CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER TWO
PRINCESSLAIADIDN’T dare look around again to see if he was behind her. Crown Prince Dax de Valle y Montero. One of the most eligible bachelors on the planet. Renowned for his good looks and sybaritic lifestyle. Renowned for lots more. Innuendo and rumours swirled around the man like a mist—not least about his sexual prowess. But she pushed that incendiary thought out of her head.
It was almost a relief to know who had come to find her and have the situation contained. Because she’d known that King Aristedes wouldn’t put up with her avoidance of their arranged marriage for much longer. He’d shown his determination to force her to comply by following her to a famously remote festival in the middle of the desert just a few days ago.
Luckily, she’d managed to evade him again. But only just.
The wedding was due to take place in two weeks. Just before her twenty-fifth birthday. As agreed by her father and the previous King of Santanger. A perfectly acceptable agreement on many levels, as Prince Dax had pointed out.
But from the moment she’d been told she would have to marry a crown prince from another kingdom...a complete stranger...when she’d been just ten years old, something inside her had rebelled against it.
And that feeling had only grown stronger over the years, reinforced the few times she’d met King Aristedes—eight years her senior. He’d always seemed aloof and impossibly serious. Not remotely interested in her...in who she really was. She’d felt no connection.
And then, when her father had been dying, four years ago, he’d taken Laia’s hand and said, ‘My darling, don’t marry for anything less than love, no matter how high the stakes. You need to be supported by someone who adores you. This job is hard and long and you deserve to be happy doing it.’
Laia’s mother had died giving birth to her, and her father had lived his life in love with a ghost, devoted to her memory. He hadn’t ever bowed under the pressure to marry again and have more heirs, telling people, ‘I have my heir. Laia will be a great queen one day...’
And that was what the people believed, and what Laia had believed—until he’d revealed a cataclysmic secret. That he’d had a grief-fuelled affair a year after his wife had died.
Even though Laia had had time to absorb that information—and everything else that had come with it—she’d found it hard to let go of the idealised vision of love that her father had presented for so long, in spite of her knowledge of his affair.
Witnessing his devotion to his deceased wife had instilled within Laia a deep yearning for someone to love her in the same way. Yet with that came a sense of guilt—because Laia had killed her mother. Oh, she knew she hadn’t really,but deep down, in some place where cellular memory was held, she felt guilty. Responsible.
All she had of her mother were inanimate pictures and some video footage of a beautiful, vibrant woman. She’d never been able to look at them without feeling that awful sense of guilt mixed with a hollow feeling of abandonment.
That sense of yearning for a deep and abiding connection had become even more charged as she’d grown up. As if she had a duty and responsibility not to become cynical—even after learning of her father’s affair. But to honour her mother’s sacrifice, and her father’s grief, by aspiring to the ideals they’d set.
And now here she was, hiding out in a tropical paradise avoiding an arranged marriage, because she desperately wanted something more than just to be a box ticked on King Aristedes’s list of things to do.
Royal wife acquired: tick.
Apart from that desire for a great love and supportive companionship instilled within her by her father, she also had an almost primal instinct to protect Isla’Rosa’s independence. When her father had signed the marriage agreement all those years ago he’d agreed to make sure the marriage would take place before Laia’s birthday, so she would have a husband and King by her side when she was crowned Queen. He’d been worried the pressure of doing it alone would be too much.
But as she’d grown up, and shown her intelligence and strength, he’d confided in her that he thought he’d make a mistake. That he should have ensured she would become Queen first, giving her more power.
Once Laia knew that her father had doubts and regrets it galvanised her to do everything she could to get out of it. She knew Isla’Rosa was badly in need of modernisation and economic assistance—she didn’t need a playboy Prince to point that out. But she was determined to do it on her own and find love in the process. On her terms.
She refused to give in to the urge to look behind her to check if Prince Dax was following. Maybe he was still on the pontoon, raging at her for outwitting him.
She could still see the laser-like intensity of his blue eyes. Unusual and distinctive. She’d only seen him up close twice before, because in spite of the marriage agreement most of the meetings had taken place between the Kings, and then between Aristedes and Laia. But even those had been infrequent, due to her reluctance to meet with him.
The most recent occasion had been at a nightclub in Monaco. Unusually for her, in a social situation like that, she’d found herself lingering. For once rebelling at the constraints she’d put on herself.
