Cinderella's Secret Royal Fling Page 13

  Her guilt recalled her reason for being here. ‘I wanted to return this to you.’ She held out her hand, loosening her clasp so that the key to the garden was clearly displayed. Laurent closed his eyes briefly and her heart ached at the hurt on his face.

  ‘It’s yours,’ he said roughly. ‘I had it cut for you. Use it, don’t use it, leave it at the bottom of a drawer, do whatever you want, but it’s yours.’

  ‘Laurent...’

  ‘Don’t worry, Emilia, I get it. I understand. And I don’t blame you. My world is intense. It’s not for everyone. Those not born into it are wise to run away while they still can because, believe me, if we were to see each other again, those photos would have been just the start. You’re doing the right thing.’ She stepped back at the bitterness in his voice. ‘You deserve better,’ he added more gently.

  ‘No, you deserve better,’ she told him, clutching the key so tightly it cut into her hand.

  ‘I wish things were different, Emilia. I wish I was Ren, that my life was uncomplicated and free, that I could take you out and no one would notice us. That I could woo you and we could fall in love slowly and sweetly. But that’s not who I am. I come with all this...’ He made an expansive gesture, taking in the castle. ‘I come with press intrusion and all-night policy sessions and pomp and ceremony. And it’s exhausting. Whoever marries me marries all this as well. It’s not easy. But I’d be there, supporting them every step of the way. Supporting you. If you would stay here a little longer. Let us get to know each other properly. See if this is real or not.’

  She squeezed the key harder until her hand whitened around it, welcoming the discomfort. His offer was so tempting and who knew? Maybe back at the villa she might have agreed. But she’d had a lot of time to think since then. A lot of time when he hadn’t called and she’d remembered how much relying on someone else for your happiness could backfire. A lot of time to remember how much worse it was to love and lose than just keeping yourself away from anyone who could hurt you.

  ‘What about my dad? About Clay Industries?’

  ‘I don’t know. He’s agreed to the itinerary I prepared. It’s a start. But I think he loves you, Emilia, in his own way.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she whispered, holding up her hand again, needing him to stop. ‘I can’t hope, Laurent, because it will tear me apart to lose him again. Maybe I’m a coward because I can’t take a chance on him or on you. One day you’ll realise that I’m no one special and I won’t be able to take it. So this has to end now. While I can walk away with my head high and memories to light up the darkest days. Please understand.’

  ‘You are special,’ he said roughly. ‘Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you believe in yourself the way I believe in you?’

  ‘Everyone leaves me, Laurent.’ She was willing herself not to cry, willing the tears to stay in her throat and her chest and the heat of her eyes. ‘Please don’t ask me to try.’ She knew she was probably passing up the greatest chance of happiness she would ever be offered, but she didn’t know how to grab it. Didn’t know how to risk it all.

  ‘I’ll tell you what’s real. How about the ball you have put together with love and care and attention especially for a father you love despite everything? What about the friends you talk about all the time? The business you’re building up? You can love and be loved, Emilia; I see it in everything you do. Won’t you let me try to show you?’

  His words were intoxicating but she couldn’t let them go to her head. ‘Your friendship has changed me, Laurent. I know I must look pathetic to you, but it has. The evening I spent with you was the most romantic evening of my life, the night we spent together...’ She paused, cheeks hot with memory. ‘That night... I never thought it could be like that, that I could feel like that. I’ve spent my life trying to mean something, to be someone, working harder and harder looking for approval, to be needed, and in one night I finally felt whole. Like I mattered. And it was the most wonderful gift I could ever have had. I will never forget it and never forget you.’

  ‘But you won’t stay?’ The disbelief in his voice almost undid her but she had to stay firm.

  ‘You need a proper Archduchess, someone brave and strong.’

  ‘I need you,’ he said but she shook her head.

  ‘I can’t, Laurent.’

