Page 51 of Pregnant By the Wrong Prince

So she’d tried to mould herself into what they wanted, being good and quiet and biddable. Making them proud.

Except she wasn’t like that with Rafael, she never had been, and anyway, she didn’t know how he felt about her, so what did she have to lose?

She loved him and her fear didn’t matter in the face of that. The only thing that mattered was him and if she wanted to help him, take away his pain, she was going to have to push.

Determination settled down inside her.

‘Is that a picture of you and your mother?’ she asked.

His gaze had gone a dark, gunmetal grey, the door to the furnace of his intensity firmly closed. ‘Yes. Did you find a T-shirt?’

It was very clear he was not going to talk about the photo.

‘I did,’ she said. ‘It’s a lovely photo, Rafael. Why is it at the bottom of your drawer?’

He pushed the drawer back in. ‘Because that’s where I put it.’ He turned toward the doorway. ‘Constanza will be serving dinner shortly. Shall we go down?’

It was clear that it was not a request.

Lia didn’t move. ‘The moment you saw it, I could feel the temperature of the room plunge about fifty degrees. Why is that?’

Again, he lifted a negligent shoulder. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’

‘No. You will tell me about it now.’

He was halfway to the door and he stopped. His back was rigid, every line of him stiff. ‘I’m not sure I like you demanding answers from me.’ That casual tone was back and she hadn’t realised before how much she hated it.

‘You’re doing it again, making it sound like you don’t care,’ she said flatly. ‘Except I know that you do. What is it with your mother, Rafael?’

He turned his head to the side, the muscles in his jaw tight. ‘You’d prefer it if I shouted at you? Perhaps throw things like a child?’

But she could see past that reserve, could see beneath the ice field. She’d always seen the fire in him, no matter how deep he buried it beneath layers of ice.

‘Being angry doesn’t make you Carlos,’ she said quietly. ‘Nothingyou do will ever turn you into him.’

Something clicked into place inside her all of a sudden. His apparent coldness in stark contrast to the passion that burned inside him. The way he always sounded casual when there was something vital to be discussed. The quiet, frightening way he’d issue orders or warnings. He never lost his temper, not once. He was always in control.

Except with you.

‘I think you’re wrong,’ Lia said flatly, staring straight into Rafael’s silver eyes. She hadn’t known where she’d got her courage from, whether from the whisky bottle in front of her or from the rush of adrenaline that had filled her the moment she’d uttered the words.

It was a challenge and they both knew it.

‘I’m wrong?’ he echoed in that mild tone he always used and yet that always sounded so menacing. ‘Are you sure?’

He was sitting sprawled in the chair opposite, the buttons of his shirt undone, his sleeves rolled up, relaxed and so unbelievably attractive she could hardly breathe.

‘Of course you’re wrong.’ She had to say it again, just to see the silver in his eyes flare and because she liked saying it. Like poking the tiger sitting across from her with a stick. ‘Money isn’t the be all and end all.’

He tilted his head. ‘Says the woman who’s never been hungry a day in her life.’

She flushed, because of course that was true. ‘I’m not saying money isn’t useful and that it doesn’t buy a certain amount of happiness. But that happiness isn’t lasting.’

‘But doesn’t that depend on how much money you have?’

‘Fine.’ She put her elbows on the desk and leaned forward, bracing herself and looking into those fascinating eyes of his, feeling her heart begin to hammer in her head at the risk she was taking. ‘Then, given how much money you have, are you happy, Your Excellency?’

‘Of course,’ he said in that same tone.

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