The Princess Finds Her Match (16 page)

Stefan’s study was sacrosanct. No one, not even Lexie, entered it without being summoned. Only Leonardo, his Press Secretary, was able to step inside at any time.

Lexie knocked but didn’t wait to be shown in. She pushed open the heavy mahogany door and saw three heads whip towards her direction; one blond, one brown, and one in a neat chignon.

“Lexie! What are you doing here?” Stefan said, none too pleased. He quickly stood up from his seat behind his desk. He shut the lid of the laptop on the table, the screen facing Julian and Theia, who were seated in front of him.

But Lexie was too fast for him. The picture had been grainy, but she was able to make out a figure of a man lying supine on the ground. Heart in her throat, she asked, “Was that Nic?”

No one seemed inclined to talk. Julian’s face was carefully blank. Theia was avoiding her gaze. Stefan pushed a lock of hair off his forehead.

Her voice grew firmer, the edge of hysteria creeping in. “I said, was that Nic?” She felt cold all over.
I have never betrayed your trust
.

“Lexie, this doesn’t concern you−“

Growing agitated by the minute, she didn’t let Stefan finish and slipped into the native dialect. “Blair texted me. She said there were rumors going around the polo club that Nic was hurt.” Her voice broke. ”That he was beaten badly. And that Butler was responsible.” She turned to the Duke and said in English, “Is it true? Is Nic hurt?”

“I think you’d better have a seat, Lexie.” Julian rose, offering her his seat and stood with his hands deep in his pockets. Lexie sat on the chair, holding on to the armrest shakily like one who had lost her sense of balance. The Duke started pacing, his face grim.

“I do not think it is a good idea to involve her in this,” Stefan addressed his best friend, his tone forbidding.

“She is already involved,” Julian replied, with a hint of reproof, “whether you want her to be or not.”

Lexie could not bear not knowing any second longer. “Please,” she pleaded, “can somebody tell me what is going on?”

Stefan’s face was like stone. “Mr. Fernandez called a few days ago to warn me of Rupert Butler’s threat about making trouble for the royal family in order to secure the alledramite contract. He wanted you to leave Los Angeles immediately,” Stefan continued. “I had Mr. Fernandez and Butler both followed by our security team even before you left California to monitor their movements. Yesterday, Mr. Fernandez went to the clubhouse to confront Butler. Our security had some trouble getting into the clubhouse at first. When they were finally able to locate Mr. Fernandez in the tack room,“ Stefan paused, his grey eyes locking into Lexie’s, “Butler and his bodyguards were gone.”

A hand flew to cover her gasp. “Oh my God! What have they done to him?” Why had Nic gone to see Butler?

Stefan’s eyes flicked to Julian’s, and this time it was the Duke who spoke. “Our security team brought him to the hospital. Reports say he had been badly beaten and his arm and hand were broken.”

“Broken? Which ones?” To anyone other than the two men present in the room, her question would seem odd. Somehow, Lexie knew even before Julian replied what the answer was going to be.

“The right.”

Lexie was going to be sick. The patron made sure he had hurt Nic on his playing arm and hand. But what Julian said after leached all the color from her face.

“Nic gave our security team his mobile phone. A file of a recording he made of Butler admitting he got possession of Nic’s mobile to download your photos without consent was transmitted to us a while ago. Together with the CCTV footage we have from the polo club, we have enough evidence to make sure Butler won’t be able to make good on his threat.”

I will make it right.
His words were a refrain in her mind.
I will make it right.
Amidst her jumbled thoughts, Lexie’s mind took her to the night of the party when they were about to leave and Nic was looking for his mobile. She recalled seeing Butler and Tansy a few feet away from her and seeing a subdued Tansy handing Nic his phone.

Lexie had been about to ask Nic how Tansy had gotten possession of his phone, but his somber mood made her apprehensive then. She didn’t give him a chance to explain and chose to believe the worst. Now he was hurt and broken and lying in a hospital bed, and she was a continent away and couldn’t do anything about it.

“He is stable and will undergo surgery tomorrow,” Theia, almost forgotten, spoke. She received a quelling glance from the Prince. She ignored him at her own peril and gave Lexie a sympathetic look.

“I have to go to him.” Lexie rose jerkily from the chair. She felt disjointed, clumsy. Her mind was whirring but her body was too slow to keep up. “Please have my things ready,” she addressed Theia.

Sensing her distress, Julian took a step nearer and laid a hand on her arm. “You can go tomorrow, Lexie, after you have rested properly.”