In a bid to get out of her arranged marriage, she’d perfected the art of seeming to appear at every glittering social gathering she could attend, hoping she would put off the famously serious and conservative King Aristedes from marrying someone who didn’t seem remotely inclined to settle down.
Ironically, she had more in common with the King than she did with his feckless playboy younger brother, even if she’d been acting the opposite. But her strategy clearly hadn’t worked. Hence her current predicament—sequestering herself on an island with the last man she would choose to spend time with.
So sure about that, Princess? whispered a mischievous little voice.
She tried to block it out, but her memory transported her back to that night in Monaco with humiliating vividness.
That night she’d felt restless. Full of an uncharacteristic sense of missing out on... Fun? Her youth? The music had called to her and she’d found herself on the dance floor, closing her eyes, letting herself believe for a moment that she wasn’t Crown Princess Laia Sant Roman, Queen-in-waiting, with a huge responsibility on her shoulders. A responsibility she’d borne all her life as the only heir. She’d wanted to pretend that she was just a regular young woman, with little on her mind but normal worries and concerns.
And then she’d felt an awareness. Like a faint breeze. Raising the tiny hairs on her arms. She’d opened her eyes and a man had filled her vision. Tall and broad. Unmistakably powerful. A very masculine contrast to the far more metrosexual crowd around them. As if he was from another time.
And those eyes... As blue as the clearest sea around Isla’Rosa. Laia had felt an immediate primal pull. As if on some level she’d recognised a mate. She’d wanted to take a step towards him. Absurdly. She’d even gestured to her security team that it was okay to let him approach.
And it had only been then, after her helpless reaction, that she’d realised belatedly who was standing in front of her. Crown Prince Dax. The world’s most debauched and spoiled bachelor prince. The spare to the heir.
Immediately she’d felt exposed. And resentful at the brutal reminder that she wasn’t just a regular young woman enjoying a carefree night out.
Along with the resentment had come a dart of envy for his freedom, and that had only made her feel even more antagonistic towards him.
To feel envy for that man was shameful.
How could she find him remotely attractive?
He epitomised everything she didn’t want in a partner. The only form of love he appeared to know was self-love. He let his brother carry the full weight of responsibility for their royal obligations while he spent his days in dissolute hedonism, travelling from party to party.
As do you.
But she didn’t. Not really. And that was all over now anyway. Her plan hadn’t worked and now it was just a waiting game until she could return to Isla’Rosa for her birthday and the coronation.
But even if you don’t marry this king now you will have to marry soon. And well. What if you never find someone who will love you the way you want? What if King Aristedes is your best chance of a happy life? Even if you don’t love each other?
Laia could feel the sweat breaking out on her brow and at the small of her back as she made her way up the steps to the villa through the forest, and it wasn’t just due to the high temperatures.
Lately she’d been feeling more and more claustrophobic, as if the walls were encroaching on her. What if she was painting herself into a corner and making a huge mistake, insisting on maintaining her independence and that of her country?
She forced the sensation of claustrophobia out. She reassured herself she was doing the right thing...not selling out her country to let it be subsumed by the bigger and wealthier Santanger. It wasn’t the easy option, no doubt about that, but she didn’t want the easy option.
She wanted to do things her way, and she wanted a life with someone she could love and respect. Not a marriage based only on duty.
Had it been totally crazy to all but kidnap Prince Dax? Yes. But there was no going back now.
For a louche playboy, Prince Dax had managed to find her—which had been no mean feat. So she needed her wits about her. Clearly he was able to focus when he needed to, and she had a sense that she shouldn’t underestimate him.
Breathing with a bit of effort when she got to the top of the steps, she turned around—and almost fell backwards when Prince Dax appeared right behind her, taller than she’d expected. He showed no signs of exertion.
She felt churlish. Shouldn’t he be a little overweight and soft around the jowls after all his partying? Instead he looked more like a prize athlete.
He stopped and looked around, taking in the open courtyard area in front of the villa with its central pond, where big golden fish swam around lazily. The villa soared dramatically above them, built on three levels. The ground floor was dramatically open to the elements, but there were screens and shutters that protected it during the rainy season.
‘This is a rainforest,’ Prince Dax said, looking around at the lush vegetation and tall trees.
Laia was tempted to say something snarky, but she settled for, ‘Yes, it is.’
She had to admit that no other person on the planet made her feel so...so prickly and antagonistic. He had done from the moment he’d first registered on her consciousness as the younger brother of King Aristedes. She’d been just sixteen years old. That had been their first meeting.
