Читать книгу The Mills & Boon Ultimate Christmas Collection - Мишель Смарт, Kate Hardy - Страница 114

CHAPTER TEN

“WHERE HAVE YOU been the past couple of days? You disappeared during my speech. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Andres stopped in the middle of the hall, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth at the sound of his older brother’s voice coming from behind him. “I’ve been in Vegas. Gambling with the crown jewels. I traded our mother’s engagement ring for a prostitute. Don’t worry, she was very skilled.”

“You can’t have done that, because my wife wears that ring. Otherwise it sounds like you.”

“I’ve been in my city apartment. With Zara. Did you think she was off in her room shredding newspaper and making a little mouse nest all this time?” He was being unnecessarily cruel to his brother, who probably had genuine concerns that Andres truly had been off whoring around. But for some reason, Andres was incapable of simply backing down in calming Kairos’s fears.

“I have scarcely seen her since I put her in your custody.”

“Convenient for you. You pass the woman off to me, and wash your hands of her completely. And trust me with attempting to tame her.”

“And how has that been going?”

Andres allowed himself to think back on the past few days with Zara. They had barely left his apartment. They had barely dressed; they had eaten the entire cake he’d brought from the restaurant. Licked much of the frosting from her skin and shown her just what having your cake and eating it too could mean.

He had put on the bare minimum to receive food when it was delivered to the penthouse, but that was it. Otherwise he had preferred that they stayed naked. So that he had easy access to Zara at all times. In bed, on the kitchen counter, in the shower...

He had never felt so insatiable for a woman. This was unlike anything he’d ever known. It wasn’t about filling a void with sex; it was about being with her. It wasn’t a hunger for companionship in a general sense, but for Zara.

That realization left him feeling raw. She seemed happy with him.

Part of him wanted to hold on to that. To keep her with him. To use her as a cover for that empty well in his soul.

Zara didn’t know the man he had built himself up to be. Didn’t know the playboy who had done his best to destroy his brother’s trust in him. The restless, uncontrollable boy who had driven off his mother. The man who only ever spent the night with his lovers to avoid being alone because he feared isolation more than any monster lurking in the shadows.

“It’s been going well.” He held up his hands, palms facing Kairos. “I’m still in possession of all ten fingers, so there’s that.”

“She’s supposed to be your fiancée. Could you not talk about her like she’s some sort of rabid mongrel?”

“I could,” he said, thinking back to all the ways she was nothing of the kind, but a whole, pure woman. “But this is more fun.”

“Are you going to be able to handle yourself when we announced your holiday wedding at the Christmas Eve party tonight?”

“I promise you, Zara and I have figured out how to deal with each other.” He couldn’t suppress the smile that turned up his lips.

Kairos raised his eyebrows. “Have you?”

“We have.” And the deeper they settled into it, the more she wound herself around his life, the more unsettled he became.

Strange. He should take comfort in not being alone. But there was something about all this that made him feel as if he were being held underwater. As if he were holding her down with him.

And the deeper they went, the more panicked he felt. The more he wanted to release his hold on her and make his escape.

To retreat to the punishment of solitude because it would be better than the alternative.

Needing her. Losing her.

Failing her.

“Please tell me you didn’t take her to Vegas to purchase hookers, as well.”

“Oh, nothing as salacious as that. We’re sleeping with each other. Only each other. Shocking. I suppose I should be grateful that you’re married, and faithful to Tabitha. Otherwise this would be a wonderful chance for you to exact revenge.”

In that moment he knew he would kill his brother if he so much as looked at Zara. Any man, really. What was wrong with him? He felt torn in two. Desperate to hold her to him. Desperate to let her go.

Unable to do either.

“It would be. But I wouldn’t do that. Not to you. I’m not angry at you, whatever you might think. Well, I am. But not bitter. I’m not happy about what happened five years ago. How could I be? If I was deliriously satisfied in my marriage, perhaps it would be a different story.”

“All the Christmas trees in the ballroom are decorated.”

Both Andres and Kairos turned at the sound of Tabitha’s stilted voice coming from the opposite direction. It was impossible to tell whether or not she had heard what Kairos had just said, but judging by the way her pale blue eyes glistened, and the lack of color in her cheeks, she most certainly had.

