‘What else?’ His voice was gruff.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Is there anything else I should know? Anything that will hit the papers and read like a scandal?’
‘Anything else that makes me a liability, you mean?’ she enquired sharply, and then sighed. ‘This is so far from what you imagined, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
Her heart dropped. ‘I bet you wish we’d never met.’
She’d said the words flippantly, but the longer the silence stretched between them, the more she realised she needed him to contradict her. She needed him to reassure her.
And he did, finally, but not as Phoebe wanted. ‘I’ll never wish that. For a long time, the order of succession has plagued me, and now this. Within months, two legitimate heirs will be born. Believe it or not, apart from having to sort out some logistics, this is good news for me.’
It was nothing to do with Phoebe and it was nothing to do with their babies as people, it was all about the power-brokering and importance of an heir to the King.
‘Great,’ she said, the word dripping with sarcasm. ‘Well, that’s pretty much the only scandal in my life. Everything else has been squeaky clean. But you were right that day… I’m definitely not someone who’s been groomed in any way whatsoever to become a queen.’
‘We can take care of that. You’ll undertake lessons here—in protocol, history, languages, politics. By the time the babies arrive, you’ll be every bit as regal as if you were born a princess.’
Her heart was heavy with hurt.
She wasn’t good enough for him. He wasn’t the kind of man to take her, just as she was. He wanted to change her, to improve her, to make her more suitable for him and this role. She’d been a cleaner and he’d used her for sex, he’d propositioned her for more sex, and now he was trying to turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse. He was expecting her to play a part, to sell this. At least, that’s what it felt like to Phoebe.
She tried not to show how offended she was, but she knew her eyes were likely awash with pain. If he saw it, he didn’t say anything to ease the feeling.
‘I have two press releases to show you.’
She went very still. Octavio pulled a couple of pieces of paper from his pocket and slid them across the table. Phoebe picked them up and read the first one:
While I understand the temptation to create rumours around long-standing friendships, I am now reiterating the fact that His Majesty Octavio de la Rosa and I are nothing but friends, brought together by our parents’ closeness. In fact, I would like to be the first to congratulate him on his impending marriage. I have never seen him so happy, and I wish him and Miss James all the very best.
‘From Sasha,’ he explained needlessly.
Phoebe flicked to the second statement.
His Royal Highness King Octavio de la Rosa is delighted to announce his engagement to Miss Phoebe James. Their relationship has been conducted in private, and earlier this week the decision was made to marry.
They are also delighted to announce that they are expecting twins, due late in the Autumn.
The couple asks that their privacy be respected at this joyous time.
She stared at the words until they made sense. There was just enough there to make it seem plausible that this was a love match—that their twins had been conceived and their relationship was one of several months rather than three nights—before the truth about her pregnancy came out, as surely it would.
She pushed the papers back towards him, nausea rising in her belly.
‘When would these go out?’
‘Our social media channels would push them at the same time—tomorrow afternoon. That gives us a chance to have an official portrait taken first.’
She groaned. ‘An official portrait?’
‘Without it, the press will be clamouring for whatever they can get their hands on. That could be anything from anyone. Let’s remove as much of that as possible and simply provide an image.’
Phoebe’s gut rolled. ‘This is really happening, isn’t it?’
‘Apparently.’
