He frowned a little. ‘I don’t actually know. I keep reminding myself how mad I am with you, but then, when I’m with you, I find it hard to remember that. I suppose I find myself thinking about the future, and the fact we’re having babies and wondering if we shouldn’t try to let bygones be bygones, to some extent. If I think about you leaving the country, pregnant with my children, and never telling me the truth, I am furious. And yet, that didn’t happen. Maybe it never would have happened; who knows? You’re here, we’re married, our babies will grow up as my children, my heirs. I have no interest in hating you for the sake of it.’
She let out a long, slow breath.
If only it were that easy.
Maybe it could be?
But when she looked at Octavio, it was impossible not to feel wary. Wary of how he’d hurt her, when he’d asked her to be his mistress. Making her feel as though that was all she’d ever be good for. Reminding her so clearly of how Christopher had made her feel. Breaking her all over again. Not her heart but something more than that—her belief in herself; her essence.
She didn’t want to hate him either, but she was afraid to like him too much as well.
But so long as she remembered—rememberedeverything—like how easily Christopher had deceived her, how trusting she’d been. Like how Octavio hadn’t been interested in her as a person—not in terms of wanting anything from her beyond sex—before he’d learned about the pregnancy. This was and always would be about the twins; so long as she didn’t forget that, she’d be fine. Maybe she could even take a page out of his book and let bygones be bygones…
CHAPTER NINE
THEYSHAREDBREAKFASTat an intimate café with views of the water and a small but excellent menu. Phoebe had woken starving and chose a magdalena as well as a frittata, washed down with a glass of orange juice. Afterwards, they walked the main street together. Phoebe glanced in shop windows at first, but as they walked, side by side without touching, she became more and more aware of the attention they were drawing. Not just the handful of photographers Octavio had suggested might be lurking but also regular tourists, all armed with their cell phones, taking photographs and videos and no doubt sharing them online.
It had been a beautiful start to the day, but Phoebe’s patience quickly wore thin.
‘Shall we get back to the villa?’ he asked, as if reading her mind.
She glanced at him gratefully. ‘Yeah. I’d like that.’
They drove most of the way in silence, Phoebe frowning a little as she lost herself in thought. After a while though, she turned to face him. ‘Do you really get used to it?’
‘For the most part.’
‘Does that happen often?’
‘Pretty much everywhere I go.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s just so invasive.’
‘Mostly it comes from a good place. People are curious about my life.’
‘Because you’re a king?’
‘And because my parents died when I was so young. I was orphaned. There was a lot of sympathy for me.’
She reached across, putting her hand on his knee in a gesture of comfort. She didn’t say anything—she didn’t need to. They’d discussed grief and loss; he knew how she felt. He knew she was sorry for anyone to suffer in that way.
As they approached, the gates swung open to allow his car to pass through them, and Phoebe expelled a sigh of relief. ‘The town is beautiful but I like it here better.’
‘I should have known. It’s too soon.’ He reached across, stroked her cheek as though he couldn’t help himself. ‘On the other hand, it will further sell our story as being legitimate.’
Phoebe’s eyes widened. Was that what breakfast had been about? Had it all been for show? To display her around town, so the press could get images and feed the public’s insatiable appetite for news on the royal couple?
She bit back a groan. Hadn’t she just been telling herself that so long as sheremembered, everything would be fine? And instead she’d been swept up in how decent he’d been behaving, treating her like a normal person. She’d forgotten that he was tactical, always thinking about his kingdom, his duties, treating her as anything but a whole, normal person that mattered.
She put her hand on the door the moment he parked, and opened it gratefully, stepping outside and breathing in, trying to anchor herself firmly to reality. But here, in this beautiful place, everything inside of her seemed to be shifting and changing, making it hard to know what she felt and wanted.
He walked closely behind her, and when they were inside he said, ‘I’m going to catch up on some work. Take a look around—there’s a well-stocked library, a media room with all the streaming services, a gym. Do whatever you want. Just—becareful.’ His eyes dropped to her stomach. As if she needed any further reminders that this was all just about the babies!
He resisted the urge—but only just—to lock the door to his office. He’d come so close to reaching out and touching her stomach again, to touchingher, to drawing her close to him and asking if he could kiss her. He’d wanted to drag her against his body all morning. In town, their hands had brushed as they’d walked. Such an innocent gesture, and yet it had been almost incendiary to Octavio, who felt as though he was burning up with desire for his wife.
But she’d made it obvious she didn’t want that. Even when on one level she did, she was determined to avoid it—and him. And he had to respect that. So he buried his head in his work, surprised to find it was mid-afternoon before he looked up and wondered where Phoebe was.
He strode from the office, telling himself he was looking for a late lunch rather than his bride, but when he couldn’t immediately see her in the house, worry began to curdle in his gut. He quickened his pace and stepped out onto the terrace, scanning the ocean. No Phoebe.
