Page 45 of Crowned For The King's Secret

Yet no matter how furious he was, he was the King. He would live up to the expectations set by his parents, of those who’d kept him alive as a figurehead for the moment he could walk back into his country as its leader. Because he had a message to pass on, and he would make sure each person here heard it.

He stood, glaring at the prisoner. The prisoner glared back, bruises blooming on his face. Sandro didn’t waver. He hoped this would-be assassin could see the loathing and contempt on his face. Then the man looked away and Sandro took it as capitulation.

‘You think you can win, but you won’t,’ he said, so quietly the man almost leaned forward to hear, before checking himself. ‘Your employer’s come for me before and failed. Yet I treated him with more grace than he deserved so long as he disappeared into history. No more. You made a fatal error, coming after myson. For that, there’ll be no forgiveness. No mercy unless you tell us where Gregorio is. I want him now, like never before.’

He’d thought he could keep Victoria and Nic safe, and all he’d done was place them in greater danger. He’d essentially forced her into another arranged marriage, after the disaster of her first. A woman who deserved the love he couldn’t give to her. The safety he’d failed to provide. She was owed more thanhim. It was a modern world. He didn’t have to be married to the mother of his son. She didn’t need to be queen. He could find another, even though the thought of it stabbed a pain through his heart. His obligation now was to keep her safe, Nic safe. He had no higher calling than that.

He placed his hands on the battered tabletop, cold under his fingers. Leaned forward, and the man’s eyes widened as he pressed into his seat.

‘Fail to give the Pretender to me and I promise I’ll rain hell down on all of you and I will not stop until you’re crushed like dirt under my shoe.’

Sandro had lied. The truth rang in his mind loud and clear. In truth, he would never stop. Not until he was assured Victoria and Nicolai were safe.

Victoria sat on the sofa, fidgeting. She tried to look at her computer again. Attempting to answer emails with an international humane society working in Santa Fiorina to talk about funding for local organisations, but even that had trouble holding her interest. It had been a little over three weeks since the terrifying night when intruders had entered the palace. A shudder ran down her spine. She’d been told little about what had happened, which she supposed was meant not to scare her but the lack of information made her imagine all kinds of horrors. Her security had been increased and their world had become small, consisting of their suite, the kitchens, and the garden because she’d insisted that the mother cat and kittens had become reliant on the food she gave them. They were getting tame now and it gave her and Nic something to do other than stare at their suite’s walls and worry. Because she had barely seen Sandro.

Sure, he’d come in the evening to say goodnight to Nic but he wouldn’t stay, saying he had work to do. Sometimes, late at night, she’d wake as he slipped into bed beside her, not moving because it was clear he only did so because he thought she was asleep.

He’d be gone before morning.

She knew a few things from Security, or what they had deigned to tell her. The announcement of their engagement had been postponed, until the situation was more stable. There was a prisoner who might have been providing them with information. They might have been close to finding Sandro’s cousin, which was why Sandro was so busy. All ifs, buts and maybes.

But there was none of the passionate lovemaking her body now craved. No conversations over a coffee when Sandro asked about her day, Nic’s, when they talked like a normal couple. Nothing. And she missed him in a way that she should have had trouble understanding after all that had come before. Except she’d begun to realise that what he’d done all along was try to protect them, no matter how poorly he’d gone about it. Because he had trouble trusting anyone after what he’d gone through.

A lot like her.

She shut down her computer, not knowing what to do with herself. It was later than normal, Nic already in bed. When that happened, Sandro usually just stood in the room, watching over their sleeping child. She wanted him here now. The world had fallen dark outside and her heart beat a little faster, the fears creeping in. She shouldn’t be afraid. Her suite was surrounded by security, the grounds milling with guards. Sandro had introduced her to his head of personal protection, who’d reassured her that she and Nic were safe, and still the constant concern wore her down.

The door of the suite opened and her heart rate spiked, wild and thready, as Sandro entered. He was such a formidable figure and even more so over the past three weeks, when all she saw was the King. Still wearing his suit, likely just having come from work, he took her breath away—she couldn’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t. Even with the appearance of being tamed, there was nothing tame about him. She knew the wildness underneath, the passion of him that he tried to hold in, that she coveted all for herself.

‘Busy day?’

He nodded, sharp and formal. ‘Always.’

Yet she could hear the weariness in his voice. The heaviness of it. She walked towards him, wanting to wrap him in her arms and tell him that everything would be okay. Thatthey’dbe okay. But why that was so important, she didn’t know. Whenhadshe begun to see them as a team? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that deep inside they were, in a way she’d never had before. That knowledge gave her comfort now.

Yet Sandro stepped away from her, kept his distance. That sliced like a paper cut, but she ignored it. She couldn’t imagine what he’d been going through, though he hadn’t allowed her in enough for her to even ask.

‘Nic’s asleep. I think he missed you tonight.’

‘I’ve been busy. The life of a king.’

He ran his hand over his face, the skin under his eyes dark and bruised, the lines etched deeper in his face. Looking so weary that he might fall on his knees.

‘Have you eaten? I can order something from the kitchens?’

Sandro shook his head, almost a dismissive move. ‘No. We need to have a discussion.’

He wouldn’t look her in the eye and it confused her. Even when he’d been working so long and hard over the past three weeks, there’d been some communication.

‘Okay.’ Something about this was off. A sick sensation rose in her throat. Distance had never been their problem and yet Sandro seemed to be keeping it from her. ‘About what?’

‘My cousin.’ He spat out the words as if they were tainted food in his mouth. ‘He’s been arrested. He’ll be charged locally with many crimes, and likely prosecuted internationally for war crimes against Santa Fiorina.’

‘Oh, thank goodness.’

Relief flooded through her, filling her with elation and draining her all the same. The sting of tears burned at her eyes. Nic would be safe. They’d all be safe. His parents could be avenged, everything he held so tight to himself Sandro could release. She walked to him, wanting to hold him, comfort him, thank him. Except he manoeuvred away from her. The sensation of that perceived rejection sliced like a paper cut.

‘Yes. Some of the palace invaders were most informative. He won’t escape this time.’ Sandro began to pace. In a man who always seemed so still and sure, the movement across the carpet seemed discordant. Jarring.

---