CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THEDIAMONDGLEAMED beneath the rosy light of dawn sweeping across the sea and up onto the terrace. Miss Smythe's words came back to him as he stared at the ring.

"The longer you look, the more you see."

It had always been for her. He remembered now, sitting in the elegant opulence of Smythe's, dismissing twenty-carat diamonds and pure red rubies.

And then he'd seen it. The salt-and-pepper diamond. The inclusions scattered inside had reminded him of her freckles, of how he'd kissed her in Paris and made her laugh.

The longer he'd looked at Esmerelda, the more he'd seen. She'd gone from being a highly rated graduate and an effective bodyguard to a flesh-and-blood woman he couldn't get out of his mind.

Her courage had humbled him. Her dedication had intrigued him. And the shy smile she'd shot him in the hospital after her accident when he'd given her something so simple—a book he'd somehow recalled her mentioning a week before the accident—had shot past years of defenses and grabbed hold of his cold heart.

He'd denied it at first. Chalked it up to an emotional reaction to her saving his life. But her actions had created an intimacy neither of them had expected. Instead of just issuing orders, they'd talked. He'd come to respect her opinions on Rodina, even if he didn't always agree with them, found himself looking forward to seeing her each day.

Then they'd gone to Paris. They'd traveled together before. But Paris had been the first time they'd had hours of nothing: no meetings, no press conferences or fundraising events. He'd stepped out of the hotel, away from the bodyguard on shift just to have a minute to breathe. Then he'd seen her at the café, head tipped back, curls tumbling down her back and freedom in her eyes as she'd soaked up her surroundings. It was as if the thin veil he'd purposefully pulled down between them had been ripped away. The feelings he'd barely kept at arm's length over the year had risen, overwhelming his resolve.

The longer I looked, the more I saw.

He reached out, laid a finger on one of the pearls circling the diamond. That night had been one of incredible pleasure. But it had also solidified the connection he'd felt growing between them. When she'd come to him the morning after on the balcony, her touch smoothing away some of his inner turmoil, he'd known that what he felt for Esmerelda had been much more than casual lust.

When his father had come to him on his return from Paris and brought up the need for an engagement, it had been a reprieve. He did well with orders, with facts and lists. But feelings, emotions...those hadn't factored into his life for years. As he'd made the arrangements for Esmerelda's reassignment, he'd kept himself numb, resolute against the occasional flicker of conscience or the annoying tug of his heart.

And then she'd left.

The ache came as swiftly as the sunlight spreading across the sea. It had taken him days to acknowledge he missed Esmerelda, and several more before he made his decision. He'd told himself that Esmerelda was a good choice. Her loyalty to the throne, her dedication to the country, her vast knowledge of politics and government, were not the traditional assets of wealth, land and power brought by previous brides and grooms. But Rodina's economy was stable and strong. The entire island had been a part of Rodina for generations. And he and his father had both made significant headway in international forums.

All justifications he'd presented to his father a week after Esmerelda had left. Justifications his father had swept aside with one simple question.

"Do you want to marry her?"

Julius hesitated. He had never made a decision, let alone one so crucial, with emotions playing a pivotal role.

"Yes."

Francisco smiled. "Then what are you doing here? Go find her."

So he'd done it. He'd jumped in headfirst, digging the black card he'd been presented with by a reclusive billionaire out of his desk and flying to London while a private detective from England had tracked Esmerelda down and provided her address in Grenada.

And now he was here, with his memories intact and Esmerelda sleeping in the room behind him. Anticipation filled him. When she awoke, he would tell her everything. Then he would present the ring to her properly. They could be engaged for as long as she wanted, have whatever sort of wedding she desired.

So long as she was by his side, nothing else mattered.

Esme awoke to rays of morning sun warming her face. The bed was empty, but a glance at the clock revealed it was after eight o'clock. Julius had always been an early riser.

So had she, she thought with a satisfied smile as she stretched. Until she indulged in a passionate affair with a lover who knew her body better than she did and spent hours worshipping it.

"You're awake."

Julius walked in. He smiled and leaned down to kiss her.

She sat up and raised her face to him. "Good morning."

"Good morning."

She frowned, trying to pinpoint his mood. There was an energy to his movements, bordering on uncontrolled, that seemed off. Yet there was also a touch of formalness in his face and tone that reminded her of the old Julius. A distance that couldn't be bridged, not even by the intimacy of the bedroom.

"I remembered."

She froze. "Remembered?"

"Everything."

She sat for a moment, waiting. But when he didn't look at her in disgust, when he still smiled at her, she smiled back, throwing back the covers to go to him.

"I'm happy for you, Julius."

She hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands a comforting warmth on her bare back.

"Wait...does that mean you remember what happened in London?"

He nodded, the light in his eyes dimming a fraction. "I was on my way back to the hotel. I heard a scuffle coming from an alley. Two men fighting. I went to break it up. One ran off. The other turned on me and pointed a gun at my face."

Her entire body tightened.

"What?"

"He fired."

Fear clogged her throat.

"Julius..."

