Читать книгу Love Islands…The Collection - Ким Лоренс, Jane Porter - Страница 42

STELLA FELT LIKE taking at least two hours, except years of drills and discipline overruled the petty desire to prove a point. She glanced at the treat-laden tray he’d carried to her room but her stomach was too knotted for her to attempt eating. She opened the door to the walk-in wardrobe and stared. Tags still hung on some items, and they were the right sizes and everything. Did he know her every personal detail? Damn army records.

Well, she wasn’t wearing anything he provided. She had pride.

She dressed in less than five minutes, dragging on her jeans again, pulling out a different tee shirt from further down her duffel bag. Then she laced up her trainers. She didn’t care what his idea of ‘presentable’ was.

But adrenalin scoured her veins. Her body knew she was in danger. Because what she’d forgotten—what she’d refused to admit aloud—was his impact.

That he could have her forgetting all her hard-earned rights in a heartbeat. She’d wanted to lean back against the wall and let him do whatever he pleased with her. She’d wanted him to be as naked as she. All he had to do was look and in seconds she’d been aching for his touch...

She’d been around hundreds of men all her life. Men more muscled. Men taller, broader, faster. Never had she been tempted the way that Eduardo tempted her.

Her weakness infuriated her. Could she really be this shallow? Could her head be so turned just because he was a prince? But she didn’t feel this for Crown Prince Antonio, and wasn’t he the more powerful of the two? No, it was only Eduardo and his irresistible smile, who devastated her.

How quickly she’d fallen under his spell. How easily he’d seduced her. And he could do it again in seconds. He almost had in that hot shower stall. And she couldn’t let him. Not now there was so much more at stake. She had to keep her head and carve out the right solution for this situation.

A wedding wasn’t it.

She dropped to the floor and executed twenty press-ups just to expend some of the energy rioting within her. He’d wanted to know why she’d done it, but she could never admit that she’d long harboured a crush on him, or that he’d represented the kind of free-loving fun she’d never had. She’d wanted one moment just for herself.

She wasn’t admitting that dreary little dream to him.

Quickly, quietly, she walked back to the opulent library.

As she neared the large doorway she moved more stealthily. Maybe she’d hear something interesting—

‘Come in, Stella.’

Grimacing, she moved into the doorway and found him just inside it. His gaze skittered down her clothing. The skin about his mouth and eyes tightened. Yeah, not exactly ‘presentable’.

But he’d changed too—black jeans again, white tee. Designer casual as opposed to her dumpster casual. Still gorgeous. Still intimidating.

She wished she had her boots on. Even an extra inch would give her a much needed boost. Then she saw the serious-looking man in a suit seated at the table, with serious-looking papers spread out before him.

‘Take a seat, Stella,’ Eduardo instructed.

‘I prefer to stand,’ she answered, glancing to where the Prince had paused at two seats on the opposite side of the table from the suited dude. She wasn’t letting him dictate her every move. ‘Always.’

‘Okay,’ he agreed, but something kindled in his eyes. ‘But it is important that you pay attention to what Matteo tells you.’

‘Why? You think I can’t read all that for myself?’ she asked softly, gesturing at the paperwork.

Despite that emotion still flickering, he chuckled and reached out, slowly brushing the tip of his finger over her lips in a sensual action. Stunned, she sucked in a breath and froze at the same time. His touch was gentle, yet firm, and not enough. He dropped his hand. She closed her mouth, holding back her bereft moan. She wanted the erotic sweep of his tongue. Memory surged, scorching her skin. He made her so hot all over.

His hand pressed on her shoulder and somehow she was sitting, weak-kneed, in the damn chair. Through dazed eyes she stared as he looked down at her with that gorgeous smile. Slowly the calculated alertness in his eyes dawned on her.

She glanced at the suit man and saw his amusement. He knew she couldn’t resist Eduardo. Just like all his other women. That touch had been for show.

‘Matteo and I were at law school together,’ Eduardo explained smoothly, turning the papers around so they were in front of Stella. ‘I am sure you will find everything clear, but if you don’t he will answer any questions you may have.’

Eduardo had gone to law school?

‘Are you paying attention, Stella?’ He smiled at her.

She made herself stop staring at him and stared at the paperwork instead. The document wasn’t long, and it wasn’t written in convoluted legal speak either. It was all very, very clear. For every year they were married she would be awarded over a million dollars.

Her eyes widened when she saw the size of the settlement should their marriage end. And the stringent conditions attached to every payment.

‘I’m never to speak to the media—or indeed anyone—about the details of our marriage?’ she said. Did he seriously think she would?