  He looked as if he were about to say something; instead he paced up and down the path for a moment before coming to a halt in front of her. ‘You deserve so much more than you’ll allow yourself. And it’s out there for you, Emilia. Please don’t be afraid to try. Don’t be afraid to reach for what you want.’

  Emilia stared at him, tears clouding her vision. ‘I...’

  ‘Promise me,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘Promise me you won’t hold back. I can’t guarantee you that everything will work out. I can’t promise you a happy ever after and that everyone you want will stay with you. But I can promise you that life is so much more worthwhile if you live it. I realise that now. I know it, thanks to you. It might be safer to live life with no ups and downs but if you do, Emilia, you will never get to enjoy the view. I’d like to think that one day you’ll allow yourself to enjoy the view, even if I’m not standing next to you. And promise me that you’ll remember that I tried. That I love you. That I saw you.’

  She could hear no more. Emilia’s mouth trembled as she extracted her hand from his. Standing on her tiptoes she pressed one brief kiss onto his cheek. ‘I’ll try,’ she promised. And with that she turned and was gone. It wasn’t until the gate closed behind her that she realised the key was still in her hand.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LUCKILY FOR EMILIA the work piled up so high that even she began to feel overwhelmed, six hours’ sleep dwindling to five and then four, and yet her to-do lists got longer and the amount of unread emails lengthened. But she was glad. Her workload meant she didn’t have time to wonder if she’d made a huge mistake—and it gave her a legitimate reason to steer clear of her family.

  All she had ever wanted was someone to really see her, to want her. Yet, instead of embracing it—and him—she was walking away without a fight. Was she walking away because she felt that Laurent was genuinely better off without her, that she was the wrong person to be an Archduchess, or was it because she was scared? Probably both, but whatever the answer she felt constantly empty, a gnawing pain in her chest and stomach.

  Was she being incredibly brave or actually a coward, giving up far too easily, keeping their relationship as one perfect night, a dream that would never be sullied by reality?

  Emilia huffed out a sigh, rubbing her temples as she did so. She didn’t have time to keep turning the situation around and around. Not every guest wanted to dress up and follow a theme so she had ended up buying several hundred cloaks and masks for guests to use and discard after the midnight midsummer celebrations and needed somewhere to display them near the entrance. She had also needed to rethink some of the decorations and reorder the order of the music, her father’s favourite band being more rock than classical, a strictly after midnight affair. Not that she minded being busy. Better too much to do and no time to think than actual time to sit, brood and mourn.

  Thank goodness the ball was tomorrow and she would be home by the end of the week. Home to lick her wounds, regather her thoughts and whatever other clichés would help her get through this mourning period.

  She opened up her email, wincing at the sheer number to have invaded her inbox in the last couple of hours, when her door swung open with a bang.

  ‘I don’t know, this isn’t as bad as you claimed. Sure, there’s no natural light, and the stone does rather scream ex-dungeon, but you’ve got a potted plant so it’s all looking good to me.’

  ‘Alex?’ Was she dreaming? But no, there was her friend and business partner, as tall and effortlessly elegant as ever in a wafty maxi-dress which would make Emilia feel as if she were wearing a sack but on Alex looked like
the cutting edge of fashion. Her hair was swept up into a chignon, her make-up perfect. Of course it was; Alex always looked perfect. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Alexandra didn’t answer; instead she placed a tablet on the desk in front of Emilia. The screen wavered for a moment and then came to life to show two smiling faces; her heart swelled as she saw Harriet and Amber.

  ‘Hi, Em,’ Amber said.

  Harriet chimed in with, ‘Emilia! How are you?’ at the same time.

  ‘Radio silence, Em, not cool at all.’ Amber shook her head reproachfully.

  ‘I haven’t been silent. I have emailed you approximately one hundred times a day.’

  ‘You haven’t spoken to any of us since those photos were published.’ Harriet’s brow creased with concern. ‘We need to know you’re okay.’

  ‘Come on,’ Emilia tried to joke. ‘Which of us hasn’t been photographed in a compromising position with an Archduke and had the pictures sent around the world?’ But her joke fell flat.