Andres had to wonder why Kairos found being married to a woman as beautiful as Tabitha such a hardship. She was completely biddable, nothing like Zara, who was obstinate and imperious on the best days.

Of course, that was what he found so fascinating about her. Perhaps that explained it. Perhaps Kairos had wanted a woman more like Francesca. Beautiful, impetuous. Very likely to leave her husband, or get pregnant with the royal stable master’s baby rather than her husband’s, but certainly possessing charms. Poor Tabitha would never be able to compete if that was what Kairos really wanted.

Tabitha was like a china doll who stored herself on the top shelf, ensuring that she remained thoroughly unplayed with, undamaged.

Though Andres suspected this had damaged her a bit.

“Thank you,” Kairos said, his tone stiff. “I will be in to see everything in a moment. Andres and I were just talking.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.” She pushed her lips upward into a poor approximation of a smile before nodding once and turning away, walking back into the ballroom.

“You were saying?” Andres asked.

“Nothing. Only that I’m not actively rooting against you. I never have. You can make this work with her. Especially if you have a physical connection. So do it. Don’t mess it up.”

“I’m not a child, Kairos.”

“Nor were you a child when you took my fiancée to bed.”

“That is true.”

“For once in your life, listen to someone.”

He listened. He listened well. It had just never made a difference.

“She’s a good woman,” Kairos said. “Strong. She’ll make a wonderful princess. And a wonderful wife.”

She would. Andres couldn’t argue with that. More than that...he wanted it. This time with her had been beyond anything he’d ever experienced. He hadn’t wanted to connect with anyone like this in longer than he could remember.

But Zara...he took joy in caring for her. Giving to her. That was new too. Wanting to give to someone rather than simply take all he could.

The desperation he felt, so sudden, so intense, to cling to her nearly brought him to his knees.

It reminded him of every other time he’d wanted something, only to make a mess of it.

As he would do with Zara.

He pushed the thought away. He had no choice but to succeed with her. But that didn’t mean surrendering to this...thing, this emotion that rioted through his chest.

They could work together. They could be partners. It didn’t have to be like this.

He would explain it to her. Tonight, after the ball, he would explain to her how it would be. A partnership. No feelings. Nothing so unstable, nothing so powerful.

A commitment, a decision, he could control. But he had proved to himself over and over that his heart was unreliable.

He took a breath and looked at Kairos. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, turning away from his brother, “my fiancée is waiting for me. And she isn’t mad at me.”

“Give it time. And, Andres...”

“What?”

“If you leave during my speech tonight I will be unhappy with you.”

“Then make it interesting.”

* * *

Tonight, she was wearing the pink gown. That fluffy confection that had been fitted to her the first day she was here in the palace. Her dark hair had been tamed into a sleek bun, a tiara resting on her head.

It was so foreign. Yet familiar at the same time. This had been her life once. Parties, beautiful dresses, crowns. She had been royalty in the palace and Tirimia. In her daily life she had only ever felt the distance of royalty, and none of the benefits.

This was different. Tonight, she would stand with the entire royal family. Part of something. Not apart from something. Tonight, Kairos would be announcing that she and Andres were getting married after the Christmas service tomorrow morning, in the old church down in the city.

The most beautiful dress had been created for her. Zara could scarcely believe it had been made up so quickly. It glittered like the snow that fell here in Petras. Lace with little glass beads stitched all over it.

She couldn’t think of anything more beautiful to wear while becoming Andres’s wife. And she couldn’t think of anything more beautiful to wear tonight for when the country found out she was becoming his wife.

And all of it mattered more because she had realized something over the course of the past few days spent in his penthouse. She loved him.

She had no experience of love, that much was true. She didn’t even remember what it felt like to be loved by a family. But that was why she knew what this was. She imagined you never appreciated food more than you did when getting it after you’d been starving. That everything tasted better, each bite more precious, worthy of savoring. You didn’t need to have experience of feasts to understand that you were dining at an exquisite table.

She knew. Knew that this was everything she’d been waiting for.

She’d thought of it as home the other day. Thought of him as home. Had thought of this as destiny, the fulfillment of the promise of her royal birth. She could see now it was more than that. The feeling people talked about when they discussed their homes was love. And as much as you could love a place, she loved a person so much more.

Andres.

Her first foray out of the woods. Her first real human connection, in so long.

