My Forbidden Royal Fling by Clare Connelly

CHAPTER TWO

WHATDO I need from him?

My mouth goes dry as I struggle to come up with any kind of answer. My brain is clogged, completely overwhelmed by him, my body overtaking all my instincts. So, instead of focussing on the simple business of the matter at hand, I find myself aching to reach out and touch him, to feel for myself if that broadly muscled chest is as firm as I imagine it is.

What the heck is happening to me?

I have made it through my entire adult life without going gaga for a man, and yet here I stand, with exactly the man I need to keep my wits with, and I risk turning into a blathering fool.

‘Shall we go over your proposal?’ I suggest, the idea literally going off like a light bulb, because if we pore over contracts surely that will negate the impact he has on me?

‘Isn’t that what we’re doing?’

‘I mean properly. At a table, with the documents. It would be easier to address my concerns this way.’

‘We can do that,’ he agrees, and it’s then that I realise how totally he’s taken the upper hand in this conversation. ‘But first, I’d like to hear your concerns from you. Now. In summary.’

‘Are you ordering me?’ I can’t help but respond, lifting a brow.

‘Oh, never, Your Highness,’ he responds with a hint of droll amusement. ‘You’re the one who gives orders around here.’

My cheeks grow warm again. ‘You aren’t like anyone I’ve ever met.’ The confession escapes before I can stop it.

‘I can imagine.’ Again, I feel scorn layered beneath the banal response, as though my comment on his uniqueness has led him to derision for my place in the palace, the country.

‘Meaning?’

‘That your usual visitors are probably a very carefully curated type of person.’

My gasp is audible. ‘Mr del Almodovár—’

‘Santiago,’ he interrupts, and if I liked the taste of his name in my mouth I love the feel of it in my ears even more. He says it with such Spanish tones, all sunshine and spice. My stomach clenches in overwhelming awareness.

‘I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot,’ I say, searching for a modicum of control. ‘You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. You’re not here to get to know me, and I have no interest in knowing you. What I care about is my country, and the impact your casino mega-complex will have on the culture of the region.’

I look at him through narrowed eyes, my breath uneven. My dad flashes into my mind and I feel a stomach-clutching panic. I’m letting him down so badly. I wish there was some other way! ‘So, perhaps we should avoid any personal observations whatsoever and move onto the contracts, as I suggested.’

‘Are you sure avoiding personal observations is what you want?’ he asks smoothly, and my whole body fires onto high alert. Heat builds low in my abdomen, spreading through me. My breasts are tingly and heavy, my nipples straining against the lace fabric of my bra. I turn away from him, afraid of how exposed I must be to someone with his experience. He’s unpicking me piece by piece, stripping me raw, and I have no defence against him. More concerning, I don’t know if I want a defence against him.

‘You don’t act like a man who’s eager for this deal to go ahead,’ I say, looking out at the river, seeking a sense of calm that won’t come.

‘No.’

‘Why not? I thought this was important to you.’

‘Oh, it is. But you are not the only one who does your research, Princess. I could walk away tomorrow and find another country to work with, many of which would be tripping over themselves to offer incentives to take my business there. But you? Could you find such an appealing investor as easily?’

I close my eyes on a wave of surrender, because he’s right. Damn him. I feel actual hatred for the man then, and it’s only intensified by the glorious, sensual awareness cresting through me. How dare he be the only man I’ve ever looked at and felt a stirring of desire for? No, not just a stirring, a total tsunami, a crushing weight of need that robs me of the ability to breathe.

‘Not to put too fine a point on this, but you need me. So let’s stop dancing around the issue and come to agreement. I want this concluded today.’

He’s so dismissive, so infuriatingly arrogant, I whirl around to face him, all semblance of regal control dissipating completely. ‘And you always get what you want, I imagine.’

His smile makes a flame flicker in my gut. ‘Does that bother you?’

‘You bother me,’ I respond honestly.

His eyes widen with a brief glimmer of surprise, as though he wasn’t expecting my answer.

