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‘It’s for her own good,’ Anton snapped. ‘You know the media circus that will erupt if she misses the wedding. Already the papers are full of speculation about it.’
‘I know.’ Benedetto nodded into the room. He’d seen the same reports. Not just the tabloids, even the broadsheets were running commentary on the likelihood of her return, speculating as to the work that was keeping her absent from royal life. ‘And so does she. This has to be her decision, Anton.’
‘You’re serious?’
‘I am.’
Anton swore softly. ‘I trusted you.’
‘And you still can. Trust me now—Amelia will always resent you if we do this. Would you rather she comes home for the wedding—and you lose her for ever—or that she returns when she’s truly ready?’
‘She will feel differently when she’s here,’ Anton said.
Benedetto closed his eyes. He owed Anton everything, but he should never have agreed to this. It was a family matter; Benedetto had no place getting involved. ‘It has to be her decision, Anton. I’m not wrong about this.’
The Prince disconnected the call without another word.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE FOUND HER in the underwater lounge room, staring out at the schools of fish, a book beside her, unopened, a cup of tea curled in her hands.
He hesitated in the doorway, not sure what to say, what to ask, what to do. It was an uncharacteristic uncertainty for Benedetto, and he resented it immediately.
‘You turned the boat around.’
She’d clearly sensed him. He moved deeper into the room, then took the seat opposite her. ‘Yes.’
Her eyes slid to his, pinned him to the spot. ‘Why didn’t I go through with it?’
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘I don’t know.’
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. ‘I knew exactly what to do, how to escape, where to go. And then, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t.’ A single tear slid down her cheek. She dashed it away quickly. ‘Nothing makes sense.’
‘Actually, I think things make sense for the first time all week. We’re going back to Spain. That’s the right choice. You can relax.’
Her smile was a shadow. ‘Can I?’
‘I’ve told Anton.’
Her brows shot up. ‘What did he say?’
‘Not a lot,’ Benedetto responded truthfully. ‘We had a slight difference of opinion on the matter, but he’ll come round.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes, because I’m right.’
She shook her head slowly. ‘You’re right to leave the choice up to me, but I don’t know what I should do. I hate the idea of going back, but how long am I going to stay away for? Am I really never going to see them again? And if I’m going to see them at some point, why not now?’ She stood, teacup in hands, moving to the window, staring out at the fish without really seeing. ‘I fought you tooth and nail but then today, when I could have left, I didn’t. That has to say something about my subconscious mind, doesn’t it?’ Then, with eyes that were haunted and round like plates, she turned herself fully to face him. ‘I miss them, Ben. I really miss them.’ Another tear slid down her cheek, and he closed his own eyes, taking in a deep breath.
This was about her family, not him.
She’d come back for them, not because of Benedetto, and he was relieved because, despite the boundaries she’d insisted upon, a part of him was afraid that she was starting to want more than he could offer. Except she didn’t. Nothing had changed.
‘What do you want to do?’
That was a good question. She was standing on a precipice, and he was giving her the choice: to jump? Or not?
Amelia’s eyes lifted to his and held, her throat shifting as she swallowed. ‘I’m not who you think I am,’ she said, eventually, so softly he almost didn’t hear.