Being with him was more healing than time or distance. Being with him, choosing him, forced her to realize that while the clan had certainly been distant, she had been distant, as well.

It wasn’t until Andres that she had reached out.

“Are you ready?”

She turned and saw Andres standing there, looking perfect in an expertly tailored tux. A striking black jacket, a matching bow tie and a crisp white shirt. He was clean shaven, his dark hair brushed off his forehead. He looked less rakish than usual, but he was as devastatingly sexy as ever.

He was going to be her husband. He really was hers, to keep. The very idea made her giddy down to her bones.

She couldn’t recall ever being giddy in her life before this.

“Yes. Ready.”

“This is a massive party. And the service tomorrow will be even bigger. I hope you feel adequately prepared.”

“I don’t know if it’s possible to feel prepared for an event on this magnitude. But I’m not going to revert to an animalistic state and hide under a table.”

“Well, that is reassuring. Though I must say I wasn’t particularly concerned.” He held his hand out and she took it, electricity sparking over her fingertips, straight to her heart as their skin made contact and he pulled her close. He kissed her and the world fell away. “We will have to dance, though.”

“I’m ready if you are.”

He smiled. “I’m always ready.”

She slipped her hand down between them, cupping his arousal. “I know you are.”

A rough sound vibrated in his chest. “You can’t do that. We have to go. Kairos will notice if we’re late.”

“I suppose it’s bad form to upset the king. Especially if he’s about to be your brother-in-law.”

“Very good advice.” He kissed her cheek, then looped his arm through hers, turning them both toward the door. “Advice I would like to ignore.”

“Poor Andres. Forced to behave.”

“We’ll see how long it lasts,” he said. His tone was dry, but it wasn’t as full of humor as his voice often was. There was something strange beneath it. Something she couldn’t identify.

“Do I have to worry about you gnawing on chicken bones?”

He grinned, his expression wicked, and she was forced to admit she might have been imagining the strangeness in his earlier statement. “Possibly. You never can tell.”

They walked down the hall together, staff members bustling to get out of their way as they made their way through the corridors, down to the ballroom. The entire entry to the castle had been transformed. Great boughs of holly and evergreen were draped over banisters, hung over doorways. White lights twinkled on every surface, peeking out from the dark green trees and decorations, giving everything a special glow.

Zara couldn’t remember the last time she had celebrated Christmas like this. Couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a Christmas tree until this week. They did not celebrate in the same fashion in the clan. It wasn’t part of the traditions. They had celebrated at the palace, and all of this was like a vague, foggy fantasy come to brilliant, glittering life before her eyes.

“It’s magical.”

She looked back at Andres, who looked as though he was suppressing laughter. “I’m very glad you like it.”

“It’s my first Christmas party in...ever. My parents used to throw them at the palace in Tirimia. But I wasn’t invited because I was too young.”

“Well, you aren’t too young now.”

“No.”

“Let’s go inside. Wait until you see the ballroom.”

He led her inside, and she couldn’t help responding to his enthusiasm. As if she needed any encouragement. The ballroom was stunning, trees stationed every few feet, in a circle around the dance floor, tables situated between. White lights were strung between them, casting a net of stars over the partygoers. It was as if a little snow globe had been captured, enclosed by the ballroom rather than glass and water.

“It’s beautiful. Really beautiful.” She turned and smiled at him. “I think that sounds silly. Like not enough. I’m being obvious, I know. But I don’t know what else to say.”

“That’s how I feel when I try to compliment you.” His dark eyes were serious, and it made her stomach tighten. Made her heart beat faster.

Made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, he loved her too.

Andres moved easily through the crowd, greeting everyone they encountered. They were congratulated by countless people, because while they had not made a formal announcement of the engagement, it was being treated as common knowledge. People of course didn’t know the circumstances surrounding their engagement, but Zara imagined it didn’t really matter now. Not now that their relationship was real.

“Shall we take our seats?” he asked.

Zara nodded, and let him lead her to a table at the far end of the ballroom that allowed those sitting at it to get a view of the entire proceedings. Kairos, Tabitha and a few people Zara had never seen before were already seated there.

Andres leaned in. “Diplomats. Politicians. It will be a very dry table.”

“I think we’ll manage.”

“This will be your life. These kinds of parties. This sort of company.”

