He sighed. ‘She was very nice. Clever conversation...’
‘And pretty!’ His father laughed. ‘She would provide you with some beautiful children.’
Matteo smiled. ‘I already have a beautiful child.’
‘Your coronation is in one month. Are you going to be ascending the throne with a fiancée?’
‘I don’t think so, Papà. A relationship takes time to build. I can’t make a decision like that after only spending one evening with someone.’
‘Of course not. But it would be nice for the country to have another happy celebration to look forward to after the coronation.’
Was that all that mattered? All that should matter? His country? What of his own life? Did that not matter at all any more? ‘I won’t be marrying anyone, Papà. I dined with Katherine because she was a guest here. No other reason. Not because the country needs a pick-me-up. I’ve already sacrificed so much—don’t ask me for any more.’
Alberto held up his hands in supplication. ‘Fair enough. I won’t push. Now, are you bringing me my granddaughter later today? I haven’t seen Alexandra for an age.’
‘She’ll be here later. Mara is bringing her over with Philippe.’
‘He’s a good man for her.’
‘Yes, he is. Better than I ever was.’
His father looked at him, considering him. ‘And...the doctor? You haven’t heard from her?’
‘No.’
Matteo did his best not to think of her too much. It hurt. It was too painful when he considered what he had done. It had never been her fault. It had always been his. He’d known the rules from the beginning and he’d thought he could do his own thing anyway.
‘Good. You need to move on. More important things are coming up.’
He nodded. But he knew he would never forget her. How could he?
‘You’ve got your robe fitting today, yes?’
The coronation robes needed adjusting for Matteo’s broad form. ‘Yes.’
‘I might come along. It’s been a long time since I saw those robes. My own coronation, in fact. That was a great day. Great memories. It’ll be the same for you.’
‘I’m sure it will.’
‘You’re sure you’re all right? You seem very...absent.’
‘Fine.’
‘You’d tell me if there was something bothering you?’
‘Of course!’
‘Good. I’d hate to think you were keeping something from me, like before.’
‘We never kept it from you, Papà. It was something new for both of us. We were trying to work it out for ourselves first.’
The King nodded as he hauled himself up from the table and then surprised his son by saying, ‘Dr Szenac did seem a very nice woman. I’m sorry I had to force your hand, but I had to do it before you got in too deep. I couldn’t bear the idea that you were going to get hurt further down the road, and neither was it very fair to her, when you knew the situation. I was surprised at you, son.’
Matteo stared at his father. ‘We were already in too deep. We got hurt anyway.’
‘I know what it’s like to lose a loved one, Matteo. When I lost your mother, I...’ He shook his head, clearing away the thought. ‘Anyway, I did what I thought was best. For you. I only want the best for you.’
‘She was the best, Papà. And I ruined it.’
Alberto nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’
And he left his son sitting at the breakfast table, surrounded by a litter of pastry crumbs.
* * *
She’d been spending a lot of time in the nature reserve. It was just so peaceful out there and she’d managed to complete quite a few new paintings—including one of a sunset over the lake that had been astoundingly beautiful.
Decima-Malafede had been a comfort to her torn and broken soul, but after she’d packed the last of her canvases, checking out her room for one last time, Krystiana went downstairs, hugged the proprietors of the bed and breakfast, who had become good friends, and bade them goodbye.
It was time to go home.
Aunt Carolina had called with the news that repairs to her villa were complete and it was liveable again.
The news had been a nice surprise, but she’d felt a wave of sadness wash over her. Matteo had done that for her. Sorted out the villa. She’d kind of imagined, not too long ago, that they would both drive back there in one of the palace cars and look around the rebuild together. She’d briefly imagined putting the place up for sale, seeing as her new life was going to be based in the Grand Palace, the House of Romano.
None of that was to be. What a fool!
But she couldn’t stay here, hiding away from life. Enough time had passed for her to be able to return, and hopefully the media would have moved on. Surely Matteo would have told them their relationship was over?
‘They might still try to talk to you. Get the inside story on Matteo,’ Aunt Carolina had warned.
But how could she stay away? She needed to return to work, and she needed, more than anything, to find her old routine. Her routine had kept her safe and secure. Unknown and unloved. That was the best way.
Handing over her key, she gave the owners a sad smile, thanked them for their care, their consideration and their silence, and then she walked out through the front door.
Wondering just what she might be walking back to.
* * *
Her villa felt strange. Hers, but not quite hers. Maybe because Bruno wasn’t with her? She needed to collect him.
Krystiana set her bags down and slumped onto the sofa, feeling apprehensive at being back. There’d been no press on her doorstep. Had they given up? Figured she was gone? She hoped so.
With nothing better to do, she reached for the remote and switched on the television. As it came to life she heard the voice of the newscaster mentioning that the Crown Prince of Isla Tamoura was now King Matteo Romano, after his coronation earlier that day.
