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had been an arrogant and appalling thing to do, and, worst of all, he’d been so self-righteous about it.

      And while he hadn’t had the courage to be honest with her, she’d possessed more than enough to be honest with him. He thought of what she’d admitted about her sister and felt tears sting his eyes.

      He was such a bastard.

      It had taken him all of ten seconds to realise just how wrong he was, but ten seconds was too long because Liana had already locked her bedroom door, and she wouldn’t answer it when he hammered on it and asked her—begged her—to let him in.

      He’d hated feeling as if he was begging for love or just simple affection from his parents, hated how as a child he’d always tried to get his father to notice him. But he didn’t care now how desperate or foolish or pathetic he looked. He’d go down on his knees to beg his wife to forgive him. He just wanted to be given the chance.

      He heard the door to his study open and lurched forwards, hoping against all the odds that it was Liana.

      It wasn’t. It was Leo.

      ‘Sandro,’ he said, unsmiling. ‘What the hell did you do?’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Half the palace could hear Liana shouting at you. And she doesn’t shout.’

      ‘I told her I was abdicating.’

      Leo stared at him for a long moment. ‘Sandro,’ he finally said, ‘you are a damned idiot.’

      Sandro tried to smile, but it felt as if his face were cracking apart. ‘I know.’

      Leo stepped forward. ‘And so am I.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘I don’t want you to abdicate, Sandro. I don’t want to be king.’

      Sandro shook his head. ‘I saw it in your eyes—’

      Leo shook his head impatiently. ‘Oh, screw that. Yes, as I told you before, there is a part of me that feels hard done by. Disappointed. I’ll get over it, Sandro. I’m a big boy. So are you. And you have spent the past six months working yourself to the bloody bone to prove what a good king you are. A great king. You’re the only one who doesn’t think so.’

      ‘No, I don’t,’ Sandro said in a low voice. He closed his eyes briefly. It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud.

      ‘And why is that? Why don’t you think you’ll make—you are—a good king?’

      Sandro didn’t answer for a long moment. Admitting so much to anyone, especially Leo, who had once idolised him, was painful. ‘Because,’ he finally said in a low voice, ‘I shirked my duty, didn’t I? I ran away.’

      ‘And you came back.’

      ‘After fifteen years—’

      ‘So? Is there a time limit? And running away—if you really want to call it that—seemed like your only choice back then.’ Leo’s voice roughened with emotion. ‘I believe that, Sandro, even if I’ve acted like I didn’t because I was hurt. I know you wouldn’t have left me like that unless you felt you had to.’

      Sandro felt his eyes fill. ‘I wouldn’t have,’ he said, his voice choked as he blinked hard. ‘I swear to you, Leo, I wouldn’t have.’

      They stared at each other, faces full of emotion, the air thick with both regret and forgiveness.

      Finally Leo smiled, and Sandro did too. ‘Well, then,’ he said. ‘You see?’

      Sandro dragged a hand over his eyes. ‘I’m not sure I see anything.’

      ‘Leave behind the bitterness and anger, Sandro. Forget about how Mother and Father raised us, how they treated the monarchy. Usher in a new kingdom, begin a new era. You can do it.’

      ‘And what about you?’

      ‘Like I said, I’ll get over it. And to be honest, I’m a little relieved. I admit, when you first came back, I was shocked. Hurt too, if I’m honest, because after fifteen years of working myself to the bone to prove myself to our father, he cast me aside at the first opportunity. But I’ve already promised myself not to live steeped in bitterness or regret, Sandro, and in their own way things have worked out for the best. I’m happy not to be in the spotlight. So is Alyse. We’ve spent a hell of a long time there, and it wasn’t very pleasant.’

      ‘And what of your ambitions? Your plans?’

      With a wry smile Leo gestured to the papers scattered across the desk. ‘Feel free to use them. And consult me anytime. My fees are quite reasonable.’

      Sandro felt something unfurl inside him, a kind of fragile, incredulous hope. ‘I don’t know,’ he said and Leo just smiled.

      ‘No one does, do they? No one knows what’s going to work, what’s going to happen. But you have my support, and Alyse’s, and the cabinet’s.’ He paused. ‘And you have Liana’s, but you might have to grovel a bit to get it back.’

      To his amazement Sandro felt a small smile quirk his mouth. ‘There’s no might about it,’ he answered. ‘That’s a definite.’

      ‘So what are you waiting for?’

      ‘She won’t see me.’

      ‘She’s angry and hurt. Give her a little time.’

      Sandro nodded, even though he didn’t want to give her time. Didn’t want to wait. He wanted to break her door down and demand that she listen to him. Tell her what an ass he’d been and how much he loved her.

      He just needed to find a way to make her listen.

      * * *

      Liana stood in her bedroom with its spindly chairs and feminine décor and stared out of the window at the gardens now in full, glorious spring. The roses were just beginning to unfurl, their petals silky and fragrant. Everything was coming to life, and she felt as if she was dead inside.

      She had barely slept last night, had tossed and turned and tormented herself with all the what-ifs. What if she’d said something when Sandro had wanted her to? What if she’d let him back in when he’d knocked on her door and asked her to talk to him?

      But she couldn’t talk; she felt too empty and grief-stricken for words. She’d given Sandro everything. Everything. And he hadn’t loved her enough to wait five minutes—five seconds—to explain. Say something. Do something.

      And what had he done but judge her and jump to conclusions? Was that what love was?

      If so, she was better off without it. Without him.

      Even if her heart felt like some raw, wounded thing, pulsing painfully inside her. It would heal. She would. She didn’t want to go back to numbness, but maybe she’d go back a little. Feel a little less. Eventually.

      And as for her marriage? Sandro was right; if he wasn’t king, she didn’t need to be queen. They certainly didn’t need to stay married for convenience’s sake. He didn’t need an heir, after all, and maybe he wanted to return to his life in California. Maybe he didn’t want her anymore. Maybe her confession about Chiara had made him despise her.

      Yet the thought of actually divorcing was too awful to contemplate. Maybe they would simply live as strangers, seeing as little of each other as possible, just as she’d envisioned a lifetime ago. Just as she’d wanted.

      The thought was almost laughable, ridiculous; she certainly didn’t want it now. But after the debacle of their confrontation last night, she wasn’t sure how they could go on.

      Behind her she heard the door open and she drew a shuddering breath. She’d asked Rosa to bring her breakfast to her room because she couldn’t face seeing everyone—much less Sandro—in the dining room.

      ‘Liana.’

      Everything