Ilsa straightened her back and squared her shoulders. No way would she let Santiago lock her out of his rooms. They had a war to prevent, an important deal to save, two countries to unify and a marriage to save. She pushed away from the door and returned to her vanity to rifle through the top drawer for a hair pin. Straightening it, she returned to the door and wiggled it into the handle’s lock until she reached the latch inside the chamber.
Her skin prickled and adrenaline shot through her veins, bubbling into every cell. Ha. She hadn’t grown up in a family full of sisters, one of whom had a bad habit of wearing Ilsa’s favorite clothes without permission without figuring out a trick or two. She gently probed the latch, and the lock clicked open.
Inhaling a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside Santiago’s main living room. Odors of whisky and stale cigar smoke assaulted her senses first. Articles of his clothing had been strewn haphazardly on the floor and antique furniture. Half-empty cut crystal glasses dotted the cherry wood tables along with ashtrays filled with cigar remnants.
Not good. Not good at all. Gritting her teeth, she picked her way through the obstacle course caused by Santiago’s booze blow-out until she reached his bedroom. She heard his groan before she saw him sprawled on the king-sized bed.
“You must be really proud of yourself,” she said, then moved to the windows to fling open the drawn curtains.
Sunlight streamed into the room. “What the hell?” Santiago grabbed a pillow and put it over his face to block the rays. “Can’t you see I’m in agony here?”
She turned and faced the bed. “Serves you right.” Ilsa jerked the pillow from his head to force him to look at her. “While you were tying one on, I spent the better part of last night pouring over the online tabloids to look for any clues that might lead us to the source of the fake news.” She left out the fact he’d abandoned her to drown his frustration.
“That’s the secret service’s job, not yours.” He rolled over and pulled another pillow over his head. “Go away, Ilsa. Everything is fucked up now.”
Stifling the hurt jabbing inside her heart, she stood her ground. She’d agreed to marry Santiago for better or worse under the most insane circumstances. “The secret service has its hands full investigating your brother’s death,” she said as she tugged the duvet from his body knowing the only way to reach him would be to stand firm, show him she was on his side. “Not to mention, I don’t trust anyone except for us.”
He lay there, unmoving, refusing to speak for several beats. Still, Ilsa refused to back down now. “This news has rocked Valdoria, Santiago. We need to stand together and show them a united front now more than ever.” She’d give him the support he needed regardless of his reaction to the news they’d received the day before. His rigid shoulders and the coiled muscles in his back softened a smidgeon.
He rolled over to give her a bleary-eyed look. “You’re not mad?”
Her pulse kicked up a notch. Even hung over, Santiago looked like her next favorite meal. And nothing would obliterate her attraction to him. Not even his disheveled appearance. If anything, the tousled hair and stubbled jawline only made him more adorable. Still, he’d treated her abominably.
Ilsa shook her head. Though she understood the roots of his behavior, she wouldn’t let him off the hook. “Oh, I’m furious.” She held his red-rimmed espresso eyes with hers. “But I’m angrier about the lies than your ridiculous response to the lousy tabloids. Fortunately for you, I know you’re better than this.” So much better. Now that her heart was on the line, she clung to the belief that Santiago had everything in him to be the man she gave herself to physically and emotionally.
Slowly, he sat and leaned against the ornate headboard. “I’m sorry.” Santiago tunneled his fingers through his hair, making it stick out in a dozen different directions. “I acted like an idiot.”
“I’m sure it won’t be the last time,” she said matter-of-factly. “But I forgive you. We must rely on each other to fix this mess before the coronation. Clean up. Get dressed. We start immediately.”
“You want to help me scrub my back?” he asked.
Mentally, she shook her head and rolled her eyes. Only he would suggest shower sex despite his current state. “We don’t have time to fool around.” She walked back to his door, then looked at him over her shoulder. “Plus, I may not have much experience in the kissing department, but I’m pretty sure I won’t like kissing an ashtray mouth.”
