Chapter Three #2
She took a breath, trying to steady herself and her frayed nerves.
‘Well, I thought I’d be travelling to Frankfurt and from there back home.
At least until you dragged me off the plane, and had me escorted to an airport lounge.
Whereupon you informed me that you were aware of the pregnancy and that I was to marry you.
So, you see how I might find all of that a little overwhelming.
’ She was proud of herself that she managed to sound cool and calm and collected.
He stared at her, that muscle ticcing in his jaw.
‘You find it overwhelming? Not one month after my queen dies, I discover that the woman I’ve been working with is pregnant with my child and she didn’t bother to tell me.
And not only that, decided to run away like a child instead of having an adult conversation. ’
Hurt, sharp as a sliver of glass, slid under her skin. He was angry and, while she supposed he had a right to be, that was no reason to be cruel. ‘Well, why didn’t you talk to me when you found out?’ she asked, struggling to hold onto her calm.
‘I wanted to get a plan in place before I spoke to you. But before I had a chance, you ran away.’
‘I didn’t run away. I left to protect you.’
Sparks of anger glittered in his blue gaze, but all he said was, ‘Well, we could go around and around in circles about this for days, but decisions need to be made. The facts are that, since you are expecting my heir, we need to marry.’ He took another sip of his espresso, the very picture of calm civility in his crisp white shirt and suit trousers.
His expression was contained, the anger in his eyes gone.
She was getting the stranger again, wasn’t she?
Fine. If he was going to be a stranger to her, then she’d treat him the same way.
Wren reached out for the orange juice and calmly took a sip, mirroring him. ‘So, I presume you have a press release drafted?’
He gave one of his regal nods, which she suspected was automatic rather than purposeful. ‘It’ll go out in the next couple of days. Do you want to see it?’
‘No.’ It didn’t matter whether she saw it or not. Either way, there would be a scandal and she would have to bear it. Or rather, since he’d grandly told her last night, he would have to bear it since he was going to take responsibility.
He frowned, as if her answer had surprised him. ‘You really don’t want to look at it?’
‘What would be the point?’
‘You always say that it’s better to control the narrative than to have it control you, so wouldn’t you want to know what the narrative actually is?’
‘You’re controlling the narrative, Isandro. That’s what you told me last night. I have no say in any of it.’
His frown deepened and he glanced down at his cup, as if there was something in there that was bothering him. ‘You know why that is.’
Back to this again. Both of them trying to protect each other and only ending up being angry about it.
Wren gripped the cold glass in her hand. ‘I assume you’re going with the truth, then. A moment of madness in your office.’
‘Something like that.’ He sipped again from his mug then put it down on the table.
‘I’ve engaged a wedding planner and the events team, and they’ll be coordinating dates for a wedding.
I’d prefer it to be as soon as possible.
I’ve also decided on an engagement ball, where I’ll formally introduce you as my queen-to-be. That’ll be held in two weeks’ time.’
Wren couldn’t help the cold shiver that went down her spine.
A ball in which she would be the centre of attention, and naturally, once her name got out, the media would pick over her past like the vultures they were.
Comparisons would be made. The reputation she’d worked so hard to build, destroyed.
Isandro’s reign tainted, the one thing he could absolutely not abide.
She wanted to tell him that there was no need for an engagement ball, but of course there had to be a ball. It was customarily held whenever a ruler got engaged, which made it even more important they give one. There had to be some legitimacy to his marriage, and that would help.
Wren fought to keep the dread from her features.
It was difficult to treat him as a stranger when for five years he’d been the first person she went to whenever she had a problem or needed to talk.
He’d been a friend, and yet more than that.
She loved him. But he could never know that.
He already had so much power over her, and if she confessed that to him, it would give him even more.
You have to tell him now. You have to set the boundaries before he does.
She took a breath, and met his icy blue stare.
‘Very well,’ she forced out through numb lips.
‘But I need you to know that this will not be a physical marriage. I’ll act the part of a loving fiancée in public, if that’s what you want, but in private we will sleep in separate beds, and we will have separate lives.
