Her words echoed in his mind as he analysed his own motivation for wanting to tell Khal of their night together. He knew that telling his friend would stop the engagement, knowing Khal as he did. He still wanted her. He was not fool enough to deny the fact. One night was just not enough when it came to Olivia. She was the best and the worst thing that he had ever stolen in his life, and the bastard in him wanted to keep her here until they were both truly done with each other.
Was he really that selfish? To manipulate her situation and push Khal out of the picture simply so that he could get her out of his system?
He ran one hand through the short crop of his hair, trying to make sense of his own thoughts.
‘What if I told you that I plan to refuse the marriage?’
Her voice was quiet from behind him, strangely uncertain after the power of her speech moments before.
‘You said yourself that your loyalty to your country is important.’
‘Yes, but that was before I realised how it felt to take control of my own life for once.’ She bit her bottom lip. ‘Being with you...it’s made me realise that I can have more. That I want more.’
‘I can’t give you what you want,’ he said plainly, panicking at the look of open emotion on her face. ‘If you plan on placing your entire future on the hope of something more between us then you are more naïve than I originally thought.’
She flinched at his harsh words and he felt like the worst kind of bastard. Hearing her speak of their time together so tenderly did strange things to his chest. As if with every word she uttered, bands grew tighter around his lungs. And it made him want to lash out with words to make her stop. To make her see him for what he was.
It was ridiculous, and immature, and yet he could no more stop himself from reacting that way than he could stop his brain from seeing guns where they didn’t exist.
* * *
Olivia fought the tightness in her throat, refusing to let him see how deeply his words had cut. She met his gaze evenly. ‘I will be returning to the palace alone. I trust that you will respect my privacy when it comes to last night. I should at least have the right to that from you.’
‘I never said I didn’t respect you,’ he said harshly.
‘Good. We have an understanding.’
She kept her voice even, walking over to the terrace doors to watch as the helicopter finished its landing and a familiar assistant exited the door, making her way towards the villa.
‘This is goodbye, then,’ she said, not wanting to turn to look at him but knowing she would regret it for ever if she didn’t. She felt anger, hot and heavy, burning in her chest. ‘Thank you for allowing me to be one of the many women in your bed.’
His eyes narrowed, a cynical snarl appearing on his lips. ‘Indeed. I will always have the pleasure of knowing that when it comes to you I was the first.’
‘You are using the past tense already—how honest of you.’
‘I have been nothing but honest with you about the kind of man I am,’ he said harshly.
‘Last night...I just thought that things seemed different somehow. That we seemed different.’ She spoke calmly, trying and failing to hide the hint of insecurity in her voice.
‘Everything seems different in the heat of passion, Printsessa.’
The silence that followed might only have lasted a matter of seconds, but to Olivia it felt like an eternity. In her mind she willed him to say more. Even a hint that he felt something more would be enough. Had she truly imagined that last night was momentous for them both?
And then he turned from her. Every step that he took across the kitchen seemed to hammer into her heart. Dampening down any flicker of hope she might have had.
She listened as his footsteps echoed across the marble tiles. Did he pause for just a split second in the doorway or did she imagine it? For a moment she thought he had taken a breath, preparing to speak. But then his steps kept going, out into the hallway, echoing as he moved further and further away from her.
She let out a breath that she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding. The air shuddered through a gap in her teeth, like a balloon deflating and making a spectacular nosedive towards the ground. It was the ultimate heartbreak...knowing she had been just another woman in his bed.
She wanted to be the woman. The only woman.
But hadn’t he made it abundantly clear that he would never be that kind of man? Was she really such a clichéd, naïve little virgin that she had fallen head over heels in love with him and expected him to do the same?
* * *
Typical that there wasn’t a drop of vodka on the damned boat when he needed it.
Roman threw the empty bottle down hard on the glass bar-top, feeling it crack and shatter in his hand as it hit the surface.