Page 37 of Crowned for His Son

He tossed his napkin on the table. ‘We’ll leave now.’

‘No, it’s fine. I just need to…to not think about the past too hard if I want to keep it at bay.’

He inhaled sharply. ‘And you let me quiz you about your mother?’

‘I’m fine—’

‘Stop saying that.’ He came behind her chair and helped him up.

The chef rushed out, but a look from Azar had Ramon intercepting the frazzled man.

A minute later they were back in the limo. The return journey was conducted in silence, Azar mostly watching her like a hawk.

It was a relief to return to the mundanity of checking on Max, lingering over her sleeping son. And she was relieved further when Azar, after bringing her two tablets for her headache, offered to walk her to her suite.

She refused, because these alarming acts of care and consideration were at odds with the picture of the man she’d drawn up in her head. The one who was a carbon copy of her father. And until she worked out his true character she would be best served by keeping the distance between them.

She’d taken enough blows in her life already.

* * *

Except distance was out of the question when they had to put on a show the next morning.

Walking along the Seine, Azar’s hand slipped into hers, their palms rubbing, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that went through her.

He glanced sharply at her, his eyes turning a little molten as his steps slowed. ‘We have this going for us, at least,’ he murmured.

‘What?’

‘I touch you and you react so…responsively. This kind of chemistry can’t be faked.’

She reminded herself that it was all an act. ‘But it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, does it?’

His eyes turned flinty. ‘Meaning?’

‘You said so yourself—we’re doing this for Max. How we react physically to one another will never become a problem we need to deal with.’

‘You think not?’

‘Unless you’re about to admit uncontrollable feelings for me, then no.’ Her voice was thankfully firm enough to make her next breath easier.

‘Uncontrollable? Hardly. But noteworthy, perhaps.’

‘Shall we keep walking or stand around playing word games?’

He remained exactly where he was, exercising his regal right to do things exactly the way he wanted. In her peripheral vision Eden saw their bodyguards expertly steering tourists around them—which had the predicted effect of garnering more interest. Which His Royal Highness played to maximum effect by lifting their linked hands between them, his eyes never leaving hers, and bringing her knuckles to his lips.

He took his time to brush his warm, sensual lips over each one, then laid her hand on his chest as he stepped even closer. His other slid over her nape, his thumb tilting her chin up until their eyes were locked. Then, just like yesterday afternoon, he leaned close, his gaze dropping to her mouth. As if on cue, her lips parted, and her breathing became hopelessly shallow despite knowing he was toying with her. That this was all for show.

‘Sí, querida.Just like that,’ he rasped huskily. ‘Forget word games. One more minute of this and you’ll be well on your way to winning accolades for this performance.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

THEY LANDED ATthe airport in the Cartanian capital, San Mirabet, and just like in Paris were whisked away by a sleek helicopter with the Royal House of Domene crest etched boldly into the paintwork.

Unlike in Paris, though, their arrival was orchestrated in streamlined secrecy, the red carpet leading to the covered walkway devoid of any people bar the pilot, the flight attendants and Azar’s guards.

Azar noticed her puzzled look as he buckled Max into his seat. ‘Until the announcement is made, there’s no point in inviting a circus to disturb us,’ he told her. ‘It’ll happen soon enough.’

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