Soldier Prince's Secret Baby Gift

‘Nathan said you were proud and independent,’ Antonio said gently. ‘Which is a good thing. But your brother was part of my team. My friend. And, despite what you must think, my team are like family to me. If I can help to make life easier, Miss Phillips, please let me know. Nathan wouldn’t have wanted you to struggle.’

He was offering her a financial handout? She kept her temper with difficulty and said politely, ‘Thank you, Your Royal Highness, but we’re managing just fine as we are.’

‘I didn’t intend to offend you,’ he said. ‘Just…’ For a moment, he looked racked with guilt. ‘I couldn’t do anything to save your brother.’

‘It wasn’t your fault that he was killed. And Nathan knew the risks of the job before he signed up for it.’ She knew her brother had wanted to follow in their father’s footsteps.

‘I know. But it doesn’t stop me missing him.’

Then he looked shocked, as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

And again that bleakness was back in his eyes for a moment before he managed to hide it again.

Prince Antonio, despite his privileged upbringing, seemed lonely, deep inside. Right now she’d been given a glimpse of the man behind the cool, collected mask. And she could almost hear her brother’s voice echoing in her head: He could do with a hug.

Which would be way outside official protocol. Then again, some things were more important than protocol. So Tia put her mug on the coffee table, walked over to Prince Antonio, put his mug on the coffee table next to hers, and wrapped her arms around him.

For a long, long time, he just stood there, unmoving; but then, just as she was about to apologise and take a step backwards, he wrapped his arms around her and held her back, warm and comforting.

She really, really had intended it as comfort. Just comfort. Sharing their grief.

But one of them—she wasn’t sure which of them—moved, and his cheek was pressed against hers. Her skin tingled where it touched his. Another tiny movement—hers? His?—and the corners of their mouths were touching.

The tingle spread.

Another infinitesimally small shift, and then his mouth was brushing against hers.

She shouldn’t be doing this.

He was a prince and she was a waitress. Their lives were so far apart, it was untrue. Neither of them was in a position to start any kind of relationship. He had official duties and she was busy working and looking after her mother. Nothing could possibly come of this.

But the temptation to take comfort from him and to comfort him in turn was so strong.

Maybe this was something they both needed. Just for one night. No strings.

Because, just as Antonio had shown no emotion when he’d come to tell them the news about Nathan, Tia had locked her own tears away because she’d needed to be strong for her mother.

When he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, she could see the tears glittering there, the emotion he was trying so hard to repress.

Maybe tonight they could cry together. Find a release together. Comfort each other. Heal each other.

Just for tonight.

‘Stay with me, Tia?’ he whispered.

Common sense said that she should leave. She was due at work tomorrow morning. And there was her mother to think about.

But Becky was only next door if she was needed. Tia could drink coffee tomorrow rather than tea to get her through her shift. Right now, Antonio needed her—and she needed him.

She laid her palm against his cheek. ‘Yes.’

He kissed her again, scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed.

CHAPTER ONE

November

THERE WAS NO other way round it, Tia thought, curving a protective hand around her bump.

Miles Montague, the palace secretary, had been perfectly polite to her just now. But, just as he’d done with every single one of her previous calls, he’d rebuffed her, refusing to put her through to Antonio. She’d begged him to pass on a message, asking Antonio to call her. She’d told Miles that she knew the Prince, and it was really important that she speak to him.

But Miles had left her with the impression that, as an eligible bachelor, Prince Antonio had hundreds of women calling, claiming they ‘knew’ him because they had shaken his hand once or attended an event where he was on the guest list. The palace secretary clearly thought she was just another in a long line of unwanted callers, and he wasn’t going to put her through.

Miles had been kind enough. He’d asked her if he could help. He’d asked her to tell him what the problem was.

But how could she let news like this go through a third party, no matter how discreet he seemed or how well he knew Antonio? This was something she needed to tell the Prince herself. That their one night together, the night that was supposed to give them both comfort and never be referred to again, had had consequences.