“No!” She shook off his hand violently. “I have to leave now. I’m the reason he’s hurt and−“ she swallowed a sob, trying to regain control.

Theia came to her rescue. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but there are no more available flights tonight,” she apologized. The secretary received a glare from Stefan, who looked like he was cursing her for anticipating the Princess’ next move.

“You can use my jet,” offered Julian, and Stefan’s head turned to blast him with a scowl.

“Do not interfere, Julian,” Stefan warned darkly. “This is a family matter. Lexie, I am forbidding you to go to Fernandez.”

“Forbidding?” Julian repeated glibly, following it with a droll laugh. “God, Stefan, you’re beginning to sound like a character out of those bloody Spanish melodramas my sister likes to watch.” He winked at Theia. “Maggie says it’s to improve her grasp of the language.”

“Shut up, Julian.” Stefan pinched the bridge of his aristocratic nose. “Lexie, listen to me. I don’t want you to have anything to do with that man. He has brought you nothing but trouble.”

Lexie shook her head. “You’ve got it wrong, Stefan
. I
was trouble but he was always there for me.” Even if he didn’t want to. “He loves me,” she whispered, even if he had never meant to. And she had to be there for him now when he needed her most.

She left the room, uncaring if she called on the wrath of Stefan. The sound of firm footsteps on the hallway behind her made her whirl around.

“He refused Pygmalion.” It was Julian. His face was in the shadows. Somebody had forgotten to turn on the lights in the hallway, and nightfall had come early.

“What?” She blinked uncomprehendingly, trying to make out his features.

“The horse for your arrangement. Fernandez refused to take it.” There was a measured quality to the timbre of his voice, as if he was trying to figure out something.

The lights suddenly came on and Lexie flinched. When she opened her eyes, green ones were observing her intently. “That’s good to know,” she said inanely, masking the well of emotions threatening to burst out of her. If she caved in, Julian would be horrified to see her bawling on the floor like a baby. He wasn’t fooled, though.

His eyes glinted with something close to tenderness. He chucked her under the chin with a lean finger and studied her face, as if memorizing it. A small smile broke from the almost cruel outline of his lips. “It’s not often I see it,” he mused out loud, sounding entertained, cynical, and detached altogether, ”but when I do,” he swept a stray tendril of red hair and tucked it behind an ear, “it sure is grand.”

What was he talking about?

The Duke kissed her on the forehead. “I have a feeling I’m not going to see you for quite some time. Take care, Princess.”

With that, he was gone.

L
exie arrived
in Los Angeles at midnight, wrung out, her body clock out of sync. She wanted to rush to the hospital, but a quick call made by Theia revealed that Nic was lightly sedated and was already sleeping in preparation for the scheduled early morning operation. She fell on her former bed in Blair’s mansion and as soon as her head hit the pillow, she went out like a light.

Lexie woke up later than she had anticipated. She had failed to reset her alarm to the local time. In a hurry, she declined breakfast and greeted and kissed Blair and her uncle on the cheek, who were both miraculously home together for once. She ignored her relatives’ obviously curious and concerned faces, eager to be on her way to the hospital immediately.

“He would be in the operating room by now,” Theia commented, as ever the voice of reason. “You can eat something first before we leave.”

“No,” she shook her head, feeling queasy at the thought of food. To appease Theia, she said, “I’ll have something in the hospital later.”

Theia shrugged, the one that conveyed “you-are-being-stubborn-I-know-better-but-have-it-your-way”.

Several photographers were camped outside the hospital lobby. Lexie, Theia, and her bodyguards had to use the back entrance to access Nic’s room. According to Theia, the media had been fed stories about Nic meeting an accident while riding in the Polo Club. Lexie’s failure to be at his side when he was rushed to the hospital hinted at a rift between the couple. The media was on Princess Alexandria watch and were avidly awaiting any developments.

Lexie arrived to an empty room, the awestruck nurse on duty explaining that the patient was still in the recovery unit and would not be wheeled in for at least a few more hours. Despite her protests, Lexie ordered Theia to leave and do some shopping. The bodyguards would stay outside the hospital room and keep vigil. She paced, checked her mobile phone for messages from Stefan, looked out the window, told her bodyguard to buy her some magazines, and found herself staring at front-page photos of her and Nic splashed on a tabloid magazine.

“Lovers Quarrel Distracts Polo Player, Causes Injury”, the headline fabricated. The article went on to say that in a practice match at the Polo Club, Nic Fernandez had been obviously off his game, was bumped off, fell, and had broken his arm. The reason for the distraction was a rumored tiff between the polo player and his ladylove, Princess Alexandria.

