Page 9 of Crowned For The King's Secret

‘As I’m painfully aware,’ he replied, almost through clenched teeth, as if there was a world of hurt he was holding in.

She supposed there was. Her research had turned up a terrible family history but still, that was no excuse. Her history was no rose garden either. As he’d said to her that night,‘Everyone has their cross to bear...’

‘Which is why I have a special gift for him.’

Sandro’s words dragged her out of recollecting an evening which should have been relegated firmly to the past.

‘Isn’t that enough?’ Vic nodded to the drum kit on the floor which she was sure would be the bane of her existence for the next few months till Nic bored of it.

Sandro frowned. Right. Further proof, if she needed it, that he hadn’t cared enough to choose a gift himself. She sighed. ‘Okay. What gift are you planning to give him?’

‘It’s a...surprise.’

‘I’m his mother; there are no surprises for him at this age. Why couldn’t you bring it here?’

‘Security reasons. It’s the greatest gift that I can physically bestow on him for now.’

Something chilled in her blood. What could a king possibly bestow on his child? An important gift, agreatgift. ‘Are you officially acknowledging him?’

That would mean Nic was his heir, would mean that maybe Sandro would try to take him away from her.

‘Would you like that?’ His voice was soft, almost expectant. Somehow all the more deadly for it.

Except, why would he need security for something like that? And they had a custody agreement. It was unambiguous, official, through the courts. She knew all about the Hague Convention, to which Santa Fiorina was a signatory. Her solicitors had told her that as well. Still, she narrowed her eyes, tried to give him her most frosty glare. She was no pushover, not any more, and royalty had a knack of getting their own way, irrespective of international conventions and legal documents. She needed to remind him of what they’d agreed.

‘You should well know the answer to that question.’

He turned his back on her, shrugged. ‘I’d like you to join me at my hotel for the afternoon.’

In the video feed Nic rolled over again. She willed him to stay asleep, then Sandro might simplygofor now. Till she could stitch herself back up, somehow make herself immune to him.

‘Maybe if you came another time.’

‘It’s difficult for me to leave my country at this delicate stage.’

Mr Falconi had said as much when she’d confronted him over why Sandro didn’t want to see his son. Why reports and photographs were not enough.

‘Things are precarious in Santa Fiorina.’

He’d also mumbled something about public knowledge of an illegitimate child making the situation worse should news come out. Perhaps that was true. She’d never lived anywhere pulled from the brink of civil war before, and didn’t want anything she did tipping someone’s homeland into war again.

‘Perhaps we could have afternoon tea?’ Sandro continued. ‘Spend some time together before I fly out? My chauffeur can drive us. Then he’ll return you home.’

‘You have a car seat?’

He smiled, and that smile was warm and lit up the whole room. ‘Yes. I was hoping you’d join me and we could talk about Nic on the way.’

Tempting.Tootempting. She couldn’t help remembering that other night, where they’d made love, ordered room service, feasted on each other. That drizzle of awareness, that desire. It hadn’t gone. A horrible sense of rightness settled over her, seeing this imposing man in her now humble home. She tried to shake it off. Kings didn’t just turn up on your doorstep bestowing gifts, they made appointments and involved lawyers. This was unexpected. She didn’t much like surprises.

‘Where are you staying?’

‘Why?’

Vic took a deep breath. ‘If I’m to go with you I’d like to know where that is and to confirm you’re booked there.’

‘Of course,’ he said, sounding sincere enough. But the corner of his mouth kicked up in a smirk that seemed almost...knowing. He mentioned the name of a boutique London hotel, a place well known to be frequented by royalty and celebrities. ‘I’ll be happy to call them for you, so you can confirm with the manager.’

He took his mobile and appeared to look into his contacts, rang a number.

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