Читать книгу The Wedding Party Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Aimee Carson - Страница 75

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘LEO?’

Alyse stood in the doorway of the bedroom, her gaze fastened on her husband and the stricken look on his face. He was staring blankly at the screen of his laptop, but as he heard her call his name he turned to her, his expression ironing out.

‘What are you doing awake?’

‘What are you?’ She bit her lip. ‘I woke up and wondered where you were.’

He gestured to his computer. ‘Just getting a little work done. I couldn’t sleep.’

Alyse took a step closer. Although Leo’s face was implacable and bland now, she sensed the disquiet underneath. Something was wrong. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked quietly.

‘Nothing.’

‘What were you looking at on the computer?’

‘Just work—’ He stopped, raking a hand through his hair. ‘I suppose I’ll have to tell you,’ he said after a moment. ‘We’ll both have to deal with the damage control.’

Her stomach plunged icily. ‘Damage control?’

Sighing, he clicked on the mouse and pointed to the screen. Alyse read the headline, everything in her freezing.

Cinderella’s Secret Lover Tells All.

‘Oh no,’ she whispered. ‘Oh no. How could he?’

‘I imagine he was offered a great deal of money.’

‘But it was years ago.’ She stopped, swallowing hard, nausea rising in a roiling tide within her. She could just glimpse snatches of the awful article, phrases like ‘drunken passion’ and—heaven forbid—‘marriage masquerade’.

She leaned forward, her eyes darting over the damning words.

According to Cray, Alyse and Prince Leonardo of Maldinia have simply been pretending to be in love to satisfy the public.

They knew. The whole world knew the truth about her and Leo. She stumbled back, one fist pressed to her lips, and Leo closed the laptop.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered and he shrugged.

‘It was years ago. You have nothing to feel sorry for now.’

‘But if I hadn’t—’

‘We’ll deal with it,’ he cut her off flatly. ‘You should get dressed. I imagine we’ll have to go back to Maldinia this morning to talk to the press office. We want a united front about how to handle this.’

He turned away and Alyse felt her insides twist with anxious misery. This was all her fault. And, while she accepted that Leo had forgiven her for her indiscretion from so many years ago, she feared their fragile relationship would not survive this ordeal.

With an icy pang of dread she remembered Queen Sophia’s words: no use to Leo.

The worst had happened. She was a liability—to the monarchy and to Leo. And, if he didn’t really feel anything for her, did he even want to stay married to her? What would be the point?

Miserably she went to shower and dress, her heart like lead inside her, weighing her down. The media frenzy would be excruciating, she knew. Who else would come forward to pick apart her university years? She might only have had that one lamentable experience, but she knew how the media worked, how people were tempted. Other stories would be made up; she could be depicted as a heartless, conniving slut.

And what about Leo? Her heart ached then not for herself, but for him. He’d have to deal with the shame and humiliation of being seen as the betrayed lover, the duped prince. She closed her eyes, forced the tears back. Recriminations would not serve either of them now.

Several grim-faced stylists were waiting when she emerged from the shower and they launched into a description of their strategy before she’d even taken the towel from her hair.

‘You want to look muted and modest today, but not ashamed. Not like you have something to hide.’

‘I don’t have anything to hide,’ Alyse answered before she could stop herself. ‘Not any more.’

The stylists exchanged glances and ignored what she said. ‘Subtle make-up, hair in a loose knot—earrings?’

‘Pearl studs,’ the other one answered firmly, and numbly Alyse let them go to work.

Forty-five minutes later she emerged into the sitting room where Leo was dressed in a charcoal-grey suit and talking on his mobile, his voice terse. Nervously Alyse fiddled with her earrings, her heart seeming to continually lurch up into her throat. She’d always managed to handle the press before, but then they’d always been on her side. How hard was it, really, to smile and wave for people who seemed to adore you?

Today would be different. She’d turned on the television while the stylists were organising her outfit and had seen that Matt’s interview was breaking news even on the major networks. Ridiculous, perhaps, but still true. They’d managed to dig up a photo of her walking to lectures with him and, innocent as it had been then, it looked damning. She had her hand on his arm and her head was tilted back as she laughed. She didn’t even remember the moment; she’d only walked with him a couple of times. They hadn’t even been that good friends, she thought miserably, but who would believe that now? The media was implying she’d indulged in a long, sordid affair.

