“You are very much welcome to try. I’m sure her majesty will be most pleased, [i]princess[/i],” Luke shot back with a mischievous gleam in his blue eyes and that lopsided smile, daring her to make true her threat. “And I’m certain that after your interview, you will be enjoying more of my company and less of your privacy. Not that I can say the same for myself.” 

If there was anything that infuriated Luke more than waiting, it would be finding out that his direct order was absolutely and expressly ignored. Had she just been a good girl like he asked her to be, he could have backed down, explained his sarcasm, and perhaps even gently remind her of his advice not to belittle herself. But as Rhiane was telling him how she would reveal to the whole kingdom his request for her to call him by his title, his eyes found the untouched glass of water and the red and white capsule lying on the bedside table. 

Luke’s eyes darted to her face. As if she read what was on his mind, she explained about how taking the medicine or obeying him was against his advice not to trust anybody in the castle. It was applaudable that she actually listened, except that she was using his words against him. Not many people had the courage to do so, especially not to his face. It both amused and irritated him that a low-born farmer, whose good fortune was thanks to the generosity of the crown, would be so foolhardy to test his patience and deny him his will to leave the suite. 

“I didn’t ask you to trust me, only that you listen to the voice of reason,” he ground out. The prince found the edge of his desk. He leaned against it with his back to the sky. The brightness of the afternoon cast shadows on his features, making it sharper, his eyes bluer. He let the coat drape on the desk as he watched the future mother of his children declaring mutiny for the second time that day. “You are in pain, and it is a pain caused by me,” he admitted, not in a tone that was even near apologetic, but just a matter of fact. “I ought to at least make sure that you don’t suffer from it, thus the wheelchair and the pain medication. But if you insist, then be my guest.” Luke shrugged. “I’m sure you’re proud because you are used to pain and suffering from where you came from and you can’t wait to rub it off my face. So, let’s begin, shall we?”  

He was about to push himself off the table when he felt it, a sharp jab of pain that shot from his left temple then followed by a consistent throbbing. There it was. Lack of sleep, constant stress, and the unusually frustrating woman sitting on his bed must have triggered the migraine. The telltale signs had been lingering for a while since they got back from the restaurant and he should have taken his own advice and took the precautionary medicine prescribed by the doctor. But it was the only pretense that he freely allowed himself to do – to pretend that he was fine – because the nobility did not take weakness too kindly. A simple case of migraine, no matter how infrequent, can be used to dramatize any shortcomings. 

These things he would not be able to hide from Rhiane, he thought. With the implant in place, she would know more than the sanctuaries that hid the crown prince whenever the kingdom and his duties had beaten him up enough. If he was not careful, she would know his weaknesses and struggles. Therefore, with a slight frown on his face, he finally pushed himself off the edge of the table and walked to the side of the bed. “Let’s go. You have made it unpleasant enough for me as it is. If you want me to pretend in public that we are civil, then fine I will give you that. But you can’t ask of me, or even want me, to lie to you when we are in the privacy of my suite. I was not raised by my father to play with a woman’s emotions.” It was half-truth at best. The public was aware of his reputation as a heartthrob. The fingers in one’s hands would not be enough to count the number of hearts that Prince Alessandro broke since he was twelve years of age. But perhaps because of pity for the grim future that was waiting for Rhiane, or for something else he would not acknowledge entirely, he had decided that she was not among the ladies he would pass the time flirting with. He shook his head. “Not a woman like you.”