.

His eyes soften and I have the distinct impression he’s surrendering to something he wishes he could fight. ‘Then it doesn’t have to, Princesa.’

CHAPTER TEN