She’d tried to explain that Antonio knew her brother; but Miles had asked in that kind but immovable way exactly how Antonio knew her brother, and she’d ended up in tears of frustration.

How could the palace secretary not even know the names of the people who were on Antonio’s team in the international alliance? Surely he’d know information like that?

Frustrated and miserable, she’d ended the call.

She’d tried a dozen times now to talk to Antonio, to tell him about the baby.

And failed a dozen times, too.

She didn’t have his email address, and even if she did she suspected that someone else—probably Miles Montague, or one of his team—would check through the messages before they reached Antonio, weeding out the ones they judged unimportant or inappropriate, which would definitely include hers. The same would go for letters. Any message she left would be blocked just as effectively as her phone calls had been blocked.

It left her with no other alternative. She’d have to go to Casavalle herself to tell him about the baby. Face to face.

If she sat on Antonio’s doorstep and refused to budge, they’d have to let her talk to him. And she could tell him the news—well, as she was six months pregnant, he’d be able to see that quite well enough for himself, she thought wryly—and then leave.

Originally, she hadn’t intended to tell him at all. She hadn’t realised for a couple of months that she was pregnant; then, when she’d finally realised her period was a lot later than usual and did a test, she’d seen the centre spread in the celebrity magazine she’d bought for her mum as a treat. A story about Prince Antonio of Casavalle, speculating which of the four women who’d graced his arm that month might be his future bride.

How ironic. Tia had thought she’d had a glimpse of the real Prince, the man her brother had been friends with—but maybe he was exactly what the media said he was. He hadn’t really needed her to comfort him, that night, because he had strings of women ready to comfort him. And she’d been so angry at herself for being a fool that it had taken her mum another month to talk her round into telling Antonio about her pregnancy.

Six weeks later, she still hadn’t told him—though not for the want of trying.

She grimaced. She didn’t expect anything from him, either for herself or for the baby, and she certainly wasn’t looking for a cash handout or anything like that. Antonio had been her brother’s friend, and she owed it to him to tell him that the baby existed. And that was the limit of their obligations to each other, because their lives were too different for anything else to happen.

She flicked into the Internet. The cheapest flight to Casavalle would get her in at about half-past eight tomorrow evening. She had no idea how far it was from the airport to the palace, but even though she wouldn’t have to wait to collect her luggage she would still have to go through airport security and customs. Maybe she’d get to the palace at ten p.m.—which was way too late for anyone to be admitted to the palace offices.

To get there for the early afternoon… She scanned the flight schedules. She’d have to leave London really early in the morning and change planes at Rome, and she’d have a two-hour layover in between. Plus the flight was a lot more expensive. It was money she could really do with elsewhere in her budget; but if she got the cheaper flight and stayed at a hotel overnight, it would cost even more, and she couldn’t waste money that she needed to spend on the baby.

She stroked her bump. ‘Hopefully we’ll find somewhere quiet to sit at the airport, and we’ll get a taxi from the airport to the palace.’ She’d ask to speak to Miles Montague. And as soon as he saw her he’d realise exactly why it was so important for her to talk to Antonio. Then she could deliver her message—and go home.

Wednesday. ‘Hump day’, they called it in civilian jobs. The middle of the week.

Except you didn’t get a day off from being a prince, Antonio thought.

And you particularly didn’t get a day off when you had a long-lost older sister who was very probably going to be the one taking their father’s place as the ruler of the kingdom, and an older brother whose fiancée had told him on the eve of their wedding that she was pregnant with her true love’s baby, resulting in the royal wedding that the whole country had been looking forward to being cancelled at the last minute. The Asturias family were just as keen as the Valentis to minimise the scandal, so they’d issued a joint statement to the media that the wedding had been cancelled due to ‘irreconcilable differences’ between the bride and groom.

Luca, wanting to get away from the palace, had gone to meet their long-lost half-sister Gabriella in Canada; which meant that, instead of their original plan of Antonio being the one to go over and meet Gabriella, he was stuck here.

