Читать книгу Billionaires: The Royal - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 15
ОглавлениеKAIROS COULD NOT fathom his own behavior. But then, he could not understand Tabitha’s either. He had given her more credit than this. Had chosen her to be his wife because she was smart, faithful, levelheaded. Because she had served him as his assistant for years and never given him reason to distrust her. During his engagement to Francesca he had thought he might forge something of an emotional connection with her. His trust had been misplaced. Francesca had betrayed him with Andres.
He owed Andres a fair amount of anger for that. Both of them, really. And yet, he had never been able to muster much of it up. He was only grateful he had discovered Francesca’s duplicity prior to making vows to her. And it had given him a chance to find someone better. To reevaluate what he expected out of marriage.
Women, it turned out, betrayed you eventually.
Well, you, specifically.
He took in a sharp breath, looking out through the living room at the terrace, at the table that was set with dinner for both of them. If she didn’t come down...
He was seized with an image of himself storming back upstairs, flinging the door open, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her down to the dinner table. Failing that, perhaps he would just throw her on the bed and finish what they had started earlier.
He gritted his teeth, battling against the erotic images that were battering against his mind’s eye. Threatening to shatter his control. He had already behaved appallingly where she was concerned, and he would not compound his sins.
Why not? She left you. The one thing she promised she would not do.
He hated this. This feeling of helplessness. She inspired it in him more often than any other human being on the planet. From the first day they had married. He had never felt any hint of awkwardness around her when she was his PA. And he’d been determined to hang on to that relationship. That meeting of the minds, the mutual understanding, that felt so right. It had made her the best assistant he’d ever had. By all rights, a nineteen-year-old from Middle America should never have been able to serve him the way that she had. And yet, for three years, she had been by far the most efficient and hard-working PA he’d ever had.
She’d transcended her circumstances and risen to the occasion. He imagined she would do that as a wife as well.
Though, it was disingenuous to pretend that all of the unforeseen issues fell on her shoulders. Their disastrous wedding night had been his fault.
* * *
He hadn’t satisfied her. He had hurt her. And with his actions, it felt as though he had built a wall between them. Yes, a certain amount of distance was desirable. He didn’t want to become emotionally entangled with her. Not with feelings that went beyond cordial affection.
But when they had entered her suite, and his lips had touched hers for the first time without an audience, something had shifted inside of him. The rock wall he had built up around his control was cracking, crumbling. He had felt...a deep ache that had transcended anything he could remember feeling in recent years. A desire for something that he couldn’t put a name to. Like seeing something familiar, shrouded in fog. Something that called to him, echoed inside of him, but that he couldn’t identify.
Frustrating. Terrifying.
He went into the bathroom, running some hot water. She would probably be sore. He had done his best to make it as painless as possible, since he had known it was her first time, but he knew he had failed, on more than one level.
She didn’t seem happy with him, when he ushered her into the bathroom.
He stood there, watching her as she submerged herself. It was a strange thing, seeing her naked now after so many years of looking at her as nothing more than an employee. Now she was exposed. Uncovered. He had been inside of her body...
He felt his own body stir in response to that memory. He had to go. Until he could get a handle on his response to her, he had to leave.
Unless she asked him to stay.
But he would not force that issue. Not after he had handled their first time so badly.
“I suppose you want some time alone?” he asked.
She shifted beneath the water, drawing her knees up to her chest and looking down. “Yes.”
Her words rebuilt some of the wall inside of him. It was good. It reminded him of why distance was imperative. Why control mattered.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
He walked out of the bathroom and dressed quickly in her room, before leaving and heading to his own quarters. Once he was inside, he stripped his clothing off again, heading straight for the shower. He turned the cold knob as far as it would go, stepping beneath the icy spray, gritting his teeth.
He would not repeat the same mistakes again.
He would not.
* * *
“I’m here.” Tabitha’s voice drew his attention to the top of the stairs. She was there, looking more beautiful than he could ever remember. Was this change happening inside of her beginning to affect her appearance? Her blond hair was loose, bouncing around her shoulders. So different to the usual restrained bun she often chose to wear.
