Her Prince's Secret Son

With a near-regal grace, she rose, fists clenched at her side, her chin thrust upward. “Then here’s the deal, Prince Charming. I want to spend time with my son and get to know him. I want to be his mother.”

She wanted to be Nico’s mother? Cold fear sliced through Aleks. “You should have thought about that a long time ago, Sara. Nico is mine and mine alone. You will have no part in his life. None ever.”

“A little late for that, don’t you think? You’ve brought me here. I’m involved.”

“As a hired body part. Nothing else.”

She blanched and rocked back, biting down on her bottom lip.

Aleks refused to be moved by her wounded reaction. He would do anything to protect Nico, particularly from the woman who had abandoned them both.

In clipped tones with barely suppressed anger, he said, “Presenting a sick child with a long-lost mother is not in his best interest. Have you no compassion whatsoever? Think of the questions he’d ask! Do you want him to know that he was given away at birth? Do you want him asking why he’s never known about you? His health is far too fragile for that kind of revelation.”

Sara made a tiny noise of dismay and began to move around the room. She twisted her fingers together, worrying a small gold ring on her pinky. The hem of the yellow sundress swished softly against her thighs as curvy hips swayed below a slender waist.

Aleks didn’t want to notice her lush body or to remember the silk of her thighs against his palms. With firm resolve, he focused on the coldness of her heart and on his plan.

Now, while Sara was still in a state of shock, he had to press his advantage. “I’m prepared to pay you a million if you are a match and another million after the surgery.”

He was prepared to pay her far more than that should she balk. Everyone had a price.

Like a wounded tigress, Sara whirled on him. “Get this through your pig head, Aleks. I don’t want your money. I want my child.”

“He is not yours to want.”

On a sharp inhale, she drew up to her full height, shoulders high and tight as she contemplated him.

While Aleks held his own breath, she exhaled in a rush of words. “Then I won’t cooperate. You’ll have to search elsewhere for your donor.” She marched to the door and yanked it open. “You’ll also have to excuse me, Your Majesty, I must pack. I’m leaving in the morning.”

Aleks was stunned by the woman’s audacity. She was showing him out?

When he didn’t move, she said, “I never had the chance to know my son. I don’t want your money. I want to spend time with Nico. That’s the deal, Aleks. Take it, or I’m going home.”

Aleks could scarcely believe this was happening. She was bargaining with Nico’s life. But why? He didn’t believe for one second that she would turn down a million dollars in the end. Why the pretense of belated maternal feelings? Did she despise him enough to hurt him through Nico?

Whatever the reason, Sara was worse than he’d dreamed.

“Close the door.”

He had no wish for this conversation to be carried by the servants to his mother’s ears. She was upset enough. She would be livid to learn of the bargain he was about to strike.

The door snapped shut. Sara stood with one hand on the pull, facing him as calmly as if they were trading automobiles. Only the quiver of pulse above her collarbone indicated distress. “Do we have a deal?”

What choice did he have? He wanted Nico alive and well, and Sara was his only chance.

“You may visit his rooms, but either I or the queen must be present at all times.”

She cocked her head. A silver earring glinted against the pale skin of her neck. “You don’t trust me.”

About as much as he trusted the king of Perseidia. “Not in the least.”

A small skirmish went on behind sea-blue eyes but finally she said, “Okay, agreed, as long as I can see him as often as I like.”

“Done.” He reached for the door handle and paused. “One thing, though, Sara, is not negotiable.”

She regarded him warily. “And that is?”

Calling upon four years of festered anger and bitterness, he said, “Nico is never to know you are the bitch that whelped him.”

The color, which had drained from her face, now surged forth, setting her delicate skin aflame. She raised a hand as if to strike him. He caught her wrist. “I think not.”

Long after Aleks left her alone, Sara sat at the window staring out at the magical country of Carvainia. Aleks’s country. Her baby’s country.

Emotional exhaustion made her limbs heavy so she could hardly lift her hands to swipe at the tears flowing down her cheeks.