His laughter followed her out the door. The sound lifted the last of the weight she carried on her shoulders and put a spring in her steps. He may have acted like an ass last night, but he does like me. I have to remember that every time I doubt him. She made her way through the room, not bothering to clean the mess when they had legions of servants to do the job. And as much as she wanted to hide the state of his suite from nosy prying eyes, they didn’t have time to waste.
She’d discovered something about the source which would shake Santiago at the core, but she didn’t dare reveal the information until they left the castle to pursue her lead.
* * *
“Why would you lie to the press about us, Madre?” Santiago’s head ached, the pain pills Ilsa had given him wearing off far too soon for this confrontation.
Only hours earlier, Ilsa had barreled into his bedroom and forced him to face his responsibilities to Valdoria… and reminded him of his vow to her. Unlike his mother, who gladly thought the worst of him and expected Santiago to fail no matter how he tried to succeed, Ilsa refused to let him use self-destructive behavior change her mind about what his abilities.
She cared. She might even love him a little despite his lousy reaction.
“I had it on good authority.” His mother waved her hand toward the Mediterranean, and her many heirloom jeweled rings caught the sun’s rays. “After all, you’re completely irresponsible. Why else would you marry Ilsa? You just wanted her, nothing more.”
His stomach clenched, and he recoiled as if punched. True. He’d wanted Ilsa and had thought he’d never have her. Now he did. Because his brother had died. His mother’s favorite son had been murdered, and he’d stepped in to fulfill a role even when he’d known his mother expected him to fail—hell, she’d made bringing him down a notch a mission on a regular basis. Still, the news Ilsa had relayed while he dressed had sent him reeling.
“The story you leaked is fabricated,” he repeated. “Now you’re admitting you heard about this second-hand. You’re a lot of rotten things, but gossip is low even for you.”
His mother blinked and covered her mouth. “You dare insult me,” she said. “I don’t have to take this from you. You’re still my son and I deserve your respect.”
“You’ve got to earn my respect. So far you’re doing a lousy job.”
“Santiago. Please,” Ilsa said gently. “She’s guilty of believing a lie. And grieving. No one thinks straight after a major loss.”
“You’re right.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Today I wanted to contact the press and demand an explanation. Print the truth if only to exonerate Ilsa’s name, but she insisted we give you the benefit of the doubt. Now I know someone planted this bullshit in your ear.” And he’d damn well get to the bottom of it even if he had to shake it out of the aristocratic, haughty and incredibly stubborn woman.
“Please, Your Majesty, we’re trying to protect you,” Ilsa added.
Which was why he’d ditched the secret service guards stationed outside their doors via a secret passageway leading to the royal family’s fleet of vehicles. Then he'd nabbed his Mercedes sports car and raced to the coast in record time to confront the Queen Mother.
“You’re lucky Ilsa’s on your side.” He’d reluctantly agreed with Ilsa. No one, not even their bodyguards, should discover his mother’s treachery. Not until they spoke to her personally.
“Maybe she’s trying to get back in my good graces.”
“Are you kidding me?” Santiago asked. “You know Ilsa. Her entire l
ife was scripted from the time she arrived in this world until a few weeks ago. She’s spent years preparing for her marriage to Javier, not me.” Even now guilt about gaining the woman he desired at the cost of his brother’s life pricked at his conscience. But he couldn’t deny the relief he’d experienced when Ilsa had agreed to marry him after his brother’s death.
“Anyone can live a lie,” Queen Constanza looked toward the villa’s expansive living room where a portrait of Santiago’s father hung over the fireplace’s mantle. “You of all people should know that, Santiago. Your father was a case in point.”
The pain in his stomach crawled into his throat, scraping it raw. When would she ever see him for the man he’d become? “This is Ilsa,” he said as she moved to stand closer beside him, their shoulders touching. “When in the hell would she have had time to have an affair with anyone, let alone me?” And why had she agreed so quickly to be his wife? She hadn’t felt anything for him, had loved… no. That was in the past. She married him to spare their countries from a devastating war. A sacrifice at the time, but now he believed she didn’t regret her decision.
He’d seen the love reflecting in her eyes even if she never said the words.
