by Maisey Yates
“You told me that you wouldn’t sleep with me,” he said.
“Because I wanted children. I was afraid. I was afraid that if I slept with you this would happen. And it did. I was trying to protect myself from the inevitable. Because I knew... Gunnar, I knew that part of you not wanting children was you holding back your emotions. Please don’t give what we’ve shared to someone else. Please don’t ask me to go.”
“Where do you wish to live?” he asked, not responding to her at all. “I will establish your living quarters there.”
“With you, you idiot. In your home, in your bed.”
“Anywhere else in the world, Latika. It’s yours. But not with me. Not here.”
He tilted his chin upward. “I swore my protection to you, to the child, and I will give that. But I will give no more. I hope you will have found a new place to reside when I return. You will want for nothing. My word is binding. Because I never use them to manipulate.”
“No. You do. You use them to manipulate yourself, Gunnar. And if you can’t see that that I don’t know how to help you.”
But he said nothing to that. Instead, he turned and strode off the terrace, leaving Latika stunned. Because there was no more discussion. And he had simply walked away. From her. From this. From them.
And it all felt too unreal for her to even believe that it had happened.
But the stunning, intense feeling of being cracked from the inside that overtook her when she drew in her next breath told her that it had. She slid off the chair, on her knees on the terrace, gasping for breath. She had never felt like this before. Ever. And she thought she might be dying. She had run away from her parents, parents who had been intent on marrying her off to a madman. Had seen how little value she had to them.
She had hidden away for years, had been through so many things that should have done this to her. Should have immobilized her. Should have left her completely and utterly breathless with pain. And yet none of it had.
But this... This was beyond what she thought she could endure.
Always in her life when she had been backed into a corner, she had known that she had to move. Had known that she needed to take a step away from the threat so that she would be safe. But here she was immobilized. Because the man who had just hurt her far beyond anything she could have ever fathomed, was also the one person she wanted to be with more than any other. And she found she had for self-protection.
Because all of her walls were gone. She had fallen in love, and it had stolen all of her protection.
It had stolen everything.
And she had no idea how she was going to survive this.
But suddenly, she remembered.
She put her hand on her stomach, covering her body. The place where the baby grew.
The baby was why she would survive. Why she would carry on.
And more than that, why she would find ways to be happy.
Because she would never subject her child to an unhappy, bitter upbringing.
Her chance at love was this baby.
And yes, Gunnar had come and found her, and he had given her hope. But the loss of him didn’t mean the death of her hope.
If she had learned one lesson through all of this it was that the amount of hope that existed in her was an incredible thing. She had grown up in a cloistered life, but she had hoped for more than what her parents had chosen for her.
She had hoped for more than a marriage without love.
That hope was strong. And it would carry her through, even when she couldn’t carry herself.
That she had to rest on the strength of that hope, because more often than not it was the only strength available.
* * *
When Gunnar arrived in San Diego, he was something more than jetlagged. Something worse than hung over. He didn’t understand the thing that was happening inside of him. He didn’t understand why the hell he couldn’t seem to think straight.
He’d needed to get away from Latika for a while. Because the days and nights of time spent with her had begun to erode the walls he’d built in his soul to protect himself and he’d begun to feel battle worn.
Not from torture or isolation.
From her soft touch on his skin. From her kisses on his lips.
And so he’d devised a trip to get away from her for a while and then...then it had all gone to hell.
Everything felt like it was wrong.
Muddled and messed up, and like it would never be right again. He had endured a great many things in his life. Things that would have broken many people. Most people. But he had never felt like he lost his purpose. He did now. He felt like he couldn’t remember the reason he was supposed to breathe. Or a reason anyone might keep breathing.
The world seemed dark. Beyond dark. The world seemed like a completely and unutterably foreign and dark place. He could find nothing bright or hopeful in it. And in the past, when he had felt that way, he had been reminded that at least there was alcohol. At least there was sex. But the despair that he felt now could not be dealt with alcohol. And he didn’t want women. Not any woman other than Latika. Ever. She was everything. And she was gone. He didn’t know what in the hell he was supposed to do with that. Or why in the hell he had behaved the way he had.
Except.
Except. The thing she had been offering to him seemed far too good, far too good to be real. That was something he learned in life. That anything that seemed too good to be true was. The one time his mother had ever shown any interest in him was when he had been a boy. He had spent hours being tormented at his father’s hands.