No wonder there aren’t any press at my door.
She stared at the images of him on the throne, red ermine-trimmed robes around him, as he held the sceptre and orb, a crown of gold and jewels upon his head.
He looked very regal. And handsome.
She sucked in a sudden breath, the loss almost too much to bear.
She didn’t know how to feel. Her heart was breaking so painfully. How was it still so raw?
She grabbed the remote and turned off the television, trying to wipe the images from her brain as she began to cry, holding a cushion in front of her as if its very presence might somehow cushion the force of the pain racing through her once again.
It was like a thorn in her side. A pain twisting deep in her heart.
He’d moved on.
Without her.
Clearly he had accepted the duty he was meant for and she wanted to be happy for him. But...
It hurt. More than she’d believed possible.
Krystiana cried herself to sleep, still holding the cushion like a shield.
* * *
‘You thought I wouldn’t find out?’
‘Find out what?’ Matteo sipped calmly from his espresso.
‘Don’t be coy with me, Matteo. You know what I’m talking about! The law that now allows you to marry a commoner!’
Matteo wiped his mouth with a napkin as he shook his head. He’d thought about this a lot. Thought about what was right. And what he knew was this—he loved Krystiana. He would never find such a connection again. His entire happiness had been destroyed by a law that was archaic and out of date, and he’d been determined that his first order of business as King was to get it changed.
His entire life had been empty since she’d left and his heart had ached. He had fought against himself more than anyone else, in deciding to do this. Nothing might come of it—she might never forgive him—but he had to try.
>
‘You want me to be a king who leads his country into the future, yes?’ he said now.
‘Of course!’
‘Well, in that case I take it upon myself to change a few things. Make this a new, modern monarchy. We need to move with the times if we want our people to relate to us and respect us.’
‘Are you going after her?’
Matteo stared at his father. Wasn’t it obvious?
‘Yes. If she’ll have me.’
He expected his father to rant and rave, to argue that a king should never debase himself by begging for a woman’s affections, but surprisingly he did not.
Instead, his voice was low and gentle. ‘She means this much to you?’
‘I love her and I’ve been miserable without her here. Couldn’t you tell?’
His father nodded. ‘Yes. I could.’
‘You lost Mamma years ago. But if you could have a chance to get her back wouldn’t you take it?’
His father stared at him, his eyes softening, welling up with tears. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, then... Would you deny me the love of my life? Knowing how it feels to be lost without her?’
‘No. I would not deny you. You must love her very much to have done this.’
‘I do.’
He stepped forward to clasp his son and pat him on the back. ‘Then you have my blessing.’
Matteo was surprised. ‘Really?’
‘I’ve seen how you’ve been since she’s been gone, and quite frankly you’re almost back to how you were after you first came home after the kidnapping. You have no life in you. No joy. The only time I see you happy is when you are with Alex. I wasn’t the right king to challenge the rules, but you are. Like you say—it’s the future.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, feeling emotional. ‘That means more than I can say.’
‘Do you think you can bring her back?’
‘I don’t know. But it was never about the law keeping us apart. It was about me not telling her the truth. I’ll need her to put her trust in me and I’m not sure if she will.’
‘Well, call me when you know for sure.’
‘I will. Thank you, Papà.’
‘Good luck, son.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AFTER A LONG day at work—and it had been a long day—there was nothing Krystiana loved more than to walk along the beach, barefoot, watching Bruno frolic in the sea. There was peace out here, freedom. Anonymity.
She’d spent the last few weeks fielding questions from her patients, trying to move them back to the topic of themselves rather than her and her fleeting romance with their King. It had been hard denying that there was anything going on, and every time someone questioned her about it it was like being stabbed in the heart again as she told them that, no, she and the King were not together. That it had simply been a friendly meal together and the press had misconstrued it.
It was exhausting, quite frankly—so much so that she was even considering moving elsewhere. Maybe starting her own medical practice...perhaps in Rome or Florence? Somewhere far away from here.
But she’d already fled from one home. She didn’t want to have to flee another. She loved this island so much.
Bruno yapped with happiness as he brought her over a ball he’d found and dropped it at her feet. She picked it up and threw it as far as she could, smiling as he chased after it. She couldn’t take him away from this, either.
She looked out to sea, watching a white yacht in the distance. It looked so calm and peaceful. So pretty. Almost worth painting.
But she didn’t have her easel or paints. It was just herself and her dog.
And that’s all it’s ever going to be.
* * *
Matteo’s anxiety levels soared once he got into the car that would take him to Krystiana’s villa. He knew she was back. He’d been notified the second she came back, her ID having flagged up a special program in the airport.
When his secretary had told him he’d had to fight the urge to go after her straight away, knowing there was no point in doing so until the new law had been passed. He wanted to present it as a fait accompli.
