His ankle was killing Stephen as he hobbled across the parking lot with Thomas to the front entrance of Harbor’s Edge, a luxury condominium on the bank of a river.
The doorman greeted them with a dubious once-over. “Here to see Ms. Del Rey?”
“She’s expecting us, yes.”
The man stepped back with a nod. “Top floor. Penthouse on the right.”
In the elevator, Stephen rode in silence, grappling with his thoughts, sorting his feelings. She awakened something in him he thought he no longer possessed.
“She’s very beautiful,” Thomas said, staring straight ahead.
“She is.”
“Rather decisive too.”
“Yes, rather.”
“I like her.”
Stephen faced his protection officer as the elevator slowed, delivering them on the top floor. “We’re not here to like her.” While Thomas was an employee of the Royal Guard, he’d also become Stephen’s friend over the years. He’d been a near constant companion when Stephen traveled with Brighton Eagles for every international match.
“I’m merely saying—”
“Well, don’t say it.” Stephen patted the messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “I came here to ask her to sign the annulment papers. End of story.”
“All business?”
“Yes, all business.”
But he lied, making himself feel better by wrapping it with some thin ribbon of the truth. He did come for the annulment, but more lurked beneath the surface. The moment he spoke her name and she turned toward him, his feelings for her awakened and butterflied in his chest.
He liked her. Still. Very much. But his feelings did not change why he came. Nor the secret about Afghanistan he harbored.
He could not tell her the real truth as to why he ended their marriage. For the sake of national security, his personal safety and that of the family, and for the welfare of his country, the Crown, and the four-hundred-and-sixty-year-old House of Stratton, the details of that day in Torkham were sealed under “Top Secret.”
The elevator eased to a stop and the doors opened. Stephen walked with Thomas through the corridor to Corina’s door. He paused, inhaling deep, before knocking, then glanced at Thomas. “Listen, mate, can you give us a moment? An audience seems a bit inappropriate.”
Thomas backed away with a single pat on Stephen’s shoulder. “I’ll be right out here.” He pointed to a plush settee against the wall, holding up his phone. “I can catch up on e-mail.”
“Thanks, mate.” Another breath or two and Stephen knocked lightly. Then a third time with more vigor, listening for sounds from the other side.
When he first returned from Afghanistan with a heart of stone, he’d convinced himself Corina had to go. One, he couldn’t give his heart to her because if she knew the truth, she’d despise him.
Second, every time he saw her, he’d remember what he wanted to ardently forget.
Third, she could not be trusted with the truth. The Defense Ministry determined the incident to be one of national security. Corina and the Del Reys were a powerful family with access and influence.
With the truth in their hands, they could have exposed everything. And Stephen’s plan to excise his demons on the rugby pitch would’ve come to ruin.
The door flew open, startling him. “Come in,” she said with a sweep of her arm.
He hesitated, then stepped inside. “Thank you.” Was it possible she still took his breath away? He wanted to push Pause and simply stare at her for a moment, refilling his cup with the light of her hazel eyes. He itched to weave his fingers through the long silky flow of her dark hair.
He’d first noticed her as she walked across Knoxton’s campus, her long locks flowing behind her as if baiting the breeze to follow.
“Where’s your protection officer?”
“In the hall, waiting.” Stephen remained just inside the door. The sprawling loft was very much Corina. Elegant and classic with hardwood floors, cathedral ceilings, arched doorways, and ornate crown molding, yet lived in, cozy and homey. “Your place is lovely, Corina.”
“Thank you. I like it.” She switched on a kitchen light that spilled a golden glow down the walls. “Can I get you a bottle of water?”
“Water would be lovely.” Stephen spied a pile of newspapers by the rocker-recliner and a familiar twist tightened in his chest. Their honeymoon month had been the last time he had known real peace and true comfort.
“Here you go.” Corina handed him the water and remained standing.
She wasn’t going to invite him farther in, was she? He pointed to the newspapers. “I see you still enjoy the printed news.”
“I do,” she said without looking at him.