‘Nor am I,’ he replied calmly.

But there weren’t penalties for him should he do that. The money was already his. Hers only if she played by the rules he’d spelt out so clearly here.

He was trying to buy her. To control her.

The fire in her belly wasn’t fuelled by desire now. It was all anger.

‘I could never accept that much money from you,’ she said quietly, her nose wrinkling in distaste at the divorce payout details.

‘We’re staying married, so you won’t have to,’ he soothed, but his gaze sharpened.

‘It says here that if we have any children and we divorce, then the children must remain at the palace on San Felipe.’ Her throat tightened as she paraphrased the passage.

This child would be his. He’d never allow her to have custody should she want to leave. He would control everything—for the duration of their sham marriage and beyond.

‘It also says that you would be entitled to an apartment within the palace until any children we have reach the age of majority,’ he nodded.

So if they divorced not long after their insane marriage—as was most likely—she would have to remain under his roof and watch him with a succession of lovers. A new wife, even.

That idea hurt more than it should.

‘You cannot leave before then.’ He misread the reason for her frown. ‘I do not believe in depriving a child of its mother. But any child of mine will need to be educated within San Felipe. And my child will grow up at the palace.’

‘What about your brother?’ she asked. ‘What if he marries and has children?’

Eduardo’s expression was shuttered. ‘Regardless of my brother’s possible future family, there will always be a place for my children at the palace.’

‘What if you marry again?’ she whispered, understanding that he didn’t really want to have this conversation in front of Matteo, but that it needed to be had.

‘That is not going to happen. This is only to cover all eventualities.’ He put his hand on her shoulder and his eyes were brilliant blue. He was angry with her for asking these questions. ‘The truth is I will never let you go. And you know it.’

He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, bent and kissed her. It was a lie for his lawyer friend. But it was a beguiling, passionate lie. His mouth worked to subdue, to tempt, to make her open up and take what he offered.

And she couldn’t resist. Her lips parted and his wicked tongue stroked deep. She almost moaned. But at the moment of surrender he drew back and looked down at her, his eyes hooded, his jaw set.

‘Sign the document, Stella,’ he said bluntly, his voice rising in volume.

The fire in his eyes was anger at her questions, not desire or jealousy or possessiveness. But all three of those things she felt. And the worst thing was that she was turned on—by the kiss, by the demand.

So stupid.

‘Sign it so we can get back to better things,’ he added.

The blatantly sensual implication stole her breath. Heat burned her cheeks when she saw him turn to glance arrogantly at Matteo.

Claiming territorial rights, much?

She straightened in her seat, pulling the neatly typed document closer. It was all very well planned, so nothing could be left in any doubt.

‘Ms Zambrano...’ Matteo spoke formally. ‘I know prenuptial contracts can seem discomfiting, but I’m here more as your representative than the Prince’s. He is well qualified to safeguard his own interests. So please be assured that this is a very generous offer.’

He was Eduardo’s friend; they’d been law students together, so he was on Eduardo’s side. And she didn’t want any kind of ‘generous offer’. She didn’t want a wedding. She didn’t want to go into this knowing they were going to fail. Here they were preparing for that very eventuality. But she didn’t know what it was she did want.

The impossible? The fairy tale? Such things never happened in real life.

Eduardo was trying to protect their future. Reluctantly she appreciated his integrity, but it irritated her at the same time that he could be so coolly rational about this nightmare. Clearly he wasn’t thrown by their sexual chemistry the way she was.

It might be ungrateful, but something in her made her want to fight. A lifetime of training, she supposed. But if she tried to argue some more in front of the lawyer Eduardo would only get angrier and more determined. It might be better to sign now and fight when they were alone.

She picked up the gleaming fountain pen and made a scratchy mess of her signature.

‘May I offer my congratulations?’ Matteo gathered up the documents and put them into his briefcase.

‘You may offer your hasty departure, my friend.’ Eduardo escorted Matteo to the door. ‘And your absolute discretion.’

‘You don’t need to tell me again.’ Matteo turned and offered a small bow to Stella. ‘It was an honour to meet you, Ms Zambrano.’

The ease of Eduardo’s falsity alarmed her. Was he so well practised at presenting a façade and lying, even to his friends?

Restlessly she stood and walked the length of a bookcase, vaguely noticing the piles of personal papers and small ornaments tucked into the recesses amongst the leather-bound masterpieces.

‘You don’t trust me,’ she said when the door had closed. Did he honestly think she would betray him?

