Page 19 of The King's Secret Baby

Luca. My heart aches for him even as my mind races ahead. A follow-up interview with the new king… This story just went from a nothingburger to the scoop of a lifetime.

I just wish it hadn’t come at such a devastating cost.

I zoom home in a cab, my mind awhirl. Packing’s a blur — I toss clothes and toiletries haphazardly into a suitcase, not even sure what I’m bringing.

As I move on autopilot, a memory flashes through my brain: Luca’s face, that night at my place. The sparkle in his eyes as he teased me, the timbre of his laugh. The heat of his touch…

I shake my head to dispel the sense-memory. That was a different time. A different Luca. A playboy prince, not a king in mourning.

Then again, is it really fair of me to see him that way? This new information has blown my preconceptions out of the water. Luca never showed because his father died. Does that mean that he reallydidplan on meeting me at the fountain?

Not necessarily. He may have never intended on showing up anyway, even if his father hadn’t suddenly died.

I shake my head. This isn’t the time to be thinking about my and Luca’s personal relationship. Maybe he did plan on seeing me again, but now everything that happened between us needs to take a back burner.

I zip up my bulging suitcase and pause, taking a shuddering breath. This is so much bigger than me and my silly, secret heartache. An unexpected death, a nation in transition. And at the center of it all, a man shouldering a sudden, terrible burden.

I can’t imagine what he must be going through. Shell-shocked at the loss, reeling at the weight of new responsibilities. Does he even have time to grieve?

I’ve never lost a parent. Not in the traditional sense. I suppose you could consider never knowing my fatherlosing him, but since he skipped out on my mom before I was born, I think the two of us lucky to not have him in our lives.

The thought of losing my mom — the woman who has devoted her life to me, working long shifts as a nurse so we could live in a good neighborhood, staying up late to help me study in high school, still popping in on Sundays to make sure I’m eating full meals — makes my chest seize up.

Hauling my luggage out to the curb, I check my watch. The car to the airport will be here any minute. I’ll be in Werdenfeld by morning.

And then… I’ll be face-to-face with Luca again. And what can I possibly say that would make any of this even alittlebit better?

Nothing. There’s nothing. All I can do is go there, do my job, and try not to put my foot in my mouth. The rest is up to Luca.

Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders as the car pulls up. Time to go.

CHAPTER 11

LUCA

Istare at my reflection in the gilded mirror, not recognizing the hollowed man staring back. Dark circles rim eyes dulled by grief and exhaustion, and my jaw clenches at the suffocating straitjacket of this formal black suit.

I want to rip off this tie, shatter this mirror. Scream until my voice gives out. Anything to relieve the crushing pressure in my chest.

But I can’t. Though my coronation isn’t due to take place for several weeks yet, I am already, for all intents and purposes, the king. And a king doesn’t have the luxury of falling apart.

A sharp rap at the door. “Your Majesty? It’s time.”

I close my eyes briefly, despising that title. It should still be Father’s. If only I’d told him that more often…

“I’ll be right there,” I manage, voice rough. Turning from the mirror, I shove down the welling grief and pain. Lock it away to deal with later. Or never.

Yanking open the door, I stride down the hallway, Stefan scrambling to keep pace as he briefs me on today’s crammed itinerary.

“After the morning cabinet meeting, there’s a luncheon with the visiting dignitaries. Then we need to finalize your coronation remarks…”

His words fade into a droning buzz as my temples begin to throb. Has it really only been a day since we put Father in the ground? It feels like a lifetime ago.

The ache of his absence hits me anew and I stumble, catching myself on a marble column.

“Sir? Are you all right?”

Am I all right? No. I’m the furthest thing from all right. But I don’t have the right tonotbe all right.

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