Going against everything I’d been thinking on the way, I hug her back. Then I hold her face in my hands. “Never run away from me again, Madeline. Whatever happens, talk to me. Don’t leave like this. I don’t give second chances.”
“I didn’t run away, or I wouldn’t have turned my phone back on.”
“Your Excellency, we have to leave,” the head of my security guards warns.
Shielding her from prying eyes and surrounded by the security team, we make our way back to the car.
I help her get in and fight the urge to keep her close to me. Madeline needs to explain what made her disappear for almost the entire afternoon.
“What happened?”
It takes her a few seconds before she starts talking. “I panicked. Suddenly, everything seemed too much to handle. I needed to think because I felt like I was on a rollercoaster and I had no idea when or where it would stop.”
She doesn’t meet my gaze, and I can’t tolerate that.
“Look at me, Madeline.”
When she does, her eyes are filled with tears.
“Was that why you left without telling me? Because you’re scared?”
“You don’t understand.”
“I’m listening.”
“When I arrived in London, for the first time, I’d taken control of my life. I was raised to be the good, obedient girl. I was fine with that because I longed to be accepted by my parents above all things. Then Zoe came back.”
“Back?”
“Yes, it’s a long story, but I can say that because of my mother’s bigotry, we didn’t speak for years. When we reunited, she helped me gather the courage to decide my own fate and not sit around waiting for a husband so I could marry into a life like my parents’.”
“Are you telling me that marrying me would also be a prison?”
“What else would it be? You don’t love me. You don’t even know me. Yet you’ll marry me because of your heir.”
“You can say no.”
“Can I?”
I don’t know how to respond to that because I know my honesty will shock her. I wouldn’t force her. I wouldn’t abduct her like my ancestors did with their brides centuries ago. But I wouldn’t hesitate to use every available means to seduce her and ensure we become a family.
I was raised by loving parents, and it was fortunate that they loved each other. Most of all, they loved us, their children. The unit we formed.
“I don’t play fair,” I start, opting for a half-truth.
“What does that mean?”
“I want both of you, and I’ll use whatever means I can to succeed.”
She doesn’t respond, and I continue, “Did you run away because you’re pregnant?”
“No, I didn’t know yet. I left work early to think, that’s all.”
“But now you know.”
“Yes.”
The confirmation brings an emotion I’ve never experienced before. Something primal, the certainty that, in a few months, my son or daughter, my heir, will be with me.
