Читать книгу Mr Right All Along - Natalie Anderson - Страница 21

CHAPTER TWELVE

STELLA STRODE QUICKLY, trying to match Eduardo’s pace through the vast gilded corridors to his private rooms. Even though she’d spent chunks of her childhood in the immense palace, she now found it forbidding, and she’d certainly never been into the Princes’ wing before. Now she’d learnt that Antonio had one floor, Eduardo another, and there were formal reception rooms on the floor between the two, where they’d meet.

‘There’s a gym, but I will have a treadmill brought up to our rooms so you can have greater privacy,’ said Eduardo as he opened a door, waving away the servants who’d materialised.

‘I prefer to run outside.’

‘You can’t here,’ Eduardo said flatly, closing the door behind them but not stepping further into the room. ‘It isn’t safe, and I don’t want the paparazzi getting pictures of you pounding the pavement.’

‘That isn’t what princesses do?’ she asked wryly. ‘It seems I have a lot to learn.’

‘You’ll do fine.’ He met her sharp look. ‘I already know you’re a fast learner.’

The atmosphere smouldered between them but the constraints niggled at her. ‘You’d better tell me what else I can and cannot do.’

‘Just continue to be your discreet, dutiful self and you’ll be fine.’

She scowled, but Eduardo had already turned away.

‘I must see him,’ Eduardo said distractedly. ‘Shower and change. I’ll come for you in half an hour.’

Stella walked through his expansive apartment. It was beautifully decorated but impersonal—there was none of the ‘stuff’ that had littered the shelves of the library on Secreto Real.

In the sumptuous bedroom there was an adjoining dressing room. Her clothes, cleaned and pressed, hung on the rack. There were other clothes too—the outrageously expensive ones, purchased especially by a servant, that she’d never worn. The ones that would make her look the part. She turned her back on them. She wasn’t going to pretend to be anything other than herself when she dealt with the Crown Prince.

It wasn’t Eduardo who fetched her forty-five minutes later, but one of the liveried staff.

The second she walked in she knew things weren’t going well. The brothers stood on opposite sides of the room. Eduardo had that fiery, ruthless look he’d had the day he’d announced they were marrying. Antonio had no expression at all. They shared much—the same colouring, similar stature—but where Eduardo’s eyes were hot, Antonio’s were ice.

‘You are Carlos’s daughter?’ Antonio addressed her.

‘Yes.’

He didn’t look at her—he looked through her. It was like being dunked in an Antarctic dive-hole.

‘May I offer my congratulations?’

Stella couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He was expressionless. Bloodless. So unlike his brother.

‘All of Europe will wish to do the same,’ Antonio added. ‘So the ball scheduled for Saturday shall become a marriage celebration—’

‘Antonio, no.’ Eduardo interrupted him, moving to stand beside Stella. ‘You’re not still planning—?’

‘It has been planned for months, as you well know,’ Antonio said brusquely. ‘Guests have been arriving all week while you’ve been “ill”.’

‘But she’s not ready—’

‘I am cast as the evil older brother in this scenario you have created.’ Antonio turned his icicle eyes onto his brother. ‘I will not remain so.’

Eduardo glared back. ‘Antonio—’

‘The ball has been planned for months—or do you expect us all to act rashly and ruin the happiness and expectations of others? You have deprived the nation of a royal wedding. This celebration is the least you can give the people,’ Antonio went on, his cold fury now evident. ‘She has less than forty-eight hours to get “ready”.’ Antonio sent her another dismissive glance. ‘But the sapphire, a dress and a smile are all that will be necessary.’

Didn’t he like her jeans? What a cold, patronising jerk to relegate her to ‘decorative only’ status.

‘I think you’ll find Stella has more to offer than that,’ Eduardo answered, before she had a chance to breathe.

Antonio’s eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly, giving him a supercilious look. ‘You should have come to me first.’

‘Even you have to agree this solves several problems. Leave it, Antonio, it is done,’ Eduardo answered. ‘I promise we’ll parade beautifully and dutifully at the ball. We won’t let you down.’

It was obvious Antonio thought they already had.

‘You will attend the pre-ball functions tonight and tomorrow as well,’ Antonio ordered. ‘But to maintain the “mystery” and heighten anticipation, the ball will be Stella’s first formal public appearance.’

Stella’s pulse tripped as Antonio issued his wintry instructions. She recognised that look in his eyes. It was the same one she saw in her father’s. She was a disappointment. He didn’t want Eduardo to have married her. Yet again she was not ‘right’. Not for her job. Not for this relationship.

Was Antonio’s disapproval because she wasn’t nobility? Her father was the first General who had earned his position through work—not via his birth, name and lineage. Did that make her unworthy of the wretched sapphire Eduardo had hung around her neck?

Or was it just her?

