My Forbidden Royal Fling

‘Fine,’ I huff, focussing on the illustrations. I expected them to be a version of what had first passed my desk over a year ago, but these are completely different. Frowning, I look more closely.

MARLSDOVEN CROWN ARTS PRECINCT

I lift a hand to my mouth, clamping it there, tears filling my eyes. It doesn’t make any sense. My fingertips tremble as I turn the page and study the drawings in more detail. Enormous glass structures to capture the river views and exquisite park-land are punctuated by tall, modern towers that spear into the sky, each housing accommodation. Two are marked as residential, one as offices and an additional two as hotels.

The glass constructions are labelled neatly: library, performance arena, art gallery. There are several wrap-around balconies and restaurants.

My fingers trace the drawings and I shake my head. ‘It’s like you’ve reached into my mind and created a fantasy.’

‘That was, more or less, the brief.’

I jerk my face to his, not understanding. ‘But Santiago, why? This isn’t... You’re building a casino.’

His eyes burn into me with an intensity that takes my breath away. ‘I no longer have any interest in casinos.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I sold that part of my business.’

My jaw drops. I lift a hand to his shoulder. Despite the fact I’m sitting down, I feel like I need support, or a reminder of reality. Nothing makes sense. ‘I’m sorry. I’m struggling to understand. How can that be?’

‘The casinos are incredibly lucrative. It was not difficult to find a buyer.’

‘But you’re—they’re a part of what you do. You love them.’

‘I did,’ he agrees with a nod. ‘But not any more.’

‘When did you decide this? Why didn’t you tell me last time we met?’

‘I hadn’t arranged it then.’ He stands up, moving away from me. I stare at the chair he had just occupied, my mind sluggish in the face of these revelations.

‘I understand from your Prime Minister that the date of your coronation has been brought forward to April?’

‘Yes,’ I confirm numbly.

‘I see.’

Silence falls between us, sharp and uncomfortable. I am conscious of his breathing, heavier than usual. I sense that he wishes to say something else, but he doesn’t.

I fill the silence eventually. ‘Your apartment’s nice. Do you live here?’

He turns to face me, but he seems distracted. ‘Sí.’

My breath catches in my throat; it takes all my willpower to seem perfectly calm in the face of that admission. ‘Since when?’

‘Since a week after...we last saw one another.’

‘Oh.’ I stumble over the word, my mind spinning. All this time, he was within miles of my palace? When I was looking out over this city, craving him, missing him, he was right here?

‘I don’t understand why you did this.’ I run a finger over the plans. ‘But I’m...grateful, I think.’

‘You think?’

‘I don’t know. I feel...guilty, too. That casino was your dream.’

‘Not any more.’

I frown, standing and moving to his side. ‘Santiago, what happened?’