His lips twitched as if he was battling a smile. She didn’t see what was so funny. This was an impossible situation. There was no way she would let him be uncomfortable for the entirety of their stay. And what if the staff entered to find one of them sleeping on the couch? They were definitely on hand. As discreet as she was sure they were, gossip would get out, and all the hard work they were doing—had already done to ensure everyone believed the monarchy stood strong—would be undone.
There was just no way around this.
‘I appreciate you thinking of my comfort,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t say I would sleep on the couch.’
It took her a moment to understand his words. ‘But you can’t sleep elsewhere. What happens if the staff notice? Or a picture gets out? We can’t afford the gossip.Ican’t afford the gossip.’
‘We’ll handle it,’ he said gruffly.
‘I refuse to give anyone ammunition to use against me. Most of your advisors are already against my being Queen. My goals are too important to jeopardise. Look, I know what we agreed to, but we’re going to be sharing a bed in the palace anyway.’
She could see him thinking it through. He looked as if he wanted to say no. Did he think sharing with her would be so bad? she wondered.
‘Are you certain you are prepared for that?’
‘Yes,’ she lied.
He didn’t look as if he believed her.
‘Very well,’ he said stiffly.
Helia couldn’t get a read on him. Only knew that he was far more tense than he had been at any point during the day so far—including when he had strapped her into the helicopter seat. Perhaps an escape would do them both good.
‘I’m going for a walk.’
She hoped the sea air would settle all her conflicting feelings.
Helia returned to the chalet after dark, having had time to process what the week might possibly be like. Vasili was nowhere to be found, so she ordered room service, which she enjoyed on her own, and then readied herself for bed.
She wheeled her suitcase into the bathroom, cursing as she pawed through it. Her earlier gratitude for having her wardrobe changed had vanished, and was now replaced with mortification. She had already come to terms with the fact that her own wardrobe was not fit for royalty, but surely her nightwear didn’t have to be collateral damage in this war on her identity. No one would ever see her in it.
Unfortunately, as she picked through everything that had been packed for her, she found nothing that she would have chosen for herself. No comfy yoga pants or soft shirts.
Every negligee was more flimsy or weblike than the last. She could appreciate the beauty of them, the luxurious feel of the fabric, but how could she wear something like these without Vasili thinking that she was accepting his terms when she hadn’t yet come to a decision?
Helia put on what she thought to be the most modest of the lot. The deep red satin was vivid against her olive skin, but at least it covered her up.
She shut off the light and stepped back into the bedroom to find Vasili already in bed. He was sitting against the headboard, shirtless, paying no mind to her as he read something on his phone.
She had felt the hardness of his body, had seen the way he moved with a powerful grace, but she was still not prepared for the vision of his naked chest, which looked as if it had been carved from stone. The sculpted, shadowed dips and peaks of his stomach were highlighted by the lamplight. The bedcovers were tossed carelessly around his hips, and she could just make out the band of his underwear.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Vasili was glorious.
Her heart gave a sharp throb, and she realised that she had been staring.
She forced herself to move and, as carefully as she could, slunk towards the bed, slowly climbing beneath the covers to avoid catching his attention. She settled as close to the edge as possible, trying exceptionally hard to ignore the fact that she was now sharing a bed with the man she was impossibly attracted to but from whom she was determined to keep her distance.
‘You’re going to fall out of the bed. Come closer.’
When she didn’t listen, Vasili dropped his phone onto the duvet and reached around her, pulling her away from the edge. The touch scalded him to his core. His body rejoiced at her nearness.
He hadn’t been able to concentrate on a single word in the email he had been reading. How could he have been expected to concentrate when he had felt Helia’s gaze dragging across his body like a touch? How could his every nerve not have been attuned to her when she’d walked out of that bathroom looking like an enticing dream? If the people of Thalonia had still believed in mythological deities, she would undoubtedly have been one.
He tried not looking at her, hoping that would be enough to wrangle the arousal coursing through him into submission. He had to control himself. He would not make this any more uncomfortable for her than it already was. Helia had agreed to this marriage without being given much of a choice, and to him that was no consent at all.
Which was why he had said there would be no physical relationship. No matter how much he wanted to slip his hand under all that satin, explore her body... It was the very reason he wanted to sleep away from her—he couldn’t allow it.
He took a breath to master himself. Not that it helped much when he could smell her floral fragrance and wondered if she would smell that sweet everywhere.
