Secret Heirs And A Forever Family

He wanted to insist that her daughter, their daughter, needed her mother at home. Where she would always be safe. And as their daughter grew, he would want to do the same thing to Issy. And all the other children he hoped they would have one day.

He wanted to wrap his perfect family in cotton wool and keep them locked away for ever from the outside world, so no one and nothing would ever have the power to hurt them. He wanted to protect them with his money, his resources and the last breath in his body. He wanted to cocoon them for ever in the love that still took his breath away every time he laid eyes on either one of them.

But that was the coward’s way out.

Because he’d seen the look of excitement in Megan’s eyes, seen how enthusiastic she was about this new opportunity. And he knew if he loved her, he could not kill that joy—however great his need to protect her from harm.

Damn it. But loving someone more than life itself—the way he loved Megan and Issy—was fraught with so many complications. Complications and difficult choices that he often found it extremely hard to even comprehend, let alone solve.

But then the words Megan had said to him a year ago, in the courthouse in Manhattan, echoed in his head. The words he had had to repeat to himself so many times since: when Megan had been curled over the toilet bowl and throwing up each morning through most of the months of her pregnancy; when he had endured the terror of watching her bring their child into the world through twelve gut-wrenching hours of labour; when he’d held the tiny, vulnerable and unbearably precious life they’d made together in his hands for the first time. The words he knew he would be repeating to himself for the rest of his life: when Issy took her first step; when he had to leave her on her first day of school; when he taught her how to ride a bike, drive a car, sail a boat, fly a helicopter; when she went off to Harvard or Yale—because, obviously, his daughter was going to be the smartest, bravest, most brilliant child the world had ever seen.

To have the joy you have to overcome your fear.

He kissed his fingertips and pressed them to the soft skin of his daughter’s forehead; her tiny chest rose and fell in the regular rhythm of deep sleep. Relief eased some of the tightness in his chest. Thank goodness, he wouldn’t have to face most of those fears with his daughter for a little while at least.

Walking back into the bedroom, he spotted Megan sitting up in their big bed, her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees.

‘Dario? I need to know what you think,’ she said, her anxiety tempered with determination. ‘About me taking the job?’

He climbed onto the bed, then gathered her into his arms. He held her tight, let the swell of arousal—that was always there when she was near him—help him to push out the words.

‘You want to take this job?’ he asked as he kissed her hair, even though he already knew the answer.

‘Yes, I do.’ She swung round in his arms, the eagerness on her face crucifying him a little more. ‘I thought it all through about Issy’s care while I’m at work. Lydia is fabulous with her, and she’s happy to step in. And we’ve got more than enough other staff to take up the slack.’

He’d employed Lydia Brady as soon as he and Megan had moved into the new town house he’d bought on the Upper East Side—concerned that the penthouse apartment might not be suitable for a child. He’d also insisted on hiring three additional staff. Something he knew Megan still struggled with. He was forever coming home and finding the staff helping Megan with some charity project or other that had nothing to do with their domestic duties.

‘And anyway, I’m only going to be working three hours a day to start,’ his wife continued. ‘I told them I want to take the time to wean Issy properly.’

‘Shh, Megan.’ He tucked her hair behind her ears, allowed his thumbs to skim down her cheeks. ‘You don’t have to say any more.’

Dio, but I love this woman so much.

‘If you want to do this thing,’ he added, ‘I would never stand in your way.’

‘Really?’ She smiled. ‘Because I thought… When you walked out with Issy like that, I thought you were upset about the idea. That you were going to object to it.’

He shook his head. He wasn’t the only one with insecurities. Why did he find that so comforting all of a sudden?

‘I could never refuse something so important to you,’ he said, but then he smiled, enjoying the role of devil’s advocate. ‘But if I did, what would you do?’

The quick, seductive smile captivated him as she reached up to cradle his cheeks. ‘Then I guess I would have to convince you,’ she whispered against his lips.

She set her mouth on his. The heat surged at the seductive licks of her tongue.

