CHAPTER TEN
The hallway was deserted, as she’d known it would be. These ancient corridors were rarely used these days, though she couldn’t fathom why. As children, she and Kiral had chased one another through these marbled paths, winding with the bends of the building until their sides ached.
But with the death of their parents had come their removal from the old heart of the palace.
Lilah ran a hand reverentially over the walls. Despite the fact these rooms were deserted, the hallways were still cleaned regularly and not a hint of dust had been allowed to settle.
The pictures had been removed though; those familiar paintings from her childhood now nestled elsewhere in the palace, leaving an eerie sense of unendingness. She paused when she neared the room he was in, her blood pounding through her body.
She had dressed with care for this meeting, choosing an outfit that was both flattering and conservative. The last thing she wanted was for Will to think she was coming to him in invitation. The black skirt was floor length and the silky white blouse was buttoned to her neck and wrists.
Lilah didn’t bother to knock. This was her palace. It truly didn’t occur to her that she might be interrupting Will in a private moment. She pushed the door inwards and stepped into the room as naturally as she breathed air.
But it was empty.
A small frown tugged on her lips as she moved deeper into the space, admiring the styling distractedly as she went. The rooms were as they had been twenty years earlier, decorated in the classic Delani colours of gold and cream.
“Will?” She paused in the centre of the carpet, spinning slowly. It was then that she saw him. Asleep in the armchair in the corner of the room, with a notebook and pen balanced precariously on the arm of the chair.
Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest.
How often had she studied him like this while he slept? She knew every single line on his face. Every hair, every freckle, every detail. She swept quietly across the carpet, unconsciously holding her breath as she did. She lifted the notebook and went to put it more safely on the table beside him.
Only her eyes caught the first sentence and she found herself spinning it around to read instead.
Lilah and Kiral: prisoners of destiny.
Kiral – Something wrong. Claims to accept his fate but doesn’t seem to want to own it.
Melania – Does she really want to do this? Holding something back? Worried. Why? Investigate.
Rocco – a real mystery. Why isn’t he coming to wedding? Go back to Italy. Double check the nanny.
Lilah. He’d circled her name. Sheltered, out of touch with reality? Loves her brother. But doesn’t believe in love. A contradiction. Seeks suitable marriage for herself. Approves of brother’s marriage. Doesn’t like Melania? Investigate.
Lilah’s heart was pounding faster now, but with a complex tangle of emotions at the root of it. He had said he loved her. But how could he, when he could make notes about her in such a clinical and detached way?
His work involved writing an article – an expose? – on her family.
With a feeling of absolute betrayal, she flipped forward several pages in the notebook until she got to:
Jalilah Mazroui, NYC. Servant to her people. Believes in the absolute power of her position. Respects Kiral. Attractive, intelligent, though obviously hiding that behind niceties. Just a princess.
Artifice and Grace. This point he had underlined three times.
What makes her tick? Investigate. Then further down the page: Cold? Untouchable? Unfeeling?
Lilah dropped the notebook from fingers that were trembling now and Will startled awake instantly. It took him two seconds to surmise the situation. Lilah’s paper white face, the hurt in her eyes, the way she was stepping backwards as though he were a ticking time bomb.
He stood quickly but not quickly enough. Lilah turned and began to run. He caught her just as she pulled the door inwards. His palm slapped it shut and she spun to face him, her face shaking. “Let me go.”
“Why are you so upset?” He demanded back, mentally trying to recall exactly what his notes had said. He could well believe she’d seen something he would have preferred her not to.
“What makes her tick? Investigate. Artifice and Grace. Unfeeling? Cold?” She shook her head. “Was this some kind of sick ploy? Did you sleep with me because you wanted to see what was behind my so-called artifice and grace? Were you trying to see what makes me tick?”
His laugh was a harsh sound. “I slept with you because I wanted to. I slept with you because you wanted to sleep with me and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
She sucked in a huge gasp and lifted her hand to slap his face. He saw it coming but didn’t dodge the assault. She was hurt. She wanted to hurt him back. He understood the instinct.