Halfway down the hallway of her modest three-bedroom condo, he halted, hearing mewling sounds coming from the living room. Of course, the kittens. Portia must have been anxious to see them this morning and tend to them the way she always had. Their carrier came equipped with kitty food, and water was their drink of choice. He grinned. He could almost picture her playing with them on the carpeted floor. Bringing them here had been a good plan to get his foot in the door and soften Portia’s heart, but ultimately he’d done it to bring a smile to her face.
As he approached the sounds grew louder and no, they didn’t appear to be coming from the kittens. It was a human sound, the heartbreaking echo of quiet crying. He stood on the threshold of the living room to find Portia, sitting up on the sofa, her arms around her legs, rocking back and forth with tears soaking her face.
The kittens were happily swatting at her feet, but it was as if they weren’t there. Her sorrow was so deep she didn’t hear him stride into the room. “Portia, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t have come, Juan Carlos,” she whispered.
He narrowed his eyes. What on earth? Last night, they’d settled things. Maybe not verbally, but after the night they’d shared she had to recognize what they meant to each other. He’d come to retrieve her and bring her back to her rightful place, beside him on the throne of Alma. But now she was crying, looking so achingly sad. His gut clenched seeing her that way. “I don’t understand.”
He sat beside her and she unraveled her legs to face him, her eyes swollen from tears. “I can’t be with you. I can’t...”
“Sweetheart, my perfect princess, of course you belong with me. We don’t have to rush into a wedding, if that’s your concern. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out. Just tell me. It kills me to see you in so much pain.”
She rose then, yet her body slumped in defeat, her long hair falling onto her face. “That’s just it, Juan Carlos,” she said, shoving her hair aside. “I’m not your perfect princess. I’m nobody’s princess. I’m a fraud. I don’t have an ounce of royal blood in my body. I cannot marry you. Ever.”
Juan Carlos blinked several times, absorbing her words. He rose slowly, his heart pounding, his body shaking. “What you do mean you’re not a princess?”
“I’m not. I never was. It’s all a lie my family told after they migrated to the United States after World War II.”
Portia spent the next few minutes explaining her family’s duplicity to him. She gave him very little to hold on to as she presented the cold cruel facts that tore his life into shreds. Everything she told him made sense, yet nothing made sense. This couldn’t be happening. Suddenly, he looked at Portia Lindstrom differently. She’d lied to him. Why? “How long have you known this?”
“I found out a little more than a week ago while researching our...my wedding rituals.”
Juan Carlos stood ramrod stiff, his shoulders back and his heart breaking. “Yet you came to me and lied about the reasons for breaking it off between us. You told me you weren’t ready to marry. You gave me excuses about your career and your love of the States. You knew, and yet you lied. How many other lies have you told me, Portia?”
“I didn’t know what to do when I found out. Who to turn to. I’d just found out I’m...I’m an imposter.” She spit the word out as if saying it stung her tongue. “I had trouble facing it, Juan Carlos.”
His voice rose. “You should have trusted me with the truth. Or maybe you didn’t want anyone to know the real truth? Maybe you wanted to keep on with the deception? Being of royal blood has its privileges. If I hadn’t shown up here, what were you going to do? Live the lie forever?”
Her words from last week rang in his ears. I’m fond of you. This isn’t going to work. I don’t want to get married. I don’t want children.
Had the woman he loved been nothing but a gold digger? Had her hard-to-get act been a ploy? All the warmth he had nestled inside evaporated. Last night had meant nothing to her. She’d deceived him over and over during the past few weeks. She’d broken off her engagement to him, but she hadn’t revealed the truth to anyone. Of course, her precious career would suffer. She’d hidden the truth because she couldn’t afford another scandal. She needed the art world to believe that she was a princess. So, of course, she had to come to him with lies about why she was breaking off their engagement in order to keep her secret.
“I took the bait and you reeled me in, didn’t you, Portia? Then what happened? You ran scared when I offered marriage? Did you have a bout of conscience? Or did you finally realize you’d get caught if you didn’t break it off with me? You couldn’t marry me and risk being found out. Just think what would happen to your career if you were discovered to be a fraud. You’d never survive another scandal. Not professionally. No one in their right mind would hire you so you lied your way out of our engagement.”
Her tears gone now, she squeezed her eyes closed for a second. As he waited, her breathing steadied and when she opened her eyes again, they were twin pinpoints of blue, focused on him. “You see things in black-and-white, Juan Carlos. There is no room for grays in your narrow line of vision. You only wanted me when I fit into your plans, but now you know the truth. I’m not royal. I’m flawed and can’t be a part of your unblemished world.”
His lips tightened. “You should’ve told me the truth, Portia.”
“Another point against me. I’m human. I make mistakes.” She folded her arms across her stomach. “Now that you have the truth, what are you going to do with it?”
He stared at her, wondering what had happened to the woman he’d fallen in love with. Thoughts clogged his head. She wasn’t a princess. She had no royal blood flowing through her veins. She was an imposter. A fraud, as she put it. His shoulders dropped as he shook his head. He had no answer for her.
