He speaks as though I haven’t spoken. ‘You’re worried about falling in love with me, but I don’t see any risk there. Not when we’re both so honest about what this is and what we want.’
His calm argument is the breaking of all my resolve. ‘That’s just the thing, Santiago. I’m not being honest with you.’
He frowns. I suck in a breath, steeling myself to be brave. ‘I’m already in love with you, and if I keep seeing you, sleeping with you, I’m terrified I won’t be strong enough to walk away from you. I’m terrified that I’ll love you so much I’ll turn my back on everything I have to do—and I can’t let that happen, okay? So just...stop arguing and let it go.’
He stares at me for several seconds, surprise on his face. Whatever hope I’d cherished that he might turn round and say he loves me too dies with every second that passes.
‘Freja...’ My name is a groan on his lips. Sadness engulfs me.
‘You’re asking me to give up everything that matters to me because your ego’s been hurt by the fact I’m betrothed to another guy. I can’t turn my back on my people and palace because you’re not ready to let me go yet, because you like having sex with me.’
He shakes his head as if to dismiss this. ‘It’s more than that. It’s a connection. There’s chemistry between us, and it’s breath-taking and urgent. That’s why I don’t want to let you go.’ My lips part; dreaded hope returns. ‘But that’s not love. It’s just great sex. If you had more experience, you’d understand that.’
I flinch, rejecting that with every fibre of my DNA. My voice is roughened by emotion. ‘And maybe if you had a little less experience you’d be less jaded and see what’s standing right in front of you. This is more than just great chemistry.’
He expels a heavy sigh. ‘If you feel that way, then why fight this? Why not enjoy what we share for a few more months? This is not complicated, Freja.’
The fact he thinks so is further evidence—as though I need any—of how little he cares for me.
‘If I keep sleeping with you it will kill me. Already the idea of never seeing you again is like acid in my gut. The thought of marrying someone else and having them touch me, kiss me, make love to me, is anathema. Don’t you get that?’
‘You think I like the idea? Hell, that photo of the two of you together made me want to kill him, and I am not a violent person, Freja.’
A burst of heat runs the length of my spine. ‘Doesn’t that tell you something?’
‘It tells me that I feel possessive of you, that I don’t like sharing. But none of these things is love.’ He drops his head, his forehead pressing to mine.
‘And that’s why we have to walk away.’ And I do just that, taking a step back, staring at him from eyes that are smarting with unshed tears.
‘Eventually, but not now.’
‘It has to be now.’ I press my hand to his chest, feeling the beating of his heart, wishing it were beating for me. ‘I won’t be strong enough later, and you’re not offering me enough. This isn’t enough...’
‘What do you want, then?’ he demands, his voice rising.
‘I want all of you!’ I roar back, forgetting where I am for a moment. I grind my teeth together. ‘I want you to love me back. I want you to want me in your bed, not just for the next few months, but for the rest of our lives. I want you to beg me not to marry Heydar. I want you
to want me like I want you.’
His eyes flare wide, his cheeks slashed with dark colour. ‘That’s not possible.’
‘Why not?’
He makes a harsh laughing sound. ‘You’re the one who told me how unsuitable I am for you, how your people would react if they got wind of our affair. Have you changed your mind?’
I gape at him because he’s right, and I’d forgotten momentarily. ‘I’m not saying it’s straightforward, but if you loved me maybe we could find a way...’
His eyes glint when they meet mine. I am on tenterhooks.
‘If you loved me,’ I whisper, ‘Anything would be possible.’
He takes a step back, and I am reminded of all the times he pushed me away when we were in Barcelona. I gasp, because I know what’s coming even before he speaks.
‘I’m offering a casual relationship. An extension of what we shared in Spain, nothing more. I have no intention of asking you to do anything that would permanently change the course of your life. You’ve decided to marry him. It’s important to you, and I accept that.’
‘And that’s it?’ I ask quietly. ‘You really don’t care?’
He lifts his shoulders in a casual shrug, but every molecule of him reverberates with tension. ‘I disagree with the premise of an arranged marriage...’