Page 15 of His Hidden Royal Heirs

“It is not a threat,” she replied, not the least bit concerned or chagrined. “It is simply explaining myself. They are my top priority. I will do whatever it takes to protect them. I am their mother.”

“And I am their father.”

She sighed, something in her expression softening. “I am glad you know that,” she said after a moment. Then she crossed to him. Stood in front of him with wide, serious green eyes. “For all the ways we’ll no doubt disagree, Iamglad you know that.”

He didn’t want to believe her. He wanted to convince himself that she was simply an adept liar. He didn’t know very much about her at all. She could be the most deceitful woman on the planet.

But no amount of wanting could make falsehoods a reality. Zia would no doubt lie to him at some point, but this was not a lie.

Perhaps it was a common ground to work from. Perhaps he should be glad of it, for his children’s sakes. Perhaps this was some kind of hope to hold on to.

But he knew too well what hoping got a person. Where believing someone might have an interest other than their own at heart might land a person. He had learned that lesson the hard way with his mother’s family. First, believing that they’d taken him from his paternal grandparents because they’dcared. Then, growing up knowing they didn’t, being foolish enough to believe one of his cousins had befriended him out of kindness and honesty.

Instead, all Antonio had ever been doing was keeping tabs on him, all so his mother—who’d been the newly minted queen at the time—could decide how to best use him and his story for her own gain.

So Cristhian knew better than to trust. Than to believe. Than tohope.

Something tried to expand within him, with her standing too close. Memories knocking at the door of his mind. The way that one night had wrapped around him, held him against his will.

Even now. When he should be thinking ofanythingbut the way her body might feel under his hands. The way she wouldtaste again, here in his own world—not that fictional one they’d built that night. No, this would be real.

And unacceptable.

But she was looking up at him now as if there was something real to be salvaged, and that was her weapon. One she would no doubt wield against him if he didn’t make himself clear. Right here. Right now.

“I could have you in my bed in under five minutes,” he said, making certain she would feel his breath dance along her neck. “And you would do whatever I said, whatever I liked.”

He saw the tremor move through her, the heat they couldn’t ever share again leap into her green eyes. His own body hardened in reaction, but he would not be so easily distracted. No matter how much the potency of whatever arced between them still knocked him off his usually perfectly kept axis.

“But we are here to decide the future, Princesa. Nothing else.”

And now it washisturn to be smug as he turned on a heel and walked out of her room.

Zia had slept well in spite of the unusual and unfortunate circumstances. She was getting more and more physically uncomfortable as the days went, but the exhaustion of lugging around two growing babies inside her always took a toll at night.

So after he’d left, no matter how frustrated and confused and worked upshe’d been, hungry, too, she’d crawled into the huge, comfortable bed and fallen straight to sleep.

Unfortunately, her dreams had been...vivid. And had been less dreams and more flashes of memory. Dancing with him, the hard, hot wall he’d made. The reckless ride back to his hotel room. The sound he’d made when he’d been over her, inside her. Those dark eyes holding her gaze through it all...and howthey’d been the same exact eyes to tell her he could have her in his bed in under five minutes.

So while she awoke feeling better rested, she did not feel settled. Because even awake his words kept replaying in her head like some kind of spell.

I could have you in my bed in under five minutes. And you would do whatever I said, whatever I liked.

In spite of herself, she knew it was true, and she couldn’t help but wonder just what he “liked” that might be different than that first night when they’d been strangers and under some kind of spell of their own.

But he’d only said it to put her in her place, she knew. She knewmen, powerful men. Everything had to be their way. Everything had to be under their, what they considered, clever control. She had watched her father lash out at anyone and everyone with as many cutting remarks as he could hurl when things did not go precisely as he wanted.

So she knew Cristhian’s parting shot had been launched because he did not feel in control. Andthatat least gave her some satisfaction.

He didn’t know what to do with her, with this, and it was gratifying because she hadn’t known what to do at first, either.

But right now she was too hungry to consider her next steps beyond food. She changed her clothes quickly and then stopped short in the sitting room. A platter with an array of baked goods sat on one of the little tables.

She settled herself in the chair and polished off two before she’d taken more than a breath or two. Immediately, she felt better. She considered a third, and then thought better of it. She drank a glass of water—it was cold as though it had been ice water a time ago, but the ice had melted.

She had no idea what time it was. She couldn’t find a clock in these rooms, and her phone had died sometime in the night. Sheplugged it in, waited for it to boot up, then sent Beau a little text message that she had left the island, that she was fine, and more information would be forthcoming.

Beau wouldn’t love that, but it was the best Zia could offer until she knew what the next steps were going to be. Certainly not be carted back to Lille by Cristhian, but if Cristhian’s alternatives involved something she didn’t think was best for the children, she might be forced to go back to her father and ask for his help.

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