‘No need for that,’ one stylist, Aimee, had said crisply, and turned off the TV. ‘Let’s get you dressed.’

Now as she waited for Leo to finish his call—he was speaking in rapid Italian too fast for her to understand—Alyse smoothed the muted blue silk of her modest, high-collared dress, a satin band of deeper blue nipping in her waist. ‘Virgin blue’, the colour was apparently called. How unfitting.

Finally Leo disconnected the call and turned to her, his brows snapping together. ‘A good choice,’ he said, nodding towards her dress. ‘The jet is waiting.’

‘The jet? Where are we going? What’s—what’s going to happen?’

‘We’re heading back to Maldinia. I considered keeping our heads high and honouring the rest of our engagements in Paris and Rome, but I don’t think that’s the best course of action now.’

‘You don’t?’

Leo shook his head, the movement brisk and decisive. ‘No. I think the best thing is to come clean. Admit what happened and that I’ve forgiven you. Keep it firmly in the past.’

‘And how...?’

‘I’ve arranged for us to do a television interview.’

‘A television interview?’ Alyse repeated sickly. She might have been on the cover of dozens of magazines, but she’d never actually been on TV. The thought of being on it now, a public confessional, made her head spin and her nerves strain to breaking. ‘But—’

‘I’ll explain it all on the plane,’ Leo said. ‘We need to get going.’

The outside of the hotel was mobbed with paparazzi and the security guards had to fight their way through to get to them as they waited at the door.

Alyse ducked her head as she came out, Leo’s arm around her, flashbulbs exploding in her face, questions hammering her heart.

‘Did you ever love Leo, Alyse?’

‘How long were you seeing Matthew Cray?’

‘Have there been others?’

‘Was it for money or fame, this marriage masquerade?’

‘Do you have any conscience at all?’

She closed her eyes, her heart like a stone inside her as Leo and the security guard guided her into the waiting limo. As soon as the doors had closed she let out a shaky sigh of relief, halfway to a sob.

‘That was awful.’

Leo turned away from the window, his face expressionless. ‘It will get worse.’

‘I know.’ She took a deep breath, let it fill her lungs before releasing it slowly. She still felt shaky from her first encounter with a malevolent press—one of many, she had no doubt. ‘Leo, I’m so sorry this has happened. I know it’s my fault.’

‘As far as I can tell, it’s Matthew Cray’s fault.’

‘But if I hadn’t—’

‘Alyse, you can beat yourself up all you like about what happened years ago, but it doesn’t change things now, so really there’s no point.’ His expression didn’t soften as he added, ‘And I don’t want you to. I know you’re sorry. I understand you regret it.’

‘But—but do you forgive me?’

‘There’s nothing to forgive.’

She should have been comforted by his words, but she wasn’t. He spoke them so emotionlessly, his face so terribly bland; any intimacy they’d once shared seemed utterly lost in that moment. Cold, stern, unyielding Leo was back, and she had no idea how to find the man she’d begun to fall in love with. Perhaps he didn’t exist any more; perhaps he’d never existed.

Weary and heartsick, Alyse leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

* * *

Leo gazed at Alyse, her face pale, her eyes closed, and felt a needling of guilt mixed with an unexpected pang of sympathy. After being adored by the press for six years, it had to be hard to be cast as the villain.

Not that he’d ever cared what the media thought of him one way or the other. Perhaps Alyse didn’t care either. Perhaps it was simply guilt that made her look so tired and wretched.

Leo knew he should have tried harder to comfort her. He probably should have held her and told her not to worry, that they’d get through this together. That none of it mattered. He hadn’t done any of that; he hadn’t thought of doing it until now, when it felt too late. He simply didn’t have it in him.

I don’t know how much I have to give. No, he sure as hell didn’t. Ever since the news of Alyse’s indiscretion had broken he’d felt his fragile emotions shutting down, the familiar retreat into cold silence. It was safer, easier, and it was what he knew. And he also knew it was hurting Alyse. He supposed that was a step in the right direction; at least he was aware he was hurting her.

