That was what she called it? Was it any wonder he liked her so much?
‘Fotis?’ She looked suddenly unsure.
‘Of course I don’t mind. I feel honoured to help you visualise your dragon.’ A wounded dragon. It wasn’t far off the mark. For all his armour, he felt pain, knowing what was to come. ‘I hope you’re going to approach a publisher.’
It sounded like an intriguing story, plus it didn’t hurt to learn young some of life’s more painful truths. That good looks weren’t always matched by a good heart. He thought of his beautiful mother and the handsome man who’d seduced and tried to use Rosa, then wrought his revenge when she rejected him.
‘I already have a publisher. And readers. I have a deadline for this story.’
So his suspicions were true. Not that he’d known she wrote fiction, but he’d long since guessed Rosa did more than lead a life of leisure with a few royal engagements thrown in. ‘Why haven’t I heard of the books?’ His search had found no mention of her writing.
She closed her notebook. ‘I write under another name.’
Fotis thought it through. She’d been castigated by her father and the press for her actions and things she hadn’t done. She still carried baggage from the experience.
Had she thought the critics would take their knives to her work because of who she was? Melancholy filled him at the idea of her hiding her talent.
‘Why not reveal your identity to your readers? Take a bow for your own work.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Surely it’s part of who you are. Even from that short description I can tell this means a lot to you. And I’ve seen you with young people in Paris. You connect with them and they listen to you. Not because you’re royal but because you’re interested and engaging.’
‘I could say the same about you, playing basketball with those teens.’
They weren’t talking about him. ‘Don’t you think your mother would have been proud, having another creative person in the family?’
Instead of answering she bent abruptly, reaching for her phone, frowning. ‘I’ve got it on vibrate while I work, but this is the fourth time someone’s tried to reach me.’ She checked the number. ‘It’s Leon.’
‘Rosa, leave it for now.’
He was too late. She’d already taken the call. He watched her hair ruffle in the breeze and couldn’t help but stroke its gilded softness, astounded all over again at the instant well-being he felt with the physical connection.
Finally she hung up. ‘Leon had news. But you already knew?’
He inclined his head. ‘I came to tell you.’
She didn’t say anything, probably wondering why he hadn’t immediately told her that Ricardo was in prison and looked set to stay there a long time.
Her expression was inscrutable. ‘So it’s over. I don’t need protection anymore.’
‘Yes, it’s over.’
She stared back as if waiting for more. But what could he say? Eventually she said, ‘Thank you, Fotis, for looking after me. For everything.’
‘It was my pleasure, you know that.’
How trite that sounded. As if protecting her had been anything other than a compulsion. He’d have done whatever it took to keep her safe.
‘You’ll want to return to Cardona. I’ll organise—’
‘There’s no rush.’ She looked at her hands then up at him. ‘I can work here. I could stay on.’
Another man would say yes. A man who could give her more.
But Fotis knew his limits. He’d already pushed beyond them, dangerously far. He wanted Rosa to have everything she deserved, everything she desired, and suddenly he knew, from the hope in her eyes and the tension in her body, that she wanted more than a fling.
Even then, he knew a moment’s weakness. It would be easy to let her stay, enjoy what they shared a little longer. But that would make parting more difficult.