Lexie crumpled the tabloid magazine in disgust. Better that version than the truth. The door to the room suddenly opened and two men in hospital scrubs wheeled in a gurney. On the stretcher, pale and still, Lexie got her first glimpse of Nic since they parted. His face was puffy and purple in some places, and there was a cut above one eyebrow. She must have made a sound because his lids fluttered sluggishly open, and the sight of those electric blue eyes sent a jolt straight to her heart.

His lips moved weakly.
“Rojita,”
he murmured hoarsely, his eyes not leaving her as they transferred him onto his bed.

Lexie grasped his left hand and squeezed. “I’m here,” she said, emotions making her throat tight, “and I’m staying.”

He smiled, a dopey, drugged kind of smile before closing his eyes once more, exhausted from the effort. And Lexie knew everything was going to be alright.

P
rincess Alexandria of the House of Ligueria
was not one to abuse her wealth, power and status, but for the man she loved, she would gladly make the exception. So at eight p.m. when it was beyond visiting hours, she dug in her heels, flashed an imperious but sweet smile at the stern-looking nurse, and refused to be booted out of the patient’s room.

Nic had drifted in and out of consciousness the whole day. His eyes would flick around the room, settle on her, then his lids would shut. Lexie had panicked and the nurse assured her it was normal since the anesthesia still had to wear off completely. By late evening when he managed to be awake for a good thirty minutes, Nic still appeared woozy and was in visible pain. He couldn’t tolerate eating and was surprised to find Lexie still there.

“How are you feeling?” Lexie sat on a chair, which she had pulled near the bed. She swept a lock of wavy dark hair away from his forehead gently.

“
Tengo sed
.” His lips were dry.

I am thirsty
, she translated in her head. Glad to be doing something, Lexie handed him a cup of water. He drank a few sips and fell back on the pillow as if the simple effort exhausted him.

“The photos?” His voice was a weak rasp.

“Sshh,” Lexie reassured him, sensing his mounting agitation. “It’s all taken care of. Butler will not be able to release them.”

His clenched jaw loosened but his grip on her hand tightened.
“Te quiero mucho.”

“I know,” she replied, finally letting the tears fall as he succumbed once more to exhaustion and the pain medication.

N
ic had
a vivid dream where he saw Lexie running on the
pampas
, the great Argentine flatlands, weaving her hands through the grass. From a far-off distance behind her was a man on horseback, galloping full speed towards her. He tried to cry out to warn her but he couldn’t make his voice work. He watched, helpless, as the man rode by and carried her off, screaming, into the limitless distance. He woke with a start, his adrenaline high and then crashed in relief as he glimpsed her sleeping profile beside his hospital bed, her head pillowed on her good arm. Her auburn lashes created a fringe of shadows on her lower lids. The beautiful sight made him ache in the body part that was probably the only area Butler and his goons hadn’t beaten – his heart. Okay, so they probably had forgotten to do lethal damage to another body part, thank God, because he felt it stirring to life. He cursed softly. It felt damned uncomfortable, and the only cure for it was sleeping inches away from him.

His “cure” twitched slightly and gave a soft moan as she surfaced from her awkward sleeping position, scooting further inward and trapping his arm against the side of his chest. Shit! Groaning mentally, he willed his hard-on to subside as the stern-faced nurse bustled into the room to take his vital signs. The white hospital blanket was stretched taut across his lap − his right arm and hand were in a splint and the left was so numb and deadened with the weight of Lexie’s head he couldn’t even lift it to dislodge her. There was nowhere to hide.

“And how are we this morning, Mr. Fernandez?” the bosomy, big-framed, no-nonsense nurse inquired, slapping a state-of-the-art thermometer to his forehead and making him feel like a grocery item being scanned by the cashier.

Lexie was awakened by the booming voice of the matronly woman and lifted her head off his arm.

“Er−fine,” he croaked, blood recirculating in his freed arm. He clutched the sheet and bunched it up to conceal the evidence − a loaded gun pointing towards the nurse. It should have shriveled by now in the face of such a hostile environment, but Lexie chose that moment to soothingly rub the inside of his arm, and it was like she had pulled the trigger. He coughed to cover his groan.

“Hhhmpp,” the nurse grunted noncommittally, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Feeling any pain?”

“Just a bit.” He gritted his teeth and wrenched his arm away from Lexie’s caress, folding it across his chest protectively away from further sensual assault. A frown appeared on her brow at his sudden move.