"Obviously something went wrong." His lips twisted into a slight smile. "The gun jammed. I lunged for him and we got into a fistfight. I remember pain," he said, touching the back of his neck, "and stumbling into the parking garage hotel. There was a private elevator entrance down there for the penthouse. The doors closed and that's all I remember."

"He must have mugged you."

"I called Scotland Yard. They're running searches on my credit cards to see if any have been used recently, and they're pulling CCTV footage from the area. I remembered everything about the week after we spent the night together in Paris. I remember our conversation when I told you that you were being reassigned."

Trepidation slithered up her spine. She had grown so much in just a few days. Could she handle what he had to tell her? Hear him, accept it and move on?

"Julius—"

"I was intentionally cruel."

She leaned back. "Why?"

"I wanted to make you hate me. I thought it would make it easier for you to move on. It wasn't right," he added. "I made a choice for you that wasn't mine to make."

Her eyes grew hot.

"Thank you, Julius."

"It feels like..." He looked at some distant point over her head. "Like I've been put back together. Like all the pieces are there."

She forced a smile onto her face, trying to focus on his relief instead of her own selfish worry that in regaining his memory he'd lost a bit of the man he'd discovered here on the island.

"I remembered the ring, too."

Her stomach dropped. She'd known this was going to happen. Once again, it had come too soon. But she would handle it better this time.

"I see." She planted her hands on his chest and tried to push him back, but he held her fast. "I'm not comfortable standing here naked while you tell me about the ring you purchased for another—"

"I bought it for you, Esmerelda."

For a moment she couldn't breathe, could only stare up at him as the words repeated over and over in her head.

"What?"

"After you left, all I could think of was you. Just the thought of sharing dinner, let alone my life, was impossible."

He reached over and grabbed the black box off a side table. Her heart surged into her throat as he opened the box to reveal the ring nestled inside.

"Esmerelda, would you be my queen?"

Her hand flew to her throat. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought she and Julius could be together. Could have a life together. It almost seemed too good to be true.

Something tugged at her, a thread of reality pulling at the beautiful tapestry of dreams Julius had woven around them.

"Julius, I... I don't know what to say."

He frowned.

"Say yes. We can have as long of an engagement as you want. Whatever kind of wedding you want. And then we can be together. Rule together."

She stepped away, and this time he didn't stop her. She grabbed her robe off the floor and pulled it tight around her. When she turned back, he was watching her with a hooded gaze, his fingers clenched around the ring box.

She pushed her curls out of her face.

"Julius...it's very sudden."

"We've known each other over a year."

"Yes, in a professional capacity."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Would you prefer we date? Go public with a relationship first—"

"No."

Frustrated with herself, with him for springing this on her so suddenly after the roller coaster they'd ridden over the past week, she wrapped her arms around her middle and moved to the windows. She heard him move behind her, felt his presence at her back.

"What's going on, Esmerelda?"

"Why me, Julius?"

"What?"

She turned then, hated seeing the frustration and confusion on his face.

"Why do you want to marry me? Why, after dismissing me, did you change your mind?"

He reached up and cupped her face. She leaned into his touch, the same way she had in Paris, her heart teetering on the edge of hope and anguish.

"Because I realized you were the right choice. We work well together. We both love Rodina. We can do more for the people as a team than any of the women my father had listed. And he agreed. He supported my choice. But this was my plan for us."

Each sentence he uttered was a death knell to hope. How cruel was life to dangle such an incredible week in front of her, to tease her with intimacy and tenderness and newfound confidence, only to rip it away once more?

"I'm an asset in my own way, then."

He frowned. "It's not just that, Esmerelda. We care about each other. Genuinely care," he added, his emphasis on genuine making her nauseous.

"I need more than that, Julius."

His lips parted. But nothing was said.

Her heart gave one last, painful gasp. Then a shield dropped down, the same shield she'd used to utter her words of resignation and walk out of his office all those weeks ago.

"I see."

"Damn it, Esmerelda, I just regained my memory. I'm shirking generations of tradition because I want you as my wife."

"You didn't even ask me what I wanted." She stepped back. "If becoming your queen was what I wanted. You just assumed I'd jump at the chance. You planned everything without asking what I wanted."

"I told you, we can do the engagement and the wedding—"

"What about after?" she asked, repeating his words from the night when they'd stood on the storm-tossed beach. "After the pretty pictures and the walk down the aisle?"

"My father would abdicate one year after our marriage. I would become king and you would be queen."

"Would I be like your cousin? Like Vera? Going to luncheons and sitting on charity boards?"

"My mother did." His voice cooled even as anger leapt into his eyes. "She served Rodina. Her work was no less important."

"And from what I remember your father saying, she loved it. She was good at it because she loved it. But for me..." Her voice trailed off as she sought to put her chaotic thoughts into words, to explain what she was feeling. "What about economic forums? The trade summit we attended? Would I just be an ornament or actually serve the people?"

His frown deepened. "My mother was no mere ornament. The queen is a figurehead. A leader who serves the people, too."