In charge of the country.

Something he’d never really expected to happen, despite being third in line to the throne. He’d thought his father would go on for ever, and then Luca would take over, and then Luca and Princess Meribel would have children who would be next in line.

But, this last year, their lives had been turned upside down. Everything he’d thought he knew turned out not to be true.

Life at the palace was turning out to be much more stressful than taking part in dangerous missions in the army. At least as a soldier Antonio had known what he was doing. He’d had a strategy. He’d had a team he could rely on. They were all working on the same side; his team listened to him, as their leader, and he’d had a brilliant second-in-command in Nathan. In Casavalle, things were nowhere near as clear cut. It was so easy to misinterpret words and put the wrong spin on things; the most innocent comment could swiftly turn into a political nightmare.

Just one day, he thought wistfully. He’d love to have just one single day where he could have the time to gather his thoughts instead of constantly firefighting and dealing with political situations. Had it been like that for their father? Was that why King Vincenzo had always been so remote and distant, even from his sons, because he’d simply been worn out from watching every single word or expression or gesture?

At the rap on his open door, Antonio looked up to see the palace secretary standing there.

‘Good afternoon, Miles. What can I do for you?’ he asked, forcing a smile and hoping that whatever the secretary wanted from him wasn’t going to mean yet more politics and media attention.

‘Sir,’ Miles began.

The palace secretary was usually unflappable. Right now he looked distinctly nervous and Antonio’s heart sank. Was the palace about to be hit with yet another scandal? They said things came in threes, and a long-lost princess and a broken engagement because the bride was pregnant by someone else definitely counted as two…

This felt like living in a television soap opera. And Antonio wasn’t enjoying the drama one little bit. Yet again, he wished he was back in the army. Back in the job he was really good at.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘I have someone asking to see you.’

Why would Miles be worried about that? ‘Who?’ he asked, narrowing his eyes.

‘A young lady. Tia Phillips. She said she knows you.’

Tia was here?

Antonio shook himself mentally and damped down that little frisson of desire. Their one night together wasn’t going to be repeated. They’d both made it clear that it was for comfort, it was for one night only, and neither of them had any expectations of the other. And Miles didn’t need to know anything about that. He just needed to know that Tia was telling the truth. ‘Yes, she knows me. I served with her brother.’

Guilt flooded through Antonio. In a way, he’d abandoned Tia twice, now—the first time after he’d told her that her brother had been killed, because he hadn’t known how to deal with it; then he’d been called back to work, and after that his father had died and he’d been busy with official duties. The second time had been that night in London following the charity gala, when they’d ended up comforting each other in bed. Tia had vanished early the next morning before he’d awoken, leaving him a note explaining that she was due at work.

Which had pretty much let him off the hook.

Part of him had felt relieved, because it meant he didn’t have to unpick his feelings and deal with them; but part of him had felt guilty about sleeping with his best friend’s little sister. It had been mutual comfort, but he still felt responsible. And he’d planned to call her to see if there was anything he could do to help her mother. He wasn’t that much of a cad, no matter that the media liked to call him a playboy who would never settle down. The only true bit about the media’s claims was that he didn’t want to settle down; he kept his love affairs short and very discreet. And he always made it very clear that he wasn’t offering his girlfriends a future. That the relationship was just for now, not for ever.

But, as he’d been about to call Tia, that morning, his mother had called him with the news about Gabriella and her potential claim to the throne. Queen Maria had needed her youngest son to come home to discuss the situation with her and help her to plan what they should do next; and it would all have to be done confidentially because she hadn’t wanted to put the extra pressure on Luca, who they both thought had quite enough on his plate ruling the country. All thoughts of Tia had flown out of his head and he’d gone straight back to Casavalle without getting in touch with her.

Antonio and the Queen had been close to working out how to deal with the situation about Gabriella when Princess Meribel dropped her bombshell and Luca’s wedding was cancelled. Everything had gone haywire after that, and in the last month Antonio felt as if he’d barely had a moment to breathe.