He chuckled, the sound deep and so full of contentment. A contentment he’d never believed could be his. Her delighted answering smile made his heart thunder in his chest.

They would be okay. This job would be okay. He had to let her have her freedom despite his fears. And Megan need never know that he would hire one of Jared’s security team to watch over her while she was in Brooklyn.

And if she did find out, they could always negotiate. Because if there was one thing his wife was an expert at, it was negotiation.

Scooping her up, he sat her in his lap, held her firmly when she wriggled, inflaming his desires still more.

‘So you think you can convince me?’ He cupped her breast, licking at the rigid tip through the sheer fabric of her nightgown. Arousal surged into his groin when she arched into his mouth, responding with enthusiasm to the erotic torture as always. ‘Perhaps I will convince you first?’ he teased.

She grasped his head and pulled his mouth up to hers. The kiss was long and deep before she drew back.

‘You’re on, big boy,’ she said, clearly relishing the erotic challenge—even though she had to know she’d already won.

His loyalty, his trust and every single piece of his heart.

Secret Heirs: Royal Appointment

A Night of Royal Consequences

Susan Stephens

The Sheikh’s Baby Scandal

Carol Marinelli

The Sultan Demands His Heir

Maya Blake

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A Night of Royal Consequences

Susan Stephens

Claiming his one-night baby

Callie Smith gave up everything to care for her alcoholic father. After his death, she’s finally able to follow her own dreams. And what better way to celebrate than by spending an out-of-character—but outrageously sinful—night with gorgeous Italian prince Luca Fabrizio?

To preserve his family dynasty, Luca was planning to marry a convenient bride—until Callie reveals the consequences of their heated encounter! Having just taken back her freedom, Callie refuses to wear his ring. To legitimize his heir, Luca must persuade her that life in his royal bed will be more pleasurable than she can possibly imagine!

For my most excellent editor Megan,

who is a joy to work with.

CHAPTER ONE

AS FUNERALS WENT, this was as grand as it got. As tradition demanded Luca, who was now the ruling Prince, arrived last, to take his place of honour in the packed cathedral. He was seated in front of the altar beneath a cupola with images painted by Michelangelo. Towering bronze doors to one side were so stunningly crafted they were known as the ‘gateway to paradise’. Tense with grief, Luca was aware of nothing but concern that he’d pulled out all the stops for a man to whom he owed everything. Flags were flown at half-mast across the principality of Fabrizio. Loyal subjects lined the streets. Flowers had been imported from France. The musicians were from Rome. A procession of priceless horse-drawn carriages drew dignitaries from across the world to the cathedral. Luca’s black stallion, Force, drew his father’s flag-draped coffin on a gun carriage with the Prince’s empty boots reversed in the stirrups. It was a poignant sight, but the proud horse held his head high, as if he knew his precious cargo was a great man on his final journey.

As the new ruler of the small, but fabulously wealthy principality of Fabrizio, Luca, the man the scandal sheets still liked to call ‘the boy from the gutters of Rome’, was shown the greatest respect. He’d moved a long way from those gutters. Innate business acumen had made him a billionaire, while the man he was burying today had made him a prince. This magnificent setting was a long way from the graffiti-daubed alleyways of Luca’s childhood where the stench of rotting rubbish would easily eclipse the perfume of flowers and incense surrounding him today. The peeling plaster and flyposting of those narrow alleyways replaced by exquisite gothic architecture, the finest sculpture, and stained glass. In his wildest dreams, he had never imagined becoming a prince. As a boy, it had been enough to have scraps he stole from bins to fill his belly and rags to cover his back.

He inclined his head graciously as yet another European princess in need of a husband acknowledged him with an enticing smile. Fortunately, he’d retained the street smarts that warned him of advantage-takers. He wouldn’t be chaining himself down to a simpering aristo any time soon. Though he could do nothing about the testosterone running through his veins, Luca conceded wryly. Even freshly shaved and wearing dress uniform, he looked like a swarthy brawler from the docks. His appearance had been one thing his adoptive father, the late Prince, had been unable to refine.

