Marrying Bastian had always seemed wrong. The idea of marrying him now … after falling for Mak, after giving all of herself, body, heart and soul to him—it was repulsive.
“I need to go,” she said, her own voice as fuzzy and distant as her father’s.
She stumbled out of the office and past Mak, down the long, winding corridor and out the glass parlor doors into the garden. Air, maybe the air would help. She breathed in deeply, waiting for the salt and brine to penetrate the horrible fog that had descended.
It did. And when it did it left the cold sting of reality in its place. Harsh, painful, bright, like the white sunlight that pounded down on the grass. She kept walking, stumbled down the path and into the alcove shielded by grapevines.
She dropped to her knees and simply stayed. She waited, for tears, for something. There was nothing. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, willing a sound of pain to come out, to relieve some of the pressure inside of her.
But it wouldn’t come. She was frozen, trapped in herself. All she could manage to do was gulp in air in halting gasps, a feeling of panic gripping her, holding her down.
A hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting, drew her back from the abyss. “What happened?”
She tried to swallow more air, but couldn’t find any way to speak.
Mak knelt down with her, his hand sliding over her back, around her shoulders, drawing her to him. She rested her head on his chest and breathed in deeply. She memorized his smell, the way his heart sounded beneath her ear, the way he breathed. Why had she thought she could just say goodbye? That it could end? How had she not realized just what the separation would mean? How badly it would hurt?
Mak pulled her up onto his lap, settling in his black suit in the dust, uncaring for the expensive fabric.
She clung to him. She hadn’t wanted support earlier. Hadn’t wanted to do anything beyond standing on her own feet. But right now, she needed to be held up. Just for now. And she was glad she had him.
She didn’t know what she would do when Mak wasn’t there to keep her from falling.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ONLY madness could come from this. From touching her. He had sworn he would let it go. Let her go. That those last moments in the chalet would be his last moments of insanity.
Because she needed him. Because she had no one else. Because he needed to.
Touching her like this, without touching her the way he truly desired, was a new kind of torture. It should be old and familiar now, the denial of his body’s needs. But this wasn’t the same. This was about closeness. About her skin against his.
He wouldn’t. He would just hold her.
He moved his hands over her back, frustrated at the feel of silk beneath his fingers, instead of soft, bare skin.
He held her like that for a long time. Then she stiffened, pulling away from him and moving into a standing position.
“There’s no use crying about it,” she said, wiping her cheeks. “It’s done.”
“It’s not done yet,” he said.
“It’s as good as done.” She looked at him, the depth of emotion in her eyes stabbing him straight in the heart. “What other option do I have?”
His chest seized tight. “Eva … I can’t …”
“I’m not asking you to rescue me, Mak. I’m not locked in a tower. Look … doors everywhere, I could walk out if I liked. But I don’t know why I would. For … fun? You’ve said it many times, happiness is transient but doing something for the right reasons, something rooted in honor, that means something, doesn’t it?”
“It’s supposed to,” he said. Unsure now if it was true. Unsure that it meant anything.
“So I’m trying to matter. Trying to help erase the scandal I put on my family name. Trying to do something right for my country.” She blinked rapidly. “And I hope…. I hope it’s enough.”
She turned and walked out of the courtyard. He felt as if the color went with her.
He wanted to tell her he was wrong, to tell her to be happy. But he didn’t know the first thing about finding happiness. How could he direct her to find something he wasn’t certain existed?
She’d made her choice. She would marry Bastian.
And he would find a way to rebuild the walls that had surrounded his heart for so many years.
Go out. Have fun. Or at least pretend you’re having fun.
That was Eva’s directive. She and Mak were on assignment. Going to shop in the city without any scandal cropping up. Mak was supposed to shadow her, keep the press from mobbing her and, Eva was certain, keep her in line.
It was silly, but she was desperate for the car ride. Desperate for the moment when the door would close and she and Mak would be alone. She liked their arrangement, where it was just the two of them.
