CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Saturday, 03.38 p.m.
‘WEHAVETO wait for the flyover, then you’ll be able to board the plane.’
Elsie nodded as Captain Ortiz reminded her of the plan. No one else in the waiting lounge seemed to mind the delay but it was sending Elsie’s blood pressure to the stratosphere. Everywhere she turned there was another screen. There’d been no avoiding any of the coronation—from the procession to the cathedral, to the service inside, to the procession back to the palace again. Everyone wanted to watch the entire thing. Weren’t they tired of staring at him? Apparently not.
She’d been driven in a car as part of the guest procession as he’d planned. They’d gone across the palace esplanade, towards the cathedral in the centre of the city. Then they’d taken a left when everyone else continued straight ahead. Under cover of a bridge there’d been a rendezvous and a change of car. Again with fully tinted windows. Felipe hadn’t been joking when he’d told her his security team was intense. But maybe they’d been right to be. The streets had been lined with citizens. Most were dressed in the country’s colours—that deep navy and gold. They were all bright smiles. The hum of excitement breached the bulletproof glass and low rumble of her car. They loved their king. His honour and duty to his country was appreciated. He was a good guy. Spoilt, yes. But still good. But right now she wanted to hate him.
Even though he’d believed in her, that he knew she did the right thing, he didn’t want her. He didn’t want to fight or make an effort for her or make whatever changes might need to happen. She was lacking and unlovable in some way. And while that hurt, she had to believe that he was using her own vulnerability as a convenient excuse as well. In truth no woman was ever going to be good enough for him. She felt sorry for that gorgeous betrothal princess who he’d refused. That she wasn’t good enough? It was an impossible pedestal to mount and he didn’t want to put any woman up for that kind of scrutiny.
But more than that, he didn’t believe he was good enough. That was why he wouldn’t fight. His mother had been devastated by the very public break-up of her marriage. His father hadn’t been able to cope with the pressures of palace life and had left with his lover. Now Felipe was trying to protect Amalia from feeling the same by sending her away from it for periods of time. And he? He’d built such defences he wouldn’t let anyone in. He wouldn’t let anyone stay.
Predictably, Ortiz hadn’t just dropped her at the airport. Apparently he’d been assigned as a protection officer for her. But she knew he was Felipe’s main protection, which meant he wasn’t doing the job he was meant to on this most important public and presumably most risky of days.
‘You should be with the King,’ she said.
‘I’m where His Majesty needs me to be.’
She knew there were other guards watching her from a greater distance. It was so unnecessary. Even if that media story was going to run it wouldn’t be until after the coronation. So she shouldn’t be the priority today. ‘Are you going to board the plane with me?’
‘Yes.’
She was surprised. ‘How long are you going to be guarding me?’
‘My next orders will come through once we land.’
A wave of misery hit. She didn’t want that. She needed to be free of him to heal. The possibility of drawn-out links to Felipe gave her false hope that he wanted to ensure more than her safety. Maybe he wanted to know where she was? Maybe he would come after her?
She shivered. Dreams like those were self-destructive. She needed to end it completely and she would once she’d landed elsewhere. She just needed to get through the last of this day.
She’d picked a chair that faced away from the giant TV screen but had still been able to hear the nauseating official commentary.
‘He’s paused at the top of the stairs. His head bowed. The weight of a nation on his shoulders, the eyes of the world upon him right now...’
But it had been the endlessly pro-Felipe indulgent opinions of the other plane passengers that had destroyed her thin emotional control.
‘He looks very alone. Why wouldn’t his mother come to the coronation?’
‘She’s never returned to the palace since Prince Carlos left her, isn’t that awful?’
‘She left Felipe alone with King Javier?’
Yeah. No wonder Felipe was so defensive of his heart. His mother couldn’t overcome her own hurt or grief to be there for her son and Elsie knew he’d tried to reach out to her. But his mother hadn’t seen that he could have used her support as well as offering her his. His father hadn’t been able to face the burden of the Crown and the judgement against his lover. They’d both abandoned him to face everything alone. Elsie couldn’t blame him if he was angry with his parents for that. If he was wary of others doing the same.
‘That’s Princess Sofia of Charlemeux. I don’t think she’s right for him.’
Elsie had shrivelled inwardly as the cameras had panned through the audience pointing out all those presidents, princes, princesses to the millions watching on the live stream. Amalia was in the front row. There had been a rippling murmur of support for the way he’d become guardian to his stepsister.
‘It’s not her fault her mother was such a—’
At that point Elsie had resorted to staring at the floor. She’d wished her headphones weren’t lost somewhere in the bottom of her bag. Her original plan had been to go to Madrid, find work, carry on as usual. Only she didn’t want the usual few months here, months there any more. She was tired. She didn’t want to be moving all the time. She wanted a permanent home. She wanted to build a career, build a network of friends, maybe even build herself a family one day. She’d go home to England. She’d have her own café. She’d have a quiet, fulfilling life. She’d be okay.
That news about her being in the palace might break but news would blow over. It had before. And that news—that notoriety—wasn’t the true cause of her heartache.
She’d watched him walk back down that long aisle, the crown heavy, the sword at his side, the sceptre and orb in his hands and she’d still felt a flicker of pride for him. Strong and dutiful. He’d been a lone figure in front of his soldiers but he’d done what he was born to do. Now he had another celebratory dinner ahead of him. More fireworks. He was caught fast in his world and all she could hope was that one day he’d meet a woman who’d love him the way he ought to be loved. Just for himself. Someone who he loved enough to lower his barriers. Someone who would play with him, with whom he could laugh and laze about within those rare moments he allowed. She wanted him to be happy.
But yeah, right now she still hated him. She hated how much she felt for him.