Page 45 of Off-Limits To The Crown Prince

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers. ‘I deserve that. But I’d still like you to hear what I have to say. Please.’

She studied him now, in a way she hadn’t allowed herself only moments before. Part curiosity, part need. Those lines around his eyes that creased when he smiled appeared more pronounced, though the look wasn’t a happy one. There were dark smudges underneath his eyes as if she’d run her charcoal-covered fingers there. That thought was a reminder of a blissful afternoon on Stefano’s yacht when everything had seemed so perfect. But she shouldn’t reminisce about those few days—they were long gone. Still, listening didn’t cost her much and might give them both some closure, far enough away from their tortured last day. She stepped back and allowed him in. He crowded out the small entry foyer.

‘Come to the studio.’

That was her war room, where she usually felt competent and safe. Though everything seemed a risk to her right now. Once again, Alessio was her greatest danger, and yet she still wanted to poke her fingers into the fire and be burned. But she’d remind them both of her place in his life.

‘I should thank you for the payment, even though you went against my wishes.’

‘I took two weeks of your time. It was the least I could do.’

The least he could do... The pain of that morning roared back in a rush and she couldn’t hold it in. She didn’t care any more, striding right up to him, invading his space. Wanting to push him away and hold on tight, all at the same time. The burn of tears pricked at her eyes, but she wasdonecrying. Too many tears had been shed over him already.

She planted her hands on her hips. Better than reaching out to touch.

‘I would have walked away, at the end of it all. After those two weeks, I would have stepped onto a plane and you would never have heard from me again.’ As much as her heart had rebelled at the time, it was what she would have done because he was looking for someone other than her. Because she loved him and that was what you were supposed to do when you loved something: you set it free. ‘But you cheapenedeverything. Turned something beautiful into something dirty.’

‘I know. Only one of us was acting like an adult that day. I hurt you intentionally.’

She bit on her lower lip, hoping the sting might take her mind off the pain his admission caused.

‘Is that what this is, a kind of sorry? You didn’t need to fly all the way here. You could have sent a card.My deepest apologies for being a jerk. Maybe some flowers as a final kind of blow-off.’

Alessio stood there. Immaculate. Impassive. Taking what she gave. Even though he appeared a little careworn, it only added to his underlying appeal.

‘I’ll never forgive myself for how I treated you. I was afraid of what I felt but the coward in me chose to believe I meant no more to you than the money I could provide. That’smyissue. I shouldn’t have cheapened the most treasured time of my life because of fear, when the perpetrator of the press leak was closer to home.’

‘Who talked?’ Alessio trusted everyone in the palace. He had assured her that what they had could be kept secret. And yet someone had betrayed him. It had to hurt for a man like Alessio, that misplaced confidence. She saw the cracks in his façade then, not only the two-day growth and tired eyes, but also his slightly paler skin. The tightness around his mouth. All of him looking older and more deeply etched than before.

‘Stefano.’

It was as if a rock had settled in the pit of her stomach. She almost reached out to him, to comfort. But Alessio hadn’t wanted her before, and if he pushed her away again she might never recover. There were some memories she wouldn’t allow to become any more tainted.

‘I’m sorry.’ She meant it. She understood betrayal from someone she should have been able to trust too. ‘Did he say why?’

Alessio might have been cruel to her but she wouldn’t be the same to him. She was better than that. He walked over to the battered table holding her paint, brushes and palette.

‘His intentions were good, but misplaced. And yet I can’t find it in my heart to blame him.’ He mindlessly sorted through the tubes of paint. Picked one up. ‘Alizarin Crimson. The colour of righteous anger.’

He might have smiled then. Something about him seemed to lighten for a moment, the hint of his lips turning up at the corners. It softened him, like a dry brush smudging over the sharp edges of a painted line.

‘You remembered,’ she said. A door inside her that should have been locked tight opened a fraction. But they wanted different things, didn’t they? He’d told her from the beginning. Yet her silly heart simply craved to beat to a singular rhythm.

Alessio’s.

‘I remember everything. I can’t forget. But I’m not good at the words for this.’ He took off his coat, tossed it on the worn couch. Loosened his tie, as if he was going into a battle of another kind. An emotional one. ‘I don’t know how to be anything other than the Prince of Lasserno. It’s all I was trained for. Then I received the portrait and drawings. And I finally saw myself through your eyes. I want to bethatman. The one in the picture. I want to be that man, for you.’

Everything stopped. The silence, as if the universe waited and yet she couldn’t quite fathom the words.

‘What are you saying?’

‘Do I have a chance to make this right?’

All colour in the world flooded back in a rush, as though things were too bright, too real. But the threat of his words crept up like some choking vine round her throat. That this couldn’t work, that dreams didn’t come true. Yet when she looked at him, all she saw on his face was hope. And her choice became clear. Saying no meant fear had won. Hannah was tired of losing that battle. She’d been afraid for long enough. It meant there was only one answer to give. So she let that hope fill her and overflow as she prepared to say one simple word.

‘Yes.’

Yes.That single syllable went off like a bomb in Alessio’s head, shattering everything. A chance. A fragile chance to repair what he’d broken. Build anew. She stood before him like a warrior. Tall. Proud. Putting him to shame. In her worn jeans with rips at the knees that perhaps hung a bit more loosely than the last time he’d seen her in them. Her hair in a messy topknot, strands falling about her face. Her green eyes flashing bright and vibrant, a warning to him that nothing here was certain. And yet he knew today was about laying his soul bare for her to trample on as she saw fit, even if it meant he lost the precious chance she’d granted him. Now was the time to be brave. As brave as her.

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