Page 71 of Crowned for His Son

The raw pain in her voice had shrivelled his soul to nothing. He’d spent a sleepless night wondering if this decision was the right one. He, a man known for cutting through the dross to the heart of any given situation, was floundering desperately, unnerved by how wrong he’d got the most important relationship of his life. To the point where he’d been avoiding the most important person in his life. The person who held his heart and soul in the palm of her beautiful hand. Avoiding her for fear that he’d wreck that too, before he came within a hope of salvaging what he’d destroyed.

‘Your Majesty? Miss Mallory is ready for you.’

Valenti glanced over at him. Azar thanked his brother with a curt nod. Not that it had been a huge effort to get the world-renowned broadcaster to drop everything and fly to Cartana for a global exclusive with the King.

Clenching his belly, he strode to the blue-cushioned, gilt-edged chair opposite where the middle-aged woman sat.

‘Your Majesty, thank you so much for granting me this interview. It’s an honour to speak with you.’

He nodded briskly, but didn’t reply. She got the message and moved on, touching on economics, social standing, human rights.

He cut across her ten minutes in. ‘You’ve done your homework, I’m sure, Miss Mallory, so you’ll know our GDP is healthy, our healthcare and gender equality are ranked among the top five in the world, et cetera. But I didn’t bring you here to waste time talking about what you already know.’

She hesitated for a minute, wondering if she could smell a trap, before obviously deciding that whatever was coming would be worth it.

‘What would you like to talk about, then, Your Majesty?’

His heart leapt one last wild time, then settled into a rapid thudding. ‘I would like to talk about my wife. My queen,’ he replied, and the pulse throbbing in his voice made everyone in the room—perhaps everyone tuning in—sit up and take notice.

Which was exactly what Eden deserved.

Rachel Mallory nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘As you and the world know, we met some three years ago in Arizona. What you don’t know is that at the time I misjudged her terribly. She was trying to make a living in the most honest way she knew how, and I allowed my past and adverse influences get in the way of seeing her for who she truly is. A generous, warm, supportive and intelligent woman who puts those she loves above everything else in her life. She tried many times to let me know I was wrong in my thinking and…’

He paused, his chest caving in on itself under the overwhelming weight of his guilt. Teeth gritted, he pushed his way forward.

‘I refused to believe her. I was wrong.’

‘Say more,’ Rachel Mallory encouraged, her focus unwavering. Almost daring him.

‘All my life I’ve felt… I’m not quite enough.’ Azar’s lips twisted at the sceptical look in her eyes. ‘And, yes, I see you don’t quite believe that, because I’m a king. But first I’m a human being. With feelings I’ve long suppressed because it hurt too much to feel.’

There was movement in his peripheral vision. No doubt palace advisors, wondering where he was going with this, alarmed that he might be revealing too much. But he didn’t care. Not any more. If baring his soul, relinquishing control, was what it took, then so be it.

But then he felt a unique sensation.

Felt her.

Swivelling his head, searching past the spotlights, he saw her.

Dios mio, she was here. To make true on her promise? No, he would expose every last crumb of himself before he let that happen.

Rachel Mallory followed his gaze, her eyes widening before she quickly pivoted. ‘Your wife, the Queen, is here. Do you mind if she joins us, Your Majesty?’

‘It is entirely her choice,’ Azar replied, though his whole being was straining for Eden.

When his fingers twitched, rising towards her almost independently of his thought, his breath snagged in his chest.

To his shock and awe, she stepped into the light, her eyes pinned on his as she accepted the invitation, swaying and poised and so damned beautiful he wanted to drop to his knees in worship of her.

She was here.

Perhaps all was not lost.

She took his hand and sat in the hastily produced chair, barely acknowledging their interviewer. ‘Go on,’ she encouraged him, her husky voice composed.

He cleared his throat of the surfeit of emotion. He had a confession to finish. The most important of his life.

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