Well over six feet tall and deeply tanned, with a honed, warrior’s frame, Luca couldn’t be sure of his parentage. His mother had been a Roman working girl. His father, he guessed, was the man who used to pester her for money. The late Prince was the only parent he remembered clearly. He owed the Prince his education. He owed him everything.

They’d met in the unlikely setting of the Coliseum, where the Prince had been on an official visit, and Luca had been stealing from the bins. He had not expected to come to the notice of such a grand man, but the Prince had been shrewd and had missed nothing. The next day he had sent an aide de camp with an offer for Luca to try living at the palace with the Prince’s son, Max. They would be company for each other, the Prince had insisted, and Luca would be free to go if he didn’t like his life there.

Young and street smart, Luca had had the sense to be wary, but he’d been hungry, and filling his belly had been worth taking a chance. That chance had led to this, which was why honouring the Prince was so important to him. He held his adoptive father in the highest esteem, for teaching him everything about building a life, rather than falling victim to it. But the Prince had left one final warning on his deathbed. ‘Max is weak. You will follow me onto the throne as my heir. You must marry and preserve my legacy to the country I believe we both love.’

Clasping his father’s frail hand in his, Luca had given his word. If he could have willed his strength into a man he loved unreservedly, he would have done that too. He would have done anything to save the life of the man who’d saved him.

As if reading Luca’s thoughts, his adoptive brother Maximus glared at him now from across the aisle. There was no love lost between the two men. Their father had failed to form any sort of relationship with Max, and Luca had failed too. Max preferred womanising and gambling to statecraft. He’d never shown any interest in family at all. He favoured the hangers-on who flocked around him, lavishing praise on Max in hope of his favour. Luca had soon learned that, while the Prince was his greatest supporter, Max would always be his greatest enemy.

Picking up the order of service to distract himself from Max’s baleful glare, Luca scanned his father’s long list of accomplishments and titles with great sadness. There would never be such a man again, a thought that made him doubly determined to fulfil his pledge to the letter. ‘You are a born leader,’ his father had told him, ‘and so I name you my heir.’ No wonder Max hated him.

Luca hadn’t looked for the honour of being heir to the throne of Fabrizio. He didn’t need the money. He could run the country out of pocket change. Success had come when he’d nagged his father to let him bring Fabrizio up to date, and had insisted on studying tech at university. He’d gone on to become one of the most successful men in the industry. His global holdings were so vast his company almost ran itself. This was just as well as he had to turn his thoughts to ruling a country, and to filling the empty space beside him.

‘If you fail to do this within two years,’ his father had said on his deathbed, ‘our constitution states that the throne will pass by default to your brother.’ They both knew what that meant. Max would ruin Fabrizio. ‘This is your destiny, Luca,’ his father had added. ‘You cannot refuse the request of a dying man.’

Luca had no intention of doing so, but the thought of marrying a simpering princess held no appeal. The royal marriage mart, as he thought of it, didn’t come close to his love of being with his people. He would leave here and travel to his lemon groves in southern Italy, where he worked alongside the other holiday workers. There was no better way for him to learn what concerns they had, and to do something to help. The thought of being shackled to a fragile china doll appalled him. He wanted a real woman with grit and fire inside her belly.

‘There are good women out there, Luca,’ his father, the Prince, had insisted. ‘It’s up to you to find one. Pick someone strong. Search for the unusual. Step off the well-trodden path.’

At the time Luca had thought this wouldn’t be easy. Looking around today, he thought it impossible.

As funerals went, this one was small, but respectable. Callie had made sure of it. It was small in as much as the only people to mourn her father’s passing, other than herself, were their next-door neighbours, the rumbustious Browns. It was a respectable and quiet affair, because Callie had always felt she should counterbalance her father’s crude and reckless life. There couldn’t be two of them wondering where their next meal was coming from. If it hadn’t been for her friends, the Browns, laughing with her at whatever life threw up, and reminding her to have fun while she could without offending other people, as her father so often had, she’d have been tearing her hair out by now.