‘But I don’t know why.’ More honesty. I frown. ‘We should focus on the business at hand, and then you can consider this concluded.’

The air between us sparks with lightning bolts.

‘I bother you because I am the opposite of you in every way,’ he says, his meaning not clear.

But that’s not it. I meet people who are different from me all the time. I celebrate difference and value diversity. This is not about difference, it’s about desire, and how completely threatening is my reaction to him. It’s as though my body, usually a trusted ally, has defied me in every way.

‘Your proposed development is bold and—’

‘Ambitious, yes. You’ve said.’

‘Mr del Almodovár—’

‘Santiago.’

I grind my teeth. ‘Please, let me finish my sentence.’

He eyes spark with mine and then he dips his head in terse agreement.

‘We have no casinos in Marlsdoven. This would be a first.’

‘One of the reasons I selected your country for this project. You’re primed for this.’

‘You mean my citizens are “primed” to become good little gambling lemmings?’

His eyes narrow. ‘Have you ever been to a casino, Princess?’

Heat rushes my face. Before I can answer, he continues.

‘Of course you haven’t.’

I don’t want to analyse his tone or meaning.

‘Do you think if I’d been to a casino I’d be more likely to look favourably on your project? I believe the opposite is true. Seeing one of these places would likely make me refuse to sell the land to you regardless of any benefits I perceive for the country.’ I suck in a shaky breath. ‘But I suspect that would be cutting off my nose to spite my face, and I’ve no interest in doing that.’

He lifts his hand, rubbing the back of his neck, the gesture separating enough of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers to reveal an inch or so of tanned, taut abdomen. My mouth goes dry, my heart in overdrive. I stare at his chest, my stomach in knots, my brain fizzing. I’ve lost my train of thought completely.

‘How do you know if by your own admission you have no experience?’

The challenge drags me into the conversation again, but not fully. His arm drops, and so does the shirt. The sight of his flesh is buried in my mind, yet it’s not enough. I have a yearning to see him completely shirtless, to see all his chest, the entire expanse of muscled abdomen. I blink hard, trying to clear the thoughts, the vision, trying to focus. My country needs my concentration right now. I can’t be distracted just because he happens to be seriously attractive.

‘The land you’ve chosen is valuable, historic and prominent.’ I return the discussion to ground I’m more comfortable with, clearing my throat, vanquishing thoughts of his chest from my mind—for now.

His accent grows thicker as he defends his plans with obvious determination. ‘This land is the obvious place for this. It’s perfect for such a development.’

My eyes sweep shut on a wave of sadness. My own dreams for the piece of central real estate are impossible to visualise now. The arts precinct I wanted to commission—a testament to the cultural richness of Marlsdoven history and a space where children could go and be inspired to create—was now just a once-upon-a-time fantasy.

‘And your prime minister agreed to the sale.’

‘I know.’

‘Yet you don’t agree?’

‘It’s irrelevant,’ I say quietly. ‘Isn’t it? Would you consider a different location at this stage?’

‘Would it make you happy if I did?’

I stare at him, not expecting the question and with no clue how to answer.

‘Or wouldn’t you still have the same ideological issues then that you do now? You don’t want a casino at all. Right?’

‘I don’t think that matters.’ The words are numb, resigned. ‘I’m in the minority. My Prime Minister and Treasurer assure me the parliament wholeheartedly supports your investment. I have no justifiable power to overrule them.’

‘It’s crown land. As you said, your signature is required on the contract.’

Is he throwing me a lifeline? Reminding me that I do hold some power here? For all that I feel he’s reading me like an open book, I can’t understand him at all.

‘I’m not in the habit of going against my parliament.’

‘You’re a terrible negotiator.’

My eyes widen at the criticism and then, to my surprise, he smiles, his teeth baring, his expression changing completely. His eyes crinkle at the corners and it’s as if the sun is blasting into the room. I grip my tea cup more tightly, but nothing can stop my knees from wobbling.

I stare at him, so entranced by his smile that it takes a moment for his words to settle in my consciousness.

