Page 12 of Crowned For The King's Secret

The boy went to his mother easily, as Sandro reluctantly handed him over, missing the weight of him in his arms. Nic snuggled into her neck. At least his son appeared to love his mother. He recalled his own parents. Their love had been a constant beacon. Memories of being taught how to ride, of laughter. Until the memories intruded of a tear-stained, dark night when he’d lost everything. He shut those thoughts down. That time in his life had passed. Here, now, was all he had.

His whole body rebelled as Victoria left to do what she needed, taking Nic away from him. It wouldneverhappen again. Sandro’s security entered the room, ever-present. He knew they’d been listening. Everything about today had been carefully choreographed.

‘Your Majesty.’

‘Any threats?’

‘None so far. Though we need to move quickly. As we discussed, there are more efficient ways to carry out this exercise.’

He well knew what they meant. Today had been planned down to the last minute, the only variable being what happened in this house, and they’d made very clear whatefficientmeant: a forced extraction rather than this. Something about him had rebelled at the suggestion because to do that to a woman and child would be terrifying. Whilst he considered Victoria with certain enmity, he was no monster.

‘As you can see, there’s no need. Her mobile and computer are here with us. You advised she had no landline. What’s she going to do? I assumed you have the perimeter monitored?’

They nodded. Their job had been to secure the house and the street. He’d promised he could get Victoria to come in the car with him, and, whilst he’d played his hand poorly in the beginning, the shock of seeing himself in Nicolai, of seeingheragain, overwhelming, he was on track again.

He hadn’t known what to expect from her. A fight? More shock, even some fear? Yet in the end all his presence had seemed to garner was weary acceptance. Strange, given the circumstances, yet he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Not yet. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a familiar pressure building behind his eyes. Sandro tried to will and hope away the headache he feared was to come, a brutal reminder of the car accident almost a year earlier that his security now believed was a hastily planned assassination attempt.

His cousin Gregorio, The Pretender,as his people had called him, hadn’t let go of the throne as he’d promised to. Nic was simply another part in what appeared to be his plan to regain it. Sandro would never allow him to succeed. His father had never had the measure of his half-brother, who overthrew them in the midnight coup. Sandro wouldn’t make the same mistake.

A voice sounded from a monitor on the coffee table. Soft, lilting. He moved to the screen. Victoria held Nic, chatting to him in her light, laughing voice. The whole of him tightened as she moved around the room, in and out of the frame of the monitor’s camera. Speaking with her son as she readied him, changing his clothes, his nappy. Grabbing who knew what and putting it into a bag, not ceasing her narration to Nic about what she was doing.

‘Your daddy says he has a present for you. Let’s go and see what it is. I hope it’s better than a set of drums, but that’s your favourite thing so far, isn’t it?’

The drums? She’d mentioned them before. He had no idea what she was talking about. Something else to catalogue for later, when he had time.

She slung a large bag over her arm, and picked up Nic.

‘Let’s go, Nicci.’

His security moved to the front hall once more, leaving him alone. A few moments later, Victoria swept into the room with Nic perched on her hip and his breath seized. She’d changed into jeans, some soft blouse in swirling blues that reflected the colour of her eyes. Her hair up in a messy style, a slick of gloss on her lips. Her cheeks pink as if she’d been hurrying. She looked vivacious, beautiful, and he loathed how his body reacted to her in a way that was totally out of his control.

‘I just need to turn off my laptop,’ she said, more to herself than anything. She placed Nic on the floor, where he crawled to a set of drums and began banging away, each beat of that drum jolting through Sandro like some timer. He stiffened as she moved to her computer. Yet all she did was close out of some screens, shutting it down as she’d promised, before grabbing her phone and a smallish book from the table, dropping them into the front pocket of her oversized bag.

‘Okay, I’m ready. W-would you like to carry Nic out?’

He smiled as he picked up his little boy, the first almost genuine smile he’d given since he’d walked into this house and had to pretend not to rage. He led her outside to a car that he knew had only just sped into place. Everything was going to plan, finally.Finally. Then Nic was buckled into the recently installed child seat between himself and Victoria, she handed Nicolai a toy he began chewing on vigorously, and it was almost over.

Half an hour or so, given traffic, and they’d be done. On the way to Santa Fiorina.

Safe.

As they moved off and began to drive away a security vehicle pulled out in front of the car and he knew another would pull in behind. He still had a job to do, a role to play, but for now he sat back, closed his eyes for a second. The pressure in his head began to ease.

‘Is everything all right?’

Her voice was gentle, kind. It caught him by surprise. He opened his eyes, looked at her. ‘Yes. It’s been a busy few months.’

What he thought would be a secret trip to the country that had supported him, and which he’d called home whilst in exile, had morphed into a retrieval mission.

‘I suppose being a king in your circumstances would be. I can’t imagine.’ She looked out of the window. ‘I thought we’d be going the other way...’

‘There appear to have been some roadworks. My security doesn’t want me stopped in traffic.’

Keep her talkinghad been their only suggestion once they got her into the car, and he was good at small talk. Sometimes that was all you had to work with as a king.

‘I’d assume having a young child would be a busy role too.’

Vic took her eyes from the road, back to Nic, her gaze morphing into something warm. A look of love, if he’d been asked. He questioned whether anyone who would throw their hat in with his cousin had the capacity for the emotion. Though perhaps she’d been fooled. Except the money...no. She’d been complicit. He hardened his thoughts against her once more.

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