His memories congealed, forming a soft reminiscence in his heart, but there was no wisdom in strolling down memory lane. He had a task to do.
“So what do you need from me?” Her crisp, sharp voice sliced into his thoughts.
Their gazes locked for a moment, and Stephen’s resolve wavered ever so slightly. Breaking from her visual hold, he moved inside and set his water on the kitchen table, retrieving the documents from his messenger bag. “Just need you to sign these.” He spread the papers on the table.
She didn’t move, just stared. “I was sorry to hear about your father’s passing. I’d planned to send a card, but . . .” She picked at the paper label on her water bottle.
“Don’t mention it. I–I understand.” Stephen slid the papers toward her, sweat beading under his arms and down his back. He ignored the pressure mounting in his ankle. He could sit when he returned to his beachside condo. But for now . . . “We all miss him.”
“I miss Carlos.” Her unexpected honesty ignited an inferno in Stephen, charring his personal rules of engagement for this exchange. To be businesslike, frank, saying nothing intimate or personal. Just tend to the task.
Her hazel gaze swept across his face, inspiring sweat beads on top of sweat beads. He twisted the top from his water bottle and gulped a long, undignified swig. The cold did little to cool his hot sand soul.
“You’ll see the papers are all here.” He pushed the annulment documents nearer to the table’s edge. She wanted a response, didn’t she? But blimey, he could never bring himself to speak of her brother in her presence. “Read them over. See if you have questions.”
He smiled as if to convince her this was going rather well. Wasn’t it? But she didn’t move toward him, the table, or the papers. He cleared his throat, shifted his weight, breathed through the twinge in his foot. “Have you lived here long?” Mundane, superficial, but he yielded to the temptation to chip away at some of her ice.
“Six months.” Corina tipped her water bottle to her lips. “But you didn’t fly four thousand miles to chitchat.” Moving to the kitchen table, she snapped on a nearby lamp and glanced at the documents. Stephen waited. What was going on behind her amber and green eyes? She gave no real clues. A moment later, she glanced up. “If you want me to sign these, I’m going to need something from you.”
He lowered his arms. Stiffened his back. How did he not anticipate a counterplay? He was a sportsman, running offense and defense. You’re losing your wits, chap. Pay attention.
“So, state your request. But I make no guarantees.” She couldn’t want money. The Del Reys most likely had more wealth than the Strattons. In fact, he was sure of it. He’d not given her a ring, nor any other gifts of worth, so she’d not ask to keep anything. Did she want a princess title? He bristled at the idea. Nathaniel would heartily object.
“Find out what really happened to my brother.”
“Pardon?” But he’d heard her. The room darkened, and in Stephen’s ear he heard the mocking of his demons. His blood flowed like molten lava, burning him from the inside out. His ankle shot shards of pain through his leg. “You give me more credit than I’m due, Corina. I–I’ve no access to your brother’s records. He was in a different unit, which deployed six weeks before mine. How am I to find out? I’m but a lowly prince.” He could not control the tremor in his voice.
“A lowly prince?” Her expression matched her sharp tone. “You’re the Prince of Brighton, or you’re supposed to be. You have access to the Defense Ministry, to top clearance.”
“You mistake me for my brother.”
“Then ask your brother.” She stepped away from the table, her eyes blazing. “My twin, Stephen. My best friend, my Carlos, went to war and never returned. The only answer we got from the Pentagon is that he was under the command of the Joint International Coalition out of Cathedral City, and if we wanted answers, we had to inquire with your Defense Ministry.”
“Then inquire. Surely your father has connections.”
“He meets with silence and steel doors. He can’t get answers. We’re told only that he died in a firefight. A hero, they say, but we’ve no medals. No accolades. No honor ceremony.”
The drumming in his ears muted her words. Corina . . . What are you asking of me? “Believe me, I’m limited in my executive privileges.”
“Then find a way. Speak to Nathaniel. Hire a private investigator, a skilled thief who can break into the Defense Ministry, I don’t care. Just find out what happened. Nothing has been the same since he died. I lost everything. My family. You.” She bit her lower lip and fell silent.