‘I don’t know you,’ Eduardo answered lightly, walking back towards her.

‘Then get to know me.’ She would never sell her story to the press. She was loyal to the core and deeply private.

‘I intend to.’ He smiled that wolfish smile. ‘Intimately.’

Of course he’d reduce this to sex. Sex was so easy for him. She’d been so easy for him. Too late she realised the ramifications weren’t as easy for her to handle.

‘Do I get to do the same?’ she questioned. ‘Do I get to know you beyond “intimately”?’

His withdrawal was palpable. The easygoing façade fell in a blink, revealing a tense distance. And it wasn’t just the smile that he dropped, but the warmth. That ruthlessness was exposed once more, making her realise just what a stranger to her he was.

‘Of course.’

She ran her fingers over a smooth jet-black glass sculpture that stood on a low table. ‘So you studied law?’

‘For a couple of years, yes.’ He turned away from her, choosing to sit at the table.

‘Contracts and business and wheeling and dealing?’ Like his sharp-suited friend?

‘I preferred evidence—criminal law.’ Another bare minimum answer.

‘You wanted to be a courtroom lawyer?’

‘It is impossible for me to work as a lawyer.’

‘But you wanted to be one?’ she pressed, curious about this side of him.

‘We all want things we can’t have.’

‘Not princes.’

He hesitated, then cast a theatrical, mournful look at her. ‘Especially princes.’

He’d slipped back into that ‘Prince Eduardo’ character—all roguish charm.

‘I’m not about to feel sorry for you,’ she said.

‘Good. You’re not marrying me out of pity, then.’

‘I’m not marrying you for your money either,’ she said, deadly serious.

‘You can give it all away if you like.’ He shrugged carelessly. ‘Return to your room now. You have more preparations to attend to.’

‘Seriously?’ He was dismissing her? Just like that?

‘Yes.’ He looked unapologetic. ‘Things to do, Stella.’

‘Of course—your princely time is so precious.’

Stella walked back to her room, all senses on alert when she found her door was open. An older woman waited in the centre of the room alongside a wardrobe rack on wheels—the kind models had on fashion shoots.

‘Miss Zambrano?’

‘Yes.’ Stella just stopped and stared.

‘My name is Giulia. I’m here to help you dress tomorrow.’

Dress? Eduardo had been serious about her choosing a wedding dress? Given that the clothes rail was filled with dresses, it seemed he had.

‘They are yours to try on. Choose your favourite and I will alter it as necessary.’ The woman bent her head and smiled shyly. ‘Any would look good on you.’

‘Where did these come from?’ Stella gazed along the rail, too scared to touch even though each creation was wrapped in protective plastic.

Seven dresses. All different styles. All obviously expensive.

‘They were flown in from Paris and Milan.’

Stella read each carefully pinned label. High-fashion houses every one of them. Italian. French. American.

She’d never been a dress-up girl. Except for that one time she’d dressed up in her father’s uniform. His fury had made her all the more determined to earn one of her own—to be better than the son he’d wanted and never got. Only her father had sent her away to school on the other side of the world. Out of sight, out of mind.

‘Allow me to show you each dress.’ Giulia suddenly took charge. ‘I realise it can be difficult to make a decision when they are all so exquisite.’

Enraptured by the yards of silk, satin and lace, Giulia took a good twenty minutes showing and explaining the unique features of each.

‘Have you worked for Eduardo long?’ Stella asked when the servant had hung the last dress back on the rack.

Giulia’s eyes clouded and she retreated back behind her quiet reserve. ‘A number of years.’

‘I bet you didn’t think he’d ever marry.’ Stella tried to smile, as if joking. ‘He’s “the untameable prince”, right?’ She used the media’s favourite description of him.

‘It has long been expected that Eduardo will marry. Both he and Antonio deserve happy marriages.’ Giulia stood haughtily.

‘Which do you think he’d like?’ Stella stopped trying to smile and stared at the dresses. It wasn’t that she wanted to please him, but it was clear that Giulia did.

Giulia glanced briefly at Stella, then moved to the last dress she’d held up. A tumble of soft, pretty silk with embroidered flowers trailing down the edges. The flowers gave just a trace of colour to the dress and reminded her of spring.

Stella held up her hands and shook her head. ‘It’s too fussy, with all that detail.’

‘It is modest, yet modern. You should try it.’

Well, she had to start somewhere. Self-consciously Stella stripped to her underwear and stepped into the beautiful dress, holding still so Giulia could fasten it.

