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Santina's Scandalous Princess(29)

By:Kate Hewitt


He let out a short, bitter laugh. ‘Exactly.'

‘What is that supposed to mean?'

She didn't think Ben was going to answer her. He remained silent, his  gaze still on the sea, and then finally he spoke. ‘I've spent my whole  life trying to be in control of everything, to feel like I was in  control. I told myself I was doing it for everyone's else sake-my  family's or my mother's or whoever-but it was really for me.'

‘I told you you were a control freak,' Natalia said lightly, but Ben  didn't even smile. ‘So did it work?' she finally asked quietly.

‘Not really. Because I never was. Everything always spins out of control, every time.'

She certainly knew how that felt. ‘You can't control other people's actions.'

‘I haven't even controlled my own.'

Natalia felt her heart freeze for a suspended second. Was Ben talking  about his actions with her? Kissing her? Surely not. She swallowed. ‘So.  Welcome to the club.'

‘The club?'

‘You don't think you're the only one who feels that way, do you?'

Ben let out of a bark of genuine laughter. ‘You're not going to give me a shred of sympathy, are you?'

‘Poor little princess?' Natalia reminded him. ‘Nobody loves you? Nobody understands you?'

Ben gave her a sudden hard stare that sent awareness sizzling along her  spine. ‘I don't think that's true,' he said slowly, and it took Natalia a  stunned moment to consider what he might mean. He understood her? He  loved her?

‘Of course it's not true,' she said briskly. ‘Just like it's not true  that you've ruined everyone's life including your own because of this  obsessive and unhealthy need for control.'

He smiled. ‘Obsessive? Really?'

‘Why are you so concerned about being in control?' Natalia asked  point-blank, without any humour or lightness in her voice to let Ben off  the hook and deflect the question. She wanted to know the answer too  much.

‘Because I never felt like I had it,' he replied, his tone turning  bleak. ‘Everything about my life-my childhood at least-has been so up  and down. So crazy. My mother divorced my father-twice. We moved from  house to flat, one minute we were riding high and the next everything  seemed a mess. My father was in the Premier League-'

‘Like you wanted to be?' Natalia asked before she could stop herself, and Ben stared at her for a second.

‘Yes.'

‘You come alive on the football pitch like I've never seen before. You seem … happy.'

‘I am,' Ben said quietly. ‘At least, I was. I've always loved football. I was good at it-'

‘And it was a way to feel in control.'

He shot her a wry glance. ‘Yes.'

‘So what happened?'                      
      
          



      

‘I blew out my knee when I was seventeen. Lost any chance of playing professionally. My father was incredibly disappointed.'

How telling, she thought, that he talked about his dad's disappointment  rather than his own. Natalia suspected Ben's ambition and need for  control had been less for himself and more for his family and the  stability of his many younger siblings.

‘That must have been hard,' she said quietly, and he just shrugged.

‘No one likes to lose a dream.'

‘So then you went into business?'

He gave her the ghost of a smile. ‘I had to do something, didn't I?'

Something to stay in control. Or at least feel like he was. Was that why  he hated the press? she wondered. He couldn't control them. And yet she  had chosen the opposite path … courting the newspapers and acting like  she loved the attention because at least then she felt in control.

Yet all of it-any kind of control-was surely an illusion. She certainly  wasn't in control when it came to Ben and her body's-as well as her  heart's-elemental and overwhelming response to him. She stretched her  toes out towards the water, now no more than a sound in the darkness.  Night had fallen, soft and suggestive around them. Suddenly Natalia was  very conscious that they were alone on a secluded beach, with only the  stars to see them. She heard Ben's steady breathing, felt the heat and  strength of his presence just inches from her.

‘What about you, Princess?' Ben asked, his voice seeming almost disembodied in the darkness. ‘What was your dream?'

Natalia tensed. She hadn't expected this to get personal … at least not  about her. ‘I don't know if I ever had one,' she said after a pause. ‘Or  at least I haven't, for a long time.'

‘What did it used to be then?'

She took a breath, let it out slowly. He'd told her so much about  himself, surely it was only fair she gave away a few of her secrets. She  reached down and cupped a handful of cool, silky sand, letting it  trickle between her fingers. ‘I suppose it's rather predictable,  something of the happily-ever-after variety.'

‘Ah. So that's why you don't believe in true love.'

She smiled, remembering her disdainful remark. ‘I've learned better.'

‘What happened?'

‘You can read all about it in the papers.' She felt rather than saw him tense.

‘What do you mean?'

‘That torrid affair. You mentioned it yourself. It was big news about  six years ago.' Right before Carlotta had fallen pregnant and trumped  Natalia's own shame.

He didn't speak for a moment, and Natalia could almost imagine the  wheels turning in his mind, the click of the cogs. ‘The French guy?'

‘Jean, yes. He was a count's son, I believe. He spent the summer on the island.'

‘And what happened? He broke your heart?'

‘It felt like it at the time.' She shrugged, not wanting to rake up old  memories, old hurts. ‘I thought I was in love and I did a lot of stupid  things and he told them all to the tabloids. Gave them photos.' She  closed her eyes briefly, remembered the scorching shame of seeing what  she'd thought had been a wonderful and private romance laid bare in all  of its humiliating detail. ‘He got a lot of money for it anyway,' she  finished lightly. ‘It was an exclusive.'

‘I'll bet.' Ben shook his head. ‘So that wasn't your choice.'

‘No.'

‘The papers made it seem like it was.'

She shrugged as if it didn't matter. ‘That's what papers do.'

Ben gave her a hard look. ‘And so after that you decided you'd be the  one calling the shots. You'd go to them before they could get you.'

He'd summed it up so perfectly, yet she thought she heard a thread of judgement in his voice. ‘Something like that.'

He let out a huff of breath. ‘And I did the opposite.' Was he implying  that's what she should have done? And maybe she should have. Lived life  quietly, above reproach, like Carlotta had. Like Ben had. Surely it was  too late now for regrets. But was it too late to change? To want to  change?

‘When I was young,' Ben said slowly, ‘about four or five, the papers  printed a photograph of me. I was crying. I'm not sure if it had to do  with my parents' divorce or not. Maybe I'd just skinned my knee and some  photographer got the shot. In any case, that blasted photo was in every  newspaper from here to Los Angeles. My mother hated it, made her feel  like her privacy had been invaded, like the world was watching the  breakdown of her marriage and its effect on her children. I hated it  because what boy wants the world to see him crying?'                      
      
          



      

Natalia gave him a glimmer of a smile. ‘No boy that I can think of.'

‘And there were others. It seemed like every unguarded moment of my  childhood was captured on film and tied to my parents' marriage. All I  had to do was look a little glum and the papers were screaming about how  my mother's heart was broken.'

‘That must have been hard for her.'

‘It was.'

‘And you.' He shrugged, and she continued quietly, ‘And when you injured your knee? They must have had a field day.'

‘You saw those photos?'

She laughed softly, yet without humour. ‘No. I just know how the press  works. They blow everything out of proportion. Use everything they can  get.'

He nodded. ‘It was tough.'

She sighed, feeling sad for both of them. Their experiences had been so similar, yet their responses so incredibly different.

‘Your hatred of the press is starting to make sense. Not to mention your control issues.'

‘But both of those things have blinded me.'

‘Blinded you?'

‘To the way things really are.' He paused, his gaze hard, unyielding,  relentless. She could not look away from it. ‘To the way you really  are.'