Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

T HE STARS OVERHEAD SPARKLED with almost magical perfection, like thousands of diamonds thrown into the heavens. Ares looked at them for a long time, as if imprinting everything about this night into his mind. For their final night, rather than setting up the tent, he'd lain their sleeping bags together under the stars —it was the perfect night for it. Cool without being cold, and no wind to speak of.

Hiking always brought him a profound sense of freedom, but this had been different again. Spending time with Sofia, out here, had been everything he hadn't known he needed. It wasn't just that she was the perfect distraction from the way things had ended with Louisa—that was doing a discredit to Sofia, who had her own gravitational pull, regardless of the fact he was still in shock over the ending of that relationship.

This had more to do with her, and how much he'd enjoyed spending time with her. At night, yeah, of course. Their spark was so bright it felt more like an explosion. But it was the way she was in the day, too. Fascinated by the history of his country, interested in the forest, and the trees, funny and relaxed. At the palace, he'd had her pegged as an ice queen, everything about her had been so immaculate and formal, but the moment she'd stepped into the woods with him, she'd become someone else entirely. Someone he really liked.

The thought speared through him like a red-hot blade, blaring as a danger signal might. Liking Sofia wasn't a problem, per se, but liking her in a way that made him want to keep liking her was. For a million reasons, their relationship could never be more than this. A fling. Temporary. Fun. Flirty. Casual. Definitely not serious.

For a start, things were still messy with Louisa. It wasn't like she would ever want to get back together, but the media was still hounding her, speculating on her whereabouts, writing countless articles, buying into a reunion narrative. So many ‘close sources' had been quoted dropping hints that the lovers' tiff might resolve quickly. Which of course, it wouldn't. Louisa had been emphatic about her need to leave him. "This is important, Ares. For the sake of my mental health, I have to do this. Please, if you care about me, you'll let me go."

What could he say to that? He didn't want to be responsible for putting her in a position that was ruining her life. The pressure she'd been under had been immense, but he hadn't realised how badly it had been affecting her. He'd offered help, counseling, whatever support she could make use of, but in the end, it was too late. Louisa had voted with her feet. Except, she wasn't completely off the hook yet. Her name was still in the papers here, most days. It would be rude and callous to publicly date anyone else so soon after their breakup—Louisa deserved at least a period of grace before he moved on and began thinking about his responsibilities to marry and have children.

Things that Sofia wouldn't ever be interested in. With anyone? Or just with him?

He stroked her naked hip absentmindedly, relishing the soft silkiness of her skin. "That tickles," she surprised him by whispering.

"I thought you were asleep."

She rolled over in their sleeping bag and faced him. "Nope."

"You're not tired?"

Her teeth grazed her lower lip. "Not really."

He nodded, his mind racing. "Can I ask you something?"

Her eyes scanned his face. "Sure."

"That first night?—,"

She made a sound of throaty agreement, and a smile tugged at his lips. It was burned into his memory too, as was every time they'd been together—without properly being together—since. It had been an exercise in unbelievable discipline, but also, a form of tantric foreplay. He couldn't wait to bury himself inside of her and exalt in that closeness and fullness. Stirring to hardness, he forced himself to concentrate on the question he'd been building to ask.

"You said falling pregnant was the last thing you wanted."

Silence weighed heavily around them. "Is that a question?"

"Did you mean with me, or in general?"

Her eyes dropped a little, shielding herself from him. He couldn't make out her features that well, anyway. Aside from the light cast by the full moon, it was dark.

"I'm not interested in having a family."

Having a family. It was an interesting distinction. She hadn't just said ‘becoming a mother', but rather, she was including a husband in there, too.

"I see." He didn't. The mystery deepened. "Is that something you've felt for a long time?"

She pursed her lips and he would almost have put money on her reminding him that they'd said they wouldn't do serious conversations. That they'd keep things light and casual.

But then, she surprised him by glancing right up at his eyes and answering, "Yes."

It didn't really tell him much—like why she felt that way—but he appreciated her for not shutting him down completely. He decided to push his luck. "For any reason?"

