Her face fell and he knew he had gone too far.
But she was already turning to walk out through the door. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk back alone.’
He made to walk after her but stopped, thinking it might be best if they both had some time to calm down.
‘Fine. You can take the time to prepare your explanation. I will deliver you to your fiancé tonight.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
OLIVIA REGRETTED STEALING Roman’s boat almost as soon as she had set off, but stubbornness kept her from turning back. As the wind pulled her hair around her face and the salty air filled her lungs she felt the awful tension inside her loosen a fraction.
She hated him.
Every single word that Roman had thrown at her had swum around in her head as she had hiked across the craggy woodland towards the villa. His indignant accusations. His refusal to see the truth in their situation. He seemed determined to power through any argument she had.
It was the thought of his final words that had cemented her decision to change course and hightail it for the marina. ‘I will deliver you to your fiancé tonight.’
She gripped the wheel even tighter, steering the boat as the mainland drew nearer on the horizon. The distance between Isla Arista and the small mainland town of Puerto Arista was a mere fifteen minutes, but as the small dock came into view she contemplated turning around.
What was it about her breaking the law when she was around this man? Once again she had proved him right by giving in to an emotional impulse without a thought for the consequences.
Still, pride kept her from doing the intelligent thing and returning with her tail between her legs. She busied herself with mooring and disembarking safely, taking pleasure in the manual work.
She had always enjoyed her national sport—there was something quite peaceful about letting her mind wander as she followed through all the steps.
This small speedboat was much more streamlined and modern than the complex sporting sailboats she was used to, so before she knew it she was climbing the limestone steps up from the dock and emerging into a busy little Spanish village. Thankfully she had worn large sunglasses and a floppy-brimmed hat on her hike, to protect her from the sun, both of which now helpfully concealed her face from possible recognition.
The streets were cobbled and sloped upwards towards the impressive white cliffs that dominated the landscape. A long row of whitewashed houses and shops lined the seafront, with terracotta roofs and vibrantly coloured windows. The village was small, and seemed almost pristine in its appearance.
It was quiet. There was none of the hustle and bustle of the coastal spots in Monteverre. It was like stepping into a well-kept secret. People smiled as they walked past, shopkeepers tipped their sunhats in her direction. No one approached her or called her name. No one cared.
It was a revelation.
After she had walked to the top of the hill and back down her stomach began to growl. The thought of returning to the island—to Roman—filled her with trepidation. Without a second thought she walked into a nearby café and eyed the delicious selection of handmade pastries and freshly cut fruit. The smell of warm butter and melted chocolate permeated the air and made her stomach flip.
Yes, this was exactly what she needed.
‘Can I help you, miss?’ A middle-aged man smiled jovially from behind the counter, his white apron smeared with powdered sugar.
Olivia smiled in response, really enjoying not being recognised. ‘Yes—what’s good here?’
‘It’s all good, of course.’ He laughed. ‘We have a special on today: three magdalenas for the price of two.’
Olivia looked down at the elegant golden-brown pastries and instantly felt her stomach drop.
She had no money.
With a murmured excuse she practically ran from the shop, embarrassment fuelling her as she walked swiftly down the hill back towards the marina. She stopped on the promenade, taking a seat on a bench that overlooked the small inlet.
As her breathing slowed, a heavy sadness replaced her embarrassment. She had no idea how to prepare for living in the real world. For all her thoughts of leaving her bubble and making a difference, the reality was that she had absolutely no idea how to function outside the privilege of royal life.
Her father had been right.
She had told herself that she would find a way to become the woman she wanted to be outside of her parents’ expectations and royal obligations. She had believed she could fulfil the vision her grandmother had had for the foundation alone. But she didn’t have a business mind—she didn’t have that kind of common sense or leadership skill. She certainly didn’t have the kind of innate intelligence and passion that could support her, as her siblings did.
Maybe she was delusional. Maybe her father was right and she should stick to where her strengths lay. Just another Sandoval princess, destined to stand and smile by her husband’s side.
But one thing was for sure: she was not what Roman had accused her of being. She had not seen him as