Page 7 of His Forever Princess

"Your safety is my priority," he said.

She turned her head slightly toward him. He moved, and they were looking at each other from only inches away. For one breathless moment, she thought about crossing the small space. She missed his kisses. Desperately.

"If you have to miss the press conference with the ambassador, is there someone who can speak in your place?" he asked.

She didn't want to think about that, but sighed and tipped her chin toward the ceiling, breaking eye contact. "I suppose Ronald Arnault is the one who knows most about it."

Gideon was lying still, but somehow when she spoke Ronald’s name, he froze. Was he even breathing?

"We'll talk about it tomorrow." He spoke the words with finality and rolled over onto his side, facing away from her.

What had just happened? For a fraction of a moment, she'd thought that maybe he would soften toward her. Maybe they would have a chance to clear the air.

But her timing was off, as usual. He must be exhausted. He was injured.

And she was suddenly buried under the weight of all of it. Trying to keep up her facade. She had never used to hide her true self from Gideon. But there was such a chasm between them.

She would prove she could hold her own during this perilous time. She wasn't helpless like she had been when they first met.

And she had a duty. A job to complete for the crown. She wouldn't shirk her responsibility.

Gideon was reasonable. She held on to the reminder tightly. They could work together.

* * *

Where did we go wrong?

Alessandra's words echoed through Gideon's mind even after she'd fallen asleep.

Her head had turned toward him on the pillow and her even breaths sent warm air across the bare skin of his neck.

All of this was wrong.

He knew that's not what she'd been asking, but he couldn't help thinking it.

It should never have come to gunshots in a crowded ballroom.

If he'd lived in the Glorvaird palace with his wife, he would have known the seriousness of this threat. She wouldn't have been able to hide it from him.

It was thoughts of the other things she wouldn't be able to keep hidden that had kept him from her side all these years.

Ronald Arnault.

Gideon had known the other man would be trouble the moment they'd met in one of the many palace meeting rooms. He should've listened to his gut. He should've been there when his wife needed him.

Not that she would've asked. Ten years after their marriage, the Triple H had experienced a span of difficult years. A country-wide drought, a larger-than-usual loss of cattle to sickness, and Carrie's husband, Trey, had gone through treatments for cancer.

Gideon had come back to Texas, even knowing that Alessandra was tied to Glorvaird, to her duties to the crown. And that's when everything had gone wrong.

How he hated that word. Duty.

If it weren't for his duty to the family ranch and legacy...

If Alessandra had a few less responsibilities...

What had once been a happy, if busy, marriage hadn't survived their individual lives tearing them apart.

And Arnault had been there to pull the pin on the grenade that blew everything up.

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