Scandal With a Prince (31 page)

She inhaled as she perused the top page.
 
After she finished, she raised her eyes to his.
 
They were filled with a confusion he didn’t understand.
 
“Why?”

He pulled out the stool beside hers and sat, wanting to be at her level.
 
“Because your decision is tougher than any other candidate’s.
 
If you do decide to interview for the job, you’ll be weighing all this, plus your relationship with me.
 
Either way, I felt you needed time to know what you might be getting into.”
 
He paused.
 
“Whatever decisions you make.”

“It looks wonderful.
 
Sounds wonderful.”
 
She set the papers on the countertop without reading further.
 
“But I’m not sure I should be doing this right now.”

“Why not?” he asked.
 
The timing should be perfect.
 
She could wrap up her work at the Grandspire and move to Sarcaccia on her own timetable.
 
“The committee wants to start booking conferences soon, since the center is scheduled for completion in less than a year.
 
You’d get in at exactly the right time to set the tone for the center and the type of events it hosts.
 
It should be a great challenge, exactly what you said you wanted for your next position.”

The more he’d read about the qualifications, the more convinced he’d become the position was right up her alley.
 
And given the revenue she’d generated for the Grandspire, she should walk into the job, even without his recommendation.
 
He’d seen the list of candidates and heard enough of the committee’s discussions to know she’d blow them away during the interviews.
 

She took a long sip of her drink as he spoke, then set the can on the counter.
 
Her shoulders were back, her entire body rigid, as if she were bracing for a punch.
 
For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why presenting her with information on a job made her more tense than the conversation they’d begun earlier.

Patience wasn’t his strong suit, but he waited until she was ready to speak.
 
At long last, she met his gaze.

 
“Forget the job for the moment.
 
I think we both know there’s a bigger decision to be made here.
 
Before I went downstairs, we were talking about something else.”
 
She angled her index finger between them.
 
“I don’t want a job—any job—to cloud that discussion.
 
Like you said, it’s about what works between you and me.”

“Then let’s talk.”
 
His confidence bolstered, he shifted enough so his knees bumped against hers.
 
A smile lit her face as he did so, one that went all the way to her expressive eyes.
 
Better yet, her expression was filled with the same barely-contained anticipation he felt.

It was a smile he knew he’d remember as long as he lived.

Softly, he asked, “Megan, do you love me?”

Her expression clouded.
 
A heartbeat passed, then two.
 
She straightened on her stool, her knees pulling away from contact with his. “Wait…
you’re
asking me—” Her lower lip twitched.
 
“Tell me, Stefano, why do you want to marry me?”

He frowned, unable to make sense of the sudden change within her.
 
Surely by now, after the weeks they’d spent together, she’d know how she felt.
 
But what was he supposed to say?
 
If he professed his love for her now, would she believe him?
 
Or accuse him of trying to control the situation, saying whatever it took to get his way?
 

“Is it because it’s convenient, especially if I can be employed in Sarcaccia?
 
Because of Anna?”
 
Darkness edged into her voice as she added, “Or do you want to marry me because it’s the
right
thing to do?”

“Megan, it’s all of the above, and much, much more.
 
I would hope that I’ve demonstrated that over the last two months.”
 
He wondered why his simple question spurred such a reaction.
 
“But you didn’t answer my question, and frankly, I think it’s a very important one: Do you love me?”

He had to know.
 
While he’d been raised with limited freedoms, she’d enjoyed autonomy.
 
He couldn’t ask her to change her life so drastically for anything but love.
 
She had to know clear to her bones that she was making the right decision, and for the right reasons.
 
He couldn’t face another debacle like Ariana.

Losing Megan would pierce him in a way ending his relationship with Ariana hadn’t and never could.

“Whether or not I love you isn’t the point—”
 

It was the whole point.
 
He tried a firmer approach.
 
“What are you trying to tell me, Megan?
 
Where is all this coming from?”

He caught the slight shake of her hands before she stood and planted them on her hips.
 
“You want me to declare my love for you so you can say,
 
‘Great, I have a palace apartment for you, I have a school for our child.
 
And best of all, I have a job for you.’
 
That’s not what I want, Stefano.”

“I thought we weren’t talking about the job anymore.”
 
How, after all these years, did he not understand women?
 
“So what is it, exactly, that you do want?
 
Because right now, you’re confusing the hell out of me.”
 

“You
idiot
!
 
I want you to marry me for me!”
 

Instantly, her face went red with embarrassment, as if she wished she could take back the outburst.
 
When he remained silent, she pressed her palms together as if the action would keep her composed.
 
“Look, I don’t want you to marry me because it’s convenient.
 
Or because you’re afraid that when the press gets wind of our relationship—which they will, eventually, whatever the nature of our relationship may be—that you need to protect me, and you can do it best if I’m under your wing.”

He pushed off his stool and took a step toward her.
 
She should know that after all that had happened with Ariana, he wouldn’t propose out of convenience.
 
