Royals: For Their Royal Heir. Эбби Грин
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at his watch, oblivious to her inner turmoil. ‘It’s after ten. I’m sorry about this, but I do need to get back to Paris for a lunchtime meeting.’
Leila forced herself to meet his eyes, even though she wanted to slither down under the covers and all the way to Middle Earth. ‘Of course. I need to get back too.’
Alix put his hands either side of her hips, effectively trapping her. ‘You’re not regretting anything, are you?’
His face was so close she could see the lighter flecks of grey in his eyes. And she knew that no matter how embarrassed she was right now, how gauche she felt, she really didn’t regret a thing.
She shook her head and he pressed a firm kiss to her mouth before pulling back.
‘Good. The housekeeper has sent up some breakfast, and I had some clothes sent over for both of us.’
‘You did?’ Leila boggled.
Alix shrugged and stood up. ‘Sure—I called my assistant in Paris and she got them sent from a boutique here in Venice.’
Of course, Leila thought wryly to herself. She’d almost forgotten for a moment who Alix was. The power he wielded. The ease with which he clicked his fingers and had his orders obeyed. The ease with which she’d fallen into bed with him...
She had to stop thinking about that.
Galvanising herself, Leila got out of bed and pulled the sheet off the bed, tucking it around her body, all the while acutely aware of Alix’s amused gaze.
‘I’ll have a quick shower,’ she said, and walked to the bathroom with as much dignity as she could while trailing a long length of undoubtedly expensive Egyptian cotton behind her.
Once in the bathroom, Leila could hear Alix’s phone ring and his deep tones as he answered. It was a welcome reminder that he was itching to move on, to get back to Paris and his life. And she needed to get on too.
As she stepped under the hot spray of the shower she told herself that if all she had was this night in Venice with a beautiful exiled king then she would be happy with that.
She valiantly ignored the physical pang in the region of her chest that told her otherwise. She was not her mother, and she was not going to fall for the first man she’d slept with.
* * *
An hour later they were back on Alix’s private jet, taking off from Venice. Alix was talking in low tones in another guttural language on his phone. She guessed it must be a form of Spanish. It was a relief not to have his attention on her for a moment.
Leila looked out of the window and took a shaky breath. Hard to believe her world had changed so irrevocably within less than twenty-four hours.
She wore the new clothes Alix’s staff had sent over. Beautifully cut slim-fitting trousers and a loose long-sleeved silk top, with a wrap-around cashmere cardigan in the most divine sapphire-blue colour.
They’d even sent over fresh underwear and flat shoes. She felt cossetted and looked after. Dangerous. Because he did this sort of thing with women all the time.
When they’d been eating breakfast, just a short while before, she’d caught him looking at her intently. ‘What?’ Leila had asked. ‘Have I got something on my face?’
Without make-up she’d felt bare. Exposed.
Alix had shaken his head. ‘No. You’re beautiful.’
And then he’d reached for her hand and she hadn’t been able to look away from him.
‘I want to see you again. Today...tonight. Tomorrow.’
Her heart had stopped, and then started again at twice the pace. ‘But this was just one night...’
Wasn’t it?
That was how she’d justified her outrageous behaviour. It had been a moment out of time.
Alix had looked a little fierce. ‘Is one night enough for you?’
Trapped in his steely gaze, she’d asked herself if she could do this. Agree to an affair with this man? Have more of him? Yes, a pleading voice had answered.
Would he even let her go after she’d acquiesced so spectacularly? She knew the answer. Slowly she’d shaken her head. It wasn’t enough for her either. She wanted more—shamelessly.
Alix’s fingers had tightened around hers. ‘Well, then...’
And now here she was, hurtling back towards the real world and a liaison she wasn’t sure she knew how to navigate. She heard Alix terminate his call and thought of the dress he’d bought for her to go to the opera, and these new clothes.
She turned away from the view and found him looking at her. Before she could lose her nerve she said quickly, ‘I don’t want to be your mistress. I appreciate the clothes this morning, but I don’t want you to buy me anything else.’
He looked at her for a moment, as if he truly couldn’t understand what she was saying, and then he shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Fine.’
Leila thought of something else and felt the cold hand of panic clutch at her gut. The prospect of press intrusion. Being photographed with Alix. It would inevitably bring scrutiny, and she did not want that under any circumstances.
She said, ‘We can’t go out in public. I don’t want to end up in the papers. I’m not prepared for that kind of intrusion.’
Alix straightened, and something flashed across his face—surprise?—before it was masked and Leila thought she might have imagined it.
‘I have an entire team at my disposal. I will make sure you’re protected.’
Leila looked at him. She thought of Ricardo...and of the fact that Alix had been in and out of her shop a few times now and no one seemed to have picked up on it. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe the skeletons in her closet wouldn’t jump out to bite her.
She forced a smile. ‘Okay.’
‘EARTH TO ALIX...HELLO? Anyone home?’
Alix blinked and looked at his friend and chief advisor, Andres, who had flown in from Isle Saint Croix to meet him. Andres was Alix’s secret weapon. Devoutly loyal to getting Alix back on the throne, he was also working as a spy, of sorts, in the current regime in Isle Saint Croix. He was the reason Alix was going to get reinstated as King.
‘Have you heard a word I’ve said?’
Alix knew he hadn’t. His head had been consumed with soft silky skin. Long dark hair. Huge green eyes like jewels. Soft gasps and moans. The heady rush of pleasure when he— Damn. He jerked up out of his chair. This was ridiculous.
Leila was like a fever in his blood. He couldn’t concentrate.
He went and stood at the window, and then after a few seconds turned back to his friend and said, ‘I’ve met someone new.’
Andres made a small whistling sound, his boyishly handsome face cracking into a wry grin. ‘I know you move fast, Alix, but this is your fastest ever. Usually you leave at least a week between switching partners. This is good, though—when will we see pictures hit the press?’
Alix folded his arms and scowled at his friend’s exaggeration. And then he thought of what Leila had said about wanting to avoid press intrusion. And, as much as he needed it right now, suddenly the thought of paparazzi hounding her was very unpalatable. It made him feel almost...protective.
There had to be a solution. His brain seized on an idea and it took root. And the more it did so, the more seductive it became.
‘Our supporters on the ground are aware that we are conducting a campaign