Chapter Eleven #2
The surprise on his features was evident.
As the head of her Regency Council, Astrid had treated Henrik with respect and deference, rather than the other way around.
For the first time in her life, she was comfortable putting the shoe on the other foot, and holding him to account.
Of reminding him that she was his queen and, as such, deserved respect.
‘Of course,’ he said, echoing that sentiment with a small bow. ‘Might I ask why Javier is so unacceptable to you? I’ve expressed my thoughts on the match already.’
There it was again. The thought of him as her husband, her other half, a part of her life, her heart, her soul.
Panic almost felled her at the knees. ‘No, you may not ask,’ she continued in the same vein, relishing her authority now.
‘Our relationship is ours and ours alone, regardless of this press intrusion. I do not owe anyone an explanation.’
‘And yet, I’m informed a statement is being prepared?’
‘A short statement, asking for privacy,’ she said, softening her tone slightly, though the breath in her lungs was burning with indignation and something else—panic and fear at the very thought of marrying Javier.
Of the future she didn’t dare hope for, because she knew it couldn’t be trusted. ‘And after that, no further comment.’
He stared at her for a long moment and then said, softly, ‘You know, you’re so like your father.’
It was the very last thing she expected the prime minister to say.
‘We knew each other well. We were friends, most of the time. Sometimes we argued and he would put me in my place, as you just have.’
She felt a hint of flush creep into her cheeks.
‘He was a very good man and you are an exceptional queen. They would be so proud of you, Your Majesty. Just as I am.’
She was glad he left swiftly after saying those words, because she couldn’t stem the tears that filmed her eyes as she collapsed into the chair behind her desk on a swell of emotion.
* * *
‘You should not have come here,’ she hissed at Javier, closing the door to her apartment quickly. She had about twenty minutes before her next scheduled event, which was, blessedly, the last of the day. ‘There are members of the press all over the palace.’
But she was so glad to see him, so glad to be close to him, even if they were still a few feet apart.
‘Then it’s no different to my home, which is currently surrounded by paparazzi.’ His expression was unreadable, his features so familiar she could see them even with her eyes closed.
‘Oh, God,’ she groaned, dropping her head into her hands. ‘I’m so sorry, Javier. I truly didn’t expect this.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ His tone was raw, but somehow, soothing. It didn’t work, though.
‘This is the last thing I wanted,’ she groaned, a plea in those words for him to understand.
‘I know,’ he said, coming close to her then. ‘I’m sorry for you, Astrid. I wish I could have protected you from this.’
‘This is my life. It’s not your job to protect me.’
She saw the way his features shifted, something dark stirring them.
But if he knew her at all, he’d understand that this was a line in the sand.
She had to reconnect with who she was, at her heart, in her life, without him in it.
She had to start letting him go. On her terms, her timeline.
That was the only way to protect herself.
She couldn’t risk this getting any more full-on, knowing it could all disappear without a moment’s notice.
The same panic she’d felt when talking to the prime minister whipped through her anew.
‘What if I want to?’ he asked, eyes boring into hers.
Protect her? Impossible. How could anyone protect her from the cruelties of life? Better not to need anyone, even Javier.
‘I don’t need that,’ she insisted. Realising it sounded cold and snappy, she softened it with what she hoped would pass as a smile. ‘There’ll be a high level of interest in us both, for a time, but the media will move on. Particularly if we avoid being seen together again,’ she said pointedly.
‘No one is here.’ He spread his arm to gesture around the room.
‘But several servants must have seen you arrive—’
His features shifted quickly, impatience obvious. ‘Damn it, Astrid, so what? The whole world knows we’re seeing each other. Does it matter if they get confirmation of that again?’
‘It’s easier if we don’t feed the beast,’ she said, her tone calm, whereas his showed emotional rawness.
‘Already I’ve had my prime minister suggesting we should get married.
Can you imagine how the press is going to speculate on that?
All anyone in this country talks about is the need for me to start having babies.
Now there are these incredibly intimate photos of you and me out there in the public domain.
We need to snuff these rumours out, not add to them. ’
* * *
He listened to her speak as if from a long way away.
