‘Why?’
It was a whispered plea, a request for truth, and so he spoke the truth that was at his core in that moment.
‘Because I don’t want to be alone right now.’
She hesitated. ‘Is there someone I can call for you?’
No one. He was alone. His gut churned. It was how he wanted it, how it had to be, and yet the creeping sense of isolation spread through him, turning his veins to ice. Of course, there was always Xiomara, the cousin with whom he was close, but even his relationship with her was complicated, and at times tainted by the fact that her father had been, in Octavio’s eyes, responsible for their uncle Rodrigo’s death. He wouldn’t put Xiomara in the position of coming here, now.
‘No.’
A soft sigh. ‘Can I do something for you, sir? Would you like a tea? Coffee? Something stronger?’
His lips twisted. ‘The latter.’
‘Of course, Your Majesty.’
‘Don’t do that.’
She blinked, surprised. And no wonder. He was acting out of character yet he couldn’t stop himself.
‘Just—call me Octavio.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, I really can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘My job—it’s against protocol.’
A wry grimace tilted his lips. ‘Who is going to know?’
‘Well,’ she prevaricated. ‘No one, I suppose. But I—’
He waited for her to elaborate. ‘I am asking you to treat me like a man, not a king. When I leave here and return there—’ he nodded towards the palace, glistening like a beacon, calling to him ‘—I will be Your Majesty again. But now, I am just a man who is grieving his uncle.’ Grieving his parents, his family, all of it. ‘Treat me like a man.’
She moved towards the kitchen and removed a glass from the cabinet. He stood, striding across to her. ‘Join me.’
Again, those eyes changed colour, to almost an emerald green. Fascinating. Her lashes were long and dark, curling and soft.
‘Do you mind if I make an observation?’
One single brow lifted.
‘You do not act like any man I’ve ever met. Treating you like one would be…difficult.’
‘In what ways do I differ?’
‘Seriously?’ A small laugh escaped then but she stifled it, glancing at him with that frustratingly deferential expression of apology.
‘Yes, I am serious.’
‘Well…’ She looked around, lost for words. ‘You’re…just very regal.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that you’re clearly used to giving commands and to having them obeyed.’
‘Is that a bad thing?’
