‘Be careful about daring me, Valenti. I might just cut off my nose to spite your rejection.’
‘Lotte—’
She pushed away from him, not bothered by who saw them.
People could draw whatever conclusions they wanted. Besides, weren’t weddings the very place for a little melodrama? ‘I’m done dancing around you. There’s a platter of shrimp calling my name. Or is it the vintage champagne? Either one is preferable to staying here with you.’
She turned and strutted back into the ballroom, past the dance floor, putting a little extra sway into her hips because, God, he infuriated her and saddened her and treated her heart like it was a disposable toy, and she was damned if she would continue to hope that something…anythingbroke through to him.
It never would, she realised.
She was too late. While he’d been locked in duty and purpose and mourning his one failure and shattered dreams, Valenti Domene’s heart had calcified into stone. Nothing and no one would get through. Not with empathy. Or laughter.
Or…love.
The no-holds-barred undying kind she’d bent over to relabel as anything else. Crush. Frustration. Defiance. Good, old-fashioned sublime sex. It had all eventually led to one truth. She loved her guardian more than life itself.
While he felt…nothing.
So she would rather go live a half life somewhere else than break herself on the jagged cliffs of his rejection.
The old King was sitting at a table close by, and Lotte wasn’t entirely sure what made her look over at him. But when she met the silver eyes he’d passed to his sons, and caught a gleam of approval in his gaze, she nearly sobbed.
She bobbed an abbreviated curtsy—she still didn’t know how to execute a perfect one—then immediately changed course, striking for the imposing doors that led to an alcove.
The thought of food made her stomach heave, especially that shrimp she’d loftily mentioned. But the bottle of vintage Krug nestling in a nearby silver ice bucket virtually screamed her name.
She snatched it on her way out the door, taking a huge gulp straight from the bottle the moment she stepped onto another terrace with wide stone steps winding down opposite sides onto the landscaped grass. She took the left set, rushed to the bottom then immediately spat out the champagne.
Her period was still two weeks past a no-show. At first she’d thought it was the stress of everything she’d lived through the past two months. But in the last week, she’d started to wonder. To hope.
Ifshe was carrying Valenti’s child…
The sob finally tore free as she discarded the bottle on the last step.
Kicking her heels away, she stepped onto the lush grass and sucked in a deep breath that didn’t quite hit the bottom, leaving her still breathless.
Breathless with heartache. Breathless with misery.
She wanted to scream at fate for the relentless barrage of desolation, but it stuck in her lungs. Because if she was being truthful with herself, she regretted very little of what had happened between her and Valenti.
Including the very daunting, heart-rending truth that she’d fallen in love with him. Heart and soul. Body and spirit and everything in between.
She loved him. She loved him. She loved him.
And he felt nothing.
Hot tears welled in her eyes as she kept walking, a little grateful when the sounds of partying fell away. As much as she was happy for Teo and Sabeen, their barefaced bliss pulverised her shattered heart.
All she needed was a little time alone to regroup.
Time healed all wounds, including a traumatised heart, right?
She would fill her days and nights with the fulfilling work she’d started. Throw herself into it until she was too exhausted to feel, never mind think about Valenti Domene.
And perhaps this was as good a time as any to start. While Valenti was busy with the only family he would ever care about.
Decision firming, she brushed her tears away and straightened her shoulders as she approached the front doors leading out of thepalacio.
