window. He was looking at her. She turned around. The air shimmered between them. He came towards her and in a bid to break the intensity Leila glanced away, still a little overwhelmed by how much he made her feel.
And then something caught her eye on a nearby table, and when it registered she let out a gasp. ‘Oh, no!’
Alix had spotted what Leila had spotted just a second afterwards and he cursed silently and vowed to have whoever had left the papers here sacked.
It was a popular French tabloid magazine and there was a picture on the front. A picture of Alix and Leila on a beach. They’d gone there the day before. They were sprawled in the sand, their swimwear leaving little to the imagination, but they were not naked, thankfully. Her face was turned away, up to his, so she wasn’t identifiable—but he was.
Leila had already picked it up, but Alix whipped it out of her hands and threw it away. He said urgently, ‘They didn’t get your face...it’s okay.’
She was pale, shocked. She looked up at him. ‘You knew about this?’
Alix’s conscience stung so much it hurt. Funny, he’d never considered himself to have much of a conscience. Before.
‘My assistant sends me updates on any news coverage.’
Leila looked wounded. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Alix gritted his jaw. ‘Because I was hoping you wouldn’t see it.’
Leila waved an arm. ‘Well, the whole of France has seen it now.’ She looked down to where the magazine was on the floor and read out, ‘“Who is the exiled King’s latest mystery flame?”’
Alix caught her chin and moved it towards him. He felt her resistance. When she was looking at him he said, ‘They don’t know who you are and I’ll make sure they won’t. Please—trust me.’
Something moved across her face—some expression that Alix didn’t like. Eventually she said, ‘This has to end after tonight, Alix. I’m not made for your world and I don’t want to be dragged through the papers as just another one of your women.’
Alix rejected everything she said, and a sense of desperation rose up inside him—that need to make her his. But he couldn’t articulate it. So instead he used his mouth, moving it over hers, willing her to respond—and she did, because she was as helpless against this as he was.
* * *
The following morning when Leila woke up it took her a long time to orientate herself. She was in a massive bed, with the most luxurious coverings she’d ever felt. She was naked and alone. And her body ached. Between her legs she was tender.
And then it all flooded back. Alix had led her in here last night and stripped her bare, as reverently as if she was something precious. Then he’d laid her down and subjected Leila to what could only be described as a sensual attack.
An attack that had been fully consensual.
It was as if everything he’d taught her had been only the first level, and his lovemaking last night had shown her that there could be so much more. Alix hadn’t been tender or gentle. He’d been fierce, bordering on rough, but Leila blushed when she thought of how she’d revelled in it, meeting him every step of the way, exulting in it, spurring him on, raking her nails down his back, begging hoarsely for more, harder, deeper...
Even the fact that her picture had been in that magazine, albeit not identifiable, had faded into the background now.
She had a vague memory of finally falling asleep around dawn, with Alix’s arms tight around her. Leila frowned as another memory struggled to break through her sluggish thought processes. Alix had kissed the back of her head and said, ‘You’re not going anywhere...this isn’t over...’
Leila frowned. Had she heard that? And what could it mean? The prospect that Alix had decided that something more permanent might come out of what they had made her silly heart speed up.
She needed to talk to him.
Leila got out of bed and made her way to the opulent bathroom that her small apartment could have fitted into twice over. Once showered and dressed, she made her way to find Alix, hearing his low, deep tones before she saw him.
She smiled. Even his voice made heat curl in her belly as she recalled the way he sounded in bed—all earthy and husky and desperate... Maybe, just maybe, there was something different between them? The fact that she wasn’t like his usual women—
Leila stopped in her tracks outside the door when she heard her name.
Alix spoke again. ‘Leila’s perfect, Andres. She’s beautiful, accomplished, intelligent, refined.’
Leila blushed to find herself eavesdropping like this—and to hear herself being spoken of this way.
But Alix sounded a little angry when he spoke next. ‘The very fact that she didn’t want to be seen with me is a point in her favour. She’s totally different to any other woman I’ve ever been with.’
Leila frowned minutely. A point in her favour? It sounded as if she was being graded.
She went to move forward, to let him know she was there, but when she got to the doorway she saw he was standing with his back to her, looking out of the window. So he didn’t see her.
And when he spoke again his tone had the little hairs standing up on the back of her neck.
‘To be perfectly honest,’ he went on, ‘I couldn’t have possibly engineered this to go better if I’d planned it to happen. We’re on the brink of a referendum that will return me to the throne and the ruling party haven’t a clue. They probably think I’m still sunning myself with her on a beach in the Caribbean. Everything is falling into place at just the right time.’
Leila stepped back through the doorway, out of sight, horror coursing through her, her skin going clammy with shock.
Alix laughed and it was harsh. ‘Since when has love had any relevance when it comes to the wife I will choose? The important thing is that she’s falling in love with me—I’m sure of it. This will be nothing like my parents’ marriage...toxic from the inside out.’
He continued, oblivious to the devastation taking place just outside the door as the full import of what he was saying sank into Leila.
‘How do I know? She was a virgin, Andres...a woman doesn’t give that up easily. To return to power with a fiancée by my side will put me in a much stronger position. Leila will make a great queen, I’m sure of it. She’s the right choice.’
He was silent again, and then he spoke in a low voice.
‘No, I’ve no doubt that she’ll say yes. If I need to reassure her that I love her too, to achieve my aims, then so be it. It won’t be a hardship. And the sooner we have children the better—an heir will be the strongest sign of stability for Isle Saint Croix. A sign of hope and things moving on.’
Leila’s heart was pounding so hard she thought she might faint. Sweat was breaking out on her brow.
She was a virgin...a woman doesn’t give that up easily. If I need to reassure her that I love her too...then so be it.
For a moment a sharp pain near her heart almost caused her to double over. What Alix was proposing to do made her feel sick. He would embark on a life with her based on lies and falsehoods just so that he could present the whole package to his precious island. An island that he was on the brink of regaining after he’d let her believe that it was a far distant possibility—not imminent. He’d lied to her face! And he would father a child purely to further his own political aims!
The irony was like a slap in the face—her own father had rejected a child for the same reasons. But Leila was in no mood to appreciate that dark humour now.
All their conversations took on a sinister glow now. His questions