The King's Bride By Arrangement - Annie West Page 0,35

brow was crunched in a scowl that drew his eyebrows close. Deep lines cut around his mouth and his jaw looked as if it was carved of granite.

‘Paul? What is it?’ Her heart leapt. ‘Bad news?’

Belatedly he reached out and took the cup, only to place it on the table beside him.

He pulled a chair from the table for her. ‘You’d better sit down.’

He must have read her sudden fear for he shook his head and his mouth curved ever so slightly. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not bad news from Tarentia. Your family is fine.’

His eyes cut to his phone. ‘But we have a problem.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

EVA WATCHED PAUL take the chair next to hers. ‘Tell me.’

His dark-blue eyes bored into hers. There was nothing lover-like about his gaze now. Though there was concern. ‘Last night. That scene behind the night club.’ His mouth hooked down at the corners. ‘It’s all over social media and the press.’

‘I don’t understand.’ But that was just her brain rejecting his words. Looking into his grim features, Eva understood this was all too real.

‘You were right about others being in the vicinity when you went out the back door. Someone had a phone and used it to snap a photo.’

‘Of you fighting?’

Eva recalled Fabrice’s hot breath and grasping hands. His heavy weight against her. His violent snarl as he’d promised retribution for that knee to the groin. She’d been so thankful when Paul had ripped him off her. She wasn’t a fan of violence but in the circumstances she could feel nothing but gratitude and relief that he’d intervened. But a shot of the king brawling in a back alley would be a PR nightmare, even though he’d been saving her.

Paul shook his head. ‘No. The photo is of you and him up against the wall.’

Bile rose at the thought. It was bad enough to live with the vivid recollection, to feel that phantom clutch of greedy hands and the slide of those wet lips. But to have others see what had happened...

Eva’s shoulders hunched as she pulled her arms in tight against her body. She felt grubby, tainted. It did little good to say she’d done nothing wrong. That it was Fabrice who should feel shame. But, despite logic, something deeper and more primitive scoured through her. She didn’t want to hear this. Even more, she didn’t want everyone else to know about it.

‘So the press are reporting the attack.’ She told herself it would be a nine-day wonder. That after the initial flurry of interest it would be forgotten.

‘Not exactly.’

She looked up sharply and didn’t like the expression she saw on Paul’s face. Anger but something else she couldn’t name. ‘What?’

‘There’s only one photo and it’s of you. You and...’

‘Fabrice,’ she said through clenched teeth. Was that even his real name?

‘Fabrice.’ He leaned back in his seat, as if getting more comfortable, except every line of his rigid body spoke of tension. ‘The story splashed everywhere is that you were making out with him willingly. That, far from wanting me to interrupt, you were planning to go off with him to...’

Something jammed high up in Eva’s chest as if someone had stuck a knife between her ribs, catching her lungs in the process so she couldn’t breathe.

Finally, she forced out the words. ‘Say it.’

Serious eyes held hers and now the expression she read there was overwhelmingly of sympathy.

‘To have sex. Apparently you were on the prowl, looking for a one-night stand, until I came and butted in. The stories about what happened next are sketchy, presumably because there aren’t photos. In some versions there was a fight. In others I simply grabbed you and marched you back to the palace.’

Pain banded Eva’s torso. Breathing actually hurt.

How could that be, when she knew full well the media’s ability to turn the most innocent glance into something totally different? The press spun stories out of air, inventing feuds, rivalries, love stories and so much more. Not that she’d been a particular victim.

But this... Turning the most shocking, frightening experience of her life into salacious gossip for the masses... She pressed her hand to her stomach, clamping her lips shut as nausea hit.

‘Here.’ Eventually she heard Paul’s voice, soft near her ear. He wrapped her hand round a glass. Eva looked down and saw she held a half-full glass of water, its surface rippling as her hand shook.

‘Thanks.’ She sipped it, forcing the liquid down her constricted throat. That gave her something to focus on other than