Page 68 of Crowned for His Son

He suppressed the urge to snap at them, demand to be left alone, as he looked up from his phone—another call unanswered by Eden—and realised his hand was shaking.

Again.

Dios mio, she was the only woman to make him tremble so damn much. She drilled holes in his control without even trying. And, astonishingly, his heart—his soul—was making peace with the fact that he would relinquish that control if it meant having her…keepingher.

‘Why do you care?’ he lashed out.

Teo looked momentarily pained, an expression that pierced regret through Azar before the all-encompassing terror reclaimed his whole being.

‘Look, it’s clear to everyone that you miss your family. Even I miss Max. I’ve grown fond of the little rascal. And your wife isn’t half bad either. You can bury your head in the sand about it if you want, but lately you’ve seemed…’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know…less sour-faced? Passably tolerable?’

‘Seriously. Shut up, Teo,’ Valenti growled from his position of solemn watchfulness in the corner.

Unflinching, Teo sauntered over with glasses of the premium cognac he’d poured and handed them out, watching, with one brow arched as Azar downed his in one go.

‘I’m going out on a limb here, so bear with me,’ he mused, ignoring Valenti’s venomous look. ‘If this is still about Nick and what happened in Arizona, you need to handle it quickly.’

‘Teo…’

He ignored his twin. ‘You chose to overlook his faults and, while he was great at hiding them, he wasn’tthatgood. So what I’m saying is, are you willing to lose your family over whatever is holding you back?’

Azar had jack-knifed in his seat when Teo started talking, but now the bracing words made his insides shrivel. Because it really was that simple. And the answer was as clear as the blue skies outside his window.

He wanted her. Heneededher.

And unless he took careful, calculated steps, he might lose everything.

So he stood, ignoring his brothers’ probing stares, and walked out.

Unfortunately, a whole day later he, the clever strategist everyone claimed him to be, hadn’t devised an effective strategy to win his wife. Instead, he was reduced totextingher. With idiotic hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.

You’re ignoring me.

The words made him seethe, and they terrified him.

A whole five minutes passed, then:

You’re a king, with realms of adoring subjects. You’ll survive.

He gritted his teeth, even as his belly swooped with fear. He looked around the room—her suite, which he’d taken to wandering into because her scent lingered in the air. And he found he needed that, too.

I won’t survive without you…

He started to type the words, then quickly deleted them. Carefully. Because accidentally sending it would…would…

What?

Reveal, once and for all, the true, fathomless depths of his feelings? Reveal that his aberrant outburst in Arizona had been the unstable precursor of what he hadn’t recognised was his love and obsession for her? That he would give up everything, including his cursed control, if she would forgive him and love him back?

He swallowed…blinked hard as the truth settled deep and immovable in his heart.

Come home. Please.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

Come home, por favor.

Right. Because begging in his father tongue was less emasculating? Why not simply text his true feelings too and be done with it?

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