that, even in telling a bit of the truth, they were still perpetuating a lie. And he was sick to the death of pretending. Of lies.
He could not imagine saying them on live television. Every word would stick in his throat like a jagged glass shard. He wanted to be done with deception, with pretence, for ever, even as he recognised how impossible it was.
Alyse’s face had gone chalk-white and she glanced away. ‘I see,’ she murmured, and he knew she did: more lies. More pretending. They would never be done with them, never have the opportunity to be real.
So how on earth could they have any kind of real relationship in that toxic environment, never mind love?
Not that he loved her. He didn’t even know what love was.
Did he?
The question reverberated through him. The last week had been one of the sweetest of his life, he had to admit. The memory of Alyse’s smile, the sweet slide of her lips against his, how he’d felt when he’d been buried inside her...
If that wasn’t love, it was something he’d never experienced before. It was intense and overwhelming, addictive and, hell, frightening.
But was it love?
Did it even matter?
‘Why don’t you get some rest?’ Leo said brusquely. ‘You look completely washed out, and we’ll be there in another hour.’
And, putting those troubling questions firmly to the back of his mind, he reached for his attaché and some paperwork that needed his attention.
* * *
Alyse’s stomach clenched as they stepped off the royal jet and were ushered quickly into the waiting limo with its accompanying motorcade of security. They were to go directly to the palace for a press briefing, and then the television interview that would take place in one of the palace’s private apartments. Alyse dreaded both events. She dreaded the condemnation she’d see on everyone’s faces, from King Alessandro to Queen Sophia to the cloying Larissa Pozzi...to Leo.
He’d said there was nothing to forgive, but his stony face told otherwise. She had no idea what he was really thinking or feeling, and she was desperately afraid to ask. That was how fragile and untried their feelings for each other were, she acknowledged with a wry despair. It couldn’t face up to a moment’s honesty, never mind any hardship or scrutiny.
The press secretary, along with the Queen, were waiting for them as soon as they stepped into the palace. Alyse’s stomach plunged straight to her toes as they entered one of the smaller receiving rooms. Queen Sophia stood at one end in all of her icy, regal splendour.
‘Mother.’ Leo’s voice was toneless as he went forward to kiss his mother’s cheek. She didn’t offer any affection back or even move, and despite the nerves jangling inside her Alyse felt a kind of sorrowful curiosity at the dynamic between mother and son.
Queen Sophia swung her cold blue gaze to Alyse. ‘This is a disaster,’ she said, ‘as I’m sure you’re aware. A complete disaster.’
‘It’s under control—’ Leo began tightly, but his mother cut across him.
‘Do you really think so, Leo?’ Her voice rang out scornfully but Leo didn’t react. ‘People will believe what they want to believe.’
‘They’ve always wanted to believe in Alyse,’ he answered quietly. ‘They’ve always loved her.’
‘And they’ll be just as quick to hate her,’ Sophia snapped. ‘That’s the nature of it, of publicity.’
‘Then I have to wonder why we’ve always been so quick to court it,’ Leo responded coolly. ‘Oh, I remember now—because you needed the positive press. You’ve needed Alyse, to make up for all the selfish choices you and Father have made over the years.’
‘How dare you?’ Sophia breathed.
‘I dare,’ Leo answered, ‘because you’ve been using me and then Alyse—using everyone you can—to make up for your own deficiencies. I won’t have you blaming us for them now. We’ll handle this, Mother, and you need not concern yourself at all.’
Sophia’s eyes glinted malice. ‘And what happens when they hate her, Leo? What happens when it all falls apart?’
Ice slid down Alyse’s spine. When they had no use for her.
‘We’ll deal with that possibility when and if it happens,’ Leo answered, and turned away.
Sophia whirled away from them both. ‘I’ll send Paula in,’ she said tightly, and with a slam of the doors she was gone.
‘Thank you,’ Alyse said quietly, ‘for defending me. Even if I don’t deserve it.’
‘You do deserve it. Enough with the mea culpa bit, Alyse.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re still doing it.’
She smiled wanly. ‘Habit, I guess.’
‘I’m not angry,’ Leo said after a moment. ‘At least, not at you. I might be harbouring a little rage for the paparazzi, but I can’t really blame them either. They’re just doing their job and we’ve been feeding their frenzy for years now.’
‘And you’re sick of it.’
‘Yes.’ He lapsed into silence, his forehead furrowed into a frown as he gazed out of the palace windows at acres of manicured lawn. Alyse watched him warily, for she sensed some conflict in him, something he wanted to say—but did she want to hear it?
‘Alyse...’ he began, but before he could say any more Paula bustled in with a sheaf of papers in one manicured hand.
‘Now, we need to go over just what you’ll say.’
‘It’s under control,’ Leo said shortly. ‘I know what I’m going to say.’
Paula looked surprised, a little insulted. ‘But I’m meant to brief—’
‘Consider us briefed,’ Leo answered. ‘We’re ready.’
Alyse fought down nausea. She didn’t feel remotely ready, and frankly she could use a little help from Paula. ‘What are we going to say?’ she whispered as they headed towards the suite where the interview would take place. ‘I could use—’
‘Leave it to me.’
‘But—’
‘Let’s go in,’ he said, and ushered her into the reception room with its cameras and lights already set up. ‘They’re waiting.’
The interview, at least at first, was a blur to Alyse. She shook Larissa Pozzi’s hand and the woman, all glossy nails and too-white teeth, gushed over the two of them.
‘Really, we’re doing this for you,’ she said, laying a hand on Alyse’s arm, her long, curved nails digging into her skin. ‘The world wants to hear your side of the story.’
