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She didn’t want those pressures and limitations and ‘controls’ for her child. She didn’t want the lack of choice. She didn’t want the lack of love.
And she didn’t want it for herself. She wanted what she’d had a taste of last night—tenderness, caring, someone to be there for her. But it had been a charade—part of his Prince Charming act. It had only been to control the situation, to control her and create a successful ‘story’ for the royal family—more San Felipe myth.
She’d thought she was no longer alone. She’d been so wrong. She’d never been as alone as she was now. And it had never hurt so much.
* * *
Eduardo realised his mistake as soon as he’d made the facetious reply. He’d been trying to play it as emotionlessly as Antonio. But he’d forgotten.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered.
It was too late. His brother had disappeared beneath an even thicker layer of ice. Eduardo hadn’t been able to break through it in a decade. He didn’t think anyone would.
Antonio had vowed to devote his life to duty when Alessia died and he was cemented in it now. Eduardo had made a vow too—to help his brother however he could. To try and make amends. To try and share some of his burden. Because he remembered the old days, when his brother had teased him, telling him his hair was too long or his jokes too lame. When they’d laughed together. He hadn’t heard Antonio laugh in so long.
‘I would have married for love.’ Antonio’s voice was like the thinnest, sharpest shard of ice.
It was the rarest hint of emotion.
‘I know.’ Eduardo bent his head. He’d caused hurt twice over. ‘Stella needs to go back to Secreto Real, Antonio. She needs time to rest and adjust. I’m sorry.’
Sorry for so much more than wanting some time out.
‘Then cancel your engagements and stay with her. Not even you can be seen to discard your new bride so quickly.’ Displeasure flared in his eyes.
Eduardo burned inside but took the hit silently. He had no intention of ditching Stella.
‘But not until after the opening night at the opera tonight,’ Antonio added. ‘Salvatore Accardi is going to be there, and I need you to maintain cordial relations seeing as neither of us are going to marry his precious daughter.’ Antonio looked bitter as he mentioned the notoriously corrupt nobleman both brothers preferred to avoid. ‘Then you can go.’
‘Fine.’ All Eduardo wanted was to be back on the little island with Stella, with the time to build on the fragile foundations forming between them.
Leaving Antonio, he walked towards his apartment, wondering if Sleeping Beauty had woken. His phone buzzed. He paused in the middle of the corridor when he saw the contact’s name on the screen.
He answered swiftly. ‘Dr Russo? Is anything wrong?’
‘No, I just wanted to let you know I’ve secured a specialist to see Stella early next week. As you know, I’ve tried to alleviate her concerns, but she’s still apprehensive, of course. I read her mother’s file at the hospital and the haemorrhage she had didn’t stem from an inheritable condition. Also, Stella is much younger than her mother was—fitter and stronger too. I think seeing the specialist will reassure her. We’ll set up more frequent appointments from there.’
Eduardo stood rooted to the spot, utterly shocked as the doctor continued.
‘She will have a full scan at that appointment too. I know she enjoyed listening to the baby’s heartbeat on Friday.’
Stella had heard the baby’s heartbeat? She’d seen the doctor and not told him? And what the hell had happened to her mother?
Eduardo forced himself to answer. ‘Indeed. Thank you for your discretion in coming to me directly. Come to me always where her health is concerned.’ He wanted to know every damn thing. And he was furious she hadn’t told him.
‘Of course, Your Highness.’
He ended the call and just stared at his phone for a second. Then he veered away from his private apartment to his office on the intermediary floor. He grabbed Stella’s personnel file, seething with self-directed anger for not reading it closely enough. But he’d skipped those bare facts detailing her parents—he’d wanted to get the facts about her. Now he stopped to check that earlier information.
Stella had been born just before midnight on April the twenty-third. Her mother had died on April the twenty-fourth, a mere two hours later.
Her mother had died because of complications on delivering her daughter. Was that why her father was so hard on her—because he’d never forgiven her?