He wasn’t sure how in asking Megan the same question—if she wanted to marry him for
him
—he’d managed to shoot himself in the foot.
 
On the other hand, the first part of her statement was
I want you to marry me
.
 
And that was all he wanted, for the rest of his life.
 
She only needed reassurance.

He was more than happy to give it to her.

Joy unfurled in his chest, so powerfully he couldn’t stop the smile on his face.
 
“Of course I want to marry you for you.
 
When I brought up the job, I was simply trying to make your decision easier by ensuring your life in Sarcaccia
wouldn’t
be all about being my wife.
 
You can have a fantastic career if you want, your own identity separate from the royal family.
 
And if protecting you and Anna is wrong…well, that would my responsibility as your husband.”

Husband
.
 
He liked the way it rolled off his tongue when it came to Megan.

Megan didn’t seem to agree.
 
The smile he expected to light her face in response to his own failed to materialize.

“All that being said, it’s
my
decision whether or not I take on that challenge.”
 
She eased away from the barstools, once again using physical distance to shut him out.
 
“It’s not something you can protect me from.
 
And I don’t want a job because you got it for me.
 
I want a job I’ve earned and that I’ve chosen of my own free will.
 
None of that has anything to do with marriage.”

He gestured toward the envelope he’d given her, which lay on the granite countertop.
 
“That’s all this was.
 
Information so you could make the decision that’s best for you.
 
I would never push you into a job.
 
It wouldn’t make sense.
 
If you hated your job, how happy could you be?
 
All I want is for you to be happy, whether you’re my wife or not, whether you’re working or not, though obviously I’d prefer it if being my wife made you happy.”

She exhaled, visibly relenting.
 
At that moment, his gaze snagged on the folder she’d brought back from her meeting.
 
Again, seeing it tucked beside the kitchen canisters bothered him.
 
When he faced her once more, he saw she’d noticed the direction of his gaze.
 

The air stilled between them.
 
He knew then that his gut instinct about the folder was right.
 
The physical space between them was the least of his problems.
 
A gulf existed between them when it came to trust.
 

Without trust, they couldn’t move forward.
 

“Tell me again what Gladwell wanted.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

At her hesitation, he continued, “No.
 
Let me guess.
 
He made you an offer to stay on here at the Grandspire.
 
Maybe with a raise, given the success of the revitalization.
 
Or did he offer you another position, perhaps at one of his other properties?
 
The man must own a dozen hotels.
 
Then there are the casinos—”
 

“My meeting with Jack Gladwell has nothing to do with what we’re discussing—”

“Oh, I think it does.”
 
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been so testy about the conference center job information he’d given her.
 
She wouldn’t have hidden the folder or avoided his question about how her meeting went.
 
She’d have simply come back from her meeting and said,
I love you, Stefano.
 
I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.

He strode into the kitchen and grabbed the folder.
 
The look of surprise, then dismay on Megan’s face—and her subsequent attempt to school her features into a more neutral expression—reinforced his suspicions.
 

She didn’t trust him.
 
Not the way she should, given what he was asking of her.
 
The joy that had spread through him only a moment before shriveled and died, leaving him hollow inside.

“There’s a job offer in here, isn’t there?
 

She looked down for a moment before meeting his gaze once more.
 
Too long a moment.
 
“Yes, there’s a job offer in there.”
 
She took a step toward the kitchen counter.
 
“But it doesn’t matter.”

Before she could reach over the counter to take it away, he flipped open the folder.
 
He knew he had no right to intrude in her private affairs in this way, but at this point, he had nothing to lose.
 
He had to know what Jack Gladwell offered.
 
Several sheets of fine stationery, the top page of which bore the logo for Gladwell’s hotel conglomerate, filled the folder.
 
A quick glance told Stefano that Megan was being offered the Grandspire’s manager’s position—and at an impressive salary—but what caught his attention was the smaller, ripped newspaper page sitting on top.

Oh, Megan.
 
The words echoed like a whisper through his head.
 
He set the folder on the table and held the page under the kitchen lights so he could see it clearly.
 
It was a gritty, obviously zoomed-in photo taken at the Magic Fountain, one that showed him sitting with Anna and Megan.
 

He didn’t speak Catalan, but he knew enough to get the gist of the headline, something about a disguised royal and a girlfriend with a child.
 
His mouth went dry as dust as he stared at the photo.
 
It was as if his past mistakes were repeating themselves.
 
He couldn’t allow what happened with Ariana to happen to Megan.
 
“Did Jack Gladwell give you this?”

 
“No.
 
One of my coworkers saw it and wanted me to know.
 
But it’s not important…if you read the paragraph below the picture, they say they don’t even know if—”

“How can you say it’s not important after all I went through with Ariana?
 
Of course it’s important!”
 
Did she not grasp the ramifications?
 

She moved closer, rounding the counter to within arm’s reach.
 
Her voice was calm and reassuring. “Stefano, it’s not the same.”