Eduardo’s hand was firm on her back, guiding her out of the room. She didn’t bother saying goodbye to the Crown Prince, as protocol and common politeness dictated. She was too hurt.

‘Please excuse my brother,’ Eduardo said briefly, but he didn’t offer any explanation for Antonio’s frostiness. ‘I’m sorry, I need to leave you alone again for a while. Ask Giulia if you need anything.’

‘Of course.’

It wasn’t ‘a while’ that he was gone. It was hours. She dined alone in his apartment, waited up, but in the end sleep overcame her before he returned.

‘Stella...’ He woke her in the morning with a whisper and a kiss.

She opened her eyes and found herself wrapped in his arms.

‘I’d better get on that treadmill,’ she groaned.

‘You’d better get on me first.’

His gaze drilled into her. His body invaded. Devastated. It was so good. It so wasn’t enough. So much for easy.

As soon as she’d recovered some energy she left him in the bed and went to maintain her routine. She would resist when she wanted to.

She was twenty minutes into her time on the treadmill when he placed an iPad on the stand in front of her.

‘My assistant has prepared a dossier on many of tomorrow night’s guests. Photos, names, positions.’

‘That’s useful,’ she puffed as she jogged and swiped the screen. ‘Thank you.’

‘I have other duties I must fulfil,’ he said, a hint of apology in his eyes. ‘I’ll be back later tonight.’

Already she understood that he meant very, very late.

Was this to be her future? To be left locked in the palace with nothing to do but pretty herself for a ball and grow a baby, and at night be a sexual plaything for her insatiable husband? Sure, she was every bit as insatiable as he, but this wasn’t the life she wanted. She wanted her control back.

So she’d control this. She knew how to fight. She just needed different armour from her usual. Antonio had been right—in part. At the very least she needed ‘the sapphire, a dress and a smile’ and the ability to remember a couple dozen names and faces.

Because she wasn’t going to fail.

As she ran on the treadmill she memorised the names and faces. Then she called Giulia and requested a beautician and a hairdresser to be summoned for later in the day. She’d damn well become the Princess San Felipe had wanted for so long.

‘Can you get Dr Russo to come and see me at his convenience as well?’ she asked Giulia, trying to sound as relaxed as she had when she’d asked for the beautician.

‘Of course.’

The doctor arrived within twenty minutes. Because of that swift timing, Stella was certain Giulia knew about her condition.

‘Is everything all right, Your Highness?’ Dr Russo bowed as he entered the private sitting room.

‘Please call me Stella.’ She gestured towards the chairs. ‘I’m sorry to trouble you, I just wanted to talk to you about my pregnancy.’

‘No trouble.’ He sat down. ‘What did you want to discuss?’

She curled her hands into small fists, hiding the dampness of her palms, and smiled. ‘It sounds stupid, but where are my symptoms? I haven’t had any morning sickness, I haven’t been particularly tired, I’ve got no cravings... It’s like it’s not real.’

What if it wasn’t growing properly? Shouldn’t she hate the smell of coffee or something?

To her relief, the doctor didn’t laugh.

‘Perhaps you’re one of the lucky few,’ he suggested calmly.

‘Or perhaps there’s something wrong.’

He regarded her steadily. ‘Why would there be anything wrong?’

She hesitated. Her throat tightened. But this was the one person she had to speak to. ‘My mother died a few hours after giving birth to me.’

His eyes widened and the professional smile faded.

‘I didn’t mention it on the island because I didn’t want to panic anyone,’ she added quickly.

‘Do you know any details?’ he asked carefully.

‘I think she had some kind of haemorrhage. My father doesn’t speak of it.’ He never spoke of her mother. He never spoke to Stella about anything personal or important. ‘I don’t know much else.’

Dr Russo remained calm. ‘You were born in San Felipe?’

‘The main hospital—yes.’

‘Then, with your permission, I’ll check the records there. And we will get a scan arranged for you as soon as possible.’

‘Please... After the ball.’ She needed to know. To understand and prepare.

‘Of course.’ Dr Russo suddenly lifted his case onto the table. ‘I brought a Doppler with me today. It’s a small device we can use to listen to your baby’s heartbeat. You’re far enough along in your pregnancy for us to be able to do that. Would you like to hear your baby?’

For a second Stella’s own heart stopped, then started pounding. ‘Okay.’

Fleetingly she wished Eduardo was there, but he was busy. And she didn’t want to tell him about her mother. Or her fears.

She lay on the sofa, her shirt lifted. The doctor switched the small machine on and held the wand to her stomach.

‘It sounds like hoofbeats,’ she said, her eyes filling.

‘It sounds strong.’ Dr Russo looked pleased. ‘And you are very strong. I will research, but what caused your mother’s haemorrhage probably isn’t going to be hereditary. You will be in the hospital here, with the world’s best specialists. The most important thing is for you to relax and enjoy your pregnancy and this special time with all the celebrations.’