She let out a small sigh. "People usually have reasons, don't they?"

"And what are yours?"

Another sigh. "You really want to do this?"

"I'm not afraid." It was a strange thing to say, and yet, it was apt. As he spoke the words, he realised they'd both been acting out of fear, by trying to contain their relationship, to keep it to the purely physical. They could relax, and let things play out, whilst still knowing that this was temporary. It just didn't have to be casual as well. "I know you're leaving at the end of the week. And you know why I can't offer more than this," he pulled her a little closer to his body, enjoying the moment her eyes flared wide with desire. "But I get the feeling, that one day, when I'm old and grey, and thinking back to this time, I'll really regret not taking the opportunity to know you. To really know you." He ran his finger from her shoulder to her breast, lower to her nipple, which he traced a circle around with the casual possession of a devoted lover. "It doesn't change anything, Sofia."

She bit into her lip and then nodded, once. Tentative agreement—it was better than nothing.

"It's not a big deal, anyway," she said, but the tremble in her voice made a liar of her. "After my dad died, I went into a complete grief spiral. I was utterly traumatised. Not only had I lost a father I completely adored, but I also actually saw it happen. I couldn't get the moment out of my mind. I was a mess."

"I didn't know," he said, hugging her tighter, stroking her back as though he could erase that pain, touch by touch.

"He was crossing a road, and a car struck him. I was on the other side, waiting for him."

He groaned. "Oh, Sofia?—,"

Her throat shifted as she swallowed. "My mother couldn't cope with me. I mean, I was hard. I was a total mess. Hence, boarding school."

His response was a growl of utter disapproval.

"She thought the structure and routine would be good for me," Sofia said, with a shake of her head. "Instead, I was ripped away from anything and anyone I knew, from the familiarity of our home, from the places that reminded me of dad, which might, over time, have helped me feel better." Sofia put her hand on Ares's chest. "She pushed me away. It didn't matter what I did, she never looked at me properly again." He heard what she wasn't saying. She never loved me again.

Well, that would do it. How could Sofia be expected to seek out love and family when her own examples of that had been so deficient?

"But the Santoros were there," he reminded her, mainly because he needed to believe that someone had picked up the pieces.

"Yes. But it was my mother ," she said, and for a moment, all of her walls and shields seemed to slip away in unison, revealing the traumatised little girl she'd once been. "It didn't matter how much the Santoros loved and accepted me, it didn't fill the hole, you know?"

"I know," he said, because he did. He could imagine her emptiness, the pain she'd endured, and the efforts she'd made to get her mother to love her, all for nothing. The thought of her putting herself out on the line for a relationship seemed highly unlikely.

Which made it all the more imperative that he always be honest with her. The last thing he wanted was for Sofia to start to feel something for him that he couldn't return. For her to experience more rejection.

Then again, she seemed pretty good at looking after herself. Years of having to do so would hone those skills to perfection.

"I guess you do know. You lost everything, too."

"I was fifteen, not nine. And I remained at the palace, in the only home I'd ever known. I had support, the love of my siblings. I wasn't adrift."

Her eyes widened with visible surprise. "That's exactly how I felt. Adrift. As though every tether had been ruthlessly pulled free. In that respect, the Santoros were a godsend. Being able to travel to their villa, well, it brought back memories of happier times." Her smile was wistful. "My father always loved it there."

He stroked her cheek slowly. "It's a special property; a special family."

"I'm surprised, in a way, that we never met before. We're both strays they've taken in, in a way."

His smile was affectionate. "That's true. I guess our visits just never coincided." He stroked her side slowly. "Besides, I haven't been for years. Life here has kept me too busy."

"I can imagine you have your hands full."

Silence fell between them, companionable and intimate, and somehow, perfect.

Sofia's eyes grew heavy and, as he watched, they closed, her breathing grew steady and soft, and a moment later, she was asleep. In the safety of that, he leaned forward and pressed a slow kiss to her forehead, the gentle brushing of his lips to her flesh making something in his chest tighten, like a band, so he knew there was danger here he should be fighting to avoid. He knew that, and yet he still drew her closer to his chest and held her there all night.

