The Scandalous Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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She wasn’t sure she could manage a mouthful, but she came to the table with her gamest smile. Not that she could ever fool Ben.
‘And I thought we could read the papers,’ Ben continued, smiling as he dropped two well-reputed papers on the table. ‘No paparazzi photographs, I promise.’
Natalia stilled, stared at those newspapers. Such a simple little thing. Reading the papers over coffee and eggs, sharing bits of news and toast with each other. What normal people did. What everyone else did. And virtually impossible for her.
‘Natalia?’ Ben prompted. She looked up, saw him frowning at her and she felt the pressure build in her chest.
It should be so easy to tell him. It could be. She knew he would show her compassion rather than contempt; she knew him—loved him—well enough to believe that. Yet she still couldn’t form the words. Bare her secret, her soul. It was just too hard. And she didn’t want to have him look at her with pity, couldn’t bear that now when she was already feeling so exposed and vulnerable.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said quietly and Natalia shook her head.
‘I can’t do this.’
‘Do what? Eat breakfast?’ He kept his voice light. ‘Read the paper?’
Yes. ‘All of it. This … playing at some kind of happy families. Being a couple. I can’t do it.’
Ben’s expression hardened even though she knew he was trying to stay reasonable. In control. As always. ‘Why not?’
‘I know it’s easy for you, Ben—’
‘It’s not actually.’
‘You seem to have fallen into the role of attentive boyfriend rather easily,’ Natalia snapped, and Ben’s eyes flashed temper.
‘You think it comes naturally, Natalia? You think I’m not trying? Because just like you, I’ve avoided relationships. Commitment. I’ve seen the train wreck of my parents’ marriage and I haven’t wanted anything like it. I’m still wary. Still afraid.’ His voice throbbed with both sincerity and anger and he let out a shuddering breath. ‘But I recognise that we have something between us—something I’ve never had with anyone else—and think I’d keep at it, see if it works. Why aren’t you?’
‘Because it won’t.’ The pressure in her chest was taking over her whole body, so every muscle and nerve ached with suppressed emotion. Something had to happen or she’d surely explode. ‘It can’t.’
‘You’re so sure about that, Princess?’
‘Yes, Ben, I am.’ She kept her voice cutting, as sharp as it ever was, a razor of remembrance that cut through the emotion, reminding them both of who they were and where they’d started. ‘Because I’m a princess, just like you said. And we don’t have a relationship, because—’ She took a breath, made herself make the final cut. ‘I’m about to marry someone else.’
She saw Ben draw back as if she’d punched him. For a second he looked shocked, devastated, and then he blinked, and the expression was wiped clean from his face. Natalia felt her breath come out in a tearing gasp and she stared back at him, her whole body taut and quivering with tension. ‘I see,’ he finally said, his voice utterly devoid of feeling. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t realise that.’ He sounded horribly, eerily polite, and Natalia just stood there as he nodded towards the door. ‘There’s not much else to say then, is there?’
‘No,’ she agreed, her voice a scratchy whisper. Yet words clambered inside her, clogged in her throat. There was so much more to say. It was just she was so afraid to say it.
Ben nodded again towards the door, a dismissal. Still trembling, her chin held high, Natalia walked towards the front door. She saw he’d left her trainers lined up neatly by the door, next to his, a small yet achingly painful thoughtfulness, and she blinked back tears. She imagined, for one blinding second, how things could be different. She imagined her sweater tossed carelessly on a chair, her shampoo and makeup scattered over his Spartan sink. Her life here. Her here.
Then, without looking at him, she reached for the trainers and slipped them on. Ben didn’t say anything. After an endless moment when her fingers fumbled with the laces she finally straightened, opened the door and walked out of his life. Ben stood in the centre of the dining room, the front door closing a final-sounding click that echoed through his heart. She’d left. She’d just … left.
And she was getting married.
What the hell …?
Ben raked his hands through his hair, stared in uncomprehending disbelief at the two plates of breakfast, the coffee, the papers. He’d envisioned a relaxed, enjoyable morning; he’d anticipated being real—being normal—with Natalia. He’d wanted that. He’d wanted that so much.
You seem to have fallen into the role of attentive boyfriend rather easily.
Shame and fury churned in his gut, pulsed through his blood. He had fallen into that role, a role he’d never wanted or envisioned for himself. A role he’d disdained. And yet with Natalia he’d been all too ready to imagine a life—a love—with her. It felt humiliatingly ridiculous. She hadn’t had any intention of taking what happened between them beyond last night … and he’d been picturing fairy tales. Happy endings. A relationship. His behaviour reminded him of his mother’s, always eager and willing to forgive. Willing to try again.
He wouldn’t be like that. He couldn’t.
And he wouldn’t even be given the opportunity. Natalia was getting married.
In one abrupt movement Ben cleared the plates from the table, dumped the eggs in the bin. Even these cleansing actions felt shameful, humiliating. How many meals had his mother made that his father hadn’t eaten? How many evenings had she waited for him, and he’d stumbled in late, drunk and smelling of another woman’s perfume? He loved his father; he’d forgiven the man his weaknesses, but that didn’t mean he’d ever intended to be like his mother.
And yet here he was, alone, abandoned, his heart aching.
No. His heart had nothing to do with this.
I’m about to marry someone else.
He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe in all the time he’d known her, she’d forgotten to mention such a relevant and important detail. It felt like a lie. He knew, of course, that her parents were intent on lining up spouses for all the Santina siblings. He would have expected, if he’d allowed himself to think of it, that they might have someone in mind for Natalia. The papers had been full of her broken engagement to a prince of some small European principality.
The papers.
Why hadn’t the newspapers, the tabloids, mentioned anything about Natalia’s forthcoming marriage? Why hadn’t King Eduardo announced it at Allegra’s party three weeks ago? Why had he never heard a whisper of it all this time?
Because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t happening. Not yet anyway.
His breath released in a shuddering rush as realisations clicked into place. Natalia had told him this wasn’t easy for her. He knew she was afraid. He understood that last night had been both wonderful and frightening for her, that the vulnerability of even an orgasm had shaken her.
And when she’d snatched the first excuse she could to allow her to walk out of here, he, frightened fool that he was, had believed her.
Ben straightened and smiled grimly. Natalia wasn’t going to get off that easily. Not by a long shot.
She hadn’t thought through things. Natalia realised that as soon as she returned back to the palazzo, having texted Enrico to pick her up. The chauffeur didn’t pass any judgements, but she could tell something was going on. Something was wrong.
So much was wrong.