“You only loved the idea of me, Juan Carlos. You said it just a little while ago. You think of me as your perfect princess. But now you know I’m not perfect. Hardly that. And how can a man who demands perfection in everything and everyone want me? I was only good to you when I was Princess Portia of Samforstand.”
He let that sink in. He loved her, wanted her as his wife. Now, nothing made sense, and blackness from deep in his soul overwhelmed him. His Portia, the woman he’d thought she was, was gone. She wasn’t a princess, but a fraud. He couldn’t marry Portia Lindstrom. According to royal decree he was obligated to marry royalty. She was once a part of everything good that had happened to him and now there was nothing left between them.
“We had a fling, and it’s over,” she whispered. “Let’s let it go at that. I think you should leave. Go back to Del Sol, be the king you were meant to be. Give me some time, I’ll make sure...no blame will come to you about this.”
“Portia,” he said. He couldn’t bring himself to move.
“Go, please.” Her quiet plea broke his heart. “You shouldn’t have come back. Goodbye, Juan Carlos.”
She picked up the kittens playing at her feet, hugged them to her chest and walked out of the room.
She was right. He should leave.
There wasn’t anything left for him here.
* * *
“Mr. Tanaka, it was a pleasure seeing you again. I’ll be in touch once I’ve found the right prints and antique paneled floor screens to separate your work spaces. You’ve given me a good idea what you are looking for. I promise you, you’ll be happy with the collection I come up with for your magnificent new corporate offices.”
“Thank you, Princess. I have faith in your abilities. Your recommendations for my home have worked out nicely. I’m grateful you would take time from your leave of absence to do this for me.”
Portia shook hands with her client outside his private office, her belly squeezing tight every time he called her princess. The title she�
�d grown up with no longer rang true and his respectful use of it during their meeting reminded her constantly that she was a fraud. “Goodbye.”
Mr. Tanaka, founder and president of a highly successful Japanese food chain, hadn’t wanted to work with anyone else. He’d called her personally to request her expertise, offering a big bonus if she would consider advising him on the artwork for his new offices. She’d agreed without hesitation. Pining for Juan Carlos and what would never be had grown old. She couldn’t cry herself to sleep any longer. Three days’ worth of tears had exhausted her. But she was glad her secret was out. At least to him. Admitting the truth to Juan Carlos had been difficult, but it had also been liberating. There would be no more lies between them now.
He’d been angry with her when he’d left her condo the other day. She’d seen the pain in his eyes, too, and she’d shivered when he’d looked at her as if she were a stranger. It had been so very hard to hear him berate her. He hadn’t believed her, and even thought so little of her that he’d accused her of putting her career above her love for him. His accusations had slashed through her body like a dagger. But ultimately, it was better to allow him to believe the worst about her. It was a clean break.
Still, the love she had for him would never die. It would be hard, if not impossible, to get over him. Even if he had believed her claims, he couldn’t marry her. They would have no future. He lived by a stringent set of rules. He did everything by the book. It was a no-win situation. So she’d made the supreme sacrifice for his benefit. She’d dismissed him without defending herself. As if her life wouldn’t be forever altered after knowing and loving him.
He would get over her. He had to. He had to go about his life as if they had never met. In the near future, she didn’t know exactly when, she would quietly make an announcement that they’d broken off their engagement. Their whirlwind romance was over. And then at some later point, when it had all died down, she would admit to the world, or anyone who cared, that she wasn’t of royal heritage.
She would not go on living a lie.
But for now her goal was to protect Juan Carlos from a scandal. She would not have him looked upon as a fool.
As she headed to the parking garage, her eyes clouded with tears. She was broken inside and there was no way to repair her. Taking on Mr. Tanaka’s account would be a good distraction. She’d focus on work for the next few weeks and the terrible ache in the pit of her stomach would eventually go away.
She got in her car and glanced in the mirror. She looked a wreck. With the tips of her index fingers, she smoothed away moisture under her eyes. “No more,” she whispered. She had to put on a happy face. It was Jasmine’s birthday today and she was taking her to dinner to celebrate the big three-oh.
Ten
Juan Carlos ran a hand down his face. He stood at the bar in the study of his living quarters in the palace and poured himself a double whiskey, straight up. “It’s impossible.” He lifted the glass to his mouth and took a sip.
“What’s impossible?”
He turned, a little shocked to find Maria standing beside him. He’d been so deep in thought, he’d almost forgotten about his dinner date with the Ramons tonight. Normally his senses were keen and no one could sneak up on him. Especially not a woman wearing a pretty dress and heels and smelling like something exotic. It served to show him how off he’d been lately.
“Sorry if I startled you. Your staff assured me I was expected.”
“No, it’s okay. You are.” It was good to see a friendly face.
“Alex is running late. He’s meeting me here.”
Juan Carlos nodded. “That’ll give us a chance to talk. Let me get you a drink. What would you like?”
“Just a soda, please.”
He dropped two ice cubes into a tall glass and poured her a cola. “Here you go.”
She took the offered glass and sipped. “So what were you mumbling about when I came in?”