But he still didn’t have the ability, or perhaps just the strength, to stop it.

Alyse opened her eyes, her gaze arrowing in on him. ‘Tell me about this television interview,’ she said and Leo nodded, glad to escape his thoughts.

‘It’s with Larissa Pozzi,’ he said and Alyse blanched.

‘But she’s—’

‘Broadcast on all the major networks. We need the publicity.’ Alyse just shook her head, and Leo knew what she wasn’t saying. Larissa relished scandal and melodrama, was always handing her guests tissues with her overly made-up face in a moue of false sympathy. Being interviewed by her was a necessary evil; he had chosen it because it would get their message across to the most people most quickly.

‘And what are we meant to say?’ Alyse asked.

‘That we’d had a fight and you were foolish. You’ve regretted it deeply ever since and I’ve known all along and forgave you ages ago.’ He spoke tonelessly, hating every lie that he’d come up with with the approval of the royal press office. Hating that, even in telling a bit of the truth, they were still perpetuating a lie. And he was sick to the death of pretending. Of lies.

He could not imagine saying them on live television. Every word would stick in his throat like a jagged glass shard. He wanted to be done with deception, with pretence, for ever, even as he recognised how impossible it was.

Alyse’s face had gone chalk-white and she glanced away. ‘I see,’ she murmured, and he knew she did: more lies. More pretending. They would never be done with them, never have the opportunity to be real.

So how on earth could they have any kind of real relationship in that toxic environment, never mind love?

Not that he loved her. He didn’t even know what love was.

Did he?

The question reverberated through him. The last week had been one of the sweetest of his life, he had to admit. The memory of Alyse’s smile, the sweet slide of her lips against his, how he’d felt when he’d been buried inside her...

If that wasn’t love, it was something he’d never experienced before. It was intense and overwhelming, addictive and, hell, frightening.

But was it love?

Did it even matter?

‘Why don’t you get some rest?’ Leo said brusquely. ‘You look completely washed out, and we’ll be there in another hour.’

And, putting those troubling questions firmly to the back of his mind, he reached for his attaché and some paperwork that needed his attention.

* * *

Alyse’s stomach clenched as they stepped off the royal jet and were ushered quickly into the waiting limo with its accompanying motorcade of security. They were to go directly to the palace for a press briefing, and then the television interview that would take place in one of the palace’s private apartments. Alyse dreaded both events. She dreaded the condemnation she’d see on everyone’s faces, from King Alessandro to Queen Sophia to the cloying Larissa Pozzi...to Leo.

He’d said there was nothing to forgive, but his stony face told otherwise. She had no idea what he was really thinking or feeling, and she was desperately afraid to ask. That was how fragile and untried their feelings for each other were, she acknowledged with a wry despair. It couldn’t face up to a moment’s honesty, never mind any hardship or scrutiny.

The press secretary, along with the Queen, were waiting for them as soon as they stepped into the palace. Alyse’s stomach plunged straight to her toes as they entered one of the smaller receiving rooms. Queen Sophia stood at one end in all of her icy, regal splendour.

‘Mother.’ Leo’s voice was toneless as he went forward to kiss his mother’s cheek. She didn’t offer any affection back or even move, and despite the nerves jangling inside her Alyse felt a kind of sorrowful curiosity at the dynamic between mother and son.

Queen Sophia swung her cold blue gaze to Alyse. ‘This is a disaster,’ she said, ‘as I’m sure you’re aware. A complete disaster.’

‘It’s under control—’ Leo began tightly, but his mother cut across him.

‘Do you really think so, Leo?’ Her voice rang out scornfully but Leo didn’t react. ‘People will believe what they want to believe.’

‘They’ve always wanted to believe in Alyse,’ he answered quietly. ‘They’ve always loved her.’

‘And they’ll be just as quick to hate her,’ Sophia snapped. ‘That’s the nature of it, of publicity.’

‘Then I have to wonder why we’ve always been so quick to court it,’ Leo responded coolly. ‘Oh, I remember now—because you needed the positive press. You’ve needed Alyse, to make up for all the selfish choices you and Father have made over the years.’

