My Forbidden Royal Fling

‘Humour me.’

I shake my head.

‘Please.’

With a sigh, I pull on my handbag strap once more. ‘Are you looking for more ego stroking, Santiago? Do you want to hear that it’s because of you?’

‘Was it?’

‘Well, partly. It didn’t seem very fair to marry Heydar when I was in love with someone else.’

He drags a hand through his hair so it stands up at odd angles. ‘And are you still in love with me, Princesa?’

I blink at the question, my heart in my throat. I can’t deny how I feel, but at the same time I’m furious with him for asking me.

‘Forget I asked. I have no right. I’m sorry.’

I don’t understand what’s happening. I spin back to the door, but now I hear him moving, his footsteps quick. Just as I open th

e door, his arm reaches past me, pushing it closed again. I spin round, angry, but the look of resignation on his features silences me. His head is bent, and I know enough about agony to recognise it in someone else.

‘Let me tell you something before you leave. Please.’

That word again! It’s so unlike Santiago. I nod crisply but don’t remove my hand from the door.

‘The day at the palace...’

I groan, because I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to think about the way we argued, about the way he told me he didn’t love me.

‘I was so angry. That photograph of the two of you was all I could think of, Freja. It tormented me and came to life inside me, so by the time I saw you I was filled with darkness. I came to Marlsdoven hoping to prove that what I felt for you was all in my head.’

I look away. ‘I see.’

‘No, you don’t. Because, even if that was my intention, I hadn’t been at the palace for more than two minutes before I realised how complicated this is. How much I’d missed you. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You were so beautiful, so regal, so incredibly confident. And I was proud of you—proud that even for a few nights I was a man you wanted to be with. But it was all an illusion—you’d never really be mine. There was always Heydar and that photo in the back of my mind.’

‘It was just a picture.’

‘I found it impossible to believe that.’

I breathe out slowly, dropping my hand from the doorknob.

‘I don’t know if this post mortem is helpful,’ I say honestly. ‘That morning was one of the worst of my life. I’ll never forget how it felt to tell you that I loved you and have you—’

‘Please don’t.’ He lifts a finger to my lips. ‘Don’t remember that morning. Not like that.’

‘How should I remember it?’

‘I knew you were different to anyone I’d ever been with, but since the first moment we met I’ve been fighting you—telling myself one more night would be enough, then another and another. And until that morning I’d never understood why I refused to see what was right in front of me.’

‘But you do now?’

His smile is ghostly. ‘Only because you made me understand. No one has ever loved me before. Not my parents, no one. You told me you loved me, and gave me something I wanted so much, but what if you took it away again? What if I let myself love you and you decided you were wrong? What if you married him anyway, and I could never love you? What if I had to live the rest of my life knowing you were out of my reach? I tried to convince us both that this is just sex, because sex is safe and I understand it. But it was never that with us, Freja. It was never just that.’

My knees are tingling.

‘I didn’t change the plans because I had any hope of winning you back. But I love you, and that means I want to make you happy—with all that I am, for the rest of my life. Even if all hope is lost.’

I shuffle backwards, pressing my spine to the door. ‘You love me,’ I repeat, nodding slowly, as if to commit his words to memory.