Carrying the King's Pride(46)

And that wasn’t even counting the part of her that knew she was falling in love with Nik, something that made her feel like crawling out of her skin. So vulnerable she felt raw and exposed. But she’d promised herself she was going to see this journey through. She was stronger than this as Nik had reminded her the night of their engagement party. She could do this for the sake of her child. And maybe, just maybe, she would end up with far more than she’d bargained for with Nik.

She looked down at her sketch pad rather than let that thought fester. Examined her latest drawing. Still not right. Yet again. Grimacing, she tore the sheet off, crumpled it into a ball and added it to the growing pile beside her lounge chair.

Dammit. Why wasn’t it coming? All those ideas she’d had in her head weren’t translating to the page. She picked up her cool lime drink and attempted to channel some Zen.

Boat secured, Nik loped up the beach and dropped down on the chair beside her. Plucking the glass out of her hand, he drained its contents and set it on the concrete. Her mouth curved. “Is there anything you think is not yours?”

His eyes glittered in the sunshine. “No. Did I not prove that last night? Do you need a reminder?”

Her chin dipped, a wave of heat descending over her that had nothing to do with the sun. “What I need is for one of these designs to work.”

He picked up one of the balls of paper. “May I?”

“Will you be honest?”

He lifted a brow as if to say when hadn’t he been?

“Go ahead, then. I’m working on a maternity line.”

He unballed one of the drawings, then another. Until he’d looked at them all. Twice. A frown of concentration creased his brow. “Well,” she said, teeth buried in her lip. “What do you think?’

He looked up. “Qualifying this with the caveat I know nothing about fashion, I agree they’re missing something.”

“Inspiration,” she murmured. “Nothing’s hitting me.”

He sat back in the chair, sprawling his long limbs out in front of him. “I think you’re doing a typical Sofía. You’re going for the safe choices—what you think people will like, approve of, instead of giving your imagination free rein. You’re not fully committing.”

“I am,” she protested. “I’ve been killing myself over these.”

He gave her a look as if to say that was exactly her problem. “Draw something for yourself. Draw something crazy, way over the top to get your creative juices flowing. You can always pull it back.”

She eyed him. “Where do you get all this creativity expertise?”

“You’d be surprised at the amount of creativity it takes to put a ten-million-dollar deal together, agapi mou.” He lifted himself off the chair. “Try it.”

She chewed on her pencil as he went off to shower. Considered her surroundings and how the lush beauty of the island, the intensity of the colors, the smells inspired her. She started drawing and didn’t stop until Nik came to get her for dinner.

“Any success?”

“Yes,” she said, snapping the sketch pad closed.

“You going to share?”

“Not yet. They still need lots of work. But I’m happy with them. I think this is the direction I want to go.”

“Good.” He pointed her toward the villa. “Then I can have your undivided attention over dinner.”

Nik’s undivided attention proved as heady and fascinating a thing as always. But her head kept skipping forward to what lay ahead, distracting her.

Nik pointed his wineglass at her as their entrée plates were removed. “Where is your head?”

“I don’t want to go back,” she admitted. “I wish we could just stay here. Away from all the pressure.”

“You aren’t marrying a normal man, Sofía. You’re marrying a king.”

She sighed. “I know. Just wishful thinking.”

“Come show me your drawings.”

She gave him a pointed look. “I told you they aren’t ready.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

She pretended to think about it. But the temptation was too great. Pushing her chair back, she grabbed her sketch pad and walked around the table. Nik pulled her onto his lap, settling her against his chest.

“I want the truth,” she reminded him, then flicked open the sketch pad and showed him the series of ten drawings she’d decided on, which still needed to be filled out and perfected, but they were a start. She talked him through each one, why she’d done what she’d done, what she liked about them. Nik studied them, then set the sketch pad down.

“I like them. They’re elegant. Different.”