Chapter Six
JAVIER HAD FLOWN TO Norvenheim to get the ultimate revenge on Carlotta and Otto.
News that he had just acquired the majority shareholding of his family’s business was everything he’d been working towards for years.
It had taken stealth and planning, care and diligence, to ensure his machinations weren’t discovered ahead of time.
It had been his sole motivation in returning to this country.
Yet it wasn’t Javier who approached Carlotta in the end, but rather, the other way around.
Only hours after Queen Astrid had slipped from his mansion, driven back to the palace by a discreet Enrique with their entry arranged by Anja to keep it off the radar of any other nosy palace staffer, his stepmother had arrived at his door.
Her expression was mutinous and he didn’t need a psychology degree to understand why.
Yesterday’s newspaper was clutched in her fine-boned hand, the red tips of her nails digging into the paper as though it had somehow wronged her.
‘You couldn’t help yourself, could you?’
He raised a single brow, regarding her with the distaste he felt.
‘This is all anyone is talking about.’
He opened the door wider, wordlessly inviting her inside. He’d prefer not to have conversations of this nature at all, but if they were to take place, behind closed doors was more appropriate.
‘She danced with Otto as well and yet this…’ She brandished the newspaper in his face as she stalked past, slender frame encased in a black coat that was cinched at the waist. ‘This is all anyone can speak of. You.’
‘And you hate that, don’t you?’
She whirled around. ‘You have no right—’
‘Don’t I? I was an invited guest at the ball.’
‘But you did not have to dance with her—’
‘Nor did Otto.’
‘He and the queen have something going on.’
Javier was proud of the way he resisted the easy response. After all, he knew his stepmother was wildly misrepresenting the truth of their relationship. ‘If that’s the case, why do you care what anyone says about the fact I happened to dance with her?’
‘Because that video makes it seem—makes it seem—’
He smirked. ‘You can’t even say it, can you?’
‘Makes it look as though you can’t keep your mind out of the gutter.’
He laughed then, a short, sharp sound of caustic amusement. ‘The video makes it look like we’re both thinking the same thing.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘How long are you here for?’
His original plan was to fly in, drop the bombshell and get out. He had no reason to deviate from that. ‘I’ll leave tonight. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you and Otto before I go.’
Her visible relief was quickly followed by a look of caution. ‘And what might that be?’
‘A conversation I’d rather not have twice. Let’s meet this afternoon.’
Her features took on a saccharine smile of satisfaction. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible. We’re attending a Christmas concert in the city. Otto is looking forward to seeing the queen again.’
And even though he knew there was nothing between his half-brother and Astrid, he felt the whipping of unease in his gut and a powerful sense of possession that he should have known better than to listen to.
* * *
Before meeting Javier, Astrid had been quite convinced that Otto would make an excellent husband, if he wanted the role.
He was intelligent, kind, patient, handsome and, vitally, undemanding.
He was just the sort of man she had imagined she could make a life with.
A safe life. One that didn’t impinge on the bubble she wanted to maintain around herself.
She had imagined them being happy and businesslike.
But now, as she listened to him speak about an art exhibition he’d recently been to in Amsterdam, she found her mind wandering unstoppably.
She was bored out of her brain and Astrid was never bored at these events.
They were work. An important part of her function was to put her best foot forward on the world stage and hosting this concert was a tradition long associated with the royal family.
Astrid herself had put together the performer list, recruiting artists from all over the world, finishing with a show-stopping set piece from Norvenheim’s most exulted classical pianist. The songs were either Christmas carols or hymns, beautiful pieces that infiltrated one’s soul with the magic of this time of year.
‘Have you seen the piece, Your Majesty?’
She forced herself back to the conversation with Otto, aware of the way his mother’s eyes narrowed slightly.
‘I’m sorry, Otto.’ She reached out and put a hand on his arm, her smile echoing her apology. ‘I was momentarily distracted.’
‘Of course,’ he said, with that same sense of ease that had, once upon a time, convinced her he would be a perfect husband. ‘You have a lot on your plate tonight. Don’t feel you have to stand here and speak with us. We can catch up another time.’
‘I’m sure Her Majesty is enjoying being with you,’ Carlotta slid in effortlessly.
But Astrid was wavering in her commitment to the life she’d thought she had planned out.
It had nothing to do with Javier. How could it?
He was leaving soon. For all she knew, he’d already left.
But Javier’s words were locked inside of her, his warning, the first night they’d met, that she shouldn’t marry Otto.
Combined with the way he’d looked, when she’d asked about his childhood, had something ringing in the back of her mind.
A warning. A worry that perhaps she was putting the cart before the horse.
Wishing for something simple and perfect because she needed it, rather than because it actually was.
‘I should go and greet some other guests,’ she murmured. ‘But as you say, we’ll speak later.’
She dropped her hand and turned away, with every intention of seeking out a visiting dignitary.
Her gaze swept the room, searching for the right escape path, and landed with a skittering thud on a pair of eyes that were instantly familiar to her.
She froze. Her whole body stammered to a stop, with the exception of her heart that was suddenly beating way too fast to be contained by her chest.
She knew people were watching her—when weren’t they?
She knew the event was televised, that the media was here, that she had to be careful.
She knew she had to guard herself more fiercely than ever before, to watch her reaction, to ensure she didn’t put a step wrong, but just one glance across a crowded abbey and she felt as though her whole world had caught fire.
Javier Diamandi had not left the country.
Far from it. He was right here, at the royal carol event, and Astrid would need to spend the next three hours acting as though he didn’t exist. The media was already having a field day, writing speculative pieces about their ‘affair’.
Little did they know, she thought with a flush, as memories of how they’d spent the night before swirled through her brain and formed freshly behind her eyes, clouding her with ability to be the queen. To be who she was meant to be.
Astrid was still close enough to Carlotta and Otto to hear the former whisper, ‘What is he doing here?’ so she knew they’d seen Javier as well.
Desperately needing to calm her nerves and continue with the evening, she sought refuge in a group of politicians, moving towards them and extending her hand.
Their conversation ceased as soon as she appeared and one by one, they bowed, smiled and began to make the polite sort of comments for which she was prepared.
This was what she’d expected tonight to be—not hours of pretending Javier didn’t exist.
* * *
The second he’d walked in and seen her talking to Carlotta and Otto, he’d known he’d done the right thing to delay his departure.
Clearly Astrid didn’t know what they were really like.
Perhaps she never would. Javier had no interest in bearing his soul to her about his childhood, about the way Carlotta had treated him and tried to ruin his life.
No good would come from replaying the past and admitting that they still held any kind of power over him, because they didn’t.
But he could protect her from making a disastrous marriage.
He could protect her from marrying a man who would be using her to become powerful and visible. Protect her from elevating Carlotta to a position of respect and admiration, when she deserved no such thing.
Though tonight, all he could realistically do was watch her from afar, aware that to talk to her was to spark the sort of rumour neither of them wanted.
To be close to her was to risk something far worse.
To touch her in a way his fingers yearned to, the way his body ached to pull her against his and make love to her all over again.
One night be damned.
* * *
It was almost impossible to get a moment alone at an event such as this, but right before taking the stage, Astrid succeeded.
After Anja had cleared a room to the side of the abbey, Astrid retrieved her phone from her assistant and scrolled to Javier’s number.
She’d saved it into her contacts even as she’d promised herself she’d never call him.
What was that if not a lie she’d told herself?
And been foolish enough to believe for all of twenty-four hours! She loaded up a text and typed quickly:
What are you doing here?