He had spent days confined to the dungeon. Kept in an area that was not large enough for him to lay down. He had been cramped and isolated, and when his mother had seen him again she had acted like she was glad to see him. And then it had become abundantly clear that she didn’t wish to hold him or comfort him. But that she was only concerned that his father might have made some headway in convincing him to try and overthrow Astrid. To contest her position for the throne.
It had never been about him.
He had only realized later that of course, if it would have benefited her to liberate him from his father’s clutches, she would have done so. But it didn’t. Because if she had tried to get him over to her side, then it would perhaps inspire his father to use other means to get his way. And if she had exposed him to the public, well then... The entire reputation of the royal family of Bjornland would be at risk. And that was something that of course neither of his parents could ever chance. It was a terrible realization.
To know that his own mother had weighed and calculated that. That his own father had done the same. And given the way that his parents felt about him, he could not fathom that Latika could feel any different.
His chest felt crushed.
Was he really so simple?
Was he really so simple that he could not face her declaration of love because he feared he might be harmed? Because he feared all the weak and vulnerable places in him that it exposed. The kind of husband and father he could not be.
Because he could not expose himself to such pain.
He was a coward. And yet, he did not know if he possessed the strength to fight against his own cowardice. He was going to go out. He had every intention of going out. Of finding a woman and getting caught in a compromising position with her. Of destroying the reputation that he had built up for himself. Of breaking their marriage apart. Latika had begged him not to touch another woman, so logic dictated that the first thing he should do is go out and touch another woman.
Except the very idea turned his stomach.
He prowled through his house, empty.
This house that had always brought him such satisfaction. A place that he had built far away from himself and the legacy of his father. Yes, this house had been important to him. As had the fact he
had built a business across the world. But now, it all seemed trivial.
Because for a while Latika had been in this house. And when Latika had been in this house, it had been something magic.
When he had taken her out against the wall in the terrace, and fulfilled the fantasy he’d had of tasting her as he’d done.
When he had taken her up to bed and taken her virginity. When her innocence had acted like a dagger and stabbed him through the heart. Had made him wonder whose blood it was that was on the sheets.
She made him feel things he hadn’t thought possible, and he resented her for it.
He had never depended on another person. Not once in his life.
He knew that Latika loved him. Really, love wasn’t the issue.
He didn’t know how to need.
Because days spent in solitary confinement at the hands of his father had taught him not to. Because living with a mother who had cared so little for him, who had certainly never held him, not once when he had fallen, had informed him that he could not depend on anyone but himself.
But part of him thought he might need Latika.
And he didn’t know what to do with that.
And then she would have a child, one that would need him in return.
He could not fathom it. He didn’t want to.
It was painful. Utterly and completely to imagine the scenario, and almost worse to imagine the alternative. He needed her.
He didn’t want to need her.
They were having a child. He was desperate for that child. He also didn’t want to be desperate. And God help him if he knew what the hell he was supposed to do with either feeling.
He had done what he had become proficient in. Running away. Yes, he was very accomplished at that. It was what he had done, after all. The method by which he had handled his father. He had not exposed the old man—and perhaps the excuse that it might damage Astrid’s credibility and harm her was valid enough—but there were other factors. Because it had been more satisfying, because it had been easier, to simply walk. To simply cut ties and care for nothing. To wave a red flag at the bowl in that regard. And to give himself reprieve.
He was a man who had made his own destiny, and who was very proud of it.
But a huge portion of that journey had been about twisting the problem to suit him, rather than killing it once and for all. Perhaps that was what he had done here. Perhaps that was what he had done with Astrid.
But he didn’t know who he was, at the end of everything. Didn’t know what he was actually capable of.
Because all he ever asked of himself was that he protect Astrid. That he survived.
And suddenly, it hit him like a wall of bricks.
He was accusing Latika of reacting because she had no choice. But he was the one who lived in that world. He was the one who had made every decision he had made because the alternative was so undesirable.
Who would he have been without the abuse of his father? If he’d not had to dedicate his whole life to protecting Astrid? Would he have wanted children. Would he have reacted to the news of Astrid’s pregnancy with joy rather than with anger? When Latika had come to the palace to be his sister’s assistant, would he have immediately allowed himself to fall for her? How different would everything have been? It was impossible to say. It was impossible to say, because they had not been given that opportunity. Because he had not been given that opportunity.
He put his hand in his pocket, felt the sensor that would start his car. He could go out. He could go out and he could make a scandal. He could destroy his marriage to Latika. It was one of his choices.
Choices. Yes, he had them. He could go back to Bjornland, he could confess his undying love, and what then? What then. What would happen when she tired of him. What would happen when he couldn’t be what she needed him to be? In his experience, that meant that he was not worth the effort. And as a man who was not worth the effort, he simply could not believe that he was now.
