For five and a half years she’d waited for him to call. Now here he stood, three feet from her. He was as handsome and confident as ever, and try as she might to boil up some righteous anger, she felt like putty in his presence. And all she wanted to do was throw her arms about him. Kiss him. Adore him with everything she’d stored up in her heart.
But he’d tossed her off. He was not worthy of her.
“Yes, I’m sure the parking lot and the surrounding trees and brush will be tender with our conversation, but I’m asking for mercy. We just arrived this evening and are a bit jet-lagged. If not for me, consider Thomas.” He motioned to his booted foot. “And my poor ankle could use a prop.”
Corina regarded him for a moment, drawing on the courageous Del Rey blood that flowed through her veins. “This is unbelievable. I don’t hear boo from you in years, but you have the gall to make demands. Once a prince, always a prince.”
“Once an American heiress, always an American heiress. I appeal to your mercy and charm, and your good southern graces.”
She wanted to laugh at his attempt to placate her. But he’d always been quick with his replies, cheeky and clever. Except when he was dark, sullen, and battle weary.
“How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t hard. You’re not exactly hiding.”
“Miss Del Rey?” Jones stepped into the night, calling from the lobby. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Jones, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
Corina surveyed the contours of Stephen’s face, highlighted by the glow of the streetlights. His chest and arms were thick and broad, more developed and taut than when she said yes to his proposal. She turned her attention to answer Jones.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
What she wouldn’t give to have Jones call the police. But what good would that do? Stephen had diplomatic immunity. And there was no law against talking to a friend, er, an ex-wife, in the parking lot.
Stephen glanced toward the Beaumont Media building as Jones stepped inside, then faced Corina for a long, quiet moment.
“So?” she said. “Why are you here?”
“I guess there’s no use bandying about.” He drew a long inhale, striking a buzz through her nerves. What bothered him so much? “Corina,” he said. “We are still married.”
Her arms fell limp at her side, her courage draining. “W–we’re what?”
“We’re married. The Grand Duchy of Hessenberg has a new archbishop, and he discovered our marriage certificate hidden away in his office when he was preparing for remodeling. I suppose Archbishop Caldwell stuck it there for safekeeping. In turn, the new archbishop sent the certificate to Nathaniel.”
“You said the one we signed was never filed with the Court, therefore invalid. We could just walk away.”
“I–I was mistaken. Apparently, since we were married in the Church by an archbishop, and I’m a royal, the Court was not needed. Our vows are legal and binding.”
Corina dropped against the car.Married?“I asked you, remember? How the marriage was legal for us to go on a honeymoon but not legal when you wanted the marriage to be over. You said, ‘It just is.’ You lied? So blatantly? To get your way? Why?”
“I didn’t lie. I thought we could walk away, as if it never happened.”
Never happened? His words twisted deeper today than they did five years ago. “But it did happen, Stephen.”
The scents and images of his romantic proposal possessed her. The windy ride on the ferry. Rattling the archbishop awake. Their honeymoon, stowing away in her flat, hiding from the world, even Carlos, knowing their days together before his deployment were coming to an end.
Of sharing intimate love. Their first night together.
She needed to think. To drive. To open up the GTO down the dark lanes of U.S. 1. “I have to go.” Corina slipped behind the wheel and fired up the engine, gunning the gas.
“I’ve brought annulment papers.” Flat. Calm. As if nothing in this conversation stirred his emotions at all. Well, she’d long suspected he’d lost his heart somewhere in the Afghan desert.
“You have the papers?” She wrapped her hand around the steering wheel. “Why thank you. How convenient.” She stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind her, leaving the engine in a soft rumble. “Stephen, what if I’d met someone else? Gotten married? Had children?”
“Why do you think I’m standing here now? To tell you the truth.”
