9
SHE WAS FUMING and she didn’t make any attempt to hide that fact. Every step through this beautiful palace only intensified her anger. This was all new to her. New art on the walls, new corridors, new windows, new views – he was leading her deeper into this ancient building, to a part she hadn’t known existed. Elon was taking her to his apartment, she realised, as the presence of guards grew, the visible wealth more obvious, until finally they reached a pair of doors that were pure gold.
He nodded for her to precede him. She did so without meeting his eyes, stalking into his sanctuary and looking around, taking in the details. Enormous marble columns supported the treble-height ceilings, huge chandeliers hung in a line that led to the balcony. The furniture was ancient and beautiful, cushions in bright colours scattered across a low-set sofa.
She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to speak.
He locked the door then paced towards her, his stride long, his face giving nothing away.
“You’re angry with me.”
She startled, the words the last she’d expected.
“Am I?”
He frowned. “Do not deny it, Ella.”
“Or what?” She snapped.
His nostrils flared. “Or nothing. Just – do not deny it.”
Their eyes clashed, black and green, tension radiating between them.
“What is it?”
She hadn’t expected the solicitous tone of his voice. When he’d seemed angry with her, she’d been able to meet anger with anger, but quiet patience made her feel like a recalcitrant child.
She stamped her foot, trying to keep a hold of her temper, like the rush of heat it pushed through her blood. A knock sounded at the door and a muscle jerked in Elon’s jaw, his eyes holding hers.
“There’s someone here to see you,” Ella pointed out, grateful for the reprieve. She needed a moment.
“I am aware of that. Whoever it is, they are of little importance. Tell me what is going on?”
“You know who it is?”
“I know who it’s not,” he corrected mysteriously. “Go on, your highness.”
Her heart stammered, but she couldn’t do this knowing there was someone on the other side of the door. She sighed and turned towards it, moving that way on autopilot.
But Elon stopped her, his hand catching her wrist, his eyes flaring with dark emotions once more. “Stay over there,” he nodded towards a table. “It is better if you are not seen in my suite.”
She didn’t question his directive, but simply moved to the table, watching as he opened the door and wordlessly took a small, battered green rucksack from someone, before shutting the door again.
“Why can’t I be seen here, Elon? We’re getting married, aren’t we?”
His jaw clamped shut.
“Because of my reputation? You think people will judge me for sneaking into my fiancé’s room?”
He placed the bag down on a chair and moved towards her. “Protocol dictates we wait until we are married.”
“You don’t care about protocols, so why should I?”
“I don’t need to be as careful as you.”
Hurt lashed her. She spun away from him so that he wouldn’t see it in her features.
“Damn it, Ella, I don’t mean to insult you. This is about protecting you and your reputation.”