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       CHAPTER NINE

      LIANA GAZED AT her reflection and tried to still the nervous fluttering in her stomach. They’d been back in Maldinia for a week, and tonight was the fundraiser for Hands To Help.

      In the week since they’d returned from California, they’d continued exploring the sexual side of their relationship with joyous abandon. The nights were pleasure-filled, and the days...?

      Liana wasn’t so sure about the days. They’d both been busy with royal duties, but there had still been time to spend just with each other—if they had wanted to. Sandro, however, hadn’t sought her out. They certainly hadn’t had any more question-and-answer sessions, and the most honest either of them seemed to be was with their bodies. Not their words. Not their hearts.

      It was ironic, really, that she wanted that now. She’d entered this marriage because she’d believed it would be convenient, that it wouldn’t involve her heart. She hadn’t wanted love or intimacy or any of it—and now she did.

      Now she did so much, and Sandro was the one pulling away. She’d felt his emotional withdrawal from the moment they’d stepped off the royal jet. At first she’d thought he was just preoccupied with work; he’d spent the entire fourteen-hour flight from LA working in his study on the plane. But after a week of incredible sex and virtually no conversation, she knew work couldn’t be the only reason.

      She’d gone over what Sandro had told her about himself many times, yet those few terse sentences hardly gave anything away.

      My parents were hypocrites because they only pretended that they loved us when there was a camera or reporter around. When it mattered.

      Because I bought into their lies and when I realised that’s what they were I kept it going.

      What did it mean, he kept it going? And what, really, did his parents’ lack of love have to do with being king? Unless he simply found the whole atmosphere of the palace too toxic to endure. Liana had to admit she always felt herself tense when the queen dowager was around. But to walk away from everything he’d known and been for fifteen whole years? There had to be more to his story, just as there was more to hers.

      And even if she wanted to admit more to Sandro, he didn’t seem willing or interested to hear it. He’d been perfectly polite, of course, even friendly, and at night he made her body sing. But they’d been teetering on the edge of a far deeper intimacy and since returning here Sandro had taken a few definite, determined steps back.

      Which shouldn’t, Liana told herself, make her feel restless. Anxious. Why couldn’t she accept what they had and deem it enough? It was more than she’d ever had before, more than she’d ever let herself want.

      And yet it wasn’t enough. Not when she’d had a glimpse—a taste—of just how much more they could have.

      Taking a deep breath, she forced her thoughts away from such pointless musings and inspected her reflection once more. She wore an emerald-green evening gown, a bold choice for her, and she’d selected it with the help of Demi, her stylist. She wondered what Sandro would think of the asymmetrical cut, with one shoulder left bare. She worn her hair up, but loosely, unlike the more severe chignons she used to favour. To finish the outfit she’d chosen diamond chandelier earrings and a matching necklace that had belonged to her mother.

      She took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror. The maid, Rosa, who had helped her dress, smiled encouragingly. ‘You look lovely, Your Highness.’

      ‘Thank you, Rosa.’

      Rosa handed her a matching wrap of emerald satin and Liana draped it over one arm before leaving her suite of rooms. The dress whispered against her legs as she walked down the corridor, her heart thudding harder with every step that took her towards Sandro. What would he think of her gown? And what would he think of her? Tonight was such an important night for her, finally bringing more visibility to Hands To Help, and yet in this moment she cared more about what Sandro thought than anything else. She wanted that intimacy back again, that closeness that didn’t come from sex—as amazing as that was—but from simply being with one another. Talking and laughing in a way they hadn’t since returning from California.

      Sandro was waiting at the bottom of the palace’s sweeping staircase as Liana came down. He looked dark and dangerous and utterly devastating in black tie, his hair brushed back, his eyes glittering like shards of silver.

      He stilled as she approached, his expression going utterly blank as his gaze swept her from head to toe, making Liana wonder just what he thought. It was the first time she’d worn a formal gown since their marriage.

      ‘You СКАЧАТЬ