The palace was even more beautiful than Sofia remembered. That first day, she'd been overwhelmed. The stunning building, the fragrance of the flowers, the relative warmth of the day, the formality of the servants, and of course, the physical attraction she'd felt to Ares, had all combined to utterly overtake every single one of her senses.

But after four days in the wild with Ares, Sofia was on heightened alert. She saw every detail. Tiny things she hadn't been aware of that day—or hadn't had a chance to notice.

Most of all, she was aware of Ares's absence.

On the drive back to the palace, they'd spoken as they had in the forest—openly and honestly, but keeping the topics casual and neutral, perhaps to avoid attracting any interest from the driver. She'd asked questions about the suburbs they drove through; Ares had answered thoroughly. But as they neared the palace, the conversation dwindled out, as if they were both conscious of the change that was about to occur and uncertain how to manage it.

Sofia could have kicked herself for not thinking this through better. In the forest, with no one around, she could have asked him more clearly: what next? But she'd simply presumed they'd find time to talk, to work it all out. She knew that they would see each other that night—because they both wanted the next step in this relationship. But she had no clue how that would happen, and as the day went on, no answer came to her.

Nor did Ares.

Instead, she spent the afternoon with Salvatore who was, thankfully, back to his normal self. They worked on their proposal—or rather, she reviewed the extensive amount of work Salvatore had already done, pricing up the design, working on hiring policies, all of the behind-the-scenes planning that went into providing a tender of this size. He'd been thorough—of course—and she was glad to be able to throw herself into the work because it offered some kind of distraction from thinking about Ares. And thinking about how much she missed him.

Four days together and she'd become used to him. It wasn't just that she liked being around him, but somehow, being around him had become her natural state.

Which terrified Sofia. Her whole existence was predicated on her ability to ‘up and leave' whenever she wanted. She refused to have a chain to anyone or anything. She refused to form an attachment, to feel obliged to consider someone else. She was her own person, alone in the world, following her own trajectory. She didn't need anyone.

Especially not the King of a foreign country. A man who had more ties and obligations than she could possibly conceive of. This was just a physical thing; they both knew that. Hell, he was probably still in love with Louisa. They'd only broken up recently, after all, and they'd been dating for years. While she'd just met Ares this week, she could already tell that he was loyal. If he dated someone for that long, he undoubtedly thought they were going to be his other half. He must still be devastated.

"Earth to Sofia," Salvatore clicked his fingers in front of her eyes. "You look like you're in la la land."

Her gaze slid to his face, and her frown deepened. It would potentially be too revealing to ask about Louisa. It would show that she was thinking too much about Ares on a personal level. At the same time, Salvatore would know more about their relationship. He'd be able to tell her what she wanted to know…

"Hey, what happened with A…the King and his girlfriend, anyway?"

"Louisa?" Salvatore responded, without missing a beat. He didn't seem to be reading too much into her question.

"Yeah."

"They broke up a while ago."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that much."

"Ohh, you're asking for the details?"

Guilt made her cheeks flush with warmth. "I mean, I don't want to pry. I'm just interested. They were going out a while."

"Yeah."

Frustration clicked through her. Was he really not going to elaborate? Men could be so annoying sometimes. Just when she'd given up any hope of more information, Salvatore tapped his pen against the edge of the desk and murmured, "It was surprising. They always seemed happy."

Something tightened in her chest. She'd asked the question, had practically forced open Pandora's box. It was no one's fault but her own that she was hearing answers she didn't really want.

"I guess you never really know what's going on in someone's relationship, behind closed doors," he shrugged.

"Maybe they weren't actually that happy?" She guessed, ignoring how wishful her voice sounded.

"I don't think that would be it. Ares isn't really the kind of guy to put up with someone he didn't like."

"You foisted me on him for that hiking trip," she reminded Salvatore. "You told me he was too polite to turn me down."

"You're different. No one could not like you."

She rolled her eyes. "You just didn't want to lose the chance to push home our advantage."