‘How dare you?’ Sophia breathed.

‘I dare,’ Leo answered, ‘because you’ve been using me and then Alyse—using everyone you can—to make up for your own deficiencies. I won’t have you blaming us for them now. We’ll handle this, Mother, and you need not concern yourself at all.’

Sophia’s eyes glinted malice. ‘And what happens when they hate her, Leo? What happens when it all falls apart?’

Ice slid down Alyse’s spine. When they had no use for her.

‘We’ll deal with that possibility when and if it happens,’ Leo answered, and turned away.

Sophia whirled away from them both. ‘I’ll send Paula in,’ she said tightly, and with a slam of the doors she was gone.

‘Thank you,’ Alyse said quietly, ‘for defending me. Even if I don’t deserve it.’

‘You do deserve it. Enough with the mea culpa bit, Alyse.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re still doing it.’

She smiled wanly. ‘Habit, I guess.’

‘I’m not angry,’ Leo said after a moment. ‘At least, not at you. I might be harbouring a little rage for the paparazzi, but I can’t really blame them either. They’re just doing their job and we’ve been feeding their frenzy for years now.’

‘And you’re sick of it.’

‘Yes.’ He lapsed into silence, his forehead furrowed into a frown as he gazed out of the palace windows at acres of manicured lawn. Alyse watched him warily, for she sensed some conflict in him, something he wanted to say—but did she want to hear it?

‘Alyse...’ he began, but before he could say any more Paula bustled in with a sheaf of papers in one manicured hand.

‘Now, we need to go over just what you’ll say.’

‘It’s under control,’ Leo said shortly. ‘I know what I’m going to say.’

Paula looked surprised, a little insulted. ‘But I’m meant to brief—’

‘Consider us briefed,’ Leo answered. ‘We’re ready.’

Alyse fought down nausea. She didn’t feel remotely ready, and frankly she could use a little help from Paula. ‘What are we going to say?’ she whispered as they headed towards the suite where the interview would take place. ‘I could use—’

‘Leave it to me.’

‘But—’

‘Let’s go in,’ he said, and ushered her into the reception room with its cameras and lights already set up. ‘They’re waiting.’

The interview, at least at first, was a blur to Alyse. She shook Larissa Pozzi’s hand and the woman, all glossy nails and too-white teeth, gushed over the two of them.

‘Really, we’re doing this for you,’ she said, laying a hand on Alyse’s arm, her long, curved nails digging into her skin. ‘The world wants to hear your side of the story.’

‘My side,’ Alyse repeated numbly. It didn’t sound good—that there were already sides, battle lines clearly drawn.

Assistants prepped them both for make-up and hair as they sat on a sofa facing Larissa and the cameras. Alyse could feel the tension coming off Leo in waves and, though he managed to convey an air of relaxation, chatting easily with Larissa, she knew he was beyond tense.

She knew him. She knew him now more than ever before, and that was both comforting and thrilling—that this man was no longer a stranger but someone she knew and—loved?

Did she love him? Had she fallen in love that quickly, that easily? And yet nothing about the last week or so had been easy. It had been wonderful, yes, but also painful, emotional, tense and fraught. And still the best time of her life.

She just prayed it wasn’t over, that this wasn’t the beginning of the end. Glancing at Leo’s profile, his jaw taut even as he smiled, she had no idea if that was the case.

‘We’re just about ready,’ Larissa told them both as she positioned herself in her chair, and if anything Alyse felt Leo become even tenser, although his position didn’t change.

Three, two, one...

‘So, Prince Leo, we’re so thrilled to have you on the show,’ Larissa began in her gushing voice. Alyse felt her smile already become a rictus, her hands clenched tightly together in her lap and a bead of sweat formed at her hairline under the glare of the lights and cameras. ‘And of course everyone is dying to hear your side of the story...as well as your bride’s.’ The talk show hostess’s gaze moved speculatively to Alyse, and she didn’t think she was imagining the glint of malice in those over-wide eyes. No matter how Larissa gushed to Leo, Alyse knew she’d still be cast as the scarlet woman. It made for a juicy story.