“Your leak to the press and tabloids has set back months of plans. I may never get Pinnacle Industries to expand to Valdoria now because of this lie.”
“If you’re both so innocent.” His mother’s dark eyes darted between Santiago and Ilsa. “Explain the heat anyone with half a brain can see flaring between you. Certainly not what I’d expect with two people who’d never have chosen each other or been together if not for Javier’s murder.”
His mother’s voice cracked and a sheen of tears glimmered in her narrow gaze. A part of Santiago, the part who had strived to gain her affection when he’d been a young boy, yearned to offer her comfort. After all, he’d witnessed her struggling to hold in her emotions whenever he’d caught her alone with her thoughts. But she’d lost that right years ago. Long before he’d assisted his father’s most recent mistress after the King’s sudden death.
“Yes. Santiago and I are lucky, Queen Constanza. We’re compatible and I’m incredibly grateful.” Ilsa stood stock still next to him. “However, I was completely committed to marrying Javier. The only reason I agreed to let Santiago take his brother’s place was to save our countries from a destructive war. You were fully aware of the codicil in the agreement our governments reached years ago. No wedding. No peace. Period.”
“What were we supposed to do?” Santiago asked. “Hate being together? I suppose that would have made you happy given how much you loathed my father.”
“My son is dead.”
“You have another one standing before you,” Ilsa said. “He didn’t have to sacrifice his freedom to save Valdoria.”
“But he did need the crown to push his agenda through.”
To her credit, Ilsa didn’t flinch. She raised her chin ever so slightly. “Even if he’d only married me to gain the incentive package to get Pinnacle to build here and save Valdoria’s economy, he didn’t have to be kind or patient with me,” she said. “You need to reevaluate how you treat your only living son. And the future king of Valdoria.”
His mother flinched, seemed to crumple into herself. “Of course,” she said. “He’s all I have left now.”
The pain clawing inside his throat evaporated and the knot in his gut uncoiled. His wife had a spine, and she’d fought for him, firmly putting his mother in her place. Still, another thought nagged him. “You left the castle shortly after we held the wedding ceremony,” Santiago said. “How would you even know anything about my relationship with Ilsa?”
“I hear things.” His mother picked up a glass of cut crystal with trembling fingers and sipped her pre-dinner cocktail. “You know how the servants gossip.”
“They gossiped about what happened after we got married. There was nothing to share prior to Javier’s death,” he said. “We consummated the marriage per the codicil’s terms. What more do you want from me, Madre? To have been the one who died instead of Javier? Sorry. I can’t do that for you. I can’t be the son who’s dead for you.”
His mother’s finely lined cheeks paled. “How can you even accuse me of something so horrible? I never wanted to lose either of you.”
“Right. I bet you’d be thrilled to see me six feet under if it’d bring Javier back to life.” He grabbed his own cocktail and drank two swallows, then swiped his mouth. “Since I’m still standing, you settled for leaking fake news to the tabloids. Now we’re under intense scrutiny and everything we’ve done to save our countries is jeopardized.”
His mother stood and her high heels almost brought her eye level to him. “You never cared what people thought, but I did. Imagine the humiliation I’ve endured because of your father’s infidelities… and the shame I’ve carried every time you refused to respect our traditions and perform your royal duties.” Her chin trembled, but she didn’t release the tears building in her eyes. “So why do the right thing after years of refusing to attend even the smallest royally sanctioned function? How could I believe anything different given that fact? I know you, Santiago, you never do anything unless there’s something in it for you.”
“Enough.” Santiago held up his hand, cutting his mother off. “You’re insulting me and you’re maligning Ilsa’s reputation.”
Ilsa slipped her hand into his and squeezed it gently. “I married Santiago, but I can assure you he never attempted to seduce me before our wedding. Though he knew Javier had no interest in me whatsoever other than a means to an end. We only interacted briefly right before Javier’s murder and I hardly spent time with him during the royal functions.” Other than the night of the ball when they’d talked for hours about everything, but nothing happened. She swallowed hard. Now she knew Santiago had always cared for her and it only made her love him more. “Santiago suggested I walk away from the duty I’d been brought up to fulfill. Even after Javier’s death, he made sure I wanted to go through with the wedding.”
