‘Where on earth do you put all that food?’
Roman looked up to see Olivia watching him with open fascination, her fork still toying with the same handful of potatoes she had spooned onto her plate ten minutes previously.
‘In my stomach,’ he said, keeping his tone neutral. ‘You had better follow suit or risk offending the chef.’
‘We are not all graced with fast metabolisms.’ She smiled tightly, putting down her fork and dabbing the corners of her mouth delicately.
‘I exercise hard so that I can eat well. Good food is there to be enjoyed.’ He fought annoyance as she sat back, clearly done with her food.
‘The meal was wonderful—thank you.’
‘If you say so, Printsessa,’ he said, with just a hint of irony, considering she had barely eaten more than a child’s portion. At least she didn’t seem to be downing the wine to compensate for her self-imposed starvation.
‘Why do you call me that?’ she asked. ‘I presume it’s Russian? Printsessa?’
‘My apologies. Do you harbour a preference for the term your subjects use? Your Highness, perhaps?’
She frowned. ‘Do you enjoy mocking people for no reason?’
‘I enjoy nothing of this situation, Olivia.’ He exaggerated the syllables of her name with deliberate slowness and watched with satisfaction as she visibly swallowed.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, sitting forward, a frown forming between perfectly shaped russet brows. ‘You are the one who offered to bring me here, remember? Nobody forced you to do that. We are practically strangers, and yet you have been nothing but rude and downright hostile since the moment we met.’
‘I offered to bring you here so that you would stop running away like a teenager,’ he gritted. ‘This is not a holiday. And I am not here to entertain a pampered royal seeking one last thrill ride before marriage.’
Her blue-green eyes narrowed with some of the fire he remembered from her dressing room the day before. ‘You have made a lot of assumptions about my character in the past twenty-four hours.’
‘Like it or not, right now you are in my charge. If I am making assumptions, it’s because I can.’
‘You think you know who I am? Please—enlighten me.’ She sat back, crossing one slim leg over the other.
Roman watched the movement, his pulse quickening slightly as his eyes followed the curve of her thigh down to the slim silver-heeled sandals on her feet. ‘I do not pretend to know who you are—nothing quite so philosophical.’
He leaned back in his chair, stretching one arm behind his neck. She followed the movement, eyelashes lowered.
‘I know your type well enough,’ Roman said darkly, and his mind surprised him by conjuring up an image of a familiar face. A pair of blue eyes that had haunted him for almost two decades.
His night of imprisonment must have affected him worse than he thought. The cold sweat from being handcuffed still seemed to coat his skin like dirt, even after the hot shower and plentiful meal.
Thoughts of his past were not a common occurrence these days. Thoughts of Sofiya even less common.
He cleared his throat, irritated at himself and his momentary lapse in keeping his own demons at bay. ‘You are young, beautiful and privileged, frustrated with the strict rules designed to protect you. So you go out in search of adventure. A little danger to shake up the monotony.’
‘So I’m just another spoilt brat looking for a bit of fun? Is that it?’
Roman shrugged noncommittally, draining the last of his wine. ‘You are telling me this isn’t about rebellion?’ he asked, knowing he had hit a nerve when her eyes darted away from his to look out at the inky darkness of the sea in the distance.
‘You know, insulting me and my motivation is hardly going to send me running back to accept your friend’s proposal.’
‘The only reason you feel insulted is because you are likely used to always hearing what you want to hear.’
Olivia sighed, leaning her head back for a moment and pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘I am simply taking a brief reprieve before making one of the most important decisions of my life. No big deal, really.’
‘I hate to tell you, but that’s just a fancy way of saying you’re running away.’ He couldn’t help but smirk.
‘So you have me all figured out, then?’ She crossed her arms over her chest, meeting his eyes head-on. ‘It must be nice, being so untouchable and faultless.’
Roman shrugged. ‘It is not my fault that you dislike being told the truth.’