‘Well, it’s really rather simple, Larissa,’ Leo began in a calm, even voice. He had one arm stretched along the back of the sofa, his fingers grazing Alyse’s shoulder. ‘When that photograph was taken all those years ago—and you know the photo I mean, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘Alyse and I barely knew each other. We’d only just met that very evening, actually.’

‘But you looked so in love,’ Larissa said, eyes widening even more. She glanced rather accusingly at Alyse, who only just managed to keep her smile in place. Nothing about that photo, she thought, had been deliberately faked. It was, perhaps, the one honest moment the press had actually captured between her and Leo.

Leo lifted a shoulder in a ‘what can I say?’ shrug and Larissa let out a breathy sigh. ‘But it was love at first sight, Prince Leo, wasn’t it? You haven’t actually been faking your engagement all these years, as people are so cruelly suggesting?’

Smiling, he held up one hand, his wedding ring glinting on his finger. ‘Does that look fake to you?’

‘But your feelings...’

‘Alyse’s and my marriage was always one of convenience,’ Leo said and Alyse stiffened in shock. She had a feeling this would not have been part of Paula’s brief.

Larissa drew back in exaggerated shock. ‘Convenience? No! Not the prince and his Cinderella bride?’

Leo just smiled and shrugged. ‘Royal marriages often are.’

‘But you’ve been portrayed as being so in love, an inspiration to couples—as well as singles—everywhere.’

‘And we are in love,’ Leo replied steadily. ‘Now.’ A moment of silence spun out as Larissa stared at him; Alyse stared at him. What was he saying?

‘It took a long time for those feelings to come, especially on my part,’ he continued in that same steady voice. ‘But they have come, and that’s really the important thing, don’t you think? Not what happened—or didn’t happen—before.’ He let this sink in for a moment before continuing. ‘The main thing—the beautiful thing—is that I love Alyse now. I’ve fallen in love with my wife.’

And then he turned to her, while Alyse tried not to gape like a fish, and gave her a smile that felt both private and tender, and was being broadcast to a billion people around the world.

A smile that was surely a lie...wasn’t it? Wasn’t he just pretending, as always?

‘Alyse, you look surprised,’ Larissa said and, blinking, Alyse tried to focus on the talk-show hostess rather than her husband.

‘Not surprised so much as thrilled,’ she managed, barely aware of what she was saying. ‘And so happy. I admit, it’s been a rocky road to get to where we are. Leo and I have always been committed to marriage, but love isn’t something you can force.’

Larissa pursed her lips. ‘Let’s talk about Matthew Cray.’

‘Let’s not,’ Leo interjected swiftly. ‘Whatever happened was a single moment many years ago, and not worth our time or discussion. As I’ve said before, what matters is now—and our future.’ Again he smiled at Alyse, but this time she looked into his eyes. They looked dark and hard and her heart quailed within her. He didn’t look like a man in love. She could feel the tension thrumming through him and her insides roiled. He was faking; of course he was. This was just another part of the pretence, and she was a fool for thinking otherwise even for a second.

She didn’t remember the rest of the interview; her mind was spinning too much and Leo did most of the talking.

After an interminable half-hour they were done and Larissa and her crew were packing up. Leo ushered her from the filming area, one hand firmly on her elbow.

‘Hopefully that did the trick,’ he said, and that last frail hope died.

‘A very clever way to spin it,’ she managed and Leo gave her a sudden, penetrating look.

‘Is that how you saw it?’

She stared at him, longing to ask him what he meant, but so afraid to. Afraid to trust his feelings, or even hers. What was real? ‘I...I don’t know.’

‘Prince Leo... Your Highness.’ Leo turned and Alyse saw one of his father’s aides hurrying towards him.

‘Yes?’

‘Your father requests your presence in his private study immediately.’

Leo frowned. ‘Is something wrong?’

The aide looked uncomfortable as he answered, ‘Prince Alessandro has arrived at the palace.’

Leo went completely still, his face draining of colour, and Alyse felt shock blaze through him. Prince Alessandro...Leo’s brother. He’d returned.

Leo swallowed and then his expression ironed out. ‘I’m coming,’ he said shortly, and walked away from Alyse.