He gritted his teeth, and turned, walking out of the apartment.
Yes, they all had choices.
And sometimes the choices before you were grim.
But he would do what he had to. To set them both free.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WHEN LATIKA CAME down to breakfast the next morning, Astrid’s face was guarded.
“What?” Latika asked.
“It has to do with my brother.”
Latika felt like a knife had stabbed her through the heart. “I assume you mean he’s gone out and found himself a lover.”
Astrid blinked. “Did you know he was going to?”
“He told me he would.”
“Why?”
“Because I told him I was in love with him, and he did not find that to be satisfactory. But I also begged him not to do this. I told him that we...we could be happy together. We could be. I don’t know why he is intent upon hurting himself. I feel...” She sank down into the chair, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Give me the paper.”
Astrid pulled it toward her chest. “You don’t want to see it.”
“I should see it. I need to see it. I really do.”
“I know. I would feel better if you didn’t.”
“Well, this isn’t about either of us feeling comfortable.”
Astrid slid the paper across the table. And there were photographs. Of Gunnar with a blonde woman. He was only talking to her over drinks, but his hand was rested low on her back, and the headline implied that the two of them had left together. Trouble for the Royal marriage as the Playboy Prince was caught canoodling a California girl.
Latika surprised herself by grabbing the paper and balling it up, throwing it across the dining room.
“I told you,” Astrid said.
“I’ve never been jealous before. It’s awful.”
“Yes,” Astrid agreed. “Of course it’s awful.”
“I don’t want to hurt like this,” Latika said.
“Unfortunately,” Astrid replied. “It does hurt when they break your heart.”
“Like when Mauro broke yours.”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t sleep with another woman.”
“Gunnar might not have either.”
Latika knew that was true. And in fact, it did make some sense. Because Gunnar wanted to drive a wedge between them, and he wanted to do something that he thought she might find irreversible. In this... Well, this would be that thing. So of course, it made sense that he might go to such great lengths.
“Maybe.” She sighed. “He told me to be gone when he got back.”
Astrid looked like she was made of steel. “No. That isn’t fair. You don’t have to leave. He’s the one who should leave.”
“Well, good luck kicking him out of his own palace.”
“It’s my palace. I was born first,” Astrid said imperiously.
Latika’s breath caught. “Yes.”
“Why did you say it like that?”
Latika shook her head. “There are things that... There are things that Gunnar will have to tell you someday. But I can’t break his confidence.”
“Even now?”
“Even now.”
Astrid sighed heavily. And then she stood up, both palms on the table. “Well. If you’re bound and determined to be that loyal to him, then I suggest you stay. Stay in your bedroom. Keep your things there too. Refuse to leave. Whatever he needs to see... Prove to him that he cannot get rid of you.”
“And if he did cheat on me?”
“Only you can answer that question.”
Latika knew the answer in her heart. That no matter what, she was committed to him. Committed to loving him. That whatever actions he committed out of a desire to run...she would forgive.
She truly, truly hoped that she didn’t have to. But she was w
illing. Because she loved him.
And she was tired of living a life where she made subpar choices to run from a bad option.
Gunnar was a good option. Even if he wasn’t perfect. She didn’t need perfect. She needed love.
And in the end, she would see to it that love conquered all. In the end, she would show him just how strong love was. She only wished that she didn’t have to demonstrate it with quite so much intensity. But she would.
* * *
By the time Gunnar returned to the palace in Bjornland, he was prepared to find an empty bedroom where Latika should be. Because of course he had done what he needed to do.
He had gone out and found himself a woman. That he had betrayed their marriage vows. And why would she think he had done any differently.
Exactly the way he’d promised he would.
Or at least, made it seem as if he had.
In reality, nothing could have enticed him to touch the blonde woman he had spent approximately ten minutes chatting with. He had asked her to step outside with him, and she had complied. Then he had paid her a significant amount of money to walk away and not go back into the bar.
As he had anticipated, opinion pieces on his behavior began pouring in immediately. It was nothing more than he had expected. And nothing more than he deserved. And it would allow Latika to be free. Truly. She would be a paragon of virtue in the eyes of his people, and indeed, the people of the world. His child would know his father, and even if he had to spend a lifetime atoning for the supposed sins he had committed against Latika, the child would not be denied its parentage, and that, was something of absolute importance to Gunnar.
He had solved everything.
And yet, he felt empty.
He stood at the threshold of the palace in victory.
And yet, he felt defeated.
There was nothing to feel overly proud of. Not in this.