Her dress was also completely unlike anything she would’ve worn back at the palace. But then, the instructions he’d left for the personal shopper tasked with amassing a small wardrobe for her here in the island hadn’t been any more explicit than her size.
The dress had skinny straps and a deep V that made the whole gown appear to be resting precariously over her full breasts. It looked as if the slightest tug would snap those straps and see the dress falling down around her waist, settling on her voluptuous hips. She had applied a bare minimum of makeup, a light pink gloss to her lips, a bit of gold on her eyes. It was a more relaxed look than he was accustomed to seeing.
His body responded with a hunger that was becoming predictable.
“I’m glad you decided to join me.”
“Well, now you won’t need to put a lock on the pantry.”
She began her descent, her delicate hand resting on the banister. His eyes were drawn to her fingers, to her long, elegant fingernails, painted a delicate coral that matched her dress.
“I’m pleased to hear that, agape.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said, her tone sharp.
“What?”
“Love. It’s always been a little bit of a farcical endearment, but it just stings all the more at the moment.”
She breezed past him, heading outside to where the table was set for them. He followed after her, trying not to allow that helpless sensation to overtake him again. How did she do this to him? He ruled an entire nation. He was the master of his, and every domain, within its borders. Somehow she made him feel as inept as a schoolboy who didn’t even have dominion over his own bedtime.
“I am sorry, I shall try to endeavor not to call you nice things,” he said through clenched teeth.
She paused, looking over her shoulder, one pale eyebrow raised. “Just don’t call me things you don’t mean.”
It was hard to think of a political response to that. Of course he didn’t love her.
He cared for her, certainly. There was nothing duplicitous about his lack of emotion. He had made that clear when he proposed to her that afternoon in his office after his engagement to Francesca had blown all to hell. He had outlined exactly what the relationship between Tabitha and himself would be. Had told her he intended to base it upon the mutual respect they had for each other.
That thought, of just how honest he’d been, of how she had known fully, and agreed to this, reignited his anger.
And he forgot to search for the political response.
“Actually, my queen,” he said, “I could instead call you exactly what you are. Not a queen. Simply a woman that I elevated far beyond her station. Far beyond what she was equipped to handle.”
“Are you going to malign my blood now you’ve mixed your royal lineage with it? Perhaps you should have thought of that before you used my body as the vessel for your sacred heir.”
She continued to walk ahead of him, her shoulders stiff. She took her place at the table, without waiting for him to come and hold her chair out for her. For some reason, the lack of ceremony annoyed him. Perhaps because it was yet more evidence of this transformation from his perfect, biddable wife, into this creature.
It wasn’t perfect. And you know it.
He didn’t like that thought. It only damaged the narrative he was constructing in his mind about the truth of his marriage. The one that absolved him from any wrongdoing.
The one that said he had told her how their marriage would work, and now she had an issue with it. That, the fact she had been warned, meant that now the fault rested on her alone.
It allowed him to open up all sorts of boxes inside of him, boxes he normally kept closed, locked tight, and pull out all the hurt and anger kept there, examining it, turning it over, holding it close to his chest.
He took his seat across from her, lifting his water to his lips. For a moment, he regretted not serving alcohol out of deference to her condition. She didn’t deserve his deference.
“How is it you expected we might discuss things with more success cut off from civilization?”
“For a start,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “I very much appreciate having you somewhat captive.”
“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about that.”
“Oh, don’t concern yourself. I’m not worried about how you feel.”
“No, of course you aren’t. Why start now?”
He set his water glass down hard enough that some of the clear liquid sloshed over the side. “I’m sorry, have I done something recently that conflicted with our initial marriage agreement?”
“You are...” She looked up, as though the clear Mediterranean sky might have some answers. “You’re distant. You’re cold.”
“A great many people might say that about you, agape.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said, blue eyes flashing.
“I don’t recall agreeing to your edict, Tabitha.”
“You want a list? I’m working on a list,” she said, ignoring his words. “The only time in five years you ever bothered to get angry with me was when I told you I was going to leave you.”
“You want me to get angry with you?”
“I want you to feel something. Anger would be a start.”
“You have your wish. I am exceedingly angry with you.”
