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Why hadn’t she told him this last night—he’d thought that she was opening up to him. That he’d helped her in some way. But she hadn’t shared even half of her battle. She hadn’t spoken with him about seeing Dr Russo two days ago. About being scared. About having any kind of scan.
Stella was the epitome of health and strength. She hadn’t even had any morning sickness. Now he remembered that look in her eyes when they’d watched the pregnancy test result. She’d looked terrified. She still was terrified. Of the birth.
But she hadn’t told him. She’d shut him out. And then she’d heard their child’s heart beating without him.
Rejection dug deep, bitter poison in its claws. He’d thought they had a chance. But she’d kept something vital a secret. She hadn’t turned to him. She hadn’t trusted him.
He went back down the corridor and up the stairs to his apartment. Of course she was awake. Of course she was in her trainers, running pants and a grey tee shirt.
He breathed in, trying to stay in control.
‘You’re going on the treadmill?’ he asked.
She nodded and stepped onto the machine.
‘Is all this exercise what’s best for the baby?’ He tested her—would she talk?
‘You said this marriage was what’s best for the baby.’ Stella started jogging. ‘But you plan for this baby to be the next Crown Prince or Princess of San Felipe.’
His focus sharpened. She wouldn’t look at him and was obviously angry—was she sorry she’d talked to him last night? Did she regret opening up to him even that little bit?
‘Right?’ she prompted him. ‘So this baby will have a life of even greater restriction than your own?’
She was back to this again. Pushing for a way out instead of telling him what she was really scared of. Pushing him away.
‘You’ve known all along that this is a royal child,’ he challenged her. ‘The possibility of the crown has always been there.’
‘But you’ve planned it.’
‘I hardly planned for you to get pregnant,’ he said. Her bitterness multiplied his.
‘But you’ve orchestrated everything since you found out.’
‘Because I’ve had to.’ And she appreciated none of his efforts. She didn’t want anything he had to offer. She didn’t trust him at all.
Stella glanced over and saw Eduardo’s expression close down. How could he go so quickly from caring to completely cold-hearted? It scared her. She couldn’t trust in those precious moments of last night because now he gave her that damn silent, ‘dare you to talk first’ treatment. And that made her anger incandescent.
‘Is there some ancient decree that whichever of you has the first child then she or he gets the crown?’ she asked. ‘Is this some kind of sibling jealousy and you’re determined that the lineage will continue from the seed of your loins because you can’t be the one thing you want so very badly?’
She was spouting rubbish now, just aiming to get a reaction other than ice—she didn’t care how.
Now that fire in his eyes kindled—but it wasn’t passion. ‘Says you, the woman who’s spent all her life trying to be the one thing she can’t be—’
‘I am an exceptional soldier.’
‘But you can’t be the son your father wanted.’
She recoiled, jumping off that damn treadmill.
‘You can’t even please him,’ he added.
‘Yet you want to do that same thing to your own child,’ she pointed out to him angrily. ‘To place all those unwanted expectations on a baby.’
‘This is different.’
‘No, it’s not.’ She shook her head. ‘You set everything up. It’s like a slickly edited tourism video. The photos. That sapphire, with that whole legend around it. Releasing my service record. All fodder for the press.’
‘We need the public to believe in you. In us.’
And he’d gotten them to. He’d also made her believe—in herself and in the possibility of them. He’d known which buttons to push, how to pull her in, because she was so starved of attention and so stupid. He’d been so suave and convincing and she’d fallen in love with him. It had just been a couple of steps from crush to complete adoration. But the tenderness she’d thought he felt for her had been a façade. He was as frozen and as duty-filled as his brother.
‘And that’s all that matters to you, isn’t it?’ She realised now the extent of his emptiness. ‘You’re never going to open up to me,’ she said slowly. To think she’d thought he could love her... No one loved her. And it hurt. ‘You can’t let anyone in. Not your brother. Not a woman. No one.’ She blinked to hold back the stinging tears.