‘You can refuse to sell to me, Princess, and that’s your leverage here. So let’s pretend you didn’t just say that and go back to your agenda. What do you want from me?’

My heart turns over in my chest. I finish my tea, placing the saucer on a side table before fixing him with a direct stare.

‘I want...’ I find it impossible to finish the sentence. Focus. Focus, for the love of God. He’s staring at me, waiting, and the more he looks the more my pulse fires and my brain fuzzes. ‘Assurances,’ I haltingly add. ‘That you’ll employ ninety per cent Marlsdovens, in both the construction of the development and then in the staffing once completed.’ Relief that I’ve been able to pluck one of my talking points out of thin air spreads through me.

‘I’ve already made assurances that fifty per cent of the contractors will be locally sourced.’

‘Fifty isn’t ninety,’ I point out.

His eyes lock to mine as if to say, Oh, really? but then his lips twist with the hint of another smile and my thoughts get scattered again.

‘It isn’t possible to guarantee that requirement.’

‘Why not?’

‘I can’t say that your contractors will be the best, and I’m only interested in hiring the best.’

‘You think we can’t offer quality workmanship?’

‘The “best” encompasses many things—quality, affordability, experience. I work with a group of architects based in New York.’

‘Yes, and that can be your ten per cent,’ I say, glad that I spent so long analysing the details of his proposal.

‘What else?’

‘Is that an agreement?’

‘No. But I’m interested in your list. Go on.’

He’s so close to me—just a foot or two away—yet I don’t move. I should. I know I should. But standing here so close to him is hypnotic and addictive. ‘My biggest concerns centre on the benefits of this agreement to my people. Once I sell this land, it’s gone. I need to know the choice will benefit Marlsdovens for a long time to come. Particularly if the trade-off is having a casino right over there.’

I point down the river to the banks in question, my pulse quivering as I think of my father and how devastating this would be to him. My entire life revolves around doing what my parents would have expected of me, remembering every instruction they gave me over the course of my life. I’m betraying them now, and I’m sickened by that.

‘It is more than a casino. The development features restaurants and a six-star hotel as well.’

‘Yes, for guests of the casino.’

‘Why do you oppose this?’

‘I told you, I just need to make sure—’

‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s more than that. You dislike the concept. You disapprove of the casino. Why?’

‘It’s just not something in our culture.’

‘Gambling? I think you’re wrong.’

‘Gambling is everywhere, to some extent, but casinos make it so easy.’

‘And that’s bad?’

I stare at him. ‘How can you not see that?’ I shake my head, remembering what gambling did to my uncle, how his addiction led to his death. ‘Of course you don’t see it.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

I realise I’ve gone awfully close to throwing an insult at his feet—worse, to blaming him for Uncle Richard’s problem. I try to back-pedal. ‘You made your fortune building casinos. Why would you stop and think about the ramifications on a society? Why would you see anything but good in these places that tempt and seduce people to fritter away their hard-earned money? How many lives have been ruined in your quest for this gambling empire?’

To his credit, he doesn’t let my barb derail his argument. ‘If I don’t build this casino, someone else will––perhaps not on crown land, and then your approval will not be needed.’

‘I’m aware of that.’ It’s the only reason I dismissed the possibility of refusing to sell to him. I’m fighting a losing battle, so I might as well try to control it and get some benefits for the people of this country.

‘I want to know that the income from your venture will fund health care and education for my people. I want to know there will be employment prospects for future generations. I want there to be world-class hospitality training available. Marlsdoven is haemorrhaging young citizens. They go to school here, but many then move abroad for tertiary studies and stay there. I understand the lure of your casino, Mr del Almodovár, and I understand that there are benefits. But I’m not going to stand here and pretend I’m not highly sceptical of the whole operation.’

He looks at me for several moments and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. I intended to improve the deal with him, not ruin it altogether. Is there a risk I’ve done just that?

‘Your parents died seven years ago.’

It’s the absolute last thing I’d expected him to say. It’s like an arrow coming out of left field, spearing me with pain in my side. I blink away from him, frowning as I take in the glistening river.