She tried to make sense of his words. Tried to figure out if any of it mattered. If she cared one way or the other. “Well, it will have you too. So the rest doesn’t really matter.”

He drew back, frowning. “I wouldn’t count on me being one of the perks, Princess.”

“I’ve spent quite a bit of time with you over the past week. There are a great many perks to you.”

“Perhaps to my body. To what I can do to yours. As a human being I tend to fall short.”

She frowned, matching his. “I’ve yet to see evidence of that.”

He said nothing, rather he continued over to the table, so she followed him. She was irritated with him. It had been a while since he was irritating. Or perhaps, she had simply been insulated by the good things he made her feel. That was entirely possible. He did make her feel some very good things.

She took a seat beside Andres, with Tabitha on her other side. The queen was very quiet, and very purposefully not looking at her husband. Zara had to wonder again if this was her fate, inescapably. It was this relationship, so clearly strained, that had made her nervous at the last meal they’d shared. She had been so convinced recently that she and Andres had something entirely different, but then, there were these moments when he would shut down on her completely, and she wasn’t entirely sure after that.

As with everything else at the party, the meal was lovely. Zara mainly listened to people talk about topics she wasn’t very informed on. Andres seemed to be doing the same. Zara turned to Tabitha. “Did you enjoy dinner?” Probably a silly question to ask the queen, who very likely had planned the menu. But she was hopeless at talking to women. She had not had very many friends in her life, Andres was the closest thing, and he wasn’t a woman. Far from it.

Zara found that she very much wanted to make Tabitha a friend. Another thing that was within her reach, thanks to this arrangement.

“Yes,” Tabitha said, seemingly unruffled by Zara’s clumsy attempt at conversation.

“Everything is lovely.” She knew she sounded stilted, but she was trying. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve celebrated Christmas. Since I’ve seen Christmas decorations, and never anything like this. I love Christmas.” She hadn’t let herself remember how much, because it was only painful. Something else to add to the sad, empty ache. Another thing she missed that she couldn’t have back.

“Do you?” Tabitha tilted her head to the side, the words brittle.

“Yes. Doesn’t everyone?”

“I find it quite stressful, I confess.”

Zara noticed Tabitha sneak a quick glance at Kairos.

“A lot of planning. A lot of smiling.”

Tabitha wasn’t doing a very good job of smiling at the moment.

“I can see how it might be. I’m used to... Well, people don’t usually pay so much attention to me.”

“You don’t find it daunting?”

“Not when I’m with him,” Zara said, a blush rising in her cheeks.

Tabitha arched her eyebrows. “Andres?”

“Yes. He’s at ease in every situation. I can’t help being at ease too.”

“So things are...going well between the two of you?”

If Zara wasn’t mistaken, there was a slight edge to Tabitha’s voice now.

“Yes.” Zara shifted uncomfortably. “He’s been very good to me. He cares for me—”

“I see,” Tabitha said, clipped.

Andres chose that moment to lean over and whisper in her ear, “Zara, it looks like the dance floor is beginning to fill. Would you like to join me for a dance?”

“Yes,” she said, grateful for the chance to escape. She had done something wrong. She supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised. She had no experience with any of this. She was moving through it all blindly, having faith that it would work out because she was enjoying herself. Because she was happy. But of course Tabitha had friends. She was secure in her place. Just because Zara desperately wanted the connection didn’t mean that Tabitha did.

Oh, all of this was so complicated.

She accepted Andres’s hand and led the charge to the dance floor, eager to escape her embarrassment.

Once they were out in the center, she buried her head in his chest as he wrapped his arm around her waist and took hold of her hand, holding her close to his body. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Oh, I think I made a mess of things with Tabitha.”

“Tabitha is difficult to connect with sometimes. She’s quite controlled.”

“She wasn’t so much in this instance. I think it upset her that our relationship is going so well.”

He frowned, and her stomach twisted. She felt as though she’d said something wrong again. What if he didn’t think their relationship was going well?

There were so many uncertainties in all this. Insecurity had never been something she’d had to contend with before. She had been lonely back with the clan, but she had known exactly where she stood. Everyone had positive feelings about her; it was just that a protocol dictated they keep their distance. There was no wondering. People said what they meant; they didn’t play guessing games. With their mouths saying one thing and their eyes clearly communicating another.