Enjoy it? She was too scared.

‘Have you talked to Eduardo about your concerns?’ he asked quietly.

‘Of course,’ Stella lied.

‘Good.’ The doctor nodded. ‘Be assured, your baby is well. I’ll follow up soon. You will have the best care, Your Highness.’

‘I know.’ But her mother had been in the same hospital. She’d had the best care too. And she hadn’t made it.

After the doctor had left she sat down to look over the dossier about the guests once more. But in her mind those heartbeats echoed. The baby was real. And it was doing okay. But what would happen when the rest of the world found out?

Pretty pictures from the wedding wouldn’t be enough to stop people talking—they’d say it was a shotgun wedding. They’d say she’d trapped him into it. They’d say so much more, so much worse.

No matter what she did, it wasn’t going to be good enough. It never was.

* * *

Eduardo hated that Stella left their bed so early every morning. He tried to tease her into staying, but while she’d happily have sex with him again, she still left the bed immediately after.

He showered and quickly dressed. He had to attend the opening of a new football academy this morning. before another appearance in the afternoon. And then there was the ball tonight. Right back to the usual busy schedule.

She was at the treadmill already, glaring at the screen, watching her pace and distance as if she were wishing they were real miles taking her far from here. The iPad was in position too, and she swiped the screen with fierce movements.

‘What are you so angry about?’ he asked, reaching out to flick the ‘stop’ switch on the treadmill.

‘Nothing.’ She didn’t look at him.

‘I once asked you not to lie to me,’ he said softly. He wanted to know what was eating her up—he wanted her to turn and talk to him.

She put her hands on the rails and sighed. ‘They’ll stare. They’ll stare and they’ll judge. I have to prove myself.’ She lifted her head and he saw anguish and anger in her eyes. ‘And I never do. It’s never enough.’

A rush of protectiveness erupted within him. But he put his hands on her waist and held her firmly at arm’s length. It was that or kiss her, and kissing her would lead to only one thing—and that couldn’t happen again until this football visit was over. But he had to equip her with a strategy to cope tonight.

‘You are Princess Stella Zambrano De Santis and you will not give a damn what anyone else thinks. Tonight is nothing but a minor mission to you. You survey the room. Pick targets. Engage in brief, polite conversation. Move on to the next target. Grant them a few moments of your time.’ And then return to me.

‘Is that how you handle it?’ she asked.

It was a skill he’d been taught. ‘People are interested. I am conscious of everything I do in the public sphere. But I cannot let myself dwell on what they might think. It cannot be my concern.’

‘I won’t be a success when they find out I’m already pregnant,’ she muttered. ‘They’ll say I trapped you. They’ll say...’ She trailed off.

Eduardo softened at that concern. She really didn’t need to worry. ‘They won’t find out for a while.’

‘No?’ She shook her head. ‘Are we going to lie and say the baby was born prematurely? Do you want me to cross my legs for an extra month or two at the end? Because, I’m sorry, that might not work.’

‘Our nation has wanted a royal baby for years. They won’t care about the date of its conception.’ He shrugged. ‘They’ll be amused by my reckless passion.’ Always he was the one to make the mistakes. He was the joke. But he didn’t want to be a joke to her. He wanted to help her.

‘Okay.’ She looked into his eyes. Slowly he felt her straighten and square her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry. I know you have more important things to do.’

He didn’t want her to be sorry for sharing her concerns with him.

‘Attending another opening?’ He shook his head. Nothing felt more important than being with her right now.

‘It’s important to the people to have you there.’

‘Sometimes I need a reminder too.’ He grinned at her. ‘I’d rather you were with me.’

It would be nice to have her at his side, sharing the intensity of the spotlight as she had that day at the restaurant. He’d catch her eye and know he wasn’t alone in the crowd.

His heart thumped. ‘You have everything ready otherwise? Ask Giulia for anything. Do not worry about cost. With all those royals and politicians from neighbouring countries present we need to look the part.’ He sent her an apologetic look. ‘And all those models and actresses—’

‘Because this is your find-a-bride ball?’ She looked sly.

‘You heard about that?’

‘How could I not? Wildfire rumours. It’s like a Cinder-freaking-ella ball.’

‘But instead Prince Eduardo is presenting his secret long-time love and now new wife to the world.’ He gave in to temptation and kissed her quickly. ‘The scandal.’

‘You like that element, don’t you?’ She cupped his jaw and kept him close. ‘Rebellious Prince Eduardo.’

The temptation of her was too great.

‘Rebellious? I’m a married man. I’ve settled down and become boring.’ He lifted her up and carried her to the bed.

‘Never boring,’ she breathed as he kissed her.

He had about four minutes. He used every second wisely.