Royals: For Their Royal Heir. Эбби Грин

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      Alix appeared to choose to ignore that. He folded his arms. Eyes narrowed on her. ‘Why did you lie about your father?’

      Leila turned away from him again, feeling like a pinned insect under his judgemental gaze. He came alongside her. She bit her lip. He was silent, waiting.

      Reluctantly she said, ‘It was my mother. It was what she always said. “He’s dead to us, Leila. He didn’t want me or you. And he only wanted me to prostitute myself for him. If anyone asks, he’s dead.”’

      Alix stayed silent.

      ‘I was aware of who he was—his perfect life and family. His rise to political fame. Why would I ever admit that he was my father? I was ashamed for him. And for myself. It’s one thing to be rejected by a parent who has known you all your life, but another to be rejected before they’ve even met you.’

      She and her mother had seen both sides of that coin.

      Alix’s tone was arctic, he oozed disapproval of her messy past. ‘We found out that the press sat on the story of your identity in order to dig into your past and see if they could find anything juicy. And they did. Your father is already doing his best to limit the damage, claiming these reports are spurious—an attempt to thwart his chances in the election.’

      Leila hated it, but she felt hurt. Another rejection—and public this time. ‘I’m not surprised,’ she said dully. And in front of Alix. Could this day get any worse?

      Apparently it could. From beside her he said briskly, ‘The press conference will be taking place in an hour’s time. I’ve arranged for a stylist and her team to come and get you ready.’

      Leila turned to look at Alix. ‘Press conference? Stylist? What for?’

      Alix turned to face her. His expression brooked no argument. ‘A press conference to announce our engagement, Leila. After which you’ll be leaving with me to come back to Isle Saint Croix.’

      For some reason Leila seized on the most innocuous word. ‘Back? But I’ve never been...’ Her brain felt sluggish, words too unwieldy to say.

      A sharp pinging noise came out of nowhere and Alix extracted a sleek phone from his pocket, holding it up to his ear. He took it away momentarily to say to Leila, ‘Wait here for the stylist. I’ll be back shortly.’

      And he was walking out of the room before she could react.

      When she did react, Leila felt red-hot lava flow through her veins. The sheer arrogance of the man! To assume she’d meekly roll over and agree to his bidding just because he had a King Kong complex!

      Leila stormed off after Alix, going down seemingly endless corridors that ended in various plush bedrooms and sitting rooms, and a dining room that looked as if it could seat a hundred.

      She eventually heard low voices from behind a closed door and without knocking threw the door open. ‘Now, look here—what part of I don’t want to marry you didn’t you understand the first time I said it?’

      Leila came to an abrupt halt when about a dozen faces turned to look at her. There were two women in the group, scarily coiffed and besuited. Alix was in the middle, looking stern, and they were all watching something on the television.

      A man around Alix’s age detached himself from the group and came over to Leila, holding out a hand. ‘Miss Verughese—a pleasure to meet you. I’m Andres Balsak, King Alix’s chief of staff.’

      Leila let him take her hand, feeling completely exposed.

      Andres let her hand go and urged her in with a hand on her elbow. ‘We’re watching a news report.’

      The crowd parted and Leila was aware of their intense scrutiny. She avoided looking at Alix’s no doubt furious expression.

      The news report was featuring a very pretty town full of brightly coloured houses near a busy harbour. An imposing castle stood on a lushly wooded hill behind the town.

      A reporter was saying, ‘Will King Alix be able to weather this scandalous storm so early into his reign? We will just have to wait and see. Back to you—’

      The TV was shut off. Alix said, ‘Everyone out. Now.’

      The room cleared quickly.

      The reality of seeing that report, as short as it had been, brought home to Leila the stark magnitude of what she was facing.

      She turned to Alix. ‘What exactly is it that you’re proposing with this press conference and by bringing me to Isle Saint Croix?’

      Alix looked at Leila. She could have passed for eighteen. She was pale and even more beautiful than he remembered. Had her eyes always been that big? The moment he’d seen her standing in the foyer, his blood had leapt as if injected by currents of pure electricity.

      And when she’d passed him, her scent had reminded him of too much. How easily he’d let her in. How much he still wanted her. How much he’d trusted her. Would she even have come to him to let him know about the baby? He had a feeling that she wouldn’t, and his blood boiled.

      Damn her. And damn that sense of protectiveness he’d felt when she’d revealed the truth about her father. He couldn’t think of that now.

      ‘You’ll come because you’re carrying my heir and the whole world knows it now.’

      Leila looked hunted, her arms crossed tightly over her chest again, pushing the swells of those luscious breasts up. They looked bigger. Because of the pregnancy? The thought of Leila’s body ripening with his seed, his child, gave him another shockingly sudden jolt of lust. A memory blasted—of taking a nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue, tasting her sharp sweetness—he brutally clamped down on the image.

      Leila was pacing now. ‘What is the solution here? There has to be a solution...’ She stopped and faced him again. ‘I mean, it’s not as if you’re really intending to marry me. The engagement is just for show, until things die down again...’

      She looked so hopeful Alix almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Her reluctance to marry him caught at him somewhere very primal and possessive.

      ‘No, Leila. We will be getting married. In two weeks. It’s traditional in Isle Saint Croix to have short engagements.’

      Leila squeaked, ‘Two weeks?’ She found a chair and sat down heavily. She looked bewildered. ‘But that’s ridiculous!’

      Alix shook his head. ‘It’s fate, Leila. Our fate and our baby’s. The child you’re carrying is destined to be the future King or Queen of Isle Saint Croix. It will have a huge legacy behind it and ahead of it. Would you deny it that?’

      Leila’s arms uncrossed and her hands went to her lap, twisting. Alix had to stop himself from going over and lacing his fingers through hers.

      ‘Well, of course not—but surely there’s a way—?’

      ‘And would you deny it the chance to grow up knowing its father? Surrounded by the security of a stable marriage? You of all people?’

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