don’t defy me on this, Jasmine. I won’t change my mind. I can’t have another destroyed life on my conscience.’ The words tumbled out.
They both froze. He saw the shock rocking through him reflected on her face.
‘What...what do you mean?’ Her voice was whisper-thin, puzzled.
He chopped off her question with a flick of his hand. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He took a deep breath to regain the balance he seemed to lose so easily around her. ‘I’m calling the council back. You’ll refrain from mentioning what happened in Rio. Am I clear?’
For the first time since he’d known her, she nodded readily.
He strode to the door, shock still rocking his system. His men came back. They tossed ideas around half-heartedly, until he clenched his fist.
‘Gentlemen, we need to discuss the subject of my bride.’
Jasmine made a rough noise of disagreement. He ignored her. Looking at her would remind him of what he’d let slip. Remind him how easily she got under his skin.
‘Well, in a way your current trade visits are a good way of introducing any prospective brides to the people. But...’ Alvarez cleared his throat ‘...you need to be a little less closed off, Your Highness.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I think any further visits should be less clandestine. The people need to see their prince embracing life a little. Remind them that you’re flesh and blood, and not a fairy-tale figure locked away in an ivory tower.’
Reyes pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Are you saying my discretion is a flaw?’
‘I’m saying the people don’t really know you. You brought Santo Sierra right up to the treaty table after your father fell ill, but the fact remains that the finish line was never crossed. And Santo Sierrans aren’t quite sure how to take that. You don’t want to estrange yourself from the people.’
Fury bubbled beneath his skin. Beside him, Jasmine’s tension slammed into him. Her face was clouded with a mixture of displeasure and misery. When her eyes met his, he glimpsed regret in them.
‘So you’re saying whatever I do, the people won’t be satisfied until they have me pressing the flesh, kissing babies with a promise of a royal wedding and an heir to swoon over?’ Reyes couldn’t suppress his sneer. The thought of putting himself out there, to be prodded and gawped over by the media, turned his stomach.
Alvarez knew Reyes’s personal history and how he felt about the media. But his councillor nodded warily. ‘That would be one way to reassure the people, yes.’
Gathering his fraying control, he turned back to his men. ‘And there’s no chance of presenting them with a royal wedding via Isabella?’ He tried for one last ounce of a reprieve. ‘Perhaps we can still rescue the situation with her ex-betrothed if we move fast enough...’
He stopped when Costanzo shook his head. ‘Her fiancé declared he didn’t want anything to do with Her Highness any longer after she broke things off. We had to pay his family reparations for the cancelled engagement. They won’t reconsider Her Highness as a suitor.’
‘Dios!’ He looked at Jasmine, his blood boiling.
That look was still on her face—worry, regret. He looked past that. To the luscious mouth that was parted slightly as her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.
He wanted to forget that she was responsible for all this. Forget that the more he spoke to her, the more he doubted that her character was as black as he’d first thought. Reyes just wanted to forget. And in that moment, he wanted to use the most elemental way possible to achieve oblivion.
Her.
That stirring grew until his whole body thrummed with a carnal demand he couldn’t deny.
What was wrong with him?
His youngest advisor cleared his throat. ‘If Your Highness prefers, we can pursue this as a short-term union. Only until the economic situation in the kingdom stabilises.’ He tapped a few keys on his tablet.
Reyes drummed his fingers on the table as he waited.
Finally, the advisor looked up. ‘And I think Miss Nichols may be right. She’s suitably placed to help.’
‘She hasn’t brought up any new solutions to Santo Sierra’s problems that we haven’t already considered.’
‘No, but she could be the right person to broker a temporary marriage for you.’
‘Excuse me?’
Reyes’s eyes narrowed at her outraged tone.
His advisor glanced at her, then back at his tablet. ‘According to the information I have here, you brokered the marriage between a US senator and his mistress once you arranged a discreet divorce from his wife of thirty years.’
Jasmine’s mouth dropped open. ‘That’s supposed to be confidential.’
A douse of cold water cooled Reyes’s raging temperature. ‘Seems there’s no end to your dubious talent,’ he murmured.
Her face flushed. ‘I wasn’t responsible for him leaving his wife, nor was I responsible for finding the mistress, if that’s what you’re implying. I only assisted with the financial arrangements and ensured each party walked away happy.’
Her gaze swung to the men at the end of the table. How was it possible that one look from her commanded their silence? Reyes watched, intrigued, as she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes for emphasis.
‘That’s not what you’re asking me to do, surely? For what you need for Re...His Highness, you require an elite professional matchmaker. That’s not what I specialise in. When I said I’d help I meant with the economic issues facing the kingdom.’
‘This is an issue facing the kingdom. And one that has to be addressed sooner rather than later. With Isabella’s marriage off the table, we need to give the people something to sustain their faith,’ Alvarez said.
Pressure built at Reyes’s temple. He wanted to deny what his council were saying. But deep down he couldn’t dismiss that his people needed a healthy dose of bolstering news. Reyes had dashed their hopes of a royal wedding once before, five years ago, when he’d thrown Anaïs out of his life.
With his mother’s subsequent death four years ago behind the wheel of her lover’s car, and his father’s illness soon afterwards, the only good news the Santo Sierran people had been given was the signing of the treaty and Isabella’s wedding.
Both had failed to materialise. In the meantime, Mendez was pushing his greedy fingers into Santo Sierran affairs. It needed to end.
But marriage...
The only template he’d witnessed had been one mired in deception, misery and acrimony. It wasn’t something he wanted to reproduce. If he was to take this road, it needed to be permanent. With both sides clear in their role and with no room for misunderstanding.
He