‘Yes.’

‘You were seventeen.’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s very young to assume such responsibilities.’

It’s true. At seventeen, I felt grown up but, looking back, I was still a child. A child who’d had to grieve the loss of her parents and somehow hold together a grief-stricken nation as well. The need to be what my people required meant I never had the time or space for my own feelings.

‘I managed.’

For a moment, before he dips his head in acknowledgement, I think I see sympathy in his eyes. I hate it. I don’t want his sympathy—or perhaps it’s more that I can’t live with it. When anyone is kind to me I grow close to tears, and if this man, who came barrelling into the palace with such obvious animosity and disrespect, starts being nice...?

I cough to hide the fact I’m clearing my throat, not wanting him to register that I’m emotionally off-kilter.

‘I can see you take your duty to the people of Marlsdoven seriously.’

I stare at him, waiting for him to make his point.

‘This casino will benefit them.’

I hate that he’s talking as though this is a fait accompli, even though I understand that it is. It must be. I can’t go against the wishes of my country’s Prime Minister and Treasurer. Frustration is like a whirlpool in my gut, swallowing me whole.

‘Casinos benefit nobody,’ I say caustically. ‘Except, of course, the corporation behind the casino, which naturally stands to make gross profits from people’s hope-filled gambling.’

It’s the wrong thing to say. Anger flashes like a blade in his eyes, whatever sympathy I’d seen a moment ago evaporating completely. ‘Yes, I profit from my casinos.’

‘Not just ‘profit’.’ Now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. ‘You make tens and tens of billions every year. Honestly, what does someone even need with all that money? Don’t you have enough? Is another casino in your empire really necessary?’

His eyes narrow.

‘How do you sleep at night, Santiago, when the people who flood the floors of your casinos are living out their worst nightmare?’

‘You have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh, yes, I do. I know damned well what places like your casinos do to families and lives.’ I’m trembling with the force of my anger, Uncle Richard’s haunted expression something I’ll never forget. ‘I hate everything about what you do. And I loathe the idea of selling this land to you.’

‘What can I say, Your Highness? We do not all have the advantages of being born into this.’ He gestures to the palace, and contempt is encompassed in the flat line of his mouth.

I’m so tempted to tell him that being born into royalty is many things, but ‘advantaged’ is not one of them.

‘No, that’s true,’ I say instead. ‘Most people aren’t royal.’ I aim for sarcasm. It’s small-minded and rude, but I don’t think I care.

A scathing twist of his lips shows, if anything, my remark has amused him. ‘You want to keep “your people” in the dark ages.’

‘By saving them from the lure of gambling?’

He laughs, a thick, gruff sound that sends sparks of lightning through my body. ‘Do you have any idea how prim you sound?’

I gape, the disparagement unexpectedly hurtful. I spin away from him, because I need the breathing space. He’s too close, too everything.

‘In every pleasure, there is the potential for pain. Should alcohol be banned altogether because some people have a propensity to alcoholism? Should driving be outlawed because there are some drivers who will always speed just for the thrill of it? Of course not. You cannot protect your citizens from every possible perceived evil. Life doesn’t come with any guarantee.’

‘That’s just the sort of reply I’d expect from someone who’s never borne any personal responsibility.’

His head whips back, as though I’ve punched him. ‘With respect,’ he says it in a way that makes it clear the words are empty, ‘You know nothing about me or my responsibilities.’

‘I know enough.’

‘Because I own casinos.’

‘Because you own casinos,’ I agree, my anger stirred beyond usefulness. ‘Because you live the life of a hedonistic bachelor intent on drinking, smoking, having debauched parties on super-yachts, all the while robbing poor people of their homes and relationships. I ask you again, how do you sleep at night?’

‘Rarely alone,’ he throws back, the words sparking through me, and I gasp, the image of him naked fully formed in my mind. ‘But apparently you know that already, Princess.’

‘This is getting out of hand.’ My voice shakes, fury still ripe in my gut, disbelief at the direction our conversation has taken making my skin clammy. Or is it the reference to his sexual activities? I press fingertips to my throbbing temples, willing myself to calm down.