He’d missed her so much, and when he’d learnt that she had flown to Rome he’d wondered if she was ever going to come back. But she had, and he had taken some comfort in knowing that she was back on the island. He had stood each evening on his balcony, looking out towards where he knew her villa was, imagining that she was looking at the palace on the hill so far away...
It was a romantic notion, he knew, and probably a bit silly, but it was because he was heartsick, missing her like crazy. He knew that once he saw her again he would be able to tell her everything he had been doing. He would apologise profusely and hopefully—hopefully—she would take him back.
But she might not. He’d hurt her—he knew that—and she might not want to risk that again. Plus there’d be the whole thing of being back in the public eye again. He’d already ordered the press to stay away from her villa and her place of work, to give her some chance of returning to normal. He’d even taken one newspaper to court, taken legal action against them harassing her, and thankfully they’d obeyed the order.
Everyone missed her. Mara wanted her back. Alex talked about her. Well, mostly it was about Bruno, but still...
As the sleek, dark vehicle pulled to a halt outside her refurbished villa he felt the butterflies in his stomach all launch into flight at once. His heart pounded, his mouth and throat went very dry, and it took him a few moments to get out of the car. When he did, his legs felt as if they would go out from under him.
He was met with a flashback of what the place had looked like after the crash. The debris, the rubble... The accident that had caused their love to happen.
It was weird how life worked. If there’d been no accident she wouldn’t have stayed at the palace and he wouldn’t have got to know her, to fall in love with her.
He glanced at the windows. Had she seen him yet?
Straightening his jacket, he walked up to the door and knocked, his heart hammering, sweat beading his armpits.
There was no answer. So he knocked again.
A silver-haired head popped up over the fence next door. ‘Hello? Are you after Krystiana? Oh, my God! It’s you!’ The head disappeared as the woman next door curtsied. ‘Your Majesty!’
‘Has she gone out?’
‘She doesn’t get back until late these days.’
‘Where is she? Work?’
‘No, no. She goes down to the beach with the dog.’
He turned to look down at the long sweep of golden sand far in the distance. ‘That beach?’
‘I guess so. I’m not sure.’
‘Thank you. What’s your name?’
‘Anna.’
‘Thank you, Anna. I would be grateful if you didn’t mention this visit to anyone just yet.’
‘Of course not.’ She made a zipping motion across her lips and smiled.
He smiled his thanks. A reprieve. A moment or two in which he could gather himself some more.
He got back into the car and gave the order to his driver. ‘Take me to the beach.’
‘Yes, sir.’ And the driver fired the engine.
* * *
Sitting on the sand, looking out to sea, as she often did, she thought about all that had happened in her life to bring her to this spot. The quirks of fate. The actions of others and how they could impact on your own life and the choices you had to make.
If she’d not been part of Dr Bonetti’s practice... If her Aunt Carolina had lived somewhere else... If her parents hadn’t divorced...
No wonder she wanted as much control over her own life as she could get.
She was sitting there, drizzling sand through her fingers, when she felt a prickling on the back of her neck. As if she was being watched.
Krystiana turned around...curious, cautious...her heartbeat increasing slightly, searching for a pair of eyes, hoping to brush it off as a flight of fancy, or that perhaps it was just another dogwalker, or a fisherman come down to the coast.
But it wasn’t a dogwalker or a fisherman.
It was a king.
Matteo stood tall and proud, his dark form silhouetted against the sun as he walked across the sand directly towards her. She scrambled to her feet, dusting off the sand from her clothes, her heart thudding away like a jackhammer.
Why was he here? After all this time?
What was left for them to say to each other?
Far behind him, blocking access to the beach, were security guards so they could have privacy. She saw their dark-suited forms, the sun glancing off their sunglasses.
She fought the need to run towards him, to fall into his arms. But her love for him had almost broken her so she held firm, letting him come to her. If he was here to make an apology, then he could do all the work.
He looked as handsome as ever. Maybe even more so. Was he taller? Or was it just a different bearing he had? That somehow becoming King had changed him?
‘Buonasera, Matteo.’
‘Dobyr wieczór, Krystiana.’
She was surprised to hear her own language. ‘You learned Polish?’
‘A little.’
‘That’s good.’ She sucked in a huge breath. ‘What brings you here?’
‘I came to ask for your forgiveness.’
Forgiveness?
Krystiana’s heart almost leapt from her chest. ‘Why?’
‘Because I love you and I can’t live without you.’
Her cheeks flushed with heat at his words. Words she’d longed to hear him say, but words that put daggers into her heart. Why was he doing this? They couldn’t be together! It was torture.
She looked down and away. ‘Let’s not go through this again.’
‘I want you to come back with me, Krystiana,’ he said.
No! Please don’t say that to me! I can’t go through this heartbreak!
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