But she couldn’t go there now. Not when those blue eyes—far more alert and incisive than she’d expected—swivelled back to her.
For a moment she couldn’t breathe.
Laia hated it that he had such an effect on her. She tried to assure herself she was being ridiculous. He was an undeniably gorgeous man and she was merely reacting as any red-blooded woman would. A bit galling to be as human as the next woman—or man, for that matter—but there was no accounting for hormones. It was also galling that he appeared to be the only man yet to engage her libido.
She was afraid that meeting him again face to face was only confirming something she’d feared since she’d seen him at that club. That he’d had a profound effect on her at a formative time in her life, at that very first meeting, when she’d been just sixteen—almost as if he’d imprinted on her, leaving an invisible marker on her hormones, in her blood, that had ruined her for all other men. Certainly no one she’d met since had come close to having the same effect on her.
Sending up a silent prayer that she was wrong and that those hormones would calm down, Laia turned and walked into the villa.
She said over her shoulder, ‘The kitchen is this way.’
Dax had no choice but to follow his hostess. He was still reeling a little from what had happened. The fact that he was here. And that his phone was somewhere at the bottom of the Straits of Malacca, being nibbled by fish.
All he could do now was accept his current situation, observe his surroundings, and wait for an opportunity to turn the tables on Princess Laia.
He followed her into a generous open-plan kitchen—lots of wood, from the floors to the ceilings. There was a massive island with a black marble countertop, and she’d put the bags on it. She took off the sunhat and her glossy hair hung long and wavy over her shoulders.
She was already taking the groceries out of the bags, basically behaving as if Dax wasn’t even there. As inconsequential as a boat boy who’d merely helped her with her shopping.
For someone who prided himself on not having much of an ego, Dax found his irritation levels spiking again. He couldn’t recall ever being so...ignored. Certainly not by someone who had gone to some lengths to bring him somewhere and incarcerate him. Albeit somewhere that seemed to be a luxury private island.
He put the shopping bags down. Princess Laia didn’t even look up. She was walking over to the fridge now, the delicate material of her wrap revealing more than disguising the tantalising glimpses of her body. Her legs were long and toned. She was a runner.
Dax lifted his gaze and said, as coolly as he could, ‘Well, Princess, now that you have me here, what do you intend to do with me?’
He noticed the slightest jolt in her body as she put something into the fridge. A reaction to his voice. So she wasn’t as unaffected as she looked. Perhaps he’d misinterpreted that look of fear back on the main island. Maybe it hadn’t been fear as much as apprehension at being alone with him.
Because she was as aware of him as he was of her?
Dax’s blood pulsed at that thought. And it shouldn’t. He had to control himself.
She turned around and came back to the island to pick up more groceries. She said, ‘I intend to make sure you don’t give away my location before I’m ready to return home.’
‘To Santanger...to your fiancé.’
She’d turned to go back to the fridge, avoiding his eye the whole time. ‘I am not his fiancée and I have a home of my own. Isla’Rosa.’
‘I think a signed marriage agreement between our fathers would attest to my brother and you being affianced.’
He saw the tension in her body—and then she turned around and looked at him. Another electric jolt went through his body. He ignored it.
She said tightly, ‘It’s not a law.’
‘It’s not nothing, either. What about the peace agreement? You’d jeopardise the peace between our kingdoms?’
Her eyes sparked. ‘Of course not—that’s the last thing I want. But from what I know of King Aristedes, he’s not so petty that he will undo years of peace-building just because I don’t want to marry him. I am confident we can build a lasting and enduring peace without a marriage of convenience.’
‘A royal dynastic marriage is a little more than a marriage of convenience.’
Princess Laia came back over to the island and put her hands on it. She really was extraordinarily beautiful.
‘I am aware of that. But as your brother has refused to even listen to my side of things I’ve had to take matters into my own hands.’
Dax frowned. ‘Ari is eminently reasonable...much more so than me.’
Princess Laia shrugged minutely. ‘Not in this instance. He sees our marriage as a done deal, and when I try to talk to him about it he’s not interested.’
‘Why don’t you just pick up the phone and talk to him about it now?’
She shook her head. ‘And let him know my location? No. It’s too late for that. There’s no discussion to be had. We’re not getting married. I will never become Queen of Santanger.’
Dax folded his arms. ‘So if you’re here...and so intent on not marrying him...then who is the woman purporting to be you in Santanger right now?’