The corner of his mouth crooked up. It was the best he could do. He didn’t have a smile for anyone these days. “My life.”
“Your life?” Maria’s aqua eyes opened wider. “Your perfect, kingly, marrying-a-beautiful-princess life?”
He lifted his whiskey glass and pointed with his index finger to the bone leather sofa. “Have a seat. I have something to... I need some advice.”
Maria arched an eyebrow. “Advice? About your wedding?”
He waited for her to sit and then planted himself on the other end of the sofa. “Maria, uh, there isn’t going to be a wedding.”
It was hard getting the words out, and seeing Maria’s mouth drop open only added to his discomfort. “That’s why I asked you here. I haven’t told a soul yet. I can hardly believe it myself.”
“But you and Portia seemed so perfect together. What happened?”
Perfect. He was beginning to really hate that word. Portia had accused him of demanding that everyone and everything around him be perfect. Was he guilty of that? Did he expect too much?
“We’re not perfect. Far from it. We’ve broken up and I don’t know what to think about it.”
“Why? What happened, Your Majesty?”
“She came back to Del Sol almost two weeks ago to break it off. She claimed she didn’t want to get married and move to Alma. She loved her career and didn’t want it to end. She claimed all we had was a fling, and that she, we, were high on romance. Finding the hidden artwork and being on the adventure together made it all seem possible but when she got back home, she was hit with reality.”
“Do you think she was running scared?”
He hung his head, staring at the ground. “Initially, that’s what I thought. I believed I could convince her that we could work out logistics and that we belonged together.” He met with Maria’s eyes. “I was fool enough to go after her. I was in love.”
“Was?”
He shrugged. “From the day I met her, something inside me told me she was the one. I pursued her like crazy. She didn’t make it easy and now that I’m home, putting the pieces together, I think I know why.”
There was a beat of silence. Maria was waiting for him to continue. It was difficult to admit to anyone how wrong he’d been. “When I went to Los Angeles, we...connected again. And it was as it had always been—amazing. I thought I’d relieved her of her cold feet. But in the morning, I found her quietly crying. She said she wished that I hadn’t come for her. I was confused and didn’t know why she’d had a change of heart.”
“Why did she?” Maria asked.
He shrugged and shook his head. “I think she was cornered and didn’t see a way out, so she finally told me the truth. Portia is not who she says she is. She’s not a princess. She never was. She claims she found out while trying to dig up protocols for our wedding. Her family fled to the United States right after World War II and assumed the role of royalty. They were impoverished and used their phony status to gain a leg up. Supposedly, Portia’s great-aunt has a diary that confirms all this.”
“Wow, this is...big. Poor Portia. She must’ve been devastated when she found out. I can only imagine how she feels right now.”
He stared at her. “You mean you believe that she didn’t know about this all along?”
“Why wouldn’t I? More importantly, why wouldn’t you?”
“I’ll tell you why. When she came back to Del Sol a couple weeks ago she lied about her reasons for breaking it off. She made up one excuse after another and if I hadn’t gone to LA, I would still believe those lies she’d told. Only when she couldn’t get rid of me any other way, she was forced to reveal the truth.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Maria began shaking her head. “That doesn’t sound like Portia. What did you say to her when you found out?”
“In the beginning I was shell-shocked. And then my methodical mind start
ed working and I said some things out of anger. I practically accused her of being a gold digger. Now that I think back on it, she looked so...lost. She kept saying she was an imposter, and I couldn’t sympathize with her. I wasn’t in the frame of mind. I felt betrayed. She should have come to me with the truth from the beginning.”
“It must’ve been a hard thing for her to admit. To herself, much less to the man she loved. Just think, everything she believed about herself and her life is a lie. If that were me, I wouldn’t know what to do, who to turn to. I don’t know if I’d have the courage to do what she did. It was a hard day for both of you.”
He drew oxygen into his lungs. “I suppose. I still don’t know what to think.”
“What else did she say? How did you part?”
“She pretty much told me off. She said that I expected perfection in everything and that I only loved the idea of her.” He stared into his tumbler at the last gulp of whiskey left. “That’s not true.”
“No?”
He gave Maria a glance. “No,” he assured her. “I loved her.”
“You still love her, Your Majesty. You can’t shut down those emotions so quickly. And what if she still is that woman you fell in love with, without the title of princess in front of her name? What if Portia Lindstrom is the woman for you?”
“How can I believe that when she doesn’t believe it? She didn’t try to defend herself against my accusations. She didn’t try to convince me that I’d been wrong about her.”
“Well, since you asked me for my advice, I’m going to give it to you. I know Portia a little bit, and I’m a pretty good judge of character. I have seen the way she looks at you. The eyes don’t lie. She was deeply in love and happy.”
A lump formed in his throat. In the short weeks that he and Portia had been together, they’d gotten to know each other pretty well. They’d shared an adventure or two, but it went deeper than that and he’d felt they were meant for each other from the very beginning. It was a sense he had, a feeling that clamped onto him and never let go. It wasn’t an overreaction to her beauty or the fact that she was a princess. But that factored into the equation, at least a little bit, because her status meant he was free to seriously pursue her.
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