There was no room to be soft in this.
She was having his baby. An heir. Finally.
At any other time this would have been a cause for celebration. The completion of his duty in many ways. A fulfillment of deathbed promises made to a father he’d never quite pleased during his life.
The moment he’d found out, the only thought he had was how he could capture her. Keep her with him. He had no idea what he was going to do beyond that. But he had managed to get her on the plane, even though it had taken threats. Now, they were en route to his private island off the coast of Greece. The villa there had always been used by the royal family of Petras for vacations. Kairos had never taken Tabitha there. He had not been on a vacation since he had taken her as his wife.
Of course, this was no vacation. Some might call it a kidnapping. But he was king. So he imagined he could classify it as some kind of political detention. She was, after all, carrying the heir to the throne of Petras. If she were to leave, it would be kidnapping on her end.
At least, that’s how he was justifying things. And he was king. The amount of people he had to justify his actions to was limited to one. Himself.
She didn’t look angry. She looked as smooth and unruffled as ever. Her hands were folded in her lap, her legs crossed at the ankles, her lovely neck craned as she looked out the window. She managed to appear both neutral and haughty, a feat he had only ever seen managed by Tabitha.
Years of routine. A marriage so mundane he could go days without looking at her. Even if they were in the same room. He would look in her direction, but, he realized, never truly look at her. It was easy sometimes to go a full week without words passing directly between them. Communication with a phone or servant as the go-between.
And in the space of the past four weeks everything had changed. She had asked for a divorce. Then he’d torn her clothes off and taken her like a rutting animal. Now there was a baby.
The past four weeks contained more than the past half decade they’d spent as husband and wife. He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around it. Around who he had become in her arms in those moments in his office. He was angry. Enraged that she would walk away from him after all he had done for her. Enraged that half-formed fantasies he had barely let himself dream would never come to be.
He had imagined they would be married all of their lives. He had never imagined she would end it.
“Are you quite comfortable?” he asked, because he could think of nothing else to say and he had grown quite uncomfortable with his role as uncivilized beast and the little play they were currently acting out.
He was the responsible one. He’d never acted out, not once in his life. His father had impressed the weight of the crown upon him at an early age, and Kairos had always taken it seriously. He had seen the consequences of what happened when one did not. Had had it ingrained in him.
Control was everything. Duty. Honor. Sacrifice.
He was surprised how easily he had cast it off the moment his wife had handed him divorce papers.
And so, he was attempting to reclaim it.
As you kidnap her. Brilliant.
“Yes,” she said, her tone brittle. “Very. But then, I don’t have to tell you your private plane is luxurious. You already know.”
“Indeed.”
“How long had I been working for you the first time we flew on this plane?”
“A couple of months, surely,” he said, as though he didn’t remember it clearly. He did. There was something so charming and guileless about her reaction to the private aircraft. It had stood in stark contrast to the response of his fiancée at the time, Francesca.
He had noticed it then, as he compared the two women unfavorably. Francesca was, of course, eminently suitable to be a royal bride. That was why he had selected her. Love had never come into play. She had been raised in an aristocratic family, trained to be the wife of a political leader from an early age.
Of course, it had all blown up in his face when she had slept with his brother. That might not have bothered him so much, had she not done it quite so publicly. Not that she had intended for it to go public. Ruining her chances of becoming the queen of Petras had not been the plan. That much he knew. Still, a video had surfaced of the two of them together, and that did it for their wedding.
He needed to find a wife to fill in for the royal wedding that was already planned, and quickly. And so, he had selected Tabitha to be his bride. A logical decision. An acceptable flesh-and-blood woman.
Perhaps all women were destined to go crazy at some point in their lives. His mother certainly had. Walking out on her husband and children in the dead of night, never resurfacing again. Francesca most certainly had when she’d compromised her position as queen simply so she could experience some pleasure with Andres. Obviously, Tabitha was the newest victim of the craze.
Or maybe it’s you.
He gritted his teeth.
“I was impressed with it then,” she said. “I remain impressed. I am less impressed with the fact that you hijacked my person.”
“It was a hard-line negotiation, not a hijacking. Surely you see the difference.”
“The end result is the same to me, so why should I care about semantics?”
“You were quite impressed with the plane,” he said, his voice hard, “as I recall.”
“Don’t tell me you remember.”
“Of course I remember. You were very young. Wide-eyed about everything you encountered here in Petras. Especially everything concerning the royal family and the palace. I had a fair idea about your background, because of course I screened you before hiring you. I knew you came from a modest upbringing.”
“That’s a generous way of putting it.”
“Impoverished, then. Yes, I knew. But you were bright, and you were certainly the best person for the job. You were motivated, in part because of your past. I thought, possibly more driven than any of the other candidates to succeed.”
“Are these the same thoughts you had when you selected me to be your wife?”
He could sense the layers hidden beneath the question, but couldn’t guess what they were. “I also knew you,” he said.
She made a scoffing sound, uncrossed her legs, then recrossed them the opposite direction, annoyance emanating from her in a wave. “Oh. You knew me. As in, were acquainted with me. How very romantic.”
“Did I ever promise you romance, Tabitha?” She said nothing, her glare glacial now. “No. I did not. I told you that I would stay faithful to you, and I have. I told you that I would be loyal to you, which I have also done. That I would do my duty to God, country and to you. I have done all of that, to a satisfactory degree, many would say. You were the one who decided it wasn’t enough.”
Righteous anger burned through him. He had not lied to her. He had not told her he would give hearts, flowers or any frilly symbol of weak emotion. He had pledged commitment.
She seemed to have no concept of that at all. He would never have taken her for being so faithless. He had thought she was like him. Had thought she was logical. Had thought that she understood sacrifice. That duty and honor superseded emotion.
“A theoretical marriage is a lot different than actual marriage. I can hardly be held to assumptions I made before I had ever had a...a relationship.”