Married for the Prince's Convenience

He’d never had a parent worry over him like that. His mother had been too caught up in trying to turn his father’s existence into a living hell to worry about the two children who’d needed her attention. And his father had been too busy turning himself inside out for a faithless woman. Reyes had been a young boy when he’d realised there wouldn’t be any scrap of attention from either of his parents.

It was the reason boarding school had been a relief. It was the reason he’d chosen not to form attachments to any woman. Sex for the sake of it had been his mantra.

Until Anaïs. Until his mother’s death.

After that even sex hadn’t mattered.

Nothing had mattered. Nothing but duty.

Feeling the bitterness encroach, Reyes whirled and stalked towards his study. ‘See Armando. He’ll show you where the phone is. But one call is all you get. Make it count.’

* * *

Jasmine ended the call to her mother and put the phone down in the seriously gorgeous solarium Armando had shown her into. She took a calming breath and looked around her. Outside, a carpet of rich green grass rolled away towards a stand of cypress trees at the bottom of the valley they’d climbed out of. To the right, a more cultivated garden, hedged with roses, bougainvillea and hyacinths grew beyond a sun-washed terrace. She stood for a moment, letting the sun and stunning surroundings wash over her.

As prisons went, this one wasn’t so bad, she mused. Although if she had to compare jailors, she would’ve preferred one who didn’t make her pulse jump, who didn’t make her wish her path to this place had been different.

In the car earlier, she’d refused to give Joaquin’s name, partly because of what it would mean for her stepfather. But she’d also shied away from the conversation because she’d been afraid Reyes would find out about her past. That he’d discover that the woman he’d taken to bed had grown up in a council estate and been nearly initiated into a drug-dealing gang. That she had a juvenile record she’d never be able to erase.

He might detest her now, but that was far better than his repulsion, his scorn.

The chirp of a bird steered her from another unwanted trip down memory lane. She’d been taking those trips far too often these last weeks. Ever since that night in Rio, in fact. She needed to snap out of it. Put it behind her.

She would face whatever punishment Reyes chose to dole out on her, but the past belonged in the past.

A sound from behind her made her turn.

Armando entered, pushing a trolley laden with food. ‘I do not know the señorita’s preference, so I have brought a selection.’

She’d missed breakfast again because she hadn’t been able to stomach any of the food the embassy had laid out for them this morning. Lately, any thought of food made her stomach roil. So she approached the trolley cautiously. And breathed easier once she could look at the mouthwatering selection of tapas without turning green.

Perhaps telling the doctor she was fine this morning had been a mistake...

Thanking Armando, she heaped her plate with bread, ham, and a green salad and took a seat at the dining area near the window. She polished off the food in record time and went back for seconds, adding plump olives marinated in chilli oil.

She was about to pick up her cutlery when Reyes strolled in. Without a word, he selected his own food, then pulled up a chair opposite her.

In low tones, he dismissed Armando and shook out his napkin.

‘So,’ he started conversationally, ‘you told your mother I was your boyfriend.’ It wasn’t a question. It was an observation, marred with thick layers of distaste.

Jasmine’s appetite fled. Her cutlery dropped noisily onto the table. ‘How did you know that?’

One sleek brow arched. ‘Did I not mention it? All incoming and outgoing calls from San Estrela are monitored. And yes, I have a zero-trust policy where you’re concerned.’

Despite the heat engulfing her face at the pointed remark, she met his gaze head-on. ‘If you were listening then you would’ve heard that my mother assumed you were my boyfriend. I didn’t—’

‘Correct that assumption. You’ve been caught in yet another lie, Miss Nichols. It’s quite astonishing how they trip so easily from your lips.’ His gaze dropped to her lips and she felt a guilty tingle as if he’d branded her mouth with just that one look.

‘I could hardly tell her I was being held prisoner somewhere in Northern Spain!’

He ripped a piece of bread in half, dipped it in his olive oil and took a healthy bite. ‘Maybe you should have. For her own good, she needs to know she doesn’t have the perfect daughter she seems to think she does.’