Stephen wanted to pace, but his ankle revolted. He pulled out a chair and sat down hard, his thoughts churning, his heart raging. Tell her. Just tell her. But he could not. His confession lay so deep, not even the earthquake of her request could raise it to the surface.
After a moment, he peered up at her. “And if I can’t find out what happened to him? Are you going to just leave the papers unsigned? Surely you want to move on with your life, marry again.”
Her laugh pierced his soul, inspiring a mocking chortle from his demons. You fool. You’re not worthy. “My l ife s topped the d ay Carlos died. My parents still grieve. They’ve had no closure. Our house, once alive with laughter, is weighted with sorrow. My father can’t stay in the house for more than five minutes. My mother can’t leave. They weep for Carlos as if we’d just covered his grave with fresh dirt. For the past five and a half years I’ve straddled my heart between the two of them, trying to be a bridge, to create some sort of happiness, trying to be the family we used to be. But they are not healing, Stephen. They want to know what happened to their beautiful boy, their star, the heir to the Del Rey name and dynasty.”
Corina leaned toward him, placing her hands on the arms of the chair, boxing him in. “If it means I stay married to you in an effort to help my parents, then I’ll pay the price. The question is, do you want to pay that price? No truth, no signature.”
Oh, didn’t she seem puffed up and pleased with herself. “You must be joking.” He fired back, mounting his own resolve.
“Am I laughing?”
“Corina, our relationship has nothing to do with your brother’s death. We can’t remain in limbo—”
“Sure we can. In fact, we’ve been in limbo for five and a half years. We just didn’t know it.” She squinted at him with a curled lip, and his heart trembled. “Since the day I saw you after you returned from Afghanistan, bruised and cut up, silent and sullen, I knew something was up. Something you were not telling. And I can’t figure what or why. But you know things and I think you can find out about my brother.”
“I told you. After the explosion I realized I couldn’t put the House of Stratton at risk. I would’ve had to give up my rights to the throne if our marriage had gone public. I was wrong to marry you in secret, breaking Brighton law and risking the Crown. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“So you were madly in love with me during your entire deployment until . . . when? I hear nothing from you after Carlos was killed. I was worried sick, wondering if something had happened to you too. I called and called, flew back to Brighton. I was about to go to the King’s Office when I found you in my flat that New Year’s Day.”
He knew all of this. Why did she feel compelled to recap it? “Corina, there’s no need—”
“Oh, there’s a need. I want to see if I have my facts straight.” She paced around the kitchen and then into the living room before going on. “I fly over to Brighton, my heart in my hands, seeking the solace and comfort of my husband after losing my brother, hoping and praying you are all right, wanting to comfort you and be with you. But what greets me? A man of steel, and not of the Superman variety. Cold, hard eyes like polished blue stones. I go to kiss you and you push me away.”
The details dug into his dry, fallow ground. He’d wanted to take her in his arms that day. Hold her, make love to her, feel alive again. But all he saw was blood and death. “Corina—” Stephen shoved to his feet, the past all too present.
“I asked what was wrong, what happened in Torkham. You said an explosion. I touched the cuts on your face, on your hands, your arms, but you pulled away, telling me without any warning that we were through. The whole marriage had been a mistake.” She gripped his shoulders and shook him. Hard. “I was madly in love with you. I gave you my heart, my soul, my body. And you crushed me without reason.”
Crushed. Nathaniel’s word. He trembled at her confession, avoiding her eyes, drawing his rugby-trained shoulders back and breaking free of her. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed his confession. “But it must be this way.”
“Why?” She leaned to see his face, but he’d had enough.
“Because, Corina . . .” His voice boomed through the expansive loft, “I said so. Enough. Will you sign the annulment papers or not?” He braced himself with a hand on the table.
“You know my stipulation.”
“I don’t accept your stipulation.”
“Too bad. You can’t have everything your way, Stephen. I’ve had too much time to think about this. No news, no signature. Find out what happened to Carlos and you’re a free man.”