  ‘Are you two together? Does Simone know? I’d love to see her face when you sweep into the ball on his arm and she has to curtsey to you!’ Amber’s green eyes gleamed. ‘I want an enlarged photo to hang on my wall.’

  ‘It’ll have to be Photoshopped as it won’t happen. There’s no together, Amber. Sorry to puncture your romantic dreams.’ Emilia hadn’t meant to sound so curt and she tried to force a smile. ‘Look, I didn’t realise Laurent was who he is when we met. I thought he was a handyman or a gardener or something.’

  ‘He lied to you?’

  ‘Way to go, Em!’

  Her friends’ contrasting reactions made Alex and Emilia exchange smiles.

  ‘Do we need to kick his ass?’ Alex asked. ‘Archduke or not, no one gets away with messing my friends around.’

  ‘No ass-kicking required. We parted by mutual consent.’ That wasn’t exactly true, but if she admitted that he’d asked her to try and she’d walked away her friends would be horrified. ‘He has a country to put first, and you have to admit I’m not Archduchess material.’

  ‘You could be anything you wanted to be,’ Amber said loyally.

  ‘No, lust and liking isn’t enough, not for someone like Laurent. People like him marry for security, money, power. And who’s to say that those marriages aren’t successful? At least you both know exactly where you stand and what you want.’ Say it enough and she might believe it. Forget the hurt in his eyes when he’d realised she wasn’t going to even try.

  ‘And how do you feel about this?’ Harriet asked.

  Emilia grimaced. ‘My feelings don’t matter, Harry. I’m not here for romance. I’m here to do a job, and that’s what matters.’

  ‘You like him though, don’t you?’ Alex asked, her dark-eyed gaze unreadable.

  ‘Yes,’ Emilia admitted. ‘I do.’

  ‘Do you love him?’ Amber asked.

  ‘I barely know him, Amber!’

  ‘That’s not what those photos looked like.’ Amber’s grin was gleeful. ‘I’d say you know him rather well indeed.’

  ‘I like him, I fancy him, I respect him. Are you satisfied? But love? I don’t know what love is, I’ve never been in love, not the real thing. I think it might have been possible, in another world, another situation, one day. But I’ll never know; it’s just a might-have-been. Something short and sweet.’

  ‘I think the lady protests too much,’ Amber yelled as Harriet dug her in the ribs. ‘Ouch! Harriet!’

  Harriet ignored her. ‘You didn’t answer, Em. How do you feel? This whole situation is messed up. Your dad is there, along with your stepmother and Bella and now there’s this whole situation with Laurent. That’s a lot for anyone. So don’t tell me you’re fine. Tell me how you feel.’

  Emilia made a point of sighing loudly but no one responded. Alex folded her arms and leaned against the office wall as if she had all the time in the world and Amber and Harriet stayed so still they seemed more like a screenshot than living, breathing women.

  ‘I don’t know, okay?’ Emilia said finally. ‘I don’t know how I feel about any of it and I think it’s better that way, better not to think or feel, because that way I can get up every day and arrange a party for the father who replaced me with a new family, and pretend not to hear people talking about me while I do my job and be brave and say goodbye to a man who might be my only chance at happiness. The man I think I might have loved tells me he thinks he might be falling in love with me and yet I let him go because I’m too scared to trust in him. And he’s a good man, an amazing man, and he respects my feelings and that should make me happy, but actually I want someone to fight for me. I want Laurent to fight for me, even though I told him goodbye. I want someone to think I’m worth everything. I’m so tired of being replaceable...’ She stopped with a gasp, aware that her voice had got louder and louder, that her eyes were hot with tears, her throat ached. She couldn’t give in now. She couldn’t feel, not properly, because if she did she wouldn’t be able to carry on.

  ‘Oh, Em,’ Harriet said softly.

  ‘I’m...’

  ‘You’re not fine,’ Alex said firmly. ‘And that’s okay, Emilia. We don’t need to be fine all the time and it’s not weakness to let our friends take care of us.’