She stood frozen in place. Part of her, the part that had never stopped loving him, urged her to accept the ring. To be with the man she had fallen for. But the woman she'd become, the woman she was growing into, hesitated. She had just broken free of the expectations of others. She knew people like Julius's mother, like Vera, were needed.

Did it make her selfish, then, that she wanted something different?

Excluding the details of the role, was accepting his ring, especially one tied to duty with no room for love, just going back to an old pattern? Saying yes with the hope that someone might one day love her in return, even as she lived out her days as an ornament instead of an equal partner?

His lips thinned. "I take it marrying me is not what you want then."

She threw her hands up in the air. "I don't know, Julius! I've always tried to live for others' expectations. To be dismissed one week and then proposed to the next, because I'm valuable..." She nearly choked on the last word. "I know public appearances are important. Charities are critical. But to have that be my life...my only life..."

"It's more than that." Thunder moved across his face, darkened his eyes as a vein pulsed in his throat. "I thought you would understand duty."

"I do. But... I want more than just duty, Julius. You know the kind of woman I am, how much I read and research and stay involved with what's going on with our country. Whether or not I'm queen, the woman who is by your side deserves to have a choice in how she serves."

"Being a royal rarely provides choices."

"But there is more than one way to rule," she insisted. "You taught me that, showed me that every time you and father disagreed on something. Why can't a queen do more than be a public figurehead?"

"I'm not saying she couldn't."

"Except you have it all planned out." Her heartbeat in her throat so hard it nearly made her choke. "Planned it without talking to me, without thinking about who I am, what I might want, what I could give back."

He stared at her, his amber eyes glittering. "I have let down my guard with you more than I have anyone else."

"I know."

She reached up to lay her hand on his jaw. He pulled back, a fraction of an inch, but it could have been a mile for how much distance it put between them. Hurt, she snatched her hand back and crossed her arms over her chest, the thin silk of her robe cold against her breasts.

"When I get married, I want it to be because I love someone and he loves me. I want it to be a partnership. Not a loveless transaction where I have little to no say. Where the rest of my life is already laid out for me."

The snap of the ring box closing echoed in the room.

"If there is even the barest hint of that being a possibility, then your answer was the right one."

Ice dripped from every word. The brutal prince was back in full force, his eyes hard as flint, his face carved from granite.

For one moment, she contemplated telling him what she needed. What she wanted. What could be if she could have just a little time to think, to process.

And then fear raised its ugly head once more, fear and years of pain, of disappointment.

She ignored him and walked back toward the bed. She plucked her sundress off the ground, the sunshine yellow a brutal contrast to how dark she felt inside. She slid out of the robe and pulled her dress on. When she turned back, Julius was watching her, his face cold, one hand wrapped around the ring box.

Silence reigned between them. Both of them so angry. So hurt. Neither willing to yield.

She left the room without saying a word. She didn't know what else there was left to say. In less than five minutes her one suitcase was packed, the dress stuffed inside in favor of a T-shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back into a bun. She moved to the window and gazed out over the terrace, the beach, the view of the ocean, for the last time.

Her phone felt heavy in her hand as she dialed.

"Esme." Burak's voice boomed over the line. "How are—?"

"His Highness is in Grenada. Dove Villa off Prickly Bay."

Silence followed.

"Burak?"

"What—"

"His Highness was attacked in London. He tracked me down to Grenada and hired me to be his temporary bodyguard while he healed."

Burak's expletive echoed from thousands of miles away, followed by a series of rapid-fire questions.

"You'll have to ask him."

She hung up, swallowed the guilt that she had just betrayed him and walked out with suitcase in hand. He stood in his doorway, dressed in nothing but lounge pants that hung low on his hips.

"I do owe you thanks," she said quietly as she neared him.

"You owe me nothing."

"But I do. If you hadn't reassigned me, I don't how long I would have drifted along in a state of complacency." She smiled sadly. "It was the shock I needed to realize something needed to change in my life."

He looked down at her suitcase.

"You're running away again."

She bristled.

And you're not stopping me. Again.

Then she stifled her anger. Anger had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Had she kept her cool when he'd arrived on Grenada, she would have made the call far sooner.

"I'm making a choice."

He stared at her, chest rising and falling, but he kept his hands clenched by his sides. The ring box had disappeared.

"I'm..." A ringing cut him off. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. His face hardened as his head snapped up.

"You called the palace."

She raised her chin. "It's what I should have done in the first place."

Was it pain that flashed in his eyes? Or had she mistaken anger for hurt? Regardless, she had done her duty, and severed any connections remaining between them.

It was like walking through a fog, she thought, as she moved toward the end of the hall, one that made the world around her seem blurred. Elements of familiar pain wove through the ache pulsing in her bones.

She paused where the hallway, turned and looked back.

"You'll make a wonderful king."

Framed in the doorway to his room, with the ocean rising and falling beyond the window, his dark blond hair brushed back from his forehead and shoulders thrown back despite the weight that rested on them, he looked every inch the heir apparent.

She executed a formal bow.

"Your Highness."

And then she was gone.