The Brown tribe was on its best behaviour today—if she didn’t count their five dogs piling out of their camper van to career around the country cemetery barking wildly, but they’d given Callie a glimpse of what a happy family life could be, and, in her heart of hearts, love and a happy family was what she aspired to.

‘Goodbye, Dad,’ she whispered, regretting everything they’d never been to each other as she tossed a handful of moist, cool soil on top of the coffin.

‘Don’t worry, love,’ Ma said, putting her capable arm around Callie’s shoulders. ‘The worst part is over. Your life is about to begin. It’s a book of blank pages. You can write anything on it. Close your eyes and think where you’d like to be. That’s what always makes me happy. Isn’t it, our Rosie?’

Rosie Brown, Callie’s best friend and the Browns’ oldest child, came to link arms with Callie on her other side. ‘That’s right, Ma. The world’s your oyster, Callie. You can do anything you want. And sometimes,’ Rosie added, ‘you have to listen to the advice of people you trust, and let them help you.’

‘Anywhere ten pounds will take me?’ Callie suggested, finding a grin.

Rosie sighed. ‘Anywhere has to be better than staying round the docks—sorry, Ma, I know you love it here, but you know what I’m getting at. Callie needs a change.’

By the time they’d all crammed into the van, Callie was feeling better. Being with the Browns was like taking a big dose of optimism, and, after the lifetime of verbal and physical abuse she’d endured keeping house for her father, she was ready for it. She was free. For the first time in her life she was free. There was only one question now: how was she going to use that freedom?

‘Don’t even think about work,’ Ma Brown advised as she swivelled around in the front seat to speak to Callie. ‘Our Rosie can take over your shift at the pub for now.’

‘Willingly,’ Rosie agreed, giving Callie’s arm a squeeze. ‘What you need is a holiday.’

‘It would have to be a working holiday,’ Callie said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t have enough money to go away.’ Her father had left nothing. The house they’d lived in was rented. He’d been both a violent drunk and a gambler. Callie’s job as a cleaner at the pub just about paid enough to put food on the table, and then only if she didn’t leave the money lying around for him to spend at the bookies.

‘Think about what you’d like to do,’ Ma Brown insisted. ‘It’s your turn now, our Callie.’

She liked studying. She wanted to better herself. She aspired to do more than clean up the pub. Her dream was to work in the open, with fresh air to breathe, and the sun on her face.

‘You never know,’ Ma added, shuffling around in her seat again. ‘When we clear out the house tomorrow your father might have left a wad of winnings in his clothes by mistake.’

Callie smiled wryly. She knew they’d be lucky to find a few coppers. Her father never had any money. They wouldn’t have survived at all without the Browns’ bounty. Pa Brown had an allotment where he grew most of their vegetables himself, and he always gave some to Callie.

‘Don’t forget you can stay with us as long as you need to, until you get yourself sorted out,’ Ma Brown called out from the passenger seat.

‘Thank you, Ma.’ Leaning forward, Callie gave Ma’s cheek a fond kiss. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘You’d do more than all right,’ Ma Brown insisted firmly. ‘You’ve always been capable, and now you’re free to fly as high as your mother always intended. She used to dream about her baby and what that baby would do. It’s a tragic shame that she didn’t live to see you grow up.’

She’d soon find out what she could and couldn’t do, Callie thought as the Browns and their dogs piled out of the steamed-up van. She couldn’t stick around for long. She’d be a burden to the Browns. They had enough to do keeping their own heads above water. Once her father’s debts were paid, she’d go exploring. Maybe Blackpool. The air was bracing there. Blackpool was a traditional northern English seaside town with bags of personality, and plenty of boarding houses looking for cleaning staff. She’d research jobs there the first spare minute she got.

It would have been a grim task sorting through her father’s things the next morning, if it hadn’t been for the cheerful Browns. Ma checked every room, while Callie and Rosie sorted everything into piles for the charity shops, things that could possibly be sold, and those that were definitely going to the dump. The sale pile was disappointingly small. ‘I never realised how much rubbish we had before,’ Callie admitted.

