CHAPTER FIVE
Friday, 5.26 p.m.
ELSIESTAREDAT FELIPE. Instinct warned her to run. He was a threat to her. But she could only watch for his reaction to her request to leave,now. Would he remember?
Yeah. His pupils blew. His eyes grew impossibly darker, deeper and dangerous to anyone’s peace of mind. On hers there was a catastrophic impact.
‘You can’t leave,’ he said roughly, reinforcing the fact. ‘The skies are closed. There are no flights until after tomorrow’s coronation. There are too many VIP guests in town. Your plane was only allowed in as a mercy mission.’
Where was the mercy for her? Hadn’t he done enough to her already?
‘So you’re making an entire planeload of people stay here for twenty-four hours?’ She glared at him. ‘You don’t think that’s excessive? It’s like being imprisoned for no reason. Or is their time and liberty not as important as yours?’
‘It’s a matter of security,’ he said stiffly. ‘Not just mine.’
‘Wouldn’t it be more secure if they left?’
‘It’s the advice not just of my security general, but that of my counterparts gracing me with their presence for the coronation. They will not deviate from the plan.’
‘Heaven forbid one should deviate from the plan.’ She threw her hand in the air. ‘Couldn’t possibly do that. Even when the plan inconveniences literally everyone else. But we commoners simply don’t matter, do we?’
But as she stared at him memories slammed her. And the breathless yearning? The childish fantasies she’d wrought that one day three months ago? That she’d allowed only one day to influence her so hugely?
He was a liar. She loathed those. She would leave and this time it would be all her own idea.
‘On the contrary, you all matter very much. I’ve been assured everyone else who was onboard is very happy with their accommodation,’ he said.
‘They probably wouldn’t dare say otherwise for fear of retribution.’
‘Fear of retribution?’ he drawled. ‘It’s a five-star hotel. They’re paying for nothing and will have a celebratory dinner tonight.’
‘Wow,’ she muttered sarcastically. ‘Celebrating your existence, are they? When can I get back there? I won’t say no to a free dinner.’
He regarded her intently, the way a cat did a mouse. A very big cat focused on a very stunned mouse who felt she’d made a wrong move. ‘Oh?’
His gaze raked down her body again. Her jeans-and-cropped-cotton-jumper combo felt too hot while the chunky boots she always wore while travelling didn’t give her height enough boost. She was still too short to stare him straight in the eye. Doubtless her hair was a flat mess. It had been in a ponytail but there were loose bits falling about her face, which also felt stupidly hot. She did not want to feel this awkward and self-conscious. And it was his fault.
‘Why did you make me come here?’ she blurted.
He stood so still—so coiled—that she forgot to breathe. His eye deepened in colour—darker than midnight. She drank the sight of him in—his black hair was cropped not too long, not too short. The ‘perfect’ king who never broke his rules, never even bent them. Consummately reliable. Dependable. Dutiful. And extremely annoying. Because he was also rigid and inflexible and once he’d decided upon a course of action? There was no changing from the plan.
He was spoilt.
She’d taken one look at him—one—and her body had decided it wanted to be his. It was so embarrassing. Resisting the temptation to lean closer was a constant battle. Humiliating given that he’d banished her.
He was rhythmically tapping his fingers very slightly against his trousers. One, two, three, four... She realised he was counting—striving for control? He saw the direction of her gaze and stopped.
‘Aren’t you going to ask after Amalia?’ he asked shortly.
She sucked in a breath because that hurt. She’d thought about Amalia every damned day since she’d been forced to leave this country. ‘Of course. How is she?’
‘You walked out on her without even saying goodbye. You made a commitment to come back and didn’t.’
‘Of course, I didn’t. I couldn’t.’
She blinked back the sudden burn of tears. She didn’t care who he was, he didn’t get to judge her. She’d been judged by too many already and invariably they concluded she was in the wrong. But how could he accuse her of heartlessness when it was his doing? She would never, ever have left Amalia the way she had if it hadn’t been for him.
‘Why did you leave?’ he asked.