  Emilia didn’t point out that Alex never let anyone take care of her, that she kept herself hidden away behind her cool façade. She knew why the other two had no family, why their friendship was so important to them. Harriet had lost her mother at a young age too, something the two girls had bonded over, and she had spent her teens and early twenties caring for her father until his dementia advanced to a stage where she couldn’t manage any more. Harriet had been the loneliest person Emilia had ever met—except when she looked in the mirror—but since her engagement she had transformed into a lighter, brighter version of herself. Amber had walked away from a family who had wanted her to live in a way they approved of, shaking off their rigid constrictions for freedom and a life she chose for herself. It was a brave choice and Emilia could only applaud her friend for her unfailing optimism and belief that happiness awaited her. But Alex? None of them knew why she had been alone the Christmas Eve they’d first met and every Christmas after that, why she’d shared her inheritance with them, giving them both a home and business premises, who her family was and why she was estranged. They didn’t know and they never asked. There was a wall around Alex even they couldn’t push through.

  ‘I don’t need taking care of,’ she said instead. ‘I appreciate you coming here, Alex, but it’s unnecessary. I just need to keep working.’

  ‘I’m here to do the PR,’ Alex said coolly. ‘The guest list, the castle, the entertainment all is very tabloid friendly—even without the Archduke’s much photographed amorous encounter. I offered our services to the castle press office and they agreed to let me come over and handle it as you’re here anyway. I get the impression they usually find it much easier to control the story; this ball and the speculation around it is out of their league.’

  ‘But while she’s there,’ Harriet said, ‘she can make sure Amber and I are in the loop so we can manage any other issues from here, and that means you, Emilia, my dear, are free to go to your father’s ball.’

  Panic seized her chest. ‘No. Impossible. I don’t have a dress.’

  ‘I brought one with me for you,’ Alex said.

  ‘It needs to be a costume...’

  Alex didn’t bother replying but her look said it all. Of course she’d bought a costume—and shoes and evening bag and jewellery and anything else Emilia might need.

  ‘And I have a whole timetable to oversee—there are eight different bands in three locations, a formal sit-down dinner, a buffet, chocolate fountains, cheese buffet, canapés and an ice cream truck. There are acrobats and ballet dancers and a magician, a children’s choir and a troupe of Shakespearian actors. There’s a candlelit proce
ssion, country dancing and a midsummer celebration at midnight. Champagne bar, gin bar, craft ale bar and a speakeasy in a marquee outside, complete with cabaret. To say nothing of approximately five hundred guests arriving today and tomorrow.’

  ‘Five hundred guests whose accommodation has been organised, transport from the train station or airport sorted, and coaches to and from the castle booked, each one with a steward to look after any mishap?’

  ‘Well, yes, but...’

  ‘And the castle housekeepers and stewards all have copies of this timetable?’ Amber said, waving the carefully updated and very lengthy event plan that had been Emilia’s bible over the last few weeks.

  ‘Yes, but...’

  ‘We can manage from here. And you’ve got your watch.’ Emilia had a very expensive smartwatch that looked like an evening watch but received messages and allowed her to send them, which she often used when carrying her phone around was impractical. ‘We can contact you if we need you.’

  ‘And I’m right here,’ Alex reminded her.

  ‘But I’m not invited.’ And that was the crux of the matter. She wouldn’t push into an event she wasn’t part of, into the family that didn’t need her. Watch a man she knew so intimately dance with other women and smile as if her heart wasn’t breaking. As if she hadn’t walked away from a chance of real happiness.

  ‘You’re the guest of honour’s daughter,’ Alex said.

  ‘And you could dance with Laurent,’ Amber said softly, but Emilia shook her head.

  ‘No. I shouldn’t. I bet Gregory Peck didn’t follow Princess Ann around like a constant reminder of what might have been.’ Three blank faces greeted this pronouncement and Emilia vowed to make them all sit down and watch Roman Holiday once she was back.