His grin was pure competitive ruthlessness. "There might have been an element of that to it."

She shook her head. "You're unbelievable."

"Come on, you obviously didn't have an awful time."

"How do you know that?" she asked, breathlessly. Had she said something to give them away?

"Well, you're still talking to me, for one."

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "It was actually kind of…fun."

He let out a low whistle and regarded her carefully. Sofia had showered and changed as soon as they'd returned to the palace, dressed in one of the outfits she'd brought with her—a navy plant suit with a champagne-coloured silk blouse. The buttons were pearl, and she'd pulled her hair into a neat, low bun. Clothes like this were a sort of armour for Sofia. When dressed like this, she felt immaculate and untouchable. She felt like she could handle just about anything.

"I'm impressed."

"You thought I'd hate it?"

"No. I knew you wouldn't hate it. Ares is a nice guy, he's good to spend time with. And the countryside is some of the most beautiful in the world. I still remember the barefoot little urchin who would run wild over the hills of our estate each summer. I knew that girl was in there somewhere. It's just been a long time since I've seen you in anything but this," he gestured to her. "I like the thought of you hiking, if I'm honest. Just being…relaxed."

"Yeah, well," she said, hiding the emotions he'd caused to riot through her. "It was still work, you know."

"Do you think he's leaning our way?"

Her lips pulled to one side. "It's hard to say. He kept his cards close to his chest."

"I expected that."

She glanced back down at their documents, wondering at the frustration in her belly. Frustration because the conversation had moved on, and she still hadn't got the answers she wanted, about Ares's personal life. Let it go, a voice in her head counselled. This wasn't her business. And if she wanted to know something about Ares, she should show him the respect of asking directly, not snooping around behind his back.

And yet, despite that, she heard herself say, "Did you ever meet her?"

"Who?"

Damn him! Salvatore was speaking as if he was trying to troll her. "Louisa," she said, not succeeding in keeping the irritation from her tone.

"Oh. Yes. A few times, actually."

This time, the emotion tightening in her gut was unmistakable. Jealousy. She was jealous to imagine Ares with another woman, particularly someone he'd been with for a long time. She was particularly jealous to imagine that woman spending time with the Santoros. But why the hell should she be jealous? She'd just met the man, and despite their off-the-charts chemistry, there was nothing between them. When she left Moricosia, she'd probably never see him again, except in a professional capacity, should they be awarded the project. Even then, Sofia intended to stop working for the Santoros, so it wasn't like she'd be on the team overseeing construction personally. Which meant they had the rest of this week, and that would be the end of it. Why should she care that Ares had a history with other women—and a future with them, too? Why should it matter that the Santoros had met Louisa?

"She's great," Salvatore was continuing conversationally, topping up their coffees from a silver pot. "Funny, smart, beautiful, and even though she came from an aristocratic background herself, she was super down to earth. She came from a really close-knit family. We all liked her a lot."

Sofia's hands were gripping the pen so tightly she thought it might break. She forced herself to lay it down on the table and spread her fingers wide, to ease the tension flooding her body.

"I asked him what happened; he said it just didn't work out. I guess it's still too hard to talk about."

"You think he's still in love with her?"

Salvatore shrugged. "I get the feeling the breakup was definitely not his choice."

Sofia's heart sank, even though it just confirmed everything she already believed. Ares was loyal, and he'd loved Louisa. Probably still loved her.

He'd been honest with Sofia about that, honest when he'd told her this was a rebound fling, that he couldn't offer her more than that. And she'd gone along with it because that was all she wanted too. It was still all she wanted. But weirdly, that no longer seemed to be one hundred per cent the case.

It wasn't like she thought they had a future, nor that she wanted them to. It was just a little less straightforward now that she knew Ares better.

Only, there was no option for them but this. A temporary fling—short and sweet, or sensual and spicy. On their first night, she'd made her peace with that and had expected to walk away without a backward glance at the end of the week. She was no longer so na?ve. She'd walk away, with her head held high, but she suspected she'd spend a long time looking back, remembering, and occasionally wondering, ‘what if?'…