Natalie Anderson - Mr Right All Along

‘This was the best—’

‘You should have told me beforehand,’ Antonio interrupted Eduardo, icily furious.

‘This is the heir, Antonio. Don’t you see that?’ he snapped back.

Stella knew she shouldn’t stay and listen. She should turn and walk away before they saw her. Or step forward so they did see her. But she couldn’t. She stayed right where she was, hidden by foliage.

‘What I see is that you’re a bigger fool than I thought possible.’

Stella realised Eduardo had just told his brother about the baby—and now the Crown Prince was more disapproving than ever. As she’d known he would be.

‘I’m not the impetuous idiot I once was. From every angle this was the best solution,’ Eduardo answered back. ‘You know I’m right.’

‘This is not what I wanted for you,’ Antonio said harshly, his voice an icy whip.

‘She’s exactly what we need her to be.’ Eduardo now sounded as ice-cold as his brother. ‘Haven’t you seen the papers? After that wedding picture was leaked Matteo planted the few details necessary for her to be a hit. After last night’s performance her success is snowballing. She’s just what San Felipe needs. I can control this, Antonio.’

‘Can you control her?’

‘Of course.’

Stella closed her eyes at Eduardo’s arrogance and his cold, businesslike assumption. After he’d been so tender last night. This hurt. This hurt so much more than anything.

‘So this is not a love match?’ Antonio said bluntly.

Stella’s world stopped in that moment of silence before Eduardo answered. And then her husband was as brutally blunt as his brother.

‘What prince has ever married for love?’

Humiliation burned a hole in her heart. Swiftly she turned, sprinting back inside. She’d known she shouldn’t have listened. She’d known this was an orchestrated marriage of convenience. But to know that Eduardo wanted his child to become the Crown Prince, even when he saw his brother suffer under the weight of the role, even when he railed against the constraints on himself...

She didn’t want those pressures and limitations and ‘controls’ for her child. She didn’t want the lack of choice. She didn’t want the lack of love.

And she didn’t want it for herself. She wanted what she’d had a taste of last night—tenderness, caring, someone to be there for her. But it had been a charade—part of his Prince Charming act. It had only been to control the situation, to control her and create a successful ‘story’ for the royal family—more San Felipe myth.

She’d thought she was no longer alone. She’d been so wrong. She’d never been as alone as she was now. And it had never hurt so much.

* * *

Eduardo realised his mistake as soon as he’d made the facetious reply. He’d been trying to play it as emotionlessly as Antonio. But he’d forgotten.

‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered.

It was too late. His brother had disappeared beneath an even thicker layer of ice. Eduardo hadn’t been able to break through it in a decade. He didn’t think anyone would.

Antonio had vowed to devote his life to duty when Alessia died and he was cemented in it now. Eduardo had made a vow too—to help his brother however he could. To try and make amends. To try and share some of his burden. Because he remembered the old days, when his brother had teased him, telling him his hair was too long or his jokes too lame. When they’d laughed together. He hadn’t heard Antonio laugh in so long.

‘I would have married for love.’ Antonio’s voice was like the thinnest, sharpest shard of ice.

It was the rarest hint of emotion.

‘I know.’ Eduardo bent his head. He’d caused hurt twice over. ‘Stella needs to go back to Secreto Real, Antonio. She needs time to rest and adjust. I’m sorry.’

Sorry for so much more than wanting some time out.

‘Then cancel your engagements and stay with her. Not even you can be seen to discard your new bride so quickly.’ Displeasure flared in his eyes.

Eduardo burned inside but took the hit silently. He had no intention of ditching Stella.

‘But not until after the opening night at the opera tonight,’ Antonio added. ‘Salvatore Accardi is going to be there, and I need you to maintain cordial relations seeing as neither of us are going to marry his precious daughter.’ Antonio looked bitter as he mentioned the notoriously corrupt nobleman both brothers preferred to avoid. ‘Then you can go.’

‘Fine.’ All Eduardo wanted was to be back on the little island with Stella, with the time to build on the fragile foundations forming between them.

Leaving Antonio, he walked towards his apartment, wondering if Sleeping Beauty had woken. His phone buzzed. He paused in the middle of the corridor when he saw the contact’s name on the screen.

He answered swiftly. ‘Dr Russo? Is anything wrong?’

‘No, I just wanted to let you know I’ve secured a specialist to see Stella early next week. As you know, I’ve tried to alleviate her concerns, but she’s still apprehensive, of course. I read her mother’s file at the hospital and the haemorrhage she had didn’t stem from an inheritable condition. Also, Stella is much younger than her mother was—fitter and stronger too. I think seeing the specialist will reassure her. We’ll set up more frequent appointments from there.’

Eduardo stood rooted to the spot, utterly shocked as the doctor continued.

‘She will have a full scan at that appointment too. I know she enjoyed listening to the baby’s heartbeat on Friday.’

Stella had heard the baby’s heartbeat? She’d seen the doctor and not told him? And what the hell had happened to her mother?

Eduardo forced himself to answer. ‘Indeed. Thank you for your discretion in coming to me directly. Come to me always where her health is concerned.’ He wanted to know every damn thing. And he was furious she hadn’t told him.

‘Of course, Your Highness.’

He ended the call and just stared at his phone for a second. Then he veered away from his private apartment to his office on the intermediary floor. He grabbed Stella’s personnel file, seething with self-directed anger for not reading it closely enough. But he’d skipped those bare facts detailing her parents—he’d wanted to get the facts about her. Now he stopped to check that earlier information.

Stella had been born just before midnight on April the twenty-third. Her mother had died on April the twenty-fourth, a mere two hours later.

Her mother had died because of complications on delivering her daughter. Was that why her father was so hard on her—because he’d never forgiven her?

Why hadn’t she told him this last night—he’d thought that she was opening up to him. That he’d helped her in some way. But she hadn’t shared even half of her battle. She hadn’t spoken with him about seeing Dr Russo two days ago. About being scared. About having any kind of scan.

Stella was the epitome of health and strength. She hadn’t even had any morning sickness. Now he remembered that look in her eyes when they’d watched the pregnancy test result. She’d looked terrified. She still was terrified. Of the birth.

But she hadn’t told him. She’d shut him out. And then she’d heard their child’s heart beating without him.

Rejection dug deep, bitter poison in its claws. He’d thought they had a chance. But she’d kept something vital a secret. She hadn’t turned to him. She hadn’t trusted him.

He went back down the corridor and up the stairs to his apartment. Of course she was awake. Of course she was in her trainers, running pants and a grey tee shirt.

He breathed in, trying to stay in control.

‘You’re going on the treadmill?’ he asked.