The Princess went pale. Her mouth closed. Lush lips were sealed. Eyes wide. He saw the shadow of guilt in her expression. So she wasn’t entirely comfortable with what she was doing. Dax would exploit that chink of vulnerability mercilessly.
He said, ‘Ari knows she’s not you because he’s sent me after you.’
Princess Laia’s jaw clenched. ‘How did you find out where I was?’
‘Thanks to some disreputable people I know in the security industries, I tracked you to Langkawi.’
She said, ‘I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you know people on the margins.’
Dax tensed, surprised at the dart of something that felt suspiciously like hurt. He held back the urge to ask her to clarify what she meant, because he already knew and her opinion shouldn’t matter.
He’d honed his own disreputable reputation for so long now that he couldn’t remember a time when it hadn’t been stained with rumours and innuendo. Lots of people had said things to him over the years and it was like water off a duck’s back. But not with this woman. He didn’t like that revelation. He barely knew her.
He said, ‘So, who is the woman pretending to be you?’
With palpable reluctance, Princess Laia said, ‘She’s my lady-in-waiting. Her name is Maddi.’
Dax absorbed this. ‘I only saw a couple of pictures of them returning to Santanger and getting off the plane. She’s uncannily like you. Hence the switch, I presume?’
Princess Laia nodded. Suddenly she did look distinctly guilty. Almost green around the gills.
He said, ‘Are you sure you have the stomach for this?’
Her eyes flashed, and Dax found himself welcoming that sign of her spirit. Dark luxuriant hair slipped over one shoulder. It reached almost to the top of her breasts.
‘I am absolutely fine with this,’ she said. She put out a hand ‘Why don’t you have a look around? Make yourself at home. And please believe me when I say there is no way off this island without triggering an alarm. There is also no access to any communication devices or the internet, so don’t bother looking. The bedrooms are on the third level—a guest suite has been made up for you, it’s the first one on the right.’
Mercifully, the man left the kitchen and Laia sagged a little. Being in close proximity to him was like being hooked up to an electric charge. It was impossible to relax.
She continued to put the shopping away, including the bags he’d carried, hoping that doing something mundane would make her feel more centred again. But she couldn’t stop her mind going back to that seismic moment when she’d first met him. When she’d been sixteen years old.
She’d been attending a charity polo match with her father in Paris, and Prince Dax had been playing for the European team against a team from South America.
Her eye had been drawn to him like a magnet. She hadn’t been able to look away. He’d been so unbelievably—ridiculously—gorgeous. Dark messy hair. Stubbled jaw. A face surely carved by the same artists who had created Greek and Roman statues. A body that was lean but muscled in a way that had made her feel funny inside...as if she’d known that it was something she didn’t fully understand yet.
At sixteen she’d been worldly-wise in so many ways, but not when it came to boys—or men.
She’d seen him from a distance before that, once, on a rare trip to the palace in Santanger with her father when she’d been much younger. He’d been a gangly teenager. But in Paris he’d been a man.
The VIP hospitality tent had been alive with whispers and gossip about him. His legendary sexual prowess. His string of lovers. His absolute contempt for showing an atom of responsibility. His poor brother who had to do all the work. And, worse and most salacious of all, the fiercely whispered rumour that he’d been responsible for his mother’s tragic and untimely death in a car crash because he’d been driving the car.
That was a scandal in itself, because he’d only been fifteen years old—too young to drive legally. But the Queen’s death had been ruled a tragic accident and no further legal proceedings had issued from it. People had commented on the entitlement of the rich and powerful, who felt they were above the law.
So, to say he’d had a reputation as an enfant terrible would have been an understatement. He’d appeared after the match in the tent, still wearing his mud-splattered clothes, his dark skin gleaming with perspiration. Obviously uncaring what anyone thought.
Laia would never forget his scent: earth and musky sweat and pure undiluted male. As potent as if he’d just climbed out of a lover’s bed. She’d been struck mute by his sheer raw magnetism and total insouciance.
He’d seen her father and had come over, and she had been able to tell that her father disapproved of him. They’d greeted one another, though, civilly. And Prince Dax had looked at her then, with an appraising gaze. Laia had been mortified by the flash of heat that had washed through her entire body, making her aware of it in a way she’d never experienced before. Making her aware of the dress she was wearing, which had suddenly felt too tight and childish.