“I think she is in a difficult position with Kairos at the moment.”

Zara was relieved to hear that, and she realized that a knot of tension had formed in her stomach that she had scarcely been aware of until it began to loosen. She hadn’t imagined that Andres had anything going on with Tabitha, not really, but she had been worried about it somewhere in the back of her mind until he’d said that. Love was making her slightly crazy. Especially with all the things that were unsaid. That was just how people seemed to do things here. That was how this family seems to do things.

She didn’t understand it.

She would have to, though. She would have to figure all this out somehow. Because she might need only Andres, but he came with a host of issues she would have to negotiate. Loving him meant navigating all this, and so she would. She had not survived a siege on her palace, loss and loneliness, to come out the other side weak and frightened. She had strengths. And she would use them here.

When necessary. Right at this moment, she didn’t need them. Being in his arms didn’t require strength. When she was in his arms, she was able to lean on him. A beautiful thing, since she had never been able to do that growing up. There had been no one for her to lean on. There had been only herself. The two of them would be much stronger. When the winds blew they could stand strong together.

That truth, that belief, was suddenly so strong inside her, burning with so much conviction that she could not hold it in any longer.

“Andres...I need to tell you something.”

“You didn’t stash your dinner in a potted plant, did you?” he asked, his voice full of humor.

“No,” she said, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. “Nothing like that. I just need to tell you...I’m looking forward to becoming your wife tomorrow.”

She felt him stiffen in her arms. “Well, this is a good thing,” he said, “as no matter your feelings on the subject, you will become my wife tomorrow.”

“I know. But I think that you should know that I want to be your wife. I’m happy here with you. I want to be a part of this, part of this family. I want to have your children. I want to be with you.”

He stiffened further, pulling away from her slightly. “What brought this on?” His voice was guarded, his expression shuddered.

“Our time together,” she said, feeling confused. “Things have changed between us. Surely you must see that.”

“We are sleeping together, if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Is it? It might be for you, agape, but I can guarantee you that it isn’t for me. I’m a man who has had many lovers, and this is all very run-of-the-mill as far as I’m concerned.”

There was something off about his tone. It didn’t sound like him. It didn’t feel like him. These words didn’t feel real. She knew Andres. Knew the glitter he got in his eye when he was enjoying himself, knew when his smiles were genuine and when they were forced. This was forced. As forced as any one of his fake shows of happiness and ease. He was trying to upset her, and she couldn’t fathom why.

“It’s different. What’s between us,” she insisted, “I know it is. It isn’t just sex.”

His lips curved upward, his expression unkind. “The virgin thinks she knows whether or not this is just sex?”

“As you said, I’m not even almost a virgin anymore.”

He chuckled, the sound flat, bitter. Sharp enough to cut straight through her skin. To pierce her chest. “Yes, I may have said that, but emotionally, you are much closer to a virgin than you are to a siren.”

“Why are you being like this?”

“I’m not being like anything. This is who I am. This is what I am. I was honest with you from the beginning. You know what manner of man I am. The kind of man who would sleep with his brother’s fiancée close enough to his brother’s wedding that it created a need for that brother to marry a woman he barely knew, much less loved.”

“Oh.”

“All that Kairos and Tabitha are going through now? All that strain you see? That pain? That’s on me. They never should have been together. It was never supposed to be the two of them. But I ruined things between Kairos and Francesca. So here we are. Here you are. Because of me.”

“But I... I’m happy to be here. I love you, Andres.”

Given the direction of the conversation, she didn’t know what possessed her to make that admission. And yet she hadn’t been able to keep it inside, not for another moment. She did love him, and she needed him to know it.

Did Andres believe that anyone loved him? She didn’t think he did. More than that, he didn’t love himself. She realized then, with blinding certainty, that he hated himself. That was why he was always telling her how bad he was, why he was always trying to reinforce the fact that he was no good.

He couldn’t love himself, so she would do it for him.

This went beyond destiny. Beyond being a princess. Beyond simply being intended for palace life and a marriage to a prince. This was about being a woman. A woman who loved a man more than anything else.

This wasn’t about running from loneliness or using him to fill a void. This was more than that.

He was more than that.

Had her life been full of love, had she been raised in the palace with her mother and father, she still would have needed him.

