He waited while she visibly weighed up her options before him, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. Her mouth was a dusky pink colour, he noticed. No lipstick or gloss, just pure silky rose flesh. She flashed him a glance and he quickly averted his gaze, looking back out at the view.
In that moment he instantly regretted his offer to salvage his friend’s union. He had the sudden uncomfortable thought that perhaps he had just voluntarily offered to step out onto a tightrope with everything hanging in the balance.
But even as he began to regret his offer she nodded her head once, murmuring her acceptance.
And just like that the deal was done.
He had never gone back on a deal in the past, and he wouldn’t be starting now. Self-doubt held no place in his life. He trusted his own self-control, his own loyalty to those he cared for. And so he walked her back to the car and dutifully avoided looking down at the swell of her curves as she sashayed in front of him.
‘I still don’t understand why you are doing this for me.’ She looked up at him through long russet lashes, and he saw a smattering of freckles appearing high on her cheeks in the evening sun.
‘Consider it a wedding gift,’ he gritted, shutting the door with finality and steeling himself for the drive ahead.
* * *
Olivia stepped out on the deserted deck of the yacht and watched as they drew nearer and nearer to land. The evening was fast fading to pink as dusk approached. She wondered if maybe she should be worried that she had no idea where Roman was taking her, but really the destination itself didn’t matter. So long as it was far enough away from the palace for her to be able to breathe again.
With every mile that had passed since they’d set sail from Puerto Reina harbour she had felt the unbearable tension begin to ease and a sense of sharp relief take its place. But her newfound sense of freedom still held an unpleasant tinge of guilt around the edges. As if a dark cloud was hovering somewhere in her peripheral vision, just waiting to spill over and wreak havoc on her fleeting sense of calm.
She was doing the right thing, wasn’t she? Taking time away from the royal bubble in a controlled manner was the mature course of action. Despite what others might think, she knew she had a very important decision to make. This wasn’t so simple as making the best choice for herself—putting the rest of her life first and repercussions be damned. She had been raised always to hold Monteverre in greater esteem than herself. To value the people more than she did her own family. But what happened when her own family didn’t seem to value her happiness at all?
Her eyes drifted across the deck to where her slim black handbag sat atop a sun lounger. Inside that bag she held all the information she had found about the foundation that her grandmother had left in her name. Information on all of the amazing work that it had carried out since her passing ten years ago.
She wasn’t quite ready to share what she had uncovered with anyone just yet.
At the moment, the bottom line was clear. Her father had said that she had no alternative but to marry the Sheikh and she had agreed with him, Going against a union arranged by the King now would have very real, very severe ramifications. Either way, her life was about to change drastically.
It was no big deal, really, she thought with a slightly panicked intake of breath. Sign her life away to a loveless marriage in order to save her kingdom or have her title stripped away for ever. No big deal at all.
She closed her eyes, breathing in the cool sea air and willing her mind to slow down. She had spent two days going around and around in circles already, and the effect made her temples feel fit to burst. Was it any wonder she had made such a rash decision to run away from it all?
She exhaled slowly, opening her eyes to find that the yacht was now sailing alongside the coast of the seemingly deserted island they had been approaching. The place looked completely wild—like something from a movie. But as they rounded an outcrop of rocks she was suddenly looking at a crescent-shaped coastline formed out of ragged black rocks and golden sand. A tall white lighthouse stood on the far coast in the distance, atop a lush green cliff. And a small marina was situated at the furthest end of the bay, in the shade of the cliffs.
She gradually felt the yacht lose speed until it began the process of mooring at the end of the long white floating dock.
Roman was still nowhere to be seen, she thought as she scanned what she could see of the upper decks. The yacht was huge, and he had disappeared almost immediately after depositing her in one of the lower deck living rooms.
She was still not quite sure why he had decided to give her this time in the first place. She doubted he felt pity for her, considering his disdain for ‘pampered royals’, as he had so delicately labelled her. But he had seemed genuinely surprised to hear that the marriage situation was not all that it seemed.
She was not naïve enough to believe that he was on her side, but she hoped that he understood her motivations a little more at least.
Still, she would do well to remember where his loyalties lay. He was determined to see her accept Sheikh Khal’s proposal—there was no doubt in her mind about that. She imagined that Roman Lazarov was not the type of man to give up on something without putting up a good fight first.
Surprisingly, the thought of debating her future with him didn’t fill her with the same dread that she had felt in her father’s presence the day before. She couldn’t quite explain it... He spoke to her like a person, not as someone lesser. Or, worse, as a princess. He wasn’t afraid to look into her eyes as he spoke, unlike most others who met her.
He had listened to her today. She would never let him know how much that had meant to her. He was not a friend—she knew that. But maybe he didn’t have to be her enemy.
As though conjured by her thoughts
, Roman suddenly emerged from a door to her right, speaking to someone on the phone in a deep, throaty language she presumed to be his native Russian. He had made no move to interact with her in the hours since they had set sail from Monteverre.
He looked tired, she noticed, and yet his dark shirt and trousers barely held a single crease. She, on the other hand, was rumpled and in dire need of a shower and a full night of sleep. She smoothed the front of her dress self-consciously and turned herself to face him, shoulders held high.
He ended the call with one click and took a moment to tilt his face up to the view of the vibrant overgrown landscape around them. For a moment the harsh lines around his mouth relaxed and his eyes seemed to glow silver in the evening light. She realised with surprise that the look on his face was something very close to contentment. She’d not yet seen him with anything but hostility in his features, and she had to admit the man had very inviting lips when he wasn’t smirking or insulting her.
‘We still have a short drive from here,’ he said, taking a quick look at his watch and motioning for the single cabin porter to take care of their luggage. ‘I hope you don’t get motion sickness.’
Before she could question that statement, he gestured for her to follow him down the steps onto the whitewashed boards of the marina. She practically had to run to catch up with him.