That look alone, along with her awareness of him, had unlocked something inside her. An understanding of herself becoming a woman. A sexual being.
Then he’d said, with casual devastation, ‘I believe that one day I’ll be your brother-in-law.’
It had taken a moment for his words to sink in. She’d been avoiding thinking about her arranged marriage very well up to that point. But with those few words it had rushed home with the speed of a freight train crashing into her.
The fact that this man in front of her, who was causing such a conflicting mix of emotions and sensations in her body and head, was someday going to be sitting at a table, maybe across from her, or beside her, as her brother-in-law, had been suddenly horrifying.
So much so that she’d felt sick.
Her father must have seen her reaction, because he’d said something and ushered her away.
He’d put her reaction down to Prince Dax presenting himself in less than pristine condition. But the truth was that for long weeks afterwards Laia had been obsessed with Prince Dax. Looking him up online. Watching his exploits unfold as he made his way from Paris to London, New York to Rome—you name it, he was there—with the world’s most beautiful women on his arm and that devil-may-care grin on his face.
Gradually, mortified by her obsession, Laia had convinced herself that he disgusted her. That he revolted her with his blatant lack of consideration for anything but the good life. The incredibly louche life. Serving only himself and—by all accounts—his insatiable appetites. Whether it was for women or experiences or luxury properties or yachts...
But now that he was here, on her beloved island, sequestered with her for at least the next ten days, Laia knew she would have no choice but to face up to the fact that Prince Dax bothered her a lot.
And she was afraid that it was for far more complicated reasons than the simplistic antipathy she’d honed for years. She wasn’t normally a judgemental person—never had been. She prided herself on accepting everyone as she met them. Prince Dax, however, had always uniquely got under her skin.
She was afraid that her judgement of the man was about to blow up in her face in spectacular fashion...because really, all along, it had been based on the way he made her feel and not on his lifestyle choices.
Dax stood on the generous outdoor balcony of the guest suite. He had a view out over the treetops to the sea beyond, where he could see the security team’s yacht bobbing peacefully on the water. He idly wondered how long it would take to swim to the boat, climb on board, disable the bodyguards and call for help.
But, as appealing as that might be—if a little unrealistic—surely it was more prudent to win the Princess over to accepting her fate rather than coercing her into it. It was the twenty-first century after all. She was clearly a modern woman who was resistant to being treated like a chattel. Not exactly an unreasonable state of affairs.
In many respects, Dax had never really understood his brother Ari’s dogged acceptance of a wedding agreement made when he’d been only eight years old. Princess Laia had been just a baby!
In every other respect his brother was a forward-thinking, modern monarch. But not in this. Even when Dax had brought it up over the years, teasing Ari about what his wife might be like, how he could possibly agree to live with a woman he didn’t know, Ari had closed down the discussion. Usually by saying something like, ‘You saw how it was between our parents. Do you think I want to risk that again? I’m quite happy to marry for duty and responsibility and siring heirs. I don’t want anything more. Princess Laia has been bred for this. She knows the score.’
As if Dax needed any reminder of the hellscape that had been his parents’ unhappy marriage... His mother had had the audacity to fall in love with her husband, and the King had repaid her love by taking numerous lovers throughout their union.
It had turned Dax’s mother into a brittle and self-destructive shell of a woman. Dax had become her crutch and her confidant well before he should have even known about such things. But with Ari busy with lessons to prepare him for one day becoming sovereign, Dax had been the only one his mother had been able to turn to.
He diverted his mind from toxic memories now. He hadn’t thought about such things in a long time, and he didn’t welcome their resurgence.
Privately Dax had always thought to himself that while Ari was happy to accept his fate, maybe his future wife would be less so. And that was exactly what had come to pass.
Although he took no pleasure in that. Not when he was captive on a tropical island thousands of miles from his brother in Santanger. Thousands of miles from his own life.
He looked down to the ground level, where a wide lap pool looked very inviting. Sunbeds were laid out around it. The water shimmered green and blue from the mosaics underneath.
He turned around. The bedroom was palatial. Lots of wood, as was the custom in this part of the world. A massive bed dressed in cool white linen. It was a four-poster, with a simple wooden frame from which hung the very necessary mosquito net to protect him from small biting insects at night.
The bathroom was also huge, with a shower that was open to the elements. Very romantic. Dax smiled mirthlessly at the that notion. He was here with a woman who openly disdained him.