He would still have been a missing piece. It wasn’t the palace, the position that was her destiny. It was him.

“I love you,” she repeated.

The second use of the phrase seemed to jar him out of whatever trance he was in. “No.”

“What?”

“There you go again, questioning everything I say. You heard me the first time. No, you cannot love me.”

“Yes, I can. Because I do. That is not your decision to make.”

“It’s impossible. Maybe you have Stockholm syndrome. Or Overly Attached Fruit Basket syndrome, I don’t know. But there’s no way you can possibly love me. You were forced into being here with me. Forced into this arrangement.”

“I certainly wasn’t forced into your bed.”

“Again, Princess, that is sex. It has nothing to do with love. Nothing to do with emotional connections.”

“It does for me.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice broken, fierce. “Why would you love me?”

She sensed that this was important. This was essential. That her answer carried with it the power to heal or the power to destroy.

She closed her eyes, shutting out the people around them, shutting out the Christmas trees, the glitter, the Christmas carols that were being played by the string quartet. She shut out all the beauty. All the trappings that came with Andres, so all that was left was him. Them.

And she wasn’t alone. Not anymore. She wasn’t afraid.

“You remember how my childhood was. I lost my parents. My brother. I was so isolated. And I feared sometimes that I would die from it. That the hole inside my chest would one day expand so great that it would swallow me up. That there would be nothing left of me. People were all around me, but none of them touched me. None of them loved me. I have been starving for years. I have been starving for you. It has nothing to do with sex, though I enjoy what we have together. It’s more. It has everything to do with the fact that we are the same. My soul recognizes yours, Andres. And when I met you, I met the other part of myself.”

He made a derisive, dismissive sound. “We are not the same. Little one, you are an innocent from an enchanted wood. I am the most hardened man whore you could ever hope to run across. I am the man who mothers warn their daughters about. I am the one who makes husbands fear for their wedding vows. I am jaded and cynical. I have indulged in every manner of vice imaginable. Tell me, how is it you think we’re the same?”

“Because we were alone.”

He stopped moving then. The music played on, but she and Andres were frozen in the middle of the floor.

“I have never been alone in my life. I was born in a palace staffed by hundreds of people. I had nannies, more than one, from the beginning. I was never without friends at school. I never go to bed alone unless I choose to. I go to more parties in a year than most people will attend in their entire lives. Even when I was left in my room while my parents went to dinner parties, I was surrounded by people waiting to cater to my every whim.”

“That is survival, Andres. Not love. Not truly being with people. You were the one who told me that.”

“No, you mistake me, Princess. I have never once been alone, not like you.”

“Why do you punish yourself with isolation? Why did you run from me when we made love against the wall? Because you know, as I do, that being alone is the most powerfully frightening thing. You know, because you have been.” Her voice was muted, but her conviction remained. She was certain what she was saying was right. That it was true. “You’re lonely. As lonely as I have been. But instead of going into the woods to scream about your isolation, you buried yourself in the nearest available vice. You tried to make yourself believe you weren’t alone because there were people around to help you do it. I didn’t have that option, so I had to accept my loneliness. Learn to understand it. You’ve been lying to yourself. You’re hurting. And nobody really knows you. Nobody else realizes.”

“Countless women know me, in the biblical sense, which I imagine is a much stronger sense than a great many other versions of knowing someone.”

“Stop it. You put on this air of cynicism, you act like no one can touch you. Like nothing matters. But it’s a lie. I know it is. Because I’ve seen you. I have never gone and read about your past. Everything I know about what a terrible person you are has come from you. It’s come from your own lips. But I don’t believe it. I never have. I’ve never gone looking for anyone else’s opinion on who you might be. I have formed my own. You are a good man. You love your brother. You love this country. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be trying to atone for your mistakes now. You are loyal. Stubborn. A little bit mean when you’re angry, but only because you’re protecting yourself. You have been generous with me. As a lover, as a friend. You have stayed with me, shown me things, treated me with exceeding care. You washed my hair. Andres, you are a good man. So many people have written stories about you, but who are they? Why do they matter? Let my opinion be enough. Believe that. If nothing else, believe me.”

“You have known me for a matter of mere weeks, agape. Sadly your opinion of me, formed while I was on my best behavior, carries very little weight.”