‘She’s telephoned the palace a few times,’ Miles said, ‘but I didn’t expect her to turn up here.’

Tia had called a few times? Why? ‘Why didn’t you put her through?’ Antonio asked.

Miles winced. ‘I didn’t want to repeat the mistake I made with Gabriella’s letter to Queen Maria.’

Gabriella’s letter. The bombshell that had made it through to the Queen because it was marked ‘Personal and Confidential’. Luca had been quite hard on the palace secretary about it, and Miles had been extremely vigilant about which messages made it through to the family ever since.

But Antonio was the youngest child, and he was pretty sure he was more approachable than his father had been—or even his elder brother. And surely Miles had known him for long enough to realise that Antonio wouldn’t go all cold and icy on him if he made a mistake? Things happened unexpectedly; you just had to deal with them efficiently and effectively as they came up.

‘And now she’s here, wanting to see you,’ Miles continued.

Antonio smiled, wanting to reassure the secretary. ‘That’s fine. As I said, I worked with her brother. He was a good friend. I can spare a few minutes to talk to her. Where is she?’

‘In my office,’ Miles said. ‘But, sir, before you go to meet her, you need to know that she’s making some quite outlandish claims. She says she’s six months pregnant—and she says the baby is yours.’

‘She what?’ Antonio felt as if someone had just winded him.

‘She’s pregnant. Very pregnant.’ Miles winced. ‘You can see the baby moving in her stomach.’

Antonio counted back in his head. May. They’d slept together in May.

And now it was November.

Six months.

Antonio was pretty sure that this wasn’t a situation like his brother’s, where Princess Meribel had been at the point of possibly passing off another man’s baby as Luca’s. Nathan had been proud of his little sister, proud of her independence and her loyalty and her resourcefulness. Antonio believed that Tia wouldn’t lie about something like this.

Plus the timing fitted exactly.

‘But of course the baby can’t be yours,’ Miles said.

Oh, yes, it could.

Six months.

Tia must’ve known she was pregnant for at least three of those months, probably more. Why on earth hadn’t she said anything to him before?

Then again, Miles had said she’d called a few times but he hadn’t put her through. Clearly Tia had tried to talk to him and she’d been gently put aside by the palace secretary.

‘How long has she been trying to get in touch with me?’ Antonio asked.

‘A few weeks,’ Miles admitted.

So she must’ve tried to tell him almost as soon as she knew about the baby, then. If Miles had been stonewalling her for weeks, coming here must’ve been the last resort for her because she’d had no other way to get in touch with him—apart from going to the media and causing his family maximum embarrassment, and that just didn’t fit with what he knew of Nathan’s little sister.

‘I spoke to Prince Luca about it,’ Miles continued, ‘and he agreed it was most likely she’d seen your photograph in a magazine, decided she was in love with you and made up a story to—’

‘Hang on. Luca knew about this?’ Antonio cut in.

‘That she’d called you. Not about the baby.’ Miles squirmed. ‘I only found out about that today, when I saw her. The bump is, um, quite noticeable.’

Antonio groaned. ‘We’ll discuss this later. Luca, too. But I need to see her. Now.’

‘You mean she’s telling the truth, sir?’

‘Yes,’ Antonio said grimly, the guilt he felt at sleeping with his friend’s little sister intensifying by the second. Not only had he slept with her, he’d made her pregnant. ‘The timing matches up, so I’m pretty sure the baby’s mine.’ And he sprinted out of the room towards Miles’s office.

Tia felt sick—and it was nothing to do with her pregnancy and everything to do with the situation. What had she been thinking, coming here? Now Miles Montague had left her in his office, her surroundings sank in. She was in a palace—a palace, for pity’s sake. People like her didn’t go to palaces, not unless they were visiting a stately home or museum while on holiday. This was surreal.