His mother’s jaw, usually stern, dropped. “He did what?” she asked. “But why?”
“Because he wanted our marriage to be my choice.”
“But… but...” His mother lowered slowly to her chair, grasping the arm rests, then rubbed her brow, shaking her head. “I don’t understand. The person who updated me about the castle’s doings is one of my most trusted confidants. I’m sorry. I didn’t…,” her voice trailed off.
His breath bottled in his chest. For once in his life, his mother sounded genuinely remorseful. “Who lied about us?” Santiago released Ilsa’s comforting hand, then kneeled before his mother and read more than shock in her stricken brown eyes. He read regret in the shadows behind them. “Madre, whoever told you this terrible lie wants Valdoria’s destruction. That’s why Javier is dead. I want to find his assassins and bring them to justice. So tell me who. Por favor, Madre.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as he spoke and she heaved in great gulps of air. “Madre, let me make this right for Valdoria. For you. You lost your favorite son. I know you don’t want to lose everything else you hold dear… everything you sacrificed your life for when you married a man who could never love you.”
Behind him, Ilsa held his shoulders, her silent support an anchor he’d needed more than ever before. Here, in this moment, he and Ilsa had united as a true couple. Would his mother confess the truth or would her lifelong ambivalence toward Santiago—his conception and birth and existence—prevent her from giving him the faith he needed to fulfill his pledge to save Valdoria from ruin?
* * *
Queen Constanza choked back a sob. “I’ve been a fool,” she said, then looked over Santiago’s head and locked eyes with Ilsa.
She nodded, gave the queen mother a supportive look to encourage her. “Go on,” Ilsa said gently.
“I heard how happy you were together from Delmar. She visited me a few days ago to offer her condolences about Javier’s death. Delmar told me how extremely happy
you both were since the wedding. I… I couldn’t believe you and Santiago… you barely knew each other… but I can tell now.” Constanza blinked several times and tears streamed down her faintly lined face. “I never… Santiago, your father and I didn’t grow closer after our wedding. I believed Delmar’s lies because I couldn’t... I couldn’t believe anyone could find love in an arranged marriage. But now I see I was wrong with my own eyes. What you and Ilsa have is real. I let my jealousy and grief guide my actions.” She cupped his cheeks. “I’m sorry. So very sorry, mi niño precioso. Te amo. I do.”
Ilsa’s heart ached for Santiago and his mother. She understood the Spanish words of love… and affection. The remorse in the queen’s cracking, hoarse voice riding over the sobs choking in Constanza’s throat brought pain behind Ilsa’s breastbone. Maybe, just maybe, after this nightmare ended, mother and son could find a way to build a new relationship. But for now? Ilsa had to figure out Delmar’s motives for her deceit.
Santiago responded to his mother in Spanish who responded in kind. then stood. “Delmar’s villa is only twenty minutes north,” he said. “Let’s go. Madre, I’ll touch base with you after we speak with Delmar. Say nothing to the press yet. I don’t want to tip her off.”
His mother nodded. “Understood. I’ll retract the story after you give me the go-ahead.” The fierce determination in the queen’s firm gaze and set jaw, something she’d always worn like a cloak of steel, returned.
Santiago bowed slightly. “We don’t have time to waste,” he said. “One way or another, we’ll know why Delmar betrayed Valdoria before this night is over.”
“Be careful, son.”
“Always.”
He kissed his mother’s cheeks, then took Ilsa’s hand, and they left his mother on the expansive terra cotta stone patio, pausing long enough to tell her maid to attend to Constanza before exiting the royal family’s villa. Within minutes they traveled along the coastal highway to Delmar Chavez’s sprawling property. Tall grass, weeds, and sage rose out of cracks in the cobblestone driveway leading to the wrought-iron gates. Rust marred the black scrolling ironworks and overgrown purple bougainvillea threatened to overrun the high fence on either side of the gates.
Wrong Prince, Right Lover Page 9