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‘What, are you too pure of heart to be a gold-digger?’ He snorted. ‘Then take just enough to have your bus ticket to a fresh start.’

She cocked her head, trying to understand him. ‘And you won’t help me just with that without the crazy marriage? Loan me a little—’

‘This way we both get something we want.’

Of course he wouldn’t just spot her some cash out of the goodness of his heart. The guy didn’t have a heart. He prioritised himself. Which was how he’d become a billionaire in his own right by his mid-twenties. He’d turned his back on Montaurella, letting Erik deal with the estate while he focused on his private finance firm, utilising his annoyingly high IQ and early success to leverage his results. His business acumen was why his father hadn’t disowned him—that and the fact that the Montaurellan populace were ardent Alex supporters. Maybe he’d eventually rule the kingdom well on a financial front, but no doubt he’d still get something out of the deal. Maybe she should get something out of this ‘deal’ too. Maybe she should ‘gold-dig’ her way to freedom because she couldn’t admit she’d been a naïve fool, couldn’t tell him just how trapped she actually was. ‘You’re as ruthless as your father—’

‘Right. I am my father’s son—’

‘Who’ll happily use someone’s misfortune to extract benefit for yourself.’

‘That’s how survivors succeed.’

‘You mean predators.’

‘Francesco is a predator.’

She’d thought of Francesco the same way she thought of most people with money and power—as possibly problematic. She’d ensured there were physical barriers between them even as she’d politely laughed at his weak jokes. She knew how to survive—by keeping silent and out of sight. But that wasn’t always possible—especially when you were targeted in an online porn campaign designed to maximise your humiliation.

Marrying Alex would detonate her relationship with the King. Except Domenico had already damaged it by demanding an even more revolting marriage. Alex was the lesser of two awful grooms only because there was nothing remotely real about his offer.

‘If you stay here, he’ll wear you down,’ Alex pointed out. ‘You said it yourself, you do as you’re told.’

Beneath the bravado she was faking right now, that was what she was afraid of. It was beyond aggravating that Alex saw that.

‘No one will believe we’re truly a couple,’ she said. ‘You can’t stand to remain in the same room as me for more than five minutes.’

‘You use a stopwatch?’ he queried. ‘Darling, I’ll stay longer if you like—’

‘You don’t like me.’

‘You don’t like me either. Both facts are irrelevant. You get to choose, Tilly. Do you want a fake marriage with me, or a real one with Francesco?’

Some choice.

‘What’s your plan?’ she asked angrily, pushed to consider the option. ‘How do you imagine us going about it?’

‘We’ll go to my island.’

‘The playboy paradise?’

‘The very same,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You’ll love it, it’s right up your alley. Late nights with DJs on the decks. Noisy people having fun. I guess you can’t be noisy in the mausol—I mean museum, sorry.’

‘You have zero respect for your ancestors—’

‘Zero respect for my father—’

‘Because he married my mother. A common care worker.’

Alex was a snob. Yes, her mother had been no innocent party, but nor was Domenico.

‘What kind of caring did she show you?’

She braced, hating him. The jerk just wasn’t afraid to say the worst things. So privileged. So spoilt. He had no idea what it was like to face uncertainty or to be blamed for everything that was broken. But his words hurt most of all because he was right. Her mother hadn’t cared. She’d abandoned her.

If he wasn’t still drunk, he had to be hungover, because when he took a breath and thought through what he’d offered he’d be appalled. Honestly, she’d love to see him in the second the regret hit. Her brain fired up—if she left the palace with him now, he’d soon ditch this daft wedding idea and be super-keen to help her get even further away. If she used him to get away, if she stalled him on the marriage plan until he saw sense—then he’d happily throw funds to see her gone. She would repay him the second she could. Never was she owing Alex Montesi anything for a moment more than necessary. With Erik off-limits for insulting reasons, there was no one else to ask, and despite everything, she couldn’t betray the King by revealing what he’d expected her to do outside of the family. Domenico’s attitude today had been the wake-up call she needed—the reminder that she’d always been and always would be on her own.

‘Fight fire with fire, right?’ he murmured, sensing she was wavering. ‘Let’s create an incandescent scandal that’ll completely eclipse some thirty-second fake sex video.’