And just how was Antonio going to react to the news? With shock? Dismay? Horror? She’d told herself all the way here that his reaction didn’t matter, that she’d deliver the news and walk away—but it did matter, now she was here. And a tiny, very foolish part of her couldn’t help hoping that he’d be thrilled to see her and would sweep her into his arms…

Of course that wasn’t going to happen. She was six months pregnant, and he certainly wouldn’t try to lift her. And this was his territory. He’d be every inch the cold, snooty Prince who’d told her that her brother had been killed.

Right on cue, Antonio strolled into the room, all cool and calm and unruffled. He didn’t even bat an eyelash or look remotely shocked; just as she’d guessed, he was totally cold. And that tiny, daft bit of her that had been hoping for the impossible simply shrivelled and died.

Worst of all, the flare of attraction she’d felt towards him was still there. Stronger, if anything, now she knew what it felt like to spend the night in his arms. Even seeing him made her heart feel as if it was doing a somersault.

How stupid was she? He was a prince and she was a waitress. The stories about Cinderella, Snow White, and Beauty and the Beast were just that: fairy stories to entertain children. This was real life; and her life was about as opposite from Antonio’s as it was possible to get. They didn’t have a future together.

‘Good to see you, Tia,’ he said.

Was it? His face was so unreadable, she didn’t have a clue.

‘I trust Miles has offered you some refreshment?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ And she’d refused. All she’d wanted was to see Antonio, deliver her message and leave so she could catch her plane home. Now she was here, she really wanted to leave.

He looked at the clear desk in front of her and frowned. ‘I’ll organise some tea. That is, assuming you can drink tea?’

She knew what he was referring to; but she was well past the morning sickness stage. ‘Thank you, but no thank you. I’m not staying.’

He said nothing, simply tipped his head slightly to one side to indicate that he was listening to whatever she had to say. He looked every inch a prince, and incredibly remote and forbidding.

She lifted her chin. ‘I just came to let you know the situation.’

‘That you’re six months pregnant, according to Miles. You could have—’

Told him? OK, so she’d waited a month, not wanting to talk to the Playboy Prince. But for the six weeks since her mother had persuaded her to talk to him, she’d been trying, and it stung that he was making her feel as if she was the bad guy. ‘I tried,’ she cut in quietly. ‘I rang the palace. More than once, actually. But I didn’t want to leave a message about this. I wanted to tell you myself. Mr Montague wouldn’t put me through to you when I called. In case you’d lost my number, I left it again. But, as you didn’t call me back, I assumed he didn’t tell you that I’d called.’

She didn’t have a clue about how he was reacting to this. Was he shocked, angry, horrified? This man had inscrutability down to a fine art.

‘It meant that coming to tell you in person was my only option. So now you know.’

He hadn’t made a single move towards her. That night in London… Well, obviously Antonio had drawn a line under that, a long time ago. They both had. Neither of them had expected consequences. Although she’d left him that note, and a tiny bit of her had hoped that he’d call her, she hadn’t really expected him to do anything. That night was what it was. A one-night stand.

Then the reality of it hit her. She’d assumed that Miles Montague hadn’t passed on the message. Maybe he had given Prince Antonio the message, but the Prince simply hadn’t wanted to return her call. How could she have been so stupid?

She clearly wasn’t wanted here, and neither was the baby.

Though she’d expected Antonio not to want to know, she’d had time to get used to the idea of being a single mum. She’d cope. Coping was what she’d done every day since Nathan had left to join the army and she’d become her mother’s sole carer at the age of thirteen. She’d find a way to juggle motherhood, a job and continuing to care for her mum. Giovanni and Vittoria, her bosses at the café, were kind and sympathetic. It would be fine.

She suppressed the memories that had rushed into her head when Antonio had walked into the room—the surge of desire, the memory of the way his skin had felt against hers, his strength combined with surprising gentleness. Although this man was the father of her baby, she had to remember that first and foremost he was a prince—and her feelings towards him were completely inappropriate, as well as completely unwanted by him.