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‘Yes.’
She held his hand when he would have stepped away to issue the command to Cassidy and Christopher. ‘But, Ben?’ Her eyes were huge, filled with sadness. ‘When we get there...’ she pressed a hand to his chest ‘...this has to stop.’
It was exactly what he’d been thinking, wasn’t it? That they needed to end this... So why did hearing her say that so factually aggravate him?
‘It’s going to be hard enough, dealing with all this. I don’t need to worry about someone finding out we’re sleeping together. My life at the palace is an open book. It would be too risky...’
‘That makes sense,’ he rushed to reassure her, relieved that it was Amelia who’d said it first. ‘I’m there if you need me though,’ he added. ‘As a friend.’
Her smile was tight, and dismissive. He knew then that she wouldn’t call on him for help, and he wondered why that bothered him so much.
The biggest port in Catarno was Livoa, where there was a high-security section used by the Catarno military and, when in use, the royal yacht. It was not a surprise to Amelia when Cassidy steered Benedetto’s boat past the others and towards the high-security gates. There was no checking of identities—the information had been sent ahead, the serial number of the boat verified by computer—and they were waved past the armed guards, into a section of the marina that was heavily fortified.
Amelia shivered as the boat was brought to a stop. Beside her, Benedetto seemed to stiffen as well.
‘If, at any point, you want to leave, I’m at your disposal.’
Her heart twisted uncomfortably, because she knew he meant it. He was her saviour after all. The problem for Amelia was that it made Benedetto pretty damned perfect, and all the emotions of hostility and anger she’d felt towards him initially, which had inured her from feeling anything more for him than wild, overpowering desire, had faded into nothing, so it was almost impossible not to let her heart get involved in things.
But that would be well and truly stupid.
Benedetto had done an about-turn; he had shown himself to be noble and good, but that didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t interested in a relationship. And knowing what she did about his upbringing and his loss as a father, she could understand why he’d chosen a life of solitude.
It would be really dumb to fall for him.
Really dumb.
And so she’d ended things pre-emptively, knowing that to keep going as they were was a one-way ticket to Disasterville, for Amelia at least.
She looked up at Benedetto and he smiled reassuringly, his face changing, morphing into something beautiful and breathtaking, and inwardly she groaned because, despite her very best intentions, she was pretty sure the horse had bolted on the whole love front already. ‘It’s going to be okay.’
It probably wouldn’t, but, somehow, his words comforted her a little anyway.
As the boat putted along, then finally drew to a stop, she saw a limousine waiting with two flags on the front—her brother’s crest, and the flag of Catarno.
Her heart dropped to her toes. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘Yes, you can.’
She expelled a shaky breath but stood her ground, and because Benedetto was at her side, it felt easier, more practicable.
‘Okay.’ She nodded once. ‘You’re right. Let’s go.’
Benedetto hadn’t known what to expect. Flowers, serenades, her family lined up to greet her? Not this. The moment her feet connected with dry land, the royal guard formed a circle around her, separating Amelia from Benedetto, so she stared back at him wide-eyed, clearly terrified.
‘Where are you taking her?’
None of them spoke to him and Amelia didn’t say a thing in her own defence. The guards enveloped her so that, despite her height, she was almost invisible, and he understood—there was the risk of photographers lurking. They were protecting her.
Anger at his impotence—an unwanted and unwelcome feeling that reminded him what it had been like as a young boy hearing his mother berated and insulted—crested inside him. He was furious and powerless all at once as she was shepherded into the waiting limousine. He stared after it, already reaching for his phone to call Anton and demand an explanation, to demand he have the limousine turn back.
‘Ben.’
He spun at the sound of his name to find his closest friend standing at the edge of the dock, watching proceedings with a grim expression. But then, Anton laughed softly, shaking his head. ‘You look like you’re about to punch something.’
Benedetto grimaced, schooling his expression into a mask of calm. He was not his father. He would not surrender to anger. Ever.
‘Your sister has done an incredibly brave thing. I intended to escort her to the palace, to make sure she was okay.’ Even to his own ears, it sounded stupidly defensive.