‘You are the one who’s letting a personal opinion interfere with a business proposition.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Then how come the way I live my life doesn’t bother your Prime Minister or Treasurer?’

My eyes sweep shut at his very valid point. ‘Of course it bothers them. They’re men of integrity and you’re...you’re...’

I whirl around to face him, only to find that the Spanish billionaire has closed the distance between us. He’s right behind me, his eyes latched onto mine, his face a mask of repressed emotion––but I see beyond it. I feel the fury emanating off him in waves.

‘Si? What am I?’

‘Not like them,’ I finish lamely, my anger cresting and falling, being replaced by something else now, a different wave, something more dangerous and distracting. I stare up at him, my body quivering with a thousand and one things.

He’s so close, though, so close, and I find myself slipping, my fingertips tingling with a need to feel. I clasp them together in front of me to stop myself doing something really stupid, like reaching up and running them over his chest.

I know I should move away. Take a step backward. Put some space between us. But being near him is doing something vital and addictive to my body; it’s resonating through me.

I hold my ground, inches from him.

‘No.’ His expression is grim, his eyes piercing mine before dropping to my lips, tracing the line of my mouth until I open it on a small gasp. A gasp or a plea? I can’t be certain. ‘I imagine they never argue with you like this.’

I shake my head wordlessly, just the tiniest movement, for fear of dislodging his gaze from my mouth. I feel as though he’s touching me. Pleasure spikes through me. I have no idea what this means—I’ve never seen a man and longed for him in this way. It’s wrong and inappropriate, but even that knowledge makes me want him more, not less. ‘No one does.’

Something like understanding flashes through his eyes. ‘And do you like being argued with?’

‘Of course not,’ I lie, ignoring the fact that I feel more alive right now than I have in my entire life.

His soft laugh shows he understands, and it embeds itself in my nervous system. ‘Then shall I leave?’

Yes. Yes, he should. This conversation is counter-productive, his presence an affront. We’re never going to agree. He should absolutely leave. ‘I...’ The words are jammed in my throat, some invisible barrier preventing them from escaping.

Triumph crosses his expression. His eyes shift to mine, a challenge in their depths as he lifts a hand, moving it closer to my face. I hold my breath, staring at him, waiting. He touches his fingertip to my cheek, phantom-like, so I shift a little closer, pressing my cheek to his palm. What’s happening to me? How can I possibly be doing this? I’m the Crown Princess of Marlsdoven and this man represents a serious threat to my country. Yet here I stand, entranced, captivated, pleasure exploding through me.

‘Come to Spain with me.’

The invitation is husky, his voice deep and accented. I blink, not understanding. His finger inches lower, towards my lips. I have to swallow back a groan. ‘I can’t.’

‘Come to see my casino there. You cannot truly form an opinion on the merits of my proposal until you have witnessed one for yourself.’

My eyes sweep shut, reality intruding on the fog of awareness that has momentarily incapacitated me. It’s a timely reminder of who he is and why I have to fight this drugging attraction with everything I have. I snap out of my haze, pulling away from him, jerking backwards, trying to load anger into my eyes. ‘I know enough.’

He’s surprised by my rapid shift, but surprise quickly morphs into determination. ‘Are you afraid to be proved wrong?’

‘There’s no chance of that. I’ll never approve of gambling.’

‘Casinos are so much more than gambling,’ he insists.

‘Next you’ll be telling me people play with tokens and no real money is ever wagered.’

‘There’s no fun in that,’ he drawls sardonically.

‘There’s no fun in people losing their money, gambling until their debts get out of control.’

‘No,’ he agrees. ‘And we have safeguards in place to try to prevent this.’ He closes the distance between us. ‘Come to Spain and see for yourself.’

My heart twists, my ability to think clearly impeded once more.

‘Or are you afraid of what will happen once you leave this gilded cage?’

I blink up at him. ‘Afraid?’

‘Just you and me, no rank, no staff––no reason to ignore what we both clearly want.’