“Princess Flees The Morning After.”
Lexie staggered to the nearby couch, her knees barely holding her up. “Oh my God.” She raised stricken hazel eyes to her Press Secretary. “Has Stefan seen it?” She had switched to the Liguerian dialect unconsciously.
“I don’t know, but Leonardo has informed me His Highness would like to see you in his suite the minute you wake up.” Theia’s expression was neutral, but Lexie knew a judge probably looked the same before pronouncing the guilty verdict.
She was being summoned. Lexie raised trembling hands to her forehead in a gesture of shame. Trust her to fail in an epic manner what should have been an uncomplicated, anonymous one-night fling.
Stefan was standing by the glass window in the study of his suite, his hands clasped behind him. He turned immediately when he heard their footsteps. His grey eyes were carefully neutral, but there was palpable tension in his stance.
“Please leave us, Amaltheia.”
Theia closed the door with a soft click, leaving Lexie all alone with her brother. He didn’t speak for several seconds. He went behind his desk, sat ramrod straight, and gestured for Lexie to do the same. She felt like an errant schoolgirl facing the Headmaster.
“I assume you have seen the tabloid?” At her nod, he continued, his voice grim. “Would you care to explain to me what that was all about?”
Lexie closed her eyes briefly, her guilt magnifying as Stefan gave her the opening to defend herself. His brother was not prone to volatile fits of anger. He rarely raised his voice even under extreme provocation. He became the opposite, icily in control.
She opened her eyes and looked at Stefan’s glacial ones. “I think the photos speak for themselves.”
“Don’t be facetious.” A small crack on the ice appeared.
“I wasn’t.”
Stefan’s fingers drummed on the mahogany desk rhythmically, his only movement as he regarded Lexie steadily. He paused. “That article is implying you had a− a−“ his brows drew together as he searched for a euphemism.
“One-night stand,” Lexie finished for him starkly.
Stefan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Far be it for me to quibble with your sensibilities,” he enunciated in a tone that could cut glass. “You are confirming you had a one-night stand with Nicolas Fernandez?”
Should she put a qualifier on that question, Lexie thought wildly. Should she tell Stefan that technically it was actually more of a half-night stand because she and Nic really hadn’t gone all the way so to speak and that Nic had gotten the short end of the bargain? Better not.
“Well, yes,” Lexie answered slowly, “but at that time I didn’t know who he was.” She winced. Stefan’s lips thinned with displeasure. That came out all wrong. “We weren’t supposed to get to know each other until after−” That sounded worse . Stop blabbering, Lexie.
Dark straight eyebrows drew together. “Is that supposed to make it far less distasteful? Don’t answer that.” Stefan appeared to be weighing his next words carefully. “Lexie, I know Wainwright’s death has come as a shock. This impulsive, reckless behavior is just a reaction−“
“I don’t want to discuss him,” Lexie cut him off abruptly, his patronizing, rational tone grating.
“It’s been seven years−“
“I said I don’t want to discuss him.” It was better to let Stefan continue to believe in his assumptions. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. After all, Peter was dead.
A discreet knock on the door interrupted Stefan, who had been clearly about to say more on the subject.
Leonardo, stern-faced and without betraying a flicker of emotion, intoned, “Your Highness, Mr. Nicolas Fernandez has arrived.”
Lexie shot out of her chair. “What is he doing here?” she asked Stefan frantically, any shred of composure shot.
“I asked him to come,” Stefan replied calmly. “Please show him in.” He rose from his chair and went around his
Lexie staggered to the nearby couch, her knees barely holding her up. “Oh my God.” She raised stricken hazel eyes to her Press Secretary. “Has Stefan seen it?” She had switched to the Liguerian dialect unconsciously.
“I don’t know, but Leonardo has informed me His Highness would like to see you in his suite the minute you wake up.” Theia’s expression was neutral, but Lexie knew a judge probably looked the same before pronouncing the guilty verdict.
She was being summoned. Lexie raised trembling hands to her forehead in a gesture of shame. Trust her to fail in an epic manner what should have been an uncomplicated, anonymous one-night fling.
Stefan was standing by the glass window in the study of his suite, his hands clasped behind him. He turned immediately when he heard their footsteps. His grey eyes were carefully neutral, but there was palpable tension in his stance.
“Please leave us, Amaltheia.”
Theia closed the door with a soft click, leaving Lexie all alone with her brother. He didn’t speak for several seconds. He went behind his desk, sat ramrod straight, and gestured for Lexie to do the same. She felt like an errant schoolgirl facing the Headmaster.
“I assume you have seen the tabloid?” At her nod, he continued, his voice grim. “Would you care to explain to me what that was all about?”
Lexie closed her eyes briefly, her guilt magnifying as Stefan gave her the opening to defend herself. His brother was not prone to volatile fits of anger. He rarely raised his voice even under extreme provocation. He became the opposite, icily in control.
She opened her eyes and looked at Stefan’s glacial ones. “I think the photos speak for themselves.”
“Don’t be facetious.” A small crack on the ice appeared.
“I wasn’t.”
Stefan’s fingers drummed on the mahogany desk rhythmically, his only movement as he regarded Lexie steadily. He paused. “That article is implying you had a− a−“ his brows drew together as he searched for a euphemism.
“One-night stand,” Lexie finished for him starkly.
Stefan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Far be it for me to quibble with your sensibilities,” he enunciated in a tone that could cut glass. “You are confirming you had a one-night stand with Nicolas Fernandez?”
Should she put a qualifier on that question, Lexie thought wildly. Should she tell Stefan that technically it was actually more of a half-night stand because she and Nic really hadn’t gone all the way so to speak and that Nic had gotten the short end of the bargain? Better not.
“Well, yes,” Lexie answered slowly, “but at that time I didn’t know who he was.” She winced. Stefan’s lips thinned with displeasure. That came out all wrong. “We weren’t supposed to get to know each other until after−” That sounded worse . Stop blabbering, Lexie.
Dark straight eyebrows drew together. “Is that supposed to make it far less distasteful? Don’t answer that.” Stefan appeared to be weighing his next words carefully. “Lexie, I know Wainwright’s death has come as a shock. This impulsive, reckless behavior is just a reaction−“
“I don’t want to discuss him,” Lexie cut him off abruptly, his patronizing, rational tone grating.
“It’s been seven years−“
“I said I don’t want to discuss him.” It was better to let Stefan continue to believe in his assumptions. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. After all, Peter was dead.
A discreet knock on the door interrupted Stefan, who had been clearly about to say more on the subject.
Leonardo, stern-faced and without betraying a flicker of emotion, intoned, “Your Highness, Mr. Nicolas Fernandez has arrived.”
Lexie shot out of her chair. “What is he doing here?” she asked Stefan frantically, any shred of composure shot.
“I asked him to come,” Stefan replied calmly. “Please show him in.” He rose from his chair and went around his
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