She had obviously failed to inject a tone of enthusiasm into her voice but Roman’s perception surprised her. She hadn’t thought of him as a student of nuance. Just as she hadn’t expected him to continue to regard her with what looked like genuine interest.
And somehow she started telling him about it. Stuff which she never talked about with her family, because there had been no point. Her mother could not or would not act, her sisters were too young and uninterested and her brother... Zabrina swallowed. Her brother was already having difficulty coming to terms with the fact that one day he would be King and she didn’t want to be the one to add to those concerns. They had been like the family of someone with an unacknowledged drinking problem...as if by ignoring it, the problem would somehow go away.
‘My father can sometimes be...extravagant.’
‘That is surely one of the perks of being a king.’
Her jaw worked and somehow all her fears about leaving everyone back home to fend for themselves came tumbling out. ‘No. This is more than having a garage full of fancy cars, or a fleet of racehorses which he keeps overseas.’
‘I’m glad about that,’ he said wryly. ‘Or I might find myself the subject of your obvious disapproval.’
She shook her head slightly impatiently. ‘It’s more than extravagance. He’s surrounded by a coterie of stupid advisors and the trouble is that he listens to them. They keep getting him to invest in their friends’ supposedly amazing business schemes, only they never quite work out the way they’re supposed to and he gets his fingers burned. Every time.’
‘Then one has to ask the question as to why he keeps doing it,’ said Roman coolly. ‘Don’t they say that the definition of madness is to keep repeating the same mistake, over and over again?’
‘Because he doesn’t believe in his own fallibility and when it happens, he needs something to reassure him that he’s as clever as he thinks he is,’ said Zabrina quietly. ‘Which is why, after every failure, he grabs at that guaranteed age-old ego boost so beloved of men.’ And wasn’t it crazy that she still felt a sense of guilt as she admitted the truth to the man she was soon to marry, as if she were wrong to criticise her own father. Yet in the midst of all these misgivings, it felt a huge relief to be able to confide in him like this.
‘And you’re worried because your country is gradually being run down?’ Roman questioned.
‘Of course I am. But I’m more worried that by the time my brother Alexandru inherits, there won’t be anything left. He’s a delicate young man,’ she whispered. ‘And super-sensitive. I’d hate for him to take on the burden of kingship if he was also saddled by an enormous debt!’ she finished, her lips wobbling a little with the impact of expressing all that usually bottled-up emotion. She looked into the King’s face but, as usual, its cool impassiveness gave nothing away.
Instead he raised his fingers and the servant brought him another cup of coffee, before Roman indicated he should leave—signalling that this breakfast might go on longer than anticipated. And that surprised Zabrina, because usually these meal times were strictly regulated and chaperoned—as if the man she was to marry couldn’t bear to be alone in her company a second more than he needed to.
‘I can understand that,’ he said slowly. ‘But now you’ve triggered my interest.’
‘Oh?’
He lifted his gaze to hers. ‘What exactly is the age-old ego boost your father always resorts to?’
She guessed they’d always needed to have this discussion, so why not now, even though it wasn’t really the kind of thing she’d ever imagined discussing calmly over the muesli? Because Roman was a king and what she was about to talk about was what all kings did. It came with the territory and she was surprised he even needed to ask.
‘Affairs,’ she said simply. ‘He has affairs.’
CHAPTER NINE
ROMAN STUDIED ZABRINA’S expression with a curiosity he didn’t bother to hide, because something about the calm acceptance he read there surprised him. ‘Explain,’ he clipped out. ‘About your father’s affairs.’
She shrugged with studied carelessness, but he didn’t miss the fleeting look of apprehension which crossed her eyes.
‘They usually come about as a reaction to one of his disastrous business investments,’ she began slowly. ‘You see, he loses huge amounts of money and promises himself it will never happen again.’ She stared at the pink roses in the vase at the centre of the table, before lifting her gaze to his again. ‘But in the meantime he needs something to make him feel better—to take his mind off what he’s done. And women can do that. They can fill that emotional hole—just like a drink or an unnecessary plate of food. And, of course, he’s a king. So he can do what the hell he likes.’
‘Isn’t that a rather sweeping generalisation?’
She laughed. A sound he had heard only infrequently and usually he was forced to steel himself against its soft lure, but now it was edged with the hard ring of cynicism.
‘I’m only basing my comments on experience, Roman.’
‘Of observing your father, you mean?’
She shook her head. ‘No, not just that. Don’t forget my mother is a princess herself and she and her sisters all married monarchs and, according to her, they have all “strayed”. I always thought that was a funny expression to use,’ she added reflectively. ‘It reminds me of a horse or a cow somehow managing to get out of its enclosure.’
He guessed that was supposed to be a joke but the brittl
e note in her voice suggested she wasn’t as comfortable with the subject as she wanted him to think.
‘So your mother just accepted this state of affairs, if you’ll excuse the pun?’
She didn’t laugh, just shrugged. ‘In a way. She said it was easier to accept than to constantly rail against something she couldn’t change. She told me that husbands always returned—eventually. Especially if there was a calm and non-accusatory welcome for them to come back to. And especially if there were children involved.’