He wasn’t so arrogant as to think that every woman he met fancied him, but he knew that being blessed with a pleasing physical appearance together with vast personal wealth, both inherited and created, was a powerful cocktail.
For the first time he was in the presence of someone who appeared less than impressed.
Dax spotted another door and opened it. It led into a dressing room. It was full of clothes. All brand-new. With the tags still on. More or less in his size. There was underwear. Swimwear. Leisure wear. Casual clothes. Shoes. There was even a tuxedo.
Dax left his suite to make his way back down to the kitchen, but in the corridor he spotted a door opposite. Her room? Curious, he went and tested the door. It was locked, so presumably it was hers. He had to hand it to her, she was certainly prepared.
He went downstairs to where the Princess was now chopping a range of colourful vegetables. She’d tied her hair back and up into a loose knot, and it exposed the delicate line of her jaw and neck. Her hands were deft. Short, practical nails.
Something moved through Dax at that moment—a fleeting sense of almost...protectiveness.
Rejection of that notion made his voice sharp. ‘The dressing room is stocked with clothes. Did kidnapping me interrupt a lover coming to stay?’
She made a face. ‘No. And don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? Kidnap?’
‘What would you call it, then, if not kidnapping?’
She stopped chopping, as if considering this, and then said, ‘A momentary redirection.’ She added, ‘I took the liberty of stocking clothes because I knew you would need them.’
Dax wasn’t sure whether to feel amused, bemused or insulted. Or irritated. Very few people had the wherewithal to derail his life like this. He didn’t like the sensation of being powerless.
‘You got the sizes mostly right, but I’m not sure a black tuxedo is entirely necessary.’
She shrugged. ‘You know as well as I do that we have to be prepared at all times for any eventuality.’
Dax could appreciate that. As a royal, he did have to be prepared for literally everything, but somehow he couldn’t see a black-tie event in his near future.
Then Dax thought of something—very belatedly. ‘I have a hotel room. My things...my passport.’
‘Taken care of,’ the Princess said briskly. ‘I’ve instructed the hotel to pack your things and put them in the safe until you return to pick them up.’
The irritation spiked. He was a busy man. ‘And that would be...when, exactly?’
She looked at him. ‘Ten days at the most.’
Enough was enough. ‘Look, Princess Laia—’
She put up a hand. ‘Please, call me Laia. I don’t think we need to stand on formalities here, do we?’
Dax clenched his jaw and then said sweetly, ‘Well, seeing as how we’re going to be in-laws, no, I guess not. The same goes for you...just Dax will suffice.’
She flushed at that and went back to her chopping. ‘I’m making a chicken and vegetable stir-fry for dinner. You’re welcome to have some.’
He noted she wasn’t inviting him to join her. ‘Not exactly what I would have expected a princess to be doing.’
She looked at him. ‘Don’t judge us all by your standards.’
Dax’s gaze narrowed on Laia. He didn’t like the way her judgement of him pricked his skin like a sharp knife.
He put his hands on the island. ‘You really don’t like me, do you? Which is strange, because we don’t even know each other. Maybe if you gave me a chance you’d realise that I’m not the person you clearly think I am.’
She went pinker. The fact that she couldn’t hide her reactions was fascinating to Dax.
She said, ‘Perhaps. But we’re not really here to get acquainted.’
Dax’s blood grew warm at the thought of getting ‘acquainted’. He resisted her statement. It made him feel rebellious. Like forgetting he had a duty to his brother where this woman was concerned.
He wanted her.
And he’d wanted her since he’d seen her in that club. He had a feeling it was going to get harder to ignore.
‘Well, maybe you should have thought about that before sequestering us on a private island with—as far as I can make out—not a whole lot to do.’
She visibly gulped at that, but it was little comfort. The magnitude of what had happened seemed to hit Dax at that moment, and suddenly he felt as caged as a captive tiger, even within this lush paradise.
With exaggerated care he said, ‘Thank you for the offer of food, but I’ll look after myself. I would have contributed to the shopping if I’d known what to expect.’
Laia’s eyes darted to him as if she was sensing his sudden volatility. ‘That’s okay... We have enough supplies. There’ll be leftovers if you change your mind.’
Dax turned and walked away, exerting every atom of control he could muster. He had operated outside of his comfort zone for a long time, so this situation was irritating but not disconcerting. But what he wasn’t prepared for was the feeling of emotional exposure. And no way was he going to let Laia see how she affected him.