Fragments of memory and thought twisted together, knotting into a ball deep in his gut.
Her reaction, the night before, when he’d given her the earrings.
For a moment, he could have sworn she thought it would be an engagement ring and then, that she’d been surprised—or disappointed—when it wasn’t.
Afterwards, she’d gone back to normal so quickly, he’d dismissed his reading of the situation.
But just the mention of marriage was like the turning of a key in the lock.
They’d started this thing off with a promise of no strings. They weren’t going to want more from each other than a casual situationship. A few days, at most, then a couple of weeks. But it had grown beyond that so fast, in a way he’d never experienced.
The marriage he’d outright told her wasn’t an option was suddenly all he could think of.
At first, as a solution to her problem. She needed to get married and he could help her with that.
But even that was a lie. A lie he was telling himself out of habit, to protect the little boy who’d constantly been hurt and rejected and told he wasn’t good enough.
And yet despite that, it was a lie he could easily see past.
He wanted to marry Astrid.
There were a thousand reasons to avoid it.
To run a thousand miles. He hated the thought of being a king, of moving his life to Norvenheim, but all of that paled in comparison to what he wanted.
Which was, quite simply, her. No matter what marrying her meant, how it would change his life, how it would affect the empire he’d built, he couldn’t care.
Not in the face of what he now realised he wished for, more than anything.
‘Astrid, you need to get married,’ he said, eyes shifting to the star earrings, remembering the first night they’d met.
His voice was surprisingly flat, given the torrent of emotions he was surfing.
Even then, he was fighting himself, trying to protect that little boy who’d sworn he’d never love again, who’d never put himself on the line and risk that awful feeling of rejection.
But this was Astrid. She was nothing like Carlotta.
Nothing like Juanita. ‘You need a husband.’
‘I’m aware of that.’ She was obviously rattled by this. And when Astrid was rattled, she withdrew, hiding behind a wall of carefully constructed ice. ‘This will die down and, in time, the focus will shift to someone else.’
If he hadn’t already accepted how invested he was in this, then her reference to another man would have driven the message home, loud and clear.
There was no goddamn way he could let that happen.
‘No.’ The rebuttal was dragged from the depths of his soul, loaded with anger and disgust. How could she even contemplate what she was suggesting?
‘No, what?’
‘You can’t marry someone else.’ The very thought had him wanting to drive a fist through a wall and he was not a man who’d ever resorted to violence. ‘Astrid, you have to marry me. Can’t you see that?’
Her skin paled and her lips parted, the ice facade momentarily slipping. Her eyes ran over his face, but there was no happiness in her features, no look of agreement on her expression.
Pain, familiar and absorbing, spread through him. Rejection was one thing, but rejection by Astrid was quite another. This was just what she did, he reminded himself. She was protecting herself, in the same way he had always done.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ she groaned, shaking her head and taking a step back, when distance was the last thing he wanted. ‘You don’t have to propose, Javier. In fact, please, don’t.’
It felt a little like a body blow, but he absorbed it. This wasn’t rejection, it was panic. There was a difference.
‘I know I don’t have to.’ He followed her, closing the distance between them completely, wrapping his hands around her upper arms. She just had to remember what they were together.
‘I want to. I want this. You.’ As he said it, he knew truer words had never been spoken.
Not by anyone, ever. He wanted her in the same way the earth wanted the sun.
Her eyes narrowed, her face still pale. ‘Your life is in Spain…’
‘What if you’re my life? What if my life is wherever you are?’
He phrased it as a question, but he knew the answer.
Undoubtedly, she was. Javier had built an empire from nothing but the ruins of his life and he’d done it by following his instincts.
Of certain things, he was so sure he knew without doubt that he was right.
This was one of them. Astrid wasn’t there with him yet, but she would be.
He’d bring her along on this journey, she just had to see what he did.
‘From the minute this thing started up, it’s gotten out of hand. This isn’t what either of us expected, going into it, right?’
She shook her head quickly, but with a look of dismissal that briefly shook his confidence. Not in what he wanted, but in what she did.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, firmly. ‘I have to get married and it’s not going to be to you.’
‘Why not to me?’