When Mak settled in beside her and they were closed into their bubble, a knot tightened in her stomach. “I … I didn’t think, Mak. Should I ask a driver to take us in one of the larger cars? You don’t like driving and I …”
“I’m fine, Eva,” he said.
“I wanted to be alone with you. Just for a bit,” she said, quietly, as he started the engine.
“Is there really any point to that?”
“No. I suppose not. Although, maybe there is. It’s nice to be with someone you…” She stumbled over her words. “… like a lot.”
“Is that so?” His tone was filled with bland disinterest. Just as it had been in the beginning.
“It is.”
He put the car into gear and started driving away from the palace. They were silent for a while, then Mak spoke. “So what is it you like about me?” he asked. A strange question coming from Mak. One that revealed a vulnerability she wasn’t accustomed to seeing.
“A lot of things,” she said. “You don’t complain if you have to prepare your own food, which is rare.”
“Really?” he asked dryly.
“In royal circles it’s very rare,” she said. “And I like talking to you. You’re judgmental sometimes, but you listen anyway. Also rare.”
“You flatter me.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“I guessed.”
A bubble of happiness started to fill up in Eva’s chest. She was with Mak and they were talking. And the wedding was four whole weeks away. In her mind, she imagined that date stretching far into the future. Visualized twenty-eight days lasting as long as possible.
Mak pulled the car up to a boutique that offered valet parking and put the car in Park with the keys still in the ignition. “Anything else?”
Eva unbuckled and paused, then pulled on the door handle. “You’re very good in bed.” She opened the door and got out, closing it behind her, heart pounding a bit faster than normal.
She heard the driver’s side door slam, and then heard Mak barking orders to the valet before stalking after her. She didn’t turn to look at him as she strode into the boutique, all of her efforts focused on ignoring him. Keeping her eyes in front of her.
She paused at a rack of sweaters.
“Careful, Eva,” Mak growled out the words as he walked by her, headed into the back of the shop to do that blending he was so good at.
“No thanks,” she said sweetly.
A shop assistant came over to Eva, her eyes widening, mouth falling open for a brief moment before she made a quick recovery, as she realized who Eva was. Once the discovery was made, clothes were brought out en masse. She wasn’t trying to fly under the radar, which was an odd experience, and she wasn’t making use of the family stylist, which was equally rare.
Mak stayed on the fringes, keeping his eyes on her, but staying away from her and the saleswoman as they systematically made their way through the jeans, tops, slacks and skirts.
“And I need a gown,” Eva said, aware she was about to invite speculation. “A very special event. One we’re planning at the last minute.”
The official announcement that was happening over the weekend. The one where she would have to pretend she felt something for Bastian. The one that would cement everything in place.
“How exciting!” The girl did a little clap and ran to the rack of gowns.
Eva watched Mak’s face as she tried the gowns on, one by one: some with structured bodices, some with filmy skirts that clung to her legs. One was nearly backless.
Mak’s jaw was tight, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes blank. And she knew it was because he wanted her. Because the heat that was crackling between them was palpable, even from across the room.
It was a strange mix of heaven and hell, knowing Mak wanted her as he did. Knowing it when she couldn’t have him. When he couldn’t make good on the promise in his eyes. It made her body ache, made her hands tremble.
She turned slightly in the cream-colored gown she was wearing, so that Mak could see her from the side, feigning interest in the mirror. “You don’t think it’s too low?” she asked.
It was strapless with good structure beneath a layer of filmy chiffon. The neck scooped down, revealing quite a bit of cleavage, the color making her golden skin glow.
“No, it’s lovely. Just the right amount of sexy,” the saleswoman offered.
“Great. Then this is it.” She could see Mak swallow hard. “I’ll take all of this,” she said, indicating the clothing that filled an entire rack that stretched across the dressing area. “Mak,” she said, directing her attention to him. “Can you arrange the details?”