The Most Powerful Of Kings - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,61
his country, and that maybe, deep down, his father was doing it because he cared.
But those were lies, just as Anna had said.
His father hadn’t cared about him. He’d just wanted him to do what he was told.
And now here was Anna, telling him she loved him, that she’d give him everything he ever wanted. But...how could he trust that? How could he trust that one day something or someone else wouldn’t become more important to her than he was?
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Detachment was better than that pain any day.
Besides, when there was a choice, he chose the throne. That at least was familiar.
‘No,’ he said coldly, surrounding himself in ice and stone. ‘I’m sorry, Anna. It’s you or the crown and the crown always wins.’
The pretty flush that had stained her skin slowly dissipated, the joy leaving her eyes. She looked hollowed out and far too pale. ‘You’re not going to change your mind, are you?’ Her voice was only a whisper. ‘You’ll never change your mind. He did his work far too well.’
A crack opened up inside him, yawning wide, pain pressing at the edges.
He ignored it, turning away and picking up his shirt from where he’d thrown it, anything to distract himself, to get himself under control.
‘And Ione?’ Anna asked huskily when he didn’t speak. ‘If you can’t love me, then you can’t love her. Will you send her away too?’
‘I’ll find someone else to fulfil your role.’ He kept his voice hard as he pulled on the shirt and then the rest of his clothes.
‘Will you bring her up to be like you?’ Anna went on implacably. ‘Will you crush her spirit? Torture people she cares about so she learns to detach herself as well? Make sure she never knows joy or happiness or love?’
He whirled back to face her, shirt still open, his heart racing. ‘Enough!’
But somehow Anna had come closer and she was standing in front of him, small and beautiful and naked. And her hands reached for him, cupping his face. ‘Don’t become him,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Don’t become your father. If not for my sake, at least for hers.’
Her touch burned, fire against his skin, the pain in her eyes reaching into his soul and wrenching him apart.
Isn’t she right? Isn’t that what you’ve become?
Perhaps she was right. Perhaps this had been his destiny all along.
He took her wrists gently in his fingers, pulling her hands from his face even as he buried the pain in his heart. ‘I won’t hurt her, I swear it.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’ Her gaze searched his, a sharp, bright grief in her eyes. ‘He failed you, Adonis. And he failed your brother too.’
A thread of agony crawled through him, despite the ice, but it was the agony of the man and so he crushed it. Crushed it utterly.
He didn’t want to be the man any longer.
He needed to be the king.
‘No, Anna,’ he said without expression, getting rid of his emotions once and for all. ‘Don’t you see? He saved me. Without him, I would never have had the strength to send you away.’
Tears tracked down her cheeks in shiny silver trails, but she didn’t look away from him. ‘That’s not strength, that’s fear,’ she said, her voice broken and yet firm. ‘But I suppose you’ll never understand that, will you?’
‘No, little nun,’ he said gently. ‘I won’t.’
More tears slid down her face, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. ‘Fine. But what happens to our baby?’
A whisper of pain echoed through him, a ghost of that possessiveness, so faint he could hardly feel it.
‘You will be monitored,’ he said. ‘The child will be provided for, whatever happens.’
She remained standing there, her back straight, her chin lifted. ‘I meant what I said. I’ll always love you, Adonis Nikolaides. And if one day you wake up and realise that you do want me after all, I’ll be waiting for you.’
Deep down, where the man lay buried beneath the rock and ice of the king, a tremor shook him.
But he’d made his choice. And he wouldn’t choose again.
‘Don’t wait,’ he said coldly. ‘Never is a long time.’
Then he turned on his heel and walked out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANNA THOUGHT ABOUT going to bed, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep. It felt as though her heart had broken into a thousand jagged pieces in her chest and she couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks.
But they weren’t tears for herself. They were for him. For the man