“You barely speak to me. You only touch me when attempting to conceive. I am essentially part of the furniture to you. If you could have had an heir with a bureau in possession of childbearing hips, I’ve no doubt you would have done so.”
“The same can be said of the way you treat me. Moreover, I never promised you anything different. What vow have I broken?”
A slash of color bled out over her pale cheekbones. “A woman expects her husband to treat her a certain way.”
“Does she? Even when the husband told her exactly how things would be? If your expectations differ from the reality I lined out for you early on, I fail to see how that’s my fault.”
“Nobody imagines their marriage is going to be a frozen wasteland.”
“A frozen wasteland is exactly what I promised you,” he said, his tone biting. “If I had promised to love and cherish you, then I suppose you would have every right to feel cheated. To feel lied to. But I promised you respect, and I promised you fidelity, I promised that I would treat you as an equal. If I have failed on that score then it has only been in the days since you violated the promises you made to me.”
“I know what you said. What we said, but... Five years on things feel different. Or they feel like they should be.”
“I see. Were you ever going to tell me that? Or were you simply going to freeze me out until I was the one who asked for an end to the marriage?”
She curled her fingers into fists, and looked away from him. “That isn’t...”
“Do you not enjoy being held accountable for the breakdown of our union, Tabitha? Because if I recall, you spent the past five years doing much the same thing you accuse me of. If an honest word has ever passed between us, I would be surprised. Did you think I didn’t notice that you have grown increasingly distant? Did you think it didn’t bother me?”
“Yes, Kairos, I imagined that it didn’t bother you. Why would I ever assume that you cared about there being any closeness between us?”
“Because there was a time when I at least called you a friend.”
Her golden brows shot upward. “Did you? Do you consider me a friend?”
“You know that I did. I assume you remember the day that I proposed to you.”
“Oh, you mean the day that you watched a video of the woman you had chosen to marry having dirtier sex with your brother than I imagine you ever had with her? The day that you—drunkenly—told me you thought I would be a better choice to be your queen? I find it difficult to put much stock into anything you said that day.”
“Then that’s your mistake. Because I was sincere. I told you that we could build a stronger foundation than Francesca and I ever could. I told you that I had been having doubts about her even before her betrayal.”
“Yes, that’s right, you did. And why were you having doubts, exactly?”
“The way you behaved...it was such a stark contrast to Francesca, even on her best of days. I found myself wishing that it was you. When we traveled together, when I went to you to discuss affairs of the state...I found myself wishing that you were the one I was going to marry. I respected your opinion. And I felt like I could ask you questions, when with everyone else I had to simply know the answers.”
He felt stripped bare saying these things now, without the buffer of alcohol, five years older and a lot more jaded than he had been then. But she needed to hear them. She needed to hear them again, clearly.
“And while it is a very nice sentiment, it isn’t exactly the proposal every girl dreams of,” she said, her tone brittle.
“It seems very much that you are angry with yourself for accepting a proposal you now deem beneath you. How high you have risen. That the proposal of a king is no longer good enough for you.”
“Maybe I am the one who changed. But people do change.”
“Only because they forget. You forget that you are going to have to leave my palace, leave Petras, search for a job. Struggle financially. Perhaps even face the life that you were so eager to leave behind. Marriage to me offered you instant elevation. The kind of status that you craved.”
“Don’t,” she said, “you make me sound like I was nothing more than a gold digger.”
“Oh, you would have done all right finding gold on your own. But validation? Status? For a piece of white trash from Nowhere, USA, that is a great deal more difficult to come by.”
She stood, shoving her plate toward the center of the table. “I don’t have to listen to you insulting me.”
“You want me to call you something honest. Though, I hasten to remind you that I learned these words from you. This is what you think of yourself. You told me.”
“Because I trusted you. Clearly, my own fault.”
“No, I think I was the one who was foolish to trust you.”
“We could go back and forth for days. But it doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t erase the fact that I think we’re better off apart. We should never have been a couple, Kairos, and you know it. As you said, I’m little more than a piece of white trash from a tiny town. You’re the king of an entire nation. You wanted to marry someone else.”
“You might be right. But it’s too late for regrets. We are married to each other. And more than that, you’re carrying my child.”
