The rejection lanced into her heart, cutting through every last one of her defences. Defences she had built up over years, to seal herself away from the pain.
She looked down. So ashamed now she felt as if her heart were being ripped out of her chest. ‘I know,’ she said.
Who the heck had she been kidding? How could what she felt for him, what she had hoped he felt for her, ever have been authentic when it had always been based on a lie?
‘Do you have any idea what you’ve done?’ he snarled.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again, her voice a whisper of pain.
He grasped her chin, dragged her gaze up to his. ‘Sorry isn’t good enough,’ he growled, the controlled fury in his tone making her flinch.
Her breath got trapped in her throat as the panic and pain roiled in her gut.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘But I’m still sorry that you hate me now.’
I don’t hate you. I wish I did.
The truth bounced into Leo’s brain, but he managed to stop himself from voicing it. Juno Monroyale had caused this crisis, with her asinine little charade, and he’d be damned if he’d let her get away with her thoughtless, reckless behaviour.
Maybe he didn’t hate her. How could he, when she had been so vibrant, so alive and intoxicating in his bed? When he still wanted her so much? And when a part of him couldn’t seem to get it through his head that the woman who had captivated him had never been real...in any of her guises?
Not the fierce goddess who had protected a freezing footman. Not the natural nurturer who had crouched down to charm a little girl. Not the compassionate friend who had comforted the lonely boy who still lurked inside him.
But even if there was some truth in there somewhere, how could those women make up for the one who lurked beneath all of those guises? The spoilt brat who had never had to give a damn about anyone but herself.
While the real Jade had stayed in Monrova and been groomed to become Queen, her twin sister—from what he could remember of what he’d read about her over the years—had swanned off to New York with her feckless mother and become the darling of Manhattan high society, carving out a niche for herself as the Rebel Princess on social media that was as vacuous and self-absorbed as she was.
Perhaps it was about time the Rebel Princess learned actions had consequences. That honour and duty meant something. And that being of royal blood gave you responsibilities, not a licence to do precisely what you chose.
Nobody knew that more than he did; he’d had that mantra literally beaten into him by his own father. And he’d be damned if he’d allow Juno’s latest prank to have any lasting impact on him or his monarchy—which meant keeping this disaster out of the public domain, by whatever means necessary.
‘Where is your sister?’ he demanded, disgusted all over again that he’d been forced into this position. How was he supposed to clean up the mess she’d made?
‘In New York, pretending to be me.’
‘So she was in on this too?’ he said, not sure whether Jade’s involvement made him even madder or not. ‘Whose idea was it?’
‘Mine,’ she said.
‘Figures.’ He stared. Why was he not surprised?
‘We swapped places on the afternoon of the Winter Ball. It wasn’t really planned, it just sort of happened. The idea was to give Jade a chance to spend some time thinking about whether she really wanted to go through with the marriage... To you.’
‘Uh-huh. And whose idea was it for you to sleep with me?’ he snarled, the fury starting to choke him again. How could he have been such a fool? To fall for their little scheme. Why hadn’t he questioned much more vigorously all the things about the new Queen of Monrova that didn’t fit?
Because you wanted her so damn much. That’s why.
‘No one’s.’ She gasped, looking genuinely shocked at the suggestion; why that should calm his racing heartbeat, he had no
idea. He’d still been taken for a fool, by them both.
‘I didn’t... I didn’t think we would hit it off the way we did.’
So that much at least had been real. His temper and outrage downgraded another notch. But her admission wasn’t going to solve their main problem. He’d trusted her before he knew who she really was; he didn’t trust her any more. And the only thing he cared about now—the only thing he could allow himself to care about—was preventing this mess from becoming a media scandal.
She sighed, drawing his attention to the soft swell of her cleavage over the towel.
The shaft of longing was echoed in the bright blush that seared her face.