Princess From the Shadows. Maisey Yates

on her sensible shoes. “Can I go?”

      “No,” her father said.

      “I don’t really care what you do,” Rodriguez threw in, mildly amused by the whole situation. What adult woman asked her father for permission to do anything? Obviously not his ex–intended bride, Sophia Santina. But apparently Carlotta Santina was another matter.

      Carlotta’s eyes narrowed slightly in his direction, before flickering back to her father. “I need to call Luca before…”

      “It can wait, Carlotta. Do me this one favor,” Eduardo bit out roughly, the strain of the situation not well hidden.

      Carlotta seemed to shrink and Rodriguez felt his stomach turn sour. Dios, but he hated men like that. Men who used their strength, their power, over others like that. Over their own children.

      “I’m done here, actually,” Rodriguez said. “If you have no bride for me, I have no reason to stay.” Unless one of the maids is looking to get lucky.

      “Tell me, Rodriguez, did you have feelings for Sophia?” Eduardo asked.

      “You know I didn’t. I didn’t even know her. I won’t insult either of us by pretending otherwise.”

      “Then it was her name you needed? Not her?”

      He couldn’t care less who he married so long as she could produce heirs and do a nice royal wave from a balcony. “You know that to be true.”

      “Then I do have a bride for you.” Eduardo turned his dark eyes on Carlotta. “You can have Carlotta.”

      Carlotta blinked hard and looked from Rodriguez back to her father. She was certain her ears couldn’t be working right, because she had thought she’d heard her father give her away. Like she was a thing. A parting gift for the visiting prince.

      Are you shocked? He already believes you gave yourself away.

      She shook the thought off and continued to stare at her father, letting the silence fill the room until it became oppressive.

      Finally, Rodriguez laughed, a short, harsh sound. “A trade?”

      “A way to keep our bargain, Prince Rodriguez.”

      Carlotta shook her head, and she knew her eyes were probably comically large in her head. She closed her mouth. She hadn’t realized it had dropped open.

      She’d been completely floored by her sister, sweet Sophia, running away from her arranged marriage to Rodriguez, especially as it was so important for Santina and Santa Christobel to forge an alliance. She’d been the first to warn her sister about the unflattering headlines. Princess Sophia Joins Mile-High Club.

      But she hadn’t realized that she would get dragged into the whole debacle. And certainly not to this degree.

      Rodriguez flicked her a dismissive glance. “I have no interest in taking a wife who nearly faints at the thought of becoming my bride. I’m certain I can find someone my mere presence does not offend. We have no deal, Eduardo.”

      He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Carlotta alone with her father. It was a new kind of silence that filled the room now. One bursting with rage, combined with a kind of leaden disappointment that she could feel down in her soul, weighting her, climbing in her throat, threatening to strangle her.

      She knew this feeling. Had felt it before. In this very room. In this very spot.

      Nearly six years ago she’d been here. In her father’s office. Her knees locked, her feet glued to the carpet, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her entire body shaking, a cold sweat covering her back, her neck.

      I’m pregnant.

      They had been the two most terrifying words she’d ever spoken in her life. And directly after them had come the most sickening minute of silence she’d ever endured.

      Until now.

      “Father, I …”

      “Carlotta, after all I have done for you,” he said, his voice thick with disappointment, “you cannot do this for me? For your country? You brought so much shame upon us, all of us. The people of Santina, your family.”

      “I … I only came in to tell you that I have to return tonight.” She couldn’t deal with her father’s words. They hurt too badly. They rang too true. “Luca needs me and … and then you throw a prince at me! A marriage proposal. I don’t …” She swallowed, trying to suppress the panic that was starting to rise in her. “What do you expect of me?”

      Her father looked down at his hands, folded in front of him on his neat, expansive desk. “I had hoped that you would understand how important this was. I had hoped you would understand your duty. After all our family has endured recently in the press, thanks to your brother. After the way they publicized your shame.”

      Carlotta felt her face grow tense, needles of icy cold rage dotting her cheeks. Luca wasn’t her shame. And he never could be. Even if the press had been determined to make him so.

      The Sole Santina Bastard. A favored headline at the time of Luca’s birth. She could only thank God they didn’t know the whole story. That they didn’t know the half of the sins she was capable of committing when she let the hold on her control loosen.

      And Father is the only reason they don’t.

      That brought the guilt. Right on time.

      “I have always believed that you would do great things, Carlotta,” he said, his voice softer now. “This is your chance to prove me right.” He looked up at her, his dark eyes shining, and she felt her stomach tighten. “You are my most beloved daughter. I did everything in my power to protect you, to keep the press from finding out the details surrounding Luca’s birth. Is it so much to ask for this?”

      She felt like she was choking, as if her throat was getting tighter with each word her father spoke. Yet another reason she avoided Santina. Her family. The obligations of being a princess. The horrible, crushing guilt.

      Not for the first time, she felt like coming home had been a mistake. She didn’t know where she fit anymore. She’d been on the fringes of the glamorous engagement party, not entirely able to join in with her family. Not able to join in with her brother Alessandro’s new in-laws, the Jacksons, and their carefree, crass style of behavior. In a way she almost envied the Jacksons. They didn’t have to worry about how they were perceived. They didn’t seem to worry about anything.

      Yes, but you do.

      It was easier when she was in her home on the Amalfi Coast. When she was just Carlotta, Luca’s mum.

      But that was a dream. A dream she’d escaped to when she’d been pregnant, alone and scared. Heartbroken. Hounded by the press.

      She’d been weak then. But she could never have come out of it remaining weak. It was either grow a spine or melt into a puddle and die. And for Luca’s sake, melting had never been a viable option. She’d had to find inner strength, and she’d found it quickly.

      Still, facing down her father brought back the girl she’d been. The one who had wanted to please him so badly. Who had only wanted to do right. With everything that was going on, Sophia’s very public fall from grace, Alex’s marriage … maybe it was her chance to grab a little redemption. To be the daughter her father seemed to believe she still could be.

      “What is the precise nature of your agreement with … with Prince Rodriguez?” she asked, licking her suddenly dry lips.

      “Anguiano needs an heir,” said Eduardo. “His father is dying. As good as dead. Incapacitated and in hospital. It’s time for Rodriguez to take the throne of Santa Christobel, and that means he needs a wife.”

      “And what’s in it for us? For Santina. I mean, I understand it in a general sense. But if I’m actually going to … marry Prince Rodriguez, then I need to know exactly what we stand to gain.”