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‘Alex rides every day.’

Of course he did. Tilly gritted her teeth but inside the sleek home she stared. It invited the elements in—wide sky, blue sea, sparkling light. Stripped back, it was bare strength and enduring beauty. The décor was sparse—no inherited antiques and relics, with the obligation and responsibility to maintain them whether he liked it or not. She just knew this was entirely chosen by him. This place was imprinted with Alex’s personality—big and wild.

Bianca led her up three flights of polished stairs. ‘This is your room.’

Tilly stepped into the luxurious space—blessedly devoid of signs of occupancy aside from her suitcase. Not Alex’s room but a guest suite.

Bianca apologetically reached for her phone. ‘Please excuse me—’

‘Of course.’ Tilly moved towards the balcony. From the window she watched a steady stream of people head down the path. Their bubbling laughter reached her.

‘Where are they all going?’ she asked as Bianca returned.

‘Back to Montaurella. He’s given most staff two weeks off, with a bonus for whoever’s fastest onto the ferry.’

He’d turned it into a race? Tilly turned to Bianca. ‘Do you need to go too?’

‘No, Carlos and I will stay, together with a few security and stable staff.’

‘I’m sorry you don’t qualify for the bonus.’

‘Working for Alex is bonus enough.’

Tilly glanced sideways, but Bianca looked and sounded genuine. ‘How long have you worked for him?’

‘Almost a decade, both of us.’

So Bianca knew Alex well. She would know that Tilly wasn’t his type. And that none of this made sense.

Bianca led her back down one flight to a large study dominated by a massive glass window offering a view back to Montaurella city. One wall was lined with bookcases while whiteboards and sheets of paper were plastered over the opposite one.

‘Alex will meet you here shortly. Would you like refreshment while you wait?’

‘No, thank you.’ Finally alone to process, Tilly briefly glanced at the bookshelves, but the large sheets of paper opposite called. One was a colour-coded calendar. She studied it—there was a bunch of events marked private. Hospital visits. Sports academies. A music school. Then she realised the colours represented people. Domenico, Erik—

‘You’re red, in case you’re wondering.’

She turned swiftly. Alex. Nemesis. Husband.

His eyebrows arched higher as he approached with languid movements. ‘It was to match your hair, but right now it’s your cheeks. Embarrassed to be caught snooping?’

‘I’m not snooping. Bianca said to wait in here, so it’s your fault if you leave things out that you don’t want to be seen.’

‘I like to see at a glance which events to avoid. Domenico’s secretary liaises quite closely with mine. The official reasoning is for us to have a royal presence at more events.’

Did he ever hit you?

Alex rarely let his guard slip but that question had given her a glimpse of something horrible beneath the glittering surface of dimora miele. Something she’d never considered. Alex had laughed it off. Minimised it. But as they’d left, his father had been unhinged.

For the first time in years she let herself really look at him. Usually she was careful not to meet his eyes. He didn’t like her. He didn’t think she should be in the palace, but now she wondered if he had more than one reason for thinking that. Maybe because she’d always avoided looking, she’d simply not seen.

She’d always been wary of Domenico—as she was of anyone powerful—but today he’d been beyond autocratic. His shocking rage reverberated in her head—that if she defied him the consequences could be catastrophic. But Alex defied his father all the time and survived. But maybe not because he was his son, but because Alex was independently wealthy and brought value to his role—literal value to Montaurella. Yet she was sure Domenico hadn’t hurt her mother. That wasn’t why Elisa had left—she’d just tired of palace life and fallen for the king’s pilot, always wanting fresh adoration. Tilly had assumed the schism between Alex and his father was because of that second marriage. Also because of Alex’s lifestyle—all the women and wild parties. She’d been so busy hating on Alex, she’d never stopped to question whether there were other reasons for his rebellion—for the physical distance he always maintained. There were always reasons behind people’s behaviour.

She looked again at the calendar. ‘You skip almost all those where I’m present as well. You stay away from the palace because of me.’

‘You’re not the reason I live here. You’re not that important.’

‘But you’ve never forgiven your father because of my mother, and I remind you of what happened with her.’