Page 16 of Crowned For The King's Secret

‘WhatI’vedone? Look.Lookat this.’

He thrust the screen to her face and it contained what appeared to be a grainy photo in black and white she had trouble understanding. Were those piles of crumpled clothes? Then there were pools of dark behind. Something a bit charred. Was that...an arm? Then it dawned on her. That grainy picture looked like a crime scene. Nausea twisted in her gut as saliva flooded her mouth. She swallowed it down.

‘My God, what is that?’

She didn’t understand any of this. It was too horrifying to contemplate. She held Nic tighter and he squirmed. Was Sandro...threatening her? What sort of man would keep photographs like that on his phone?

‘This is what was left of my parents. My father’s half-brother did that to them when he stole the throne in a midnight coup.’

‘Why are you showing me that photograph? Why do you have it?’

Her words sounded faint to her own ears. Sandro slipped his phone back into his pocket. The people in black on the tarmac kept their distance, some moving to the plane, others getting things from the car. For the first time in a long time, she felt inconsequential.

Sandro’s jaw clenched, his mouth a hard and brutal line.

‘It’s a reminder, whenever I forget what my uncle and cousin are capable of. Do you think that he won’t do the same to you? You brought his attention to Nic. Every time he visited your home, he was likely scheming how to get rid of you and use my son to return to the throne. You may have thought to gain money and power by contacting him, but if you don’t get on this plane there’s no place safe for you and Nicolai. You’ll be seen as an impediment to be disposed of. My son will be a pawn in his sick game for ever.’

Her head spun. She gripped the car door to steady herself. The only representative ever to come into her home was the one from the palace. Wasn’t he? She didn’t know what Sandro was talking about, but Nic and her in danger? She’d thought the danger was here. Now it seemed as if it was everywhere.

‘I—I don’t understand.’

‘It’s simple, Victoria. I’m your only chance of survival.’ He fixed her with his cold, hard gaze. ‘You should have done better research before getting into bed with a murderer.’

CHAPTER THREE

SANDROPINCHEDTHEbridge of his nose as their entourage made their way through the halls of the palace. He’d downed painkillers on the plane, and they were barely holding back the headache he knew was to come could he not find a few hours of peace in a dark room. At least there had been silence on the journey here. As he’d expected after his show-and-tell on the tarmac, Victoria had boarded the private jet in quiet mutiny. He hadn’t wanted to show her that photograph, so deeply painful and private as it was. Yet it’d achieved its aim. Keeping Nic safe.

Victoria followed them now, as silent as she had been on the plane. Still holding his son, as she’d done during their trip. Narrating their journey with fake excitement to keep him calm during take-off. Rocking him to sleep in her arms in the back seats. If he hadn’t known who she was and what she’d done to hide his son from him, it would have made a beautiful scene. Like Madonna and child. Yet she was no innocent here.

They arrived at the suite Security had chosen for her, one of the few they’d made habitable after what had been done to the palace during the twenty-five years of his uncle’s and cousin’s reigns. In the areas they’d resided they had replaced the palace’s most well-loved treasures with their own idea of what it meant to be king. All gold and gaudiness. Turning the castle from what had been a seat of power, a workplace and a home into a bordello that would take years and money he doubted the country could afford to repair.

‘This is where you’ll reside,’ he said, opening the door. She walked inside the large space, seeming to be dwarfed by it as she wrapped herself around Nic, who looked around wide-eyed. In this imposing room it was as if she was somehow weighed down by it all. A sensation prickled uncomfortably in his chest. Sandro rubbed it away.

‘There’s some clothing in the wardrobe,’ Sandro went on. Photographs of her taken by Security in their surveillance had been enough for a personal shopper to put something practical together quickly, given it was a mystery request from the palace.

Victoria said nothing, just turned in a slow circle, the smallest of frowns on her face.

‘A nursery is through that door.’ He pointed but she didn’t look. He wanted some reaction. Outrage, anger. He didn’t know why he found the lack of it troubling, just as he couldn’t understand why he’d found her fury on the tarmac so satisfying. Then she fixed her eyes on him, and they were the colour of stone chips, sharp and hard.

‘I’d like to speak with you about this farcical situation.’

‘I’m listening.’

Though he knew what she’d say. She wanted to go back to England. Whilst she might speak, he’d do nothing she requested. She was here, and she needed to get used to it. Unless she wanted to leave his son and fend for herself.

He looked at Nic, snuggled into her arms, sucking his thumb. So peaceful.Happy.As much as he loathed it, his child needed her.

Victoria nodded to his security detail. ‘Alone.’

‘They’re interested in my safety.’

‘They didn’t seem to be at myhomewhen they left you alone with me. Of course, what was I going to do, run you through with a child’s drumstick? And what am I going to do now? Brain you with a box of rusks?’ Her gaze narrowed as she looked right at his head. ‘Tempting as that might be right at this minute.’

‘I’m sure my personal protection could list any number of risks to my safety from you.’

Though perhaps not his equilibrium, however much he’d never admit that to anyone. She still affected him. No matter what she’d done, his reaction was the same. Heat. Need. Wrapped up with his anger at her duplicity, it was an explosive mix. Like nitric acid and glycerine.

‘Fine.’

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