“So this was your best behavior, then? Not your regular behavior?”

“Yes,” he said, his teeth grinding together.

“Fine. Then make it your behavior. If you can do it, then continue to do it.”

“It will come to an end. It always does.”

“It doesn’t have to. We are getting married tomorrow. We’re starting the first day of the rest of our lives. It’s new for both of us. Make it new. Start again. With me.”

“I need a drink.” He released his hold on her, pushing himself backward and stalking off the dance floor, leaving her standing there alone, her heart pounding sickly in her chest.

She had ruined it. She couldn’t figure out why, or how. She only knew that she had. She would have died to hear him say that he loved her. She had assumed he must feel the same.

Perhaps being alone was better in many ways. If she were still alone she wouldn’t have to deal with this pain. Deal with this hurt. As it was, she felt as if she was crumbling apart from the inside out.

She saw the dessert was being served at the table she and Andres had abandoned, and made the decision to go and sit back down.

She would give him a while, and then, once he had cooled off, she would go after him.

* * *

Andres couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. She couldn’t love him. It was impossible. Oh, for one, heady second, he had let himself imagine that it might be true. And let himself imagine it would be something that he could take full advantage of. A wife who would adore him. Who thought he was good. What an incredible thing that would be. Sadly it was something he would only lose in the end. Because that was what happened. It was who he was. It was what he did. He drove people away. His mother. He’d made the best attempt he could with Kairos. And starting tomorrow, and on into eternity, he would be waiting. Waiting for that dangling sword to fall, to tear asunder all that he and Zara had built.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be this year, or the next year. Perhaps it would not be until they’d had children. Children who would also look up to him, idolize him. Love him. Depend on him as he had done with his parents.

Children he wouldn’t deserve. A wife he could never hope to deserve.

He would ruin things. For all of them. And in the years while he waited for the killing blow, he would drive himself crazy. Knowing it would come eventually, but never knowing when.

He was feeble. His spirit so corrupt he knew that he could never be the kind of man that she needed.

He wasn’t Kairos. Who would lay down everything, personal happiness, individual goals, everything, to serve his country. To serve a wife he didn’t even love. Andres could never be that noble. He had never managed to keep the love of another person. Not even his parents. His behavior always ruined it in the end. He had no control. He never had.

The past few weeks had been a game. And he had been indulging himself. But it had to end.

He had to show her now. Because it would be better to destroy everything before the wedding. Better now than years from now. So she knew where things would end. So she knew what to expect.

They had to marry; there was no question of that. But...he could not have her loving him.

He stopped at the edge of the ballroom, scanning the crowd. And then he saw her. A blonde woman in a red dress, her curves barely contained by the tight, silken material. She was exactly the kind of woman he would have put the moves on in the past. Exactly the kind of woman he would choose to spend a few hedonistic hours with once boredom set in at a party like this.

And for the first time in years he let himself remember that last Christmas party. His mother had given him another chance. Had allowed him to come down from his room.

This time as they’d sat at the table, a family, pretending to have unity for all the world to see, his actions had not been beyond his control.

He had been angry. Angry for the years he’d spent locked away. Angry at how long and hard he’d tried only to fail time and time again. To get lost in the endless cycle of trying to please someone who professed to love him and failing at every turn.

So he’d chosen to fail that day. Had thrown his dinner plate on the floor and smashed it to pieces. Had made his mother cry again. It had felt good to accomplish what he’d set out to do. To fail spectacularly on purpose, rather than to try and fall short.

And then she’d left after that. God help him, he’d been relieved. Because after that he’d never had to try again.

He looked up, saw his fiancée sitting at the table, her posture stiff, taking tiny bites of her dessert, trying to enjoy it, trying to listen to the conversation around her. She did not fit in, his Zara. She did not have that cultured manner of those raised in nobility. Did not have the social graces she would have learned had she been raised in the palace life.

She was utterly unique. Utterly her.

He drank in the sight of her. Pale skin, dark hair, in that pink and gold dress that made her look like something out of a fairy tale.

But he wasn’t the sort of man who deserved a fairy tale.

He took a step forward. Then another. Then, he began to make his way toward the blonde. Toward temptation.

He was not going to wait for hell to come up and grab him. He would walk and willingly. And he would do it now.