Page 45 of Crowned for His Son

He should’ve heeded his far too many valets and assistants, who had hinted that it was too early for him to get ready. This bout of…ofnerveswasn’t familiar to him, nor was it anywhere near enjoyable.

Nor were the recurring bolts of alarm he’d suffered since Eden had blurted that she wanted to postpone the wedding three weeks ago. He’d dispensed with that nonsense—because surely every woman desired a crown on her head?—but admittedly in those few minutes, and far too frequently since, the searing disquiet that she’d change her mind, choose an alternative to marrying him, had taunted him more often than he liked. As had the steady drips of the possibility that his suspicions about her behaviour in Arizona might be unfounded, rooted in one of Nick’s games. Perhaps even cleverly orchestrated by his supposed friend?

If that was the case—if he’d acted on false evidence—could she…would she reject him? He shook his head. She wouldn’t. Even if just for Max’s sake.

He held on to that belief, grounding himself in the moment, ignoring the hollow in his belly at the thought thathemerited blame, too.

The moment was here.

His wedding day.

No matter how much he’d prepared for it, he still reeled at the fact that he had a son and was about to acquire a wife. A wife who didn’t remember anything of their time together. Call him devious, but he’d tested her in minor ways over the weeks, and eventually concluded that no woman could fake such a thing for so long. That knowledge had added a twist to already churning sensations far removed from the titanium control he preferred.

Hell…if anyone dared label it, they might say he was suffering from thejitters.

Because what if she remembered and decided she’d been wrong to give such ready consent to be his queen? Besides his mother, she held the singular position of being the only woman to do so. And,sí, that remained a thorn far too close to his chest for comfort.

His jaw tightened. If she decided she’d made a mistake—

‘I don’t envy you, but it’s not exactly the gallows,hermano. Lighten up, hmm?’

His jerked at Valenti’s prompting. Of the three of them, he was the quietest and the most severe—which was something, considering Azar knew he terrified most people with his intensity on a daily basis.

‘Or, if there’s a particular problem on your mind, I’m all ears.’

The offer came with piercing scrutiny that would have raised his hackles if he hadn’t known what his brother had been through.

What Valenti had suffered—taking a literal bullet for another, then dealing with the harrowing fallout of that split-second decision—would’ve felled most men. But the Domene blood running through his veins had lived up to its fearsome reputation. Still, sometimes he worried…

‘No, I’m good,gracias.’

‘He’s good, yet he’s ruining his damn suit! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re freaking the hell out. Worried your bride won’t turn up?’

Teo started to laugh, then thought better of it when neither brother joined in.

The truth was, Azar was marrying a woman with a spine of steel beneath the beauty and gentleness she portrayed. That meant that even though she’d given her word, there was no guarantee. And…he couldn’t exactly force her. Gone were the days when a Domene man could declare a woman his, give her little choice in the matter, and have her bear his name and his children.

And, yes…the tiniest sliver of him wished for those days. But since he couldn’t get them back, and didn’t really agree with those Middle Ages practices, he tugged on his cuff one last time—earning himself another glare from Teo—then strode for the door.

So what if he was getting there fifteen minutes early? It would keep the guards and the royal timekeepers on their toes. Not to mention earn him some points with the media as an eager groom.

Win-win.

‘Wait. Is he—? He’s leaving?’ Teo exclaimed. ‘Dammit, it’s not time yet! I don’t care if he’s almost a king—that isnotcool.’

Valenti joined him. Together, they ignored the complaining Teo as they headed out to the fleet of silver Bentleys.

It was a good thing he’d been groomed from birth to nod and wave when necessary, because all he could concentrate on was whether or not Eden would turn up.

Why the question had suddenly taken up so much room in his mind.

And what he’d do if she didn’t.

* * *

Chantilly lace, with a train embroidered with white alyssum, the national flower of Cartana. Those flowers also formed part of her gorgeous bouquet, bordered by purple lilies. It was hands down the most exquisite gown Eden had ever seen. The gown several Cartanian institutions had already promised her the earth for if she would donate it to their collection, even without having seen it yet.

While Sabeen had grown misty-eyed when Eden had donned the gown, Eden’s own tears had come from a deeper well of swirling emotions.

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