Her baby was here. After the years of guilt and regret, she’d found him. All this time of worry and he’d been right here with his natural father. She was glad for that, though still astonished by the turn of events. Nothing Aleks said in explanation had made any sense. He claimed to have contacted her but she knew he hadn’t. And yet, how could he have known about the pregnancy? How could he have gotten custody of Nico?

Joy at finding her son intermingled with the loss of years and the fear that he was deathly ill. Now that she’d found him again, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

She longed to go to his rooms and stay with him every minute of every day. But she knew without a doubt that if she tried to see him now, without Aleks’s permission, a host of staff would block her way.

And so she waited for him to return with the contract he insisted she sign. A contract. Dear heaven. What had happened to the man who’d claimed to love her?

She reached for a tissue and rubbed at eyes gone raw and hot. A sob slipped from her lips. Aleks had offered her money to help her own child. How low she had fallen in his eyes that he would believe such an offer was necessary. She would do anything to see Nico well. Her demands to see him were nothing more than a bluff though she’d been praying the entire time that Aleks would fall for it. Even if he’d refused, she would never have left this castle without doing all in her power to save her child’s life.

Part of her didn’t blame Aleks for despising her. Didn’t she despise herself for letting go when she might have found a way to keep their child? Wasn’t she haunted by a host of what-might-have-beens?

The door opened and Antonia entered carrying a tray. “You must eat something, Miss Sara. Lunch is long past.”

The young woman set the tray on the small round table at Sara’s elbow. Sara took one glance at the array of beautifully prepared finger foods and shook her head. “Thank you, Antonia. I’m not hungry.”

Antonia studied her with compassion. “You are upset, miss. Let me get some cucumber slices for the swelling in your eyes. And perhaps I could arrange a soothing massage and a spa treatment?”

Sara shook her head. No amount of pampering could soothe the ache in her heart. “Not now.”

Clearly wishing to provide service, but at a loss, Antonia lingered. Except for the attendant’s fidgety movements the suite was quiet, the sounds of activity outside the door silenced by the thick stone walls.

“A refreshing candle, then,” Antonia said.

The rasp of match against striker sawed at Sara’s raw nerve endings. A teardrop flame flared, and then the smell of sulfur mingled with the clean scent of vanilla.

“If you are certain you don’t require anything—”

“Nothing.” Sara lifted a limp hand, but the effort was too much and she let it fall to her lap. “Thanks.”

“If you should change your mind, please ring. Prince Aleksandre left specific orders that you are to have everything you desire.”

Yeah, right, anything but her son. Sara gave a short, joyless laugh. “Your Prince Aleksandre is a royal jerk.”

Antonia gasped and with a polite bow made a hasty exit, apparently disturbed that anyone would speak ill of the prince. Sara supposed she should be more careful. After all, this was not America. For all she knew, she may have just committed a crime punishable by stoning.

No, Aleks wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that for certain, not because of the love they’d once shared, but because he needed her.

She reached for a strawberry but didn’t eat it. How could she eat with this enormous wad of hope and fear and longing filling up her insides? When she could touch her son and hear his voice and see him smile, then she would be filled in a way that had nothing to do with food.

If only Aleks would hurry, but she knew he would not. He was no longer the kind and playful and fiercely protective man she remembered. He was a ruling prince, unyielding and cold. Perhaps the war had done that to him. She’d been shocked to hear that he’d fought beside his men, and yet her Aleks would have done exactly that.

Her Aleks. A bitter laugh escaped her, sounding loud in the large, quiet room. This Prince Aleksandre was not her Aleks.

Her Aleks had loved her, and she had loved him.

But she had to face the truth and her own culpability. She had killed his love by putting his son up for adoption.

She picked at the strawberry’s leafy cap.

A new fear crowded into an already overwhelmed mind.

Aleks had agreed to let her spend time with Nico now. But what would happen after the surgery, after Nico was well again?

Aleksandre d’Gabriel was the absolute law and ruler of Carvainia. She, a simple bookshop owner from Kansas, had no legal rights in this place. Once Aleks had what he wanted from her, would she ever see her son again?

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