Royal Games(2)

A twin who had made me fall in love with him, while deceiving me the entire time.

If there was one thing I couldn’t tolerate, it was a lying man. I’d already had my fill of lying men for this lifetime.

I arrived at the small porch outside of the guesthouse and raised my arm, banging on the wooden door with all my might.

The door jerked open, and there he stood.

Rafe.

Or, more accurately, His Royal Highness Prince Rafael of Monterra. Third in line to the throne, son of King Dominic and Queen Aria.

The man who had broken my heart.

I took a step back as my mouth went dry and my pulse exploded.

I had thought I was prepared for this moment. After the show ended, he had sent so many bouquets of flowers I was pretty sure he had deflowered the entire state. He had bombarded me with texts, phone calls, and emails.

Basically, he had tried in every way imaginable to apologize to me, but I didn’t want to hear it. I hardened my heart against him. I would never, ever let myself be hurt like that ever again. I kept as busy as I possibly could so I wouldn’t think about him and about what we’d shared.

I had even managed to convince myself that I was over him. That he held no more sway over me.

I was so totally and completely wrong. Because I was swaying, big-time.

I had known this moment would come. I knew he wouldn’t stay away forever. He was one of the most determined, stubborn people I’d ever met.

But despite all my preparation, I clearly hadn’t done enough. Because I was dumbstruck just from looking at him.

He was my physical opposite. Where I was pale, with red hair and green eyes, he had black hair, light brown eyes, and olive skin. I was ordinary, and he was ridiculously and painfully handsome. I enjoyed playing sports, like soccer, but he and his brothers were dedicated working-out types, and it showed in his athletic build. He had at least four inches on me, and while I used to love looking up at him and how feminine it made me feel, now it bothered me. He was too much. Too masculine, too beautiful, and too Rafe.

I hated that I still had a physical response to him. That my arms wanted to throw themselves around his neck, and that my lips were begging to kiss him. That I loved just standing near him because it made me feel better. Like I’d been trying to catch my breath for the past six months and could finally breathe again because he was here. It was both stupid and annoying.

Realizing that I had been staring and not saying anything for an embarrassing length of time, I straightened my shoulders. My gaze settled on his silver-rimmed glasses. “No contacts?” I asked sarcastically. I needed to be angry with him. It was the only way I would get through this.

His twin, Dante, didn’t wear glasses. And since Rafe had been pretending to be Dante, he’d worn contacts on the show.

“No more contacts,” he said. His voice. I had forgotten about his voice. How deep and smooth and yummy it was, with just the slightest hint of an Italian accent.

My knees started to shake, and I rebuked them. We’re angry, I reminded them. We are definitely not attracted to him.

“No more deceptions,” he said.

He took a step forward and my whole world slid sideways. I took another step away from him and he stopped.

“What . . . why . . . why are you here? What are you doing?” I hoped he didn’t notice my wobbly voice.

He studied me, and I resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze. It made me too uncomfortable. I had really thought I was much stronger than this. More capable of carrying a grudge.

Finally, he spoke. “I came to apologize. I need to explain why I did what I did.”

I crossed my arms, telling myself that the shivers I felt came from the snow surrounding me and had nothing at all to do with him. I didn’t want to hear his excuses, but if I didn’t let him rationalize his behavior, he’d never leave. “Fine. Explain.”

“Not like this. Not while you’re angry.”

I let out a dark little laugh. “Well, then you’re never going to be able to explain yourself.” Unfortunately, as I stood there, I was discovering that time had smoothed over some of the rougher edges, taking away most of my anger. But I couldn’t let him know that. If I did, he would so easily shatter all the defenses I had built up. I hoped I had more conviction in my voice than I felt because I couldn’t let him destroy my heart again. I wasn’t sure I could take it.

He shrugged. “I’m willing to wait.”

“For how long?” I asked, frantic.

He didn’t say anything and again just stared at me.

I covered my eyes with my hands and sighed. This was not happening. This just . . . could not be happening. This had to be some kind of waking nightmare. I pinched myself and then opened my eyes. Nope. Still there. “I don’t want you to be here. You have to go.”