Page 13 of Her Red Hot Secret Royal Fling

“No, it’s nice. A lot of people seem to think they have to suck up to me. I like that you’re just yourself.”

“Does that wear thin?”

“The sucking up?”

She nodded. “I mean, I could tolerate it for a while,” she joked, waving a hand in the air, before sobering. “But this is your life. You must get a bit fed up with it all.”

Something shifted in his expression. The mirth was gone, replaced by a look of something like resignation. “I’m used to it.”

“Because it’s how it’s always been?”

“Not always. But for a long time.”

She could have kicked herself for her stupidity because of course she knew the sad truth of Ares’s childhood. He hadn’t been born to rule. He was born second in line, after his older brother, who had died, along with their parents, when Ares was only fifteen years old. On that day, she imagined, his whole world had changed, but far beyond the normal changes wrought by grief. He had gone from being a prince to the King in waiting, and all that entailed.

“Ready for breakfast?” He changed the subject, and she supposed she was glad because it was far too heavy to ask him about that episode of his life at this hour. Or possibly ever.

“Yes,” she said, changing gears. “And while we eat, maybe you could tell me more about the development.”

He laughed softly. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’ve been told that’s one of my best traits.”

He took a step closer, and her smile dropped as her heart slowed. His finger lifted and pressed the tip of her nose. “I’d be hard-pressed to pick a best trait,” he said, simply, and artlessly, so it felt true and real, and her whole body seemed to separate from the physical and soar, cloud-like, into the highest tree limbs. She had to get a grip—this was getting out of hand.

And she was kind of loving that.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE MORE HE SPOKE ABOUT the development, the more determined Sofia became to win the work, and the more convinced she was that the Santoros were the best people for the job. Convincing Ares was another matter.

“It will be a process,” he said after they’d had a short break for lunch and had resumed their trek—a steady incline now, up a narrow path, meaning they had to walk single file. She followed after him, so he could keep an eye out for any rock slippage on the path.

“What kind of process?”

He tossed her an exasperated look, though it was tinged with mocking humour. “You seriously don’t give up, do you?”

“I thought you liked that about me.”

He turned away from her again, pushing a palm frond out of the way and holding it until Sofia had passed. It brought her delightfully close to his body and she took advantage of the fact to inhale deeply as she brushed by him, absorbing his fragrance and warmth.

“I do. Tenacity is always a good trait. But I come out here to escape the responsibilities of the palace for a while, not to be reminded of them.”

She considered that, with a not inconsiderable amount of guilt. “Can you ever really escape?” she asked, thoughtfully.

“No.”

“But you still try?”

He was quiet for a moment, and then, “I misspoke. It’s not about escape, it’s about—resetting. Sometimes, you lose perspective in the palace, and getting out here, into my own head, lets me remember what I want to focus on. What’s important. What I can change, what I can’t.”

A very healthy mindset to have, she thought. And here she was, using up his free time for her own advantage. “I’m sorry I invaded your escape.”

“I invited Salvatore,” he reminded her. “It was already going to be a different kind of trip.”

“Hmm.” That did very little to alleviate her sudden onset of guilt. “Still…”

“I allowed you to come.”

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