Married for the Prince's Convenience

‘I’m...fine. Just a little tired.’

His frown didn’t dissipate. Mouth dry, she slid her legs to the side of the bed and stood up. ‘Did you want something?’

‘You were supposed to supply my press secretary with Miss Holden’s details. He hasn’t received them yet.’ His eyes narrowed further. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.’ He started to move forward, one hand raised to touch her.

She jerked out of reach, propelled solely by self-preservation. Her emotions were on enough of a roller coaster for her to risk disturbing them further by letting Reyes touch her. She needed to formulate her thoughts rationally before she broke the news to him. And Reyes touching her had never triggered rational thinking.

She risked a glance at him. His jaw was tense and his hand suspended mid-air. A look of hurt passed over his face before it was quickly veiled. She sucked in another breath. ‘I’m fine. Really. I’ll send the details now.’

He nodded tersely. Expecting him to leave, she gasped when he stepped closer and cupped her cheeks. ‘You’ve been crying. Tell me what’s wrong.’

‘Reyes—’

‘Don’t tell me it’s nothing. Something is wrong with you. You’ve been jumpy lately. The chef tells me you hardly touched your breakfast and I know you didn’t eat more than two mouthfuls at lunch. If you insist you’re not sick, then it must be something else. Are you worried about what will happen to you when we get to Santo Sierra?’

‘Should I be?’ Honestly, she’d been too preoccupied with whether she was carrying his child to worry about whether Reyes would throw the book at her once they arrived at his homeland.

‘I don’t condone what you did, but I understand the motives behind it.’

She searched his gaze, and only saw steady reassurance. ‘You do?’

He nodded. ‘You were boxed into a corner, trying to save what was precious to you. It felt wrong when I chose to pay the blackmailers for those compromising photos of Anaïs instead of turning the whole thing over to the police but—’

‘You were trying to protect your father from the pain of finding out.’

‘Sí. And also myself to some extent.’ His thumbs brushed her cheeks, traced the corner of her mouth. She locked her knees to keep them from giving way. ‘You did what you had to do to protect your family. I can’t condemn you for that.’

She swallowed hard as a lump rose in her throat. ‘Thank you.’

His gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth. In that moment, Jasmine didn’t think she’d craved anything as she craved a kiss from him.

Her gaze caressed his mouth, and every nerve in her body screeched with delight. Then reality crashed. She couldn’t kiss him. Would never be able to touch him again. He was marrying someone else.

Resolutely, she stepped back. ‘I need to send the email. So if there’s nothing else...?’

He tensed. Then, without a word, he left her room.

Jasmine collapsed on the bed, her hands fisted at her sides. Ten minutes passed as she stared into space. Reyes had forgiven her for what she did in Rio. Which meant, she could leave once she’d finalised the task he’d set her. And once she’d told him about the baby.

She had to leave. The longer she stayed around him, the more she yearned for things she had no business yearning for. As for the baby, parents hashed out living arrangements every day. She was sure they could come up with an arrangement that suited them both.

So why the hell were her eyes brimming again at the thought of returning to London on her own?

Shaking her head, she forced her thoughts aside and dealt with the email to Reyes’s royal press secretary. Once it was done, she went to the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her hair. Taking a little bit of pride in her appearance bolstered her confidence. And for what she was about to do, she needed all the armour she could muster.

Her knock on his suite next door received a deep-voiced response to enter. She’d never seen the inside of Reyes’s suite and stopped a few steps after entering.

Decorated in bold swathes of black and white, the luxurious space was dominated by a king-sized bed with four solid posts made of cast iron.

The carpet was stark white and contrasted stunningly with the black velvet curtains. The design was bold, masculine and oozed quiet sophistication.

‘Did you come to admire the décor?’ Reyes said from where he stood at the window, gazing at the Parisian skyline.

Once her eyes fell on him, she couldn’t look away. Dear God, she was like a crazed moth, obsessed with this particular flame. A flame that didn’t belong to her.