“Just call the station if you need anything.” She waddled towards the door and paused, spearing Nic with a glance that made him feel like a schoolboy. “You need to rest today and have peace and quiet.”

Princess or not, she awarded Lexie the same warning look. “We can’t have the patient getting too excited. Good morning, Your Highness.” With a curt nod of her head, the nurse swept out of the room.

“What was that all about?” a bewildered Lexie blinked.

Nic attempted to shrug and was punished for forgetting his arm was broken. He grimaced.

“Shall I call the nurse?”

He shook his head and felt the room shake with him. He turned green.

“What is it?” Her winged brows were furrowed in alarm.

He took several, deep breaths. “I’m okay now. If I pretend to be dead and not move anything, I’ll be fine.” He noted Lexie’s sudden pallor. “It was a joke.”

“Oh, Nic,” Lexie sighed, her cat eyes moist. “It wasn’t a good one.”

“I’m sorry,
rojita
.”

“I love you, Nicolas Fernandez,” she said starkly.

He shut his eyes, blocking off the emotion on her face.

“Why are you allowed to say you love me and I can’t say it back?” she demanded. “Look at me.”

“No, Lexie. You look at me.” Nic said, surprised by the frustrated anger in his voice. “We weren’t equals before and now with a broken arm, the divide is even greater. There is a chance I might not be able to play polo again.”

”I don’t care about any of that.”

“You will.”

“I am not Melissa Rathborn!” she cried vehemently. “Don’t compare me to her. From now on, her ghost in our relationship is exorcised.”

“You are one crazy lady,” Nic whispered in bemusement.

“I know it’s not going to be easy with you traveling all the time on your tournaments. But I will work out my engagements in Seirenada so I can spend time with you.”

His heart had long been convinced she was his, but his mind took more persuading.

“I’m even happy to be called a WAG,” she said in a small voice.

“A wag?” What the hell? She wanted to be a comedian?

“It stands for Wives and Girlfriends of athletes,” she explained sheepishly. “They hang out at the games, follow their boyfriends around, and cheer for them all the time.”

Oh, that WAG. He chuckled weakly, not wanting to pull on his bruised ribs. “You’ll be the hottest WAG of all time,
rojita.
”

She blushed, her color competing with the titian strands that had escaped her ponytail. “You better get better really, really soon, Señor Fernandez. I think I’ll make a very good WAG.” She linked her hand with his.

“You’re going to cheer for me, win or lose?” Nic felt the tears pricking his eyes.

“I’m going to cheer for you, period.” Her cat eyes were brimming with tears, too. “I might be even convinced to wear a cheerleader outfit with the right kind of persuasion,” the minx teased.

Images of Lexie in a short skirt and tight top, her hair in pigtails bouncing around, executing somersaults and splits, made him hard and tight again. He groaned. He couldn’t help it.

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes scanned his body in a frantic search and skittered to a stop on the exact spot that was giving him the utmost trouble. “Oh,” she uttered blankly, then her eyes grew wide. “Oh!” she exclaimed with more feeling.

Nic gave a pained laugh at the embarrassed expression on her face.

“Is it very uncomfortable?”

“Not really,” he lied.

She looked at him steadily, but Nic could see the wheels turning in her mind. “The nurse said we can’t have you getting too excited,” she wondered out loud, “but is there anything,” she cleared her throat, “I could do to help?” She glanced again at the body part in question. “Maybe kissing it to make it better?”

Nic grew even harder and bigger than was possible. “I’m fine,” he ground out, sounding like he was being strangled.

“Hhmm,” she said, rising from the chair and heading towards the door. She grasped the doorknob and locked it with a firm, metallic click. She then stalked towards him with a determined glint in her hazel eyes. “This may hurt a little, but it will help you relax after.”

There was a rustle of sheets and a draft of air on his thighs. “Lexie, I don’t think it’s a good idea−gah!” was all he could articulate as her lips descended on him and he was enveloped by her warm, moist mouth. Several expletives and ragged breathing was all he could manage as he raked his good hand through her hair while she gave him pleasure. Nearing his peak, he cupped her jaw to meet his eyes. The love shining in them broke his control, and he came with such force he swore he blacked out for a few seconds.

She cleaned him up, kissed him on the forehead, and whispered, “How was it?”

He gave her a sated, sleepy smile. “Now it’s all better.
Te quiero mucho
”

“Yes, Nic. From this day on, I know it will all be better.” She patted him gently on the cheek. “Rest now, my love.
Te quiero mucho
. “

He had drifted off to sleep even before she had finished her sentence.