Page 2 of The King's Secret Baby

As we walk into it, Father whispers, “Stand up straight. Don’t speak unless spoken to directly.”

I resist the urge to slouch and shove my hands in my pockets. We step on stage and sit behind a long table. Blinding lights glare as reporters start shouting questions. I tune them out, thinking about the vacation I’m missing with my friends in order to sit here and look pleasant.

When my father asked me to shadow him on this trip, I didn’t even think of saying no. One day the crown will be mine, and so I know how important it is that I watch the current king in action.

But I wish he would let me do more than just hang behind him like a puppet. I have things to say as well, things to contribute.

The press conference drags on. Father answers question after question in his usual diplomatic way. I stifle a yawn.

Finally, a reporter shouts right at me. “Prince Luca! What are your thoughts on taking on more royal duties?”

It’s like he’s read my mind.

Father shoots me a warning look, but I can’t resist. After our conversation in the car, I feel like starting a little trouble.

“Well, I’d love to spend more time yachting in the Mediterranean, but duty calls.”

A few reporters chuckle, while Father’s expression hardens. I probably shouldn’t have said that, but the temptation was too great. If I’m not going to be adding anything to our time in New York, why shouldn’t I be on vacation with my friends?

After what seems like an eternity, the press conference ends. We exit the building, the roar of the city enveloping us once more.

The moment we’re in the back of the SUV, its tinted windows hiding us from view, Father turns to me, anger etched on his face. “That was completely inappropriate. You are not taking this seriously.”

I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off.

“You have an interview this afternoon. I expect you to represent our family properly.”

My eyes widen in surprise. “An interview? With who?”

This is out of left field. He never lets me take interviews. And after what I just said back there, I’m surprised he’s still letting this upcoming one happen.

Father continues staring straight ahead. “A reporter fromThe Morning Star. Her name is Hailey Warren.”

“And when exactly was this interview scheduled?” I try to keep my voice even.

“It’s been on your calendar for weeks,” he replies tersely. “Honestly, Luca, you need to be more responsible.”

I bite my tongue to stop a sharp retort. Arguing will only make things worse. But an interview, today? I rack my brain, but I have no memory of this meeting on my schedule. Still, I know better than to question Father right now. I’ve already stirred the pot enough as it is.

I gaze out the window as we speed through the city, sunshine glinting off the impossibly tall buildings. My thoughts drift to my friends, no doubt having the time of their lives clubbing and sunning on the beach. Yet here I am, trapped in a series of useless formalities.

If my father allowed me to do more for Werdenfeld — sit in on important meetings, organize outreach programs — then it would be different. I would relish my life as a prince. But as it stands right now, I feel completely useless, like I’m just sitting on a shelf awaiting the day that I’ll be taken down and crowned king.

The car eventually pulls up to our hotel. Time to put on my princely persona once again, I suppose. As we exit the vehicle, Father turns to me.

“I expect you to take this seriously,” he says, blue eyes flashing.

I nod, squaring my shoulders. “Of course, Father.”

Looks like duty calls once again. But someday, things will be different. Someday, I’ll be king, and then I’ll be free to do things my own way.

CHAPTER 2

HAILEY

Irush through the gleaming lobby of the Chelsea Hotel, my heels clicking against the marble floors. This is the biggest interview of my career so far — Prince Luca, heir to the throne of Werdenfeld — and I can’t be even a minute late.

No pressure or anything.

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