“Plenty of people work out custody arrangements.”
He stood, knocking his chair backward and not caring when it hit the ground with a very loud thump. “And do those people still want each other? Do they exist constantly on the verge of tearing each other’s clothes off and having each other on the nearest surface?”
The pink in her cheeks intensified. “You can only speak for yourself on that score.”
“Really? I don’t think that’s true.” He was suddenly gripped by lust, lust that mingled with the ever-present anger in his chest. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to yell at her, or press her against the wall and claim her body again. Both. He wanted both. Even though neither made sense. “You want me.”
“Go to hell.” They were the harshest words he’d ever heard on her lips. So much sweeter than the sophisticated chill had ever been.
“There. There at least, some honesty. Perhaps you should try it more often.”
“I gave you honesty.”
“Your version of honesty was a list of complaints that you could have, and should have voiced years ago. Ideally, before you accepted my proposal. What changed? What changed that you can no longer stand what you agreed would be enough to make a marriage?”
* * *
His words hit her with the force of the slap. And she just stood there, reeling. Tears prickled her eyes, her tongue was frozen. He was making too much sense. Making too good a case for how aggrieved he was by her request for divorce. He was right. She had not spoken an honest word to him. She hadn’t asked him for what she wanted. Hadn’t told him she was unhappy.
But she didn’t know how to do it without opening herself up, and reviewing bits and pieces of pain that were best left hidden. Didn’t know how to do it without confronting her fears. And anyway, she hadn’t imagined that he would care.
She hadn’t trusted herself enough to voice them. To deal with them.
She wasn’t sure she trusted herself now.
“It isn’t what I wanted,” she said, her voice hollow.
“You just said what you wanted changed.”
“Yes. No. It isn’t that simple,” she said, panic gripping her neck, making it impossible for her to breathe.
“It seems fairly straightforward to me, agape, but then, I do not know much about the inner workings of the female mind. Throughout my life I have seen women act in ways that are inexplicable to me. My mother walking away from her position at the palace, Francesca compromising our union for a bit of stolen pleasure. You divorcing me. So, it comes as no surprise to me that I do not understand what you’re trying to tell me now.”
“You don’t know everything about my past,” she said.
It was for the best that he didn’t. Best that he never did. She looked back on the Tabitha she’d been, before university, before she’d put distance between herself and her family, and saw a stranger.
But he didn’t seem to know the Tabitha she was now. And she didn’t know how to make him. Didn’t know how to make him understand who she was. Why she was.
She didn’t even know if it would change anything.
If nothing else, it would show him. Why he should let her go. Why she wasn’t suitable. And it would remind her too.
“Do I not know you?”
“No. I know you did some cursory searching, as far as I was concerned. My name. But you don’t know everything. In part because I don’t have the same last name as my mother, nor is her name the same as the one listed on my birth certificate, not anymore. I don’t share a name with my stepfather either. Not having those names excludes quite a lot from a cursory search. Of course, you found nothing objectionable about me. Nothing but good marks in school, no criminal record, no scandal.”
“Because that’s all that mattered,” he said, something odd glittering in his black eyes.
“Yes. It is all that mattered. You were only looking for what might cause problems with my reputation, for you, as far as the public eye was concerned. You weren’t actually looking for anything real or meaningful about me.”
“Come off your high horse, Tabitha. Obviously you didn’t care whether or not I found anything meaningful out about you, because you deliberately concealed it from me.”
She lifted her shoulder, her stomach sinking. “I can’t argue with that. I can’t argue with a great many of the accusations leveled at me today. I wasn’t honest with you. I didn’t tell you. I preferred to run away, rather than telling you what I wanted. But a lot of it is because... I don’t actually know what I want. I started feeling dissatisfied with our relationship, and wanting more. And that confused me.”
“Well, hell, if you’re confused, what chance do I have?”
