Page 32 of The King's Secret Baby

The air between us grows colder, silence stretching out. He doesn’t look at me.

“You’re right,” I say, my voice tight. “It shouldn’t have.”

The suggestion is there; I don’t have to say it. Any of it. Not what just happened in the pool, not our night in New York.

“Good night, Luca,” I say, my voice barely audible over the dull hum of the pool pump.

He doesn’t respond right away. When he does, his voice is hoarse, strained. “Good night, Hailey.”

With that, I turn and leave him there, the glass doors closing behind me with a soft click.

CHAPTER 17

LUCA

Ilie in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind a riotous mess. The ghost of Hailey’s touch lingers on my skin, the memory of her lips against mine seared into my brain.

I can’t get her out of my head. Her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes sparkle when she’s excited about a story. The softness of her skin, the taste of her mouth…

I groan, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes. This is exactly what I don’t need right now. My father’s death, the impending coronation, the weight of an entire nation on my shoulders… and here I am, fantasizing about a woman I can’t have.

But God, I want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

I roll over, burying my face in the pillow, trying to block out the images that flood my mind. It’s no use. She’s everywhere; in every thought, every breath.

What’s she doing now? I imagine she’s back in her room, maybe showering after the pool, lathering up shampoo in her hair, the suds crawling down her shoulders, down her breasts, all the way down to…

“Seriously?” I ask myself out loud.

Sleep is a lost cause. I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and grabbing a dirty T-shirt from the floor. I make my way down to the kitchens, not hungry but on a mission anyway. I need a distraction, something to take my mind off Hailey.

I push open the door to the kitchens, the hinges creaking softly. The room is dark, the only light coming from the moonlight filtering through the windows. I don’t bother with the lights, navigating my way to the fridges by memory.

I’m rummaging through the contents, looking for something to snack on, when I hear a noise from the back of the room. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. Who would be down here at this hour?

I grab the nearest thing I can find — a pot — and hold it like a weapon as I creep towards the source of the noise. Could it be another photographer, like the one who snapped that picture of Hailey and me? Has someone breached the palace security again?

Anger fills me. If they think they’re going to break into the palace and get served their scoop on a silver platter, they have another think coming. This is my home, a place of respect and dignity. Yes, I share it with dozens of staff members, but that doesn’t make it any less private. Everyone who lives and works here deserves to have peace, and the fact that even one person broke in makes me pissed off and ready for revenge.

My pulse races as I inch closer, ready to confront the intruder. I round the corner, the pot raised high, and?—

“Ahh!” A familiar voice yelps, startling me so badly I nearly drop my makeshift weapon.

“Simon?” I lower the pot, my brow furrowing in confusion. “What the hell are you doing here?”

My friend stares at me wide-eyed, his hand clutched to his chest. “What amIdoing here? What areyoudoing, sneaking around in the dark with a pot?”

I set the pot down on the counter, running a hand through my hair. “I thought you were an intruder. A journalist or something.”

Simon raises an eyebrow. “Paranoid much?”

I shoot him a look. “Can you blame me? After what happened with Hailey…”

I trail off, the memory of that stolen moment in the gardens flooding back. The way she felt in my arms, the taste of her lips…

I shake my head, trying to clear it. “When did you get back, anyway? I thought you were still in London.”

Simon gives me a strange look. “I never left. I’ve been here all week. London was last month.”

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