‘Mean old bugger,’ Ma Brown commented. ‘He probably took it with him,’ she added with a sniff.

‘I doubt there was anything to find in the first place,’ Callie placated. She knew her father’s ways only too well when it came to money.

‘Nothing left after he’d been gambling and boozing, I expect,’ Ma Brown agreed, disapprovingly pursing her lips.

‘Well, that’s where you’re both wrong,’ Rosie exclaimed with triumph as she flourished a five-pound note. ‘Look what I’ve found!’

‘Well, our Callie!’ Ma Brown began to laugh as Rosie handed it over to her friend. ‘Riches indeed. What are you going to do with it?’

‘Nothing sensible, I hope,’ Rosie insisted as Callie stared at the grubby banknote in amazement. ‘It’s not even enough to buy a drink, let alone a decent meal.’

She would rather have her father back either way, Callie thought, which was strange after all the years of trying to win his love, and coming to accept that there was no love in him. ‘I’ll put it in the charity tin at the corner shop,’ she mused out loud.

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Ma Brown insisted. ‘I’m taking charge of this,’ she said as she snatched the banknote out of Callie’s hand.

‘Think of it as an early Christmas present from your father,’ Rosie soothed when she saw Callie’s distress. ‘Ma will do something sensible with it.’

‘It would be the first gift he’d ever given her,’ Ma Brown grumbled. ‘And as for doing something sensible with it?’ She winked. ‘I’ve got other ideas.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Callie said with a weak smile, hoping the subject would go away now.

Knowing her friend was upset beneath her humour, Rosie quickly changed the subject and it wasn’t spoken of again. The next Callie heard of their surprise find was at supper with the Browns. When the girls had finished clearing up, Ma Brown folded her arms and beamed, a sure sign of an announcement.

‘Now then, our Callie, before you say anything, we know you don’t gamble and we know why you don’t gamble, but just this once you’re going to take something from me, and say thank you and nothing else.’

Callie tensed when she saw the five-pound scratch card Ma Brown was holding out.

‘You’ll need something to scratch the card,’ Pa observed matter-of-factly as he dug in his pocket for some loose change.

‘Close your eyes and imagine where all that money’s going to take you,’ Rosie urged, glancing at the other Browns to will them to persuade Callie that this could be a good thing if she got lucky.

‘All what money?’ Callie had to smile when the Browns fell silent. Silence was such a rare occurrence in this household, she couldn’t let them down.

‘It’s time for a change of luck,’ Rosie pressed. ‘What have you got to lose?’

The Browns had been nothing but kind. The money she’d get from the scratch card would likely take her as far as the hearth to toss it in the fire when it proved a dud. ‘Close my eyes and imagine myself somewhere I’ve always dreamed of…’

‘Open your eyes and scratch the bloody card,’ Ma Brown insisted.

As everyone burst out laughing Callie sat down at the table and started scratching the surface of the card.

‘Well?’ Ma Brown prompted. ‘Don’t tease us. Tell us what you’ve got.’

‘Five. Thousand. Pounds.’

No one said a word. Seconds ticked by. ‘What did you say?’ Rosie prompted.

‘I’ve won five thousand pounds.’

The Browns exploded with excitement, and the next few hours were spent in a fury of mad ideas. Opening a pie and peas shop next to the pub, a sandwich bar to serve the local business park. ‘I want to give my money to you,’ Callie insisted.

‘Not a chance.’ Ma Brown crossed her capable arms across her capacious chest, and that was the end of it.

Callie made up her mind to put some of it aside for them, anyway.

‘You could buy all the rescue dogs in the world,’ one young Brown called Tom said optimistically.

‘Or a second-hand car,’ another boy exclaimed.

‘Why don’t you spend it all on clothes?’ one of the girls proposed. ‘You’ll never get another chance to fill your wardrobe.’

What wardrobe? Callie thought. Her worldly possessions were contained in a zip-up bag, but she smiled and went along with this idea and they all had some fun with it for a while.