“I can’t answer that question,” she said, sounding defeated. Feeling defeated. “I don’t know the answer. All I know is that I never thought I would marry. Then I met you, and I can’t deny that I felt...attraction. It confused me. I had spent years getting through college, school of every kind, really, with a single-minded focus. I wanted to be better than my birth. I knew that education was the only way to accomplish that. I set about to get good grades, high test scores, so that I could earn scholarships. And I did that. I knew that if I split my focus, I wouldn’t be able to. Then the internship at the palace came up, and I knew I had to seize it. I didn’t have connections, I didn’t have a pedigree. I knew that I needed a leg up in order to get the kind of job that I wanted.”
“I imagine, ultimately, the chance to become queen of the nation was too great a temptation to pass up?”
She laughed, hardly able to process the surreal quality of it all even now. “I guess so. It was a lot of things. A chance to have you, physically, which I wanted. A chance to achieve a status that I’d never even imagined in my wildest dreams. I’m from nothing. Nothing and nowhere, and I wanted something more. And that... How could I refuse? Especially because your criteria suited mine so well. You see, Kairos, I didn’t want love either. I didn’t want passion.”
“You said you were attracted to me.”
“I was. I am. I suppose that’s something I can’t deny now. But I thought perhaps I could just touch the flames without being consumed by them. Then I realized that holding your fingertips over a blaze for five years is nothing more than a maddening exercise in torture. You’re better off plunging yourself in or disengaging.”
“And you chose to disengage?”
“Yes. I know that I can’t afford to throw myself in.”
“Why is that?”
“Reasons I haven’t told you. Things you don’t know.”
“I’m not playing twenty questions with you, Tabitha, either tell me your secrets, or put them away. Pretend they don’t matter as you did all those years. Jump into the fire, or back away.”
Her throat tightened, her palms sweating. She hadn’t thought about that day in years. She had turned it into a lesson, an object, a cautionary tale. But the images of the day, the way that it had smelled, the weather. The sounds her stepfather had made as he bled out on the floor, the screams of her mother when she realized what had been done... Those things she had blocked out. The entire incident had been carefully formed into a morality tale. Something that served to teach, but something she couldn’t feel.
Not anymore.
Use what you need, discard the rest.
“I never wanted passion. Or love. Because...I shouldn’t. I’m afraid of what I might be. What I might become. I think I’ve proven I have the capacity to act recklessly when I’m overtaken by strong emotion,” she said, realizing that to him, the admission must seem ridiculous. For years all he had ever seen was the carefully cultivated cool reserve she had spent the better part of her teenage years crafting from blood and other people’s consequences.
“Tell me,” he said.
She was going to. Her heart was thundering in her ears, a sickening beat that echoed through her body, made her feel weak.
But maybe if she said it, he would understand. Maybe if she said it he would get why what he’d offered had seemed amazing. Why it had felt insufficient. Why she’d chosen to end it instead of asking for more.
“I was walking home from school. I was seventeen at the time. It was a beautiful day. And when I approached the trailer I could already hear them fighting. Not unusual. They fought all the time. My mother was screaming, which she always did. My stepfather was ignoring her. He was drunk, which he very often was.”
She didn’t let herself go back to that house. Not even in her mind. It was gritty and dirty and full of mold. But more than that. The air was heavy. The ghost of faded love lingering and oppressive, a malevolent spirit that choked the life out of everything it touched.
“I didn’t know,” Kairos said.
“I know,” she said. “I didn’t want you to.” It stung her pride, to admit how low she’d started. To admit that she had no idea who her biological father was to a man for whom genetics was everything.
She was a bastard, having a royal baby. It seemed wrong somehow.
You always knew it would be this way. Why are you panicking now that it’s too late?
Because the idea of it was one thing, the reality of it—all of it—her marriage, her past, her life, was different.
She’d spent the past year growing increasingly unhappy. And then Andres had married Zara. Watching the two of them physically hurt. It twisted her stomach to see the way they smiled at each other. Put a bitter, horrible taste in her mouth.
Made her feel a kind of heaviness she hadn’t felt since she’d stood in that grimy little trailer.
“Tell me,” he said, an order, because Kairos didn’t know how to ask for things any other way.
“She kept screaming at him to listen. But he never did. She was so angry. She left the room. I thought she was going to pack, she did that a lot, even though she never left. Or that maybe she’d given up. Gone to take a nap. She did that sometimes too depending on how much she’d had to drink. But she came back. And she had a gun.”