Five minutes later she stared at herself in the mirror, trying not to let her shock show on her face. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t worn a dress before—she just didn’t do it that often—and this dress...

‘You’re sure it’s okay?’ She swung to face Giulia.

‘Are you comfortable in it?’ Undeniably smug, Giulia was smiling.

‘Yes.’ Stella realised she was more than comfortable. Who knew that putting on a dress could make her feel different? Brave. Beautiful. It was like a costume in which she’d play a part. Or a uniform. Armour.

‘Then it is the one.’ Giulia made small adjustments to the waist and the hem and pinned them.

‘That was easy.’

‘When you know, you know. It is the same when choosing a groom, si?’ Giulia suddenly chuckled softly. ‘I will bring you a dinner tray now. Then you should rest. You have a big day tomorrow.’

Stella paused. ‘I’m not dining with Eduardo?’

‘He has business to attend to.’

The little pleasure Stella had felt at discovering the dress disappeared. Now, left alone in the room with the other possible wedding dresses, the full horror of it sank into her bones.

Any dress would have done, right? As would any bride. Rumour had it the upcoming autumn ball was to have been a ‘find a bride’ event in disguise, for the pair of princes. Eduardo didn’t want to marry, but was ‘expected’ to. In other words, at some point he had to. And look what fate had so conveniently provided. A pregnant lover.

Not desired. Not loved. Merely convenient.

Stella rubbed her chilled arms. Could she really go through with this mockery? Even if it was only temporary? Or did she not want to because it was only temporary?

Her heart skipped faster as her thoughts veered too close to the uncomfortable. She knew her parents had loved each other. She’d seen it in the pictures her father had hidden away because they hurt him too much. He’d withdrawn into his work.

At the thought of her mother, fear unfurled.

Impatiently she walked over to the fresh tray that had been delivered to her room. She forced herself to eat, even though she couldn’t be less hungry. Not because Eduardo had told her to, but because the child within her needed sustenance. Stella had to stay strong and healthy. She couldn’t let her child down. She couldn’t make her mum’s mistake.

She ate quickly, quietly, alone. How many times in her life had she eaten with no one to talk to? No companionship. No support. Just a few bites of food—fuel and nothing more.

He has business to attend to.

Was her future to be an echo of her past? Would they share carefully scheduled meetings at mealtimes in which they’d swap shallow pleasantries and stilted conversation?

It would be just like the relationship she had with her father. Work had always come first for him. Clearly it was the same for Eduardo. Fair enough. He was a prince with bigger things to worry about than her fragile ego.

But this was no longer only about her. She didn’t want her child to suffer the way she had.

She forced a few more mouthfuls down and then gave up on the effort. She’d finally realised the full import of this crazy day.

What was best for this baby wasn’t what Eduardo thought. He meant well, but marriage wasn’t necessary. No one ever need know it was his baby. She could rear the child in private and they could all be free to be happy.

Resolve firming, she left her room and swiftly walked along the sumptuous corridors back to the library. It was empty, but in the distance she heard a regular splashing sound.

Business to attend to, huh?

She went out through one of the French doors to the terrace and walked the length of the building, then turned the corner to find a private lap pool. She crept closer, pausing beside a tall column. Wicker chairs covered in plump, pure white cushions sat at angles to each other, but she didn’t take a seat. She couldn’t take her eyes from the strong figure gliding smoothly through the aquamarine water. She watched him complete several lengths, executing perfect tumble turns at each end, easily maintaining that scorching pace.

But halfway through the next length he suddenly stopped and stood. Droplets of water cascaded down his broad shoulders. ‘How long are you going to stand in the shadows watching me?’

He had good eyesight, then. So did she. And right now he looked incredibly athletic. Fit, strong, built.

‘I want to talk to you,’ she said, glad that dusk was darkening the sky and half-hiding the blush she knew was covering every inch of her body.

He levered himself out of the pool in one smooth movement and stood before her. ‘So talk.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘You’re...naked.’ And she was no longer blushing—she was burning.

‘It is my pool.’ He shrugged. ‘My staff know not to bother me.’

‘I’m not staff.’ That was precisely the point she needed to make. She wasn’t going to be ordered about and dismissed. She’d damn well bother him when she wanted to.

He inclined his head. ‘I was not expecting company.’

‘You want to make yourself decent?’ Desperately she glanced around for a towel, to stop herself staring at him like a lust-struck, hormone-drunk wanton.

‘Am I not already?’ He sent her an ironic glance. ‘You were naked before and not embarrassed. I’m not embarrassed by you seeing me. In fact, I quite like it.’