Page 31 of Her Red Hot Secret Royal Fling

“I expected that.”

She glanced back down at their documents, wondering at the frustration in her belly. Frustration because the conversation had moved on, and she still hadn’t got the answers she wanted, about Ares’s personal life.Let it go,a voice in her headcounselled. This wasn’t her business. And if she wanted to know something about Ares, she should show him the respect of asking directly, not snooping around behind his back.

And yet, despite that, she heard herself say, “Did you ever meet her?”

“Who?”

Damn him! Salvatore was speaking as if he was trying to troll her. “Louisa,” she said, not succeeding in keeping the irritation from her tone.

“Oh. Yes. A few times, actually.”

This time, the emotion tightening in her gut was unmistakable. Jealousy. She was jealous to imagine Ares with another woman, particularly someone he’d been with for a long time. She was particularly jealous to imagine that woman spending time with the Santoros. But why the hell should she be jealous? She’d just met the man, and despite their off-the-charts chemistry, there was nothing between them. When she left Moricosia, she’d probably never see him again, except in a professional capacity, should they be awarded the project. Even then, Sofia intended to stop working for the Santoros, so it wasn’t like she’d be on the team overseeing construction personally. Which meant they had the rest of this week, and that would be the end of it. Why should she care that Ares had a history with other women—and a future with them, too? Why should it matter that the Santoros had met Louisa?

“She’s great,” Salvatore was continuing conversationally, topping up their coffees from a silver pot. “Funny, smart, beautiful, and even though she came from an aristocratic background herself, she was super down to earth. She came from a really close-knit family. We all liked her a lot.”

Sofia’s hands were gripping the pen so tightly she thought it might break. She forced herself to lay it down on the table and spread her fingers wide, to ease the tension flooding her body.

“I asked him what happened; he said it just didn’t work out. I guess it’s still too hard to talk about.”

“You think he’s still in love with her?”

Salvatore shrugged. “I get the feeling the breakup was definitely not his choice.”

Sofia’s heart sank, even though it just confirmed everything she already believed. Ares was loyal, and he’d loved Louisa. Probably still loved her.

He’d been honest with Sofia about that, honest when he’d told her this was a rebound fling, that he couldn’t offer her more than that. And she’d gone along with it because that was all she wanted too. It wasstillall she wanted. But weirdly, that no longer seemed to be one hundred per cent the case.

It wasn’t like she thought they had a future, nor that she wanted them to. It was just a little less straightforward now that she knew Ares better.

Only, there was no option for them but this. A temporary fling—short and sweet, or sensual and spicy. On their first night, she’d made her peace with that and had expected to walk away without a backward glance at the end of the week. She was no longer so naïve. She’d walk away, with her head held high, but she suspected she’d spend a long time looking back, remembering, and occasionally wondering, ‘what if?’…

CHAPTER NINE

FRUSTRATION WAS EATING SOFIA alive. Every minute of the day had dragged, then the hours, and she’d felt a little as though she were treading water. It had never occurred to her that she might not see Ares that night at all, but having dined with Salvatore at a restaurant in town –Ares said we should go check it out,Salvatore had said casually – and returned to the palace just before eleven, Sofia’s stomach had dropped to her toes, because clearly she was going to spend the night alone, in her luxurious palace guest suite.

And the thought filled her veins with ice.

She showered slowly, soaping her body until it was covered in foam then patting herself down with a loofah, rinsing off, and finally stepping out into a steamy bathroom and reaching for a thick, luxurious towel and drying off. She stood naked before the mirror and applied her face moisturizer, then rubbed a different cream over her body, ignoring the over-sensitised nerve endings courtesy of the way Ares had touched her in the forest. But she couldn’t ignore the dark bruise like mark just above one breast, and another on her hip. As she ran her finger over them, memories pierced the present—recollections of the way his mouth had lingered there, sucking, teasing, and marking, almostas if to remind her, when they were apart, that on some level, a part of her belonged to a part of him.

It was an archaic yet accurate thought, and it spread a possessive kind of heat through her body. If she was his, then he was hers, too. Just for this week, but that didn’t change the fact that they’d both been struck by a kind of lightning out there, and rather than getting burned by it, they’d managed to catch it with their hands and hold it alight between them.

At least, she’d thought they had, but if Ares was anywhere near as affected by this as Sofia was, then where the hell was he?

Wasn’t he champing at the bit to pick up where they’d left off?

Hadn’t he been driven crazy by need all day, too?

She strode back into her room and reached into her suitcase, removing a silk nightgown which fell to her ankles and had a lace detail at the top, pulling it on over her head and ignoring the way the silk felt against her nipples. As the fabric rustled down her body, a knock sounded at the door, so she startled, squawked, and reached for her robe, pulling it around her body before striding across the floor. All she could think—hope—was that Ares would be on the other side.

Disappointment spread through her when she pulled it open and saw not Ares, but a palace servant, formally dressed and holding a silver tray of tea and biscuits.

“Refreshments,” the servant explained, as Sofia stepped out of his way with a small frown, watching as the plate was laid out. She was about to demur, to say she didn’t need anything, when she caught sight of an envelope near the teapot, with her name handwritten across the front.

She’d never seen Ares’s handwriting before, but something about the shape of the letters conveyed such decisive strength, she somehow just knew the envelope and tray had been sent by him.

Excitement trilled inside of her and she could barely wait until the servant had left before she was crossing the room and, with fingers that trembled slightly, peeling open the envelope and withdrawing a single piece of thick card. The top was embossed with a crown and beneath it was Ares full name, in a bold, serif font.

He had written:

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