’ She gathered all her will and determination, and held his gaze, letting him know that this decision was hers.
And she would not be changing it. ‘Is that understood?’
* * *
Isandro had been expecting a conversation over breakfast about press releases and balls. He’d anticipated it being a tense conversation—he hadn’t been disappointed there—but he hadn’t thought she’d bring up the kind of marriage they’d have going forward. He hadn’t thought she’d mention it at all.
Wren sat opposite him, swamped by yet another sweatshirt.
God, but he loved her in blue. It leant a blue tinge to her grey eyes, and made her skin seem smooth as porcelain.
Her silvery hair fell around her shoulders and he wanted to push his fingers into it, feel it against his skin.
Their interlude on his desk had been so brief and desperate that he’d thought of nothing else but being inside her.
Since last night, though, all he could think about was how much time he’d have with her now.
Time to stroke her skin, spread her hair across his chest, taste her…
Indulge himself in every fantasy he’d ever had once she was safely his wife.
It had made crafting the press release difficult, but he’d forced himself to pay attention.
He’d wanted to compose it personally to make sure it said what he wanted it to say.
After a couple of hours, he’d eventually written something short, terse and to the point.
It would cause an uproar, but, as he already knew, there was no way to soften or sugarcoat any of it.
Thoughts of Wren had invaded his sleep, though, turning his dreams into the very fantasies he’d been thinking about earlier, and he’d had to get up and have a cold shower in order to get some relief.
Now, the weariness was catching up to him, and her silvery gaze was full of determination as she told him that their marriage would be sexless, which essentially meant that he’d be looking at a lifetime of celibacy.
‘No,’ he said flatly, coldly. ‘Fuck no.’
‘Too bad,’ she said with equal cool. ‘That’s the way it has to be.’
His anger was a hot coal, sullenly burning inside him like a fire in an underground coal seam.
It had been that way for the whole six years he’d been married.
To a woman he hadn’t loved, and hadn’t shared a bed with, and who’d made life difficult for him at every turn.
That he had been largely to blame for her complete inability to withstand the pressures of being a queen didn’t help, which only made him angrier.
And now Wren was telling him that yet again he was looking at a cold bed, putting him at risk of giving in to his darker, baser tendencies.
‘No,’ he said again. ‘I can’t accept that.’
Her chin lifted, her stare defiant. ‘You’ll have to.’
‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘And don’t tell me it’s because you don’t want me. I won’t believe that for a second.’
More colour stained her cheekbones. ‘Why not? Perhaps once was enough for me.’
The hot coal inside him burned hotter. He was used to people doing what he said, to giving in to his wishes. He was the damn King, and he did not like being denied, and what he wanted to do was to haul her across the table and into his arms, prove to her exactly how much she wanted him.
Yet there was a fierceness in her grey eyes that gave him pause. She meant this, and he wasn’t a man who’d ever force a woman into doing something she didn’t want to do.
But haven’t you already done that by demanding she marry you?
That was true, he had forced that particular issue.
But this whole situation involved more than just him and Wren.
It involved his crown and his country, and he had to make decisions based on what was best for Valdora, not what was best for himself.
Of course, marrying her had some personal perks that he’d been looking forward to, but if she didn’t want that, then she didn’t want that. He would never take what wasn’t given.
Ruthlessly, he forced his anger into submission, deliberately relaxing his muscles and taking a few moments to study her.
She was taking control of this, wasn’t she?
She was furious with him, and now she was taking what power she had and had decided to punish him with it.
Not unlike his previous queen, if he was being uncharitable.
Well, two could play at that game. He wasn’t going to suffer without sex for the rest of his life. He could make her little plan backfire, show her just how desperate she was for him and how she wouldn’t be able to bear a sexless marriage either.
‘Very well,’ he said, keeping his voice very neutral. ‘If that’s what you want.’
Her gaze flickered, as if she hadn’t been expecting him to give in. Which was good. She could stay being surprised.