Modern Romance April 2020 Books 5-8

‘That wasn’t my fault. If you had bothered to answer my emails—’

He waved that away with a flick of his wrist. ‘The past is past. I know what you have come to tell me now. And I am going to do something about it.’

She opened her mouth, but again he halted her speech with a slash of his hand. ‘I’m willing to bet my mother has noticed my absence and is already sending someone to look for me as we speak. Do you wish me to handle this and come back to you or not?’

What could she say to that except, ‘Yes. Okay.’

With an abrupt nod he walked out the door, leaving her with an icy dread she couldn’t quite explain. A wave of dizziness rushed over her, and Violet stumbled over to the nearest set of sumptuous matching sofas and sank into the nearest seat. Scenarios raced through her mind as an hour ticked by without Zak returning. She had the absurd thought that he’d abandoned her, was circulating the ballroom, secretly laughing at the absurd news she’d delivered.

The doors opened and a second guard entered. Violet watched, a little bemused, as the two guards exchange a low-voiced conversation before advancing towards her.

‘Would you come with me please, miss?’ one said.

‘Where are we going?’ she demanded suspiciously.

‘His Highness has requested that you meet him at a different location.’

Frowning, she glanced towards the double doors that led back to the wedding reception. ‘But…my mother…’

Her words were met with a blank stare.

Aware that returning to the ballroom now would attract questions, Violet concluded it was wisest to get this meeting with Zak out of the way. Rising, she smoothed at her hand down her thighs and nodded at the guards. ‘Lead the way.’

They led her away from where the reception was still in full swing, traversing a series of hallways until they emerged into an enclosed courtyard where a gleaming black unoccupied limousine stood idling. The back door was open with the driver poised at attention beside it.

She resisted the urge to ask the guards where the driver was taking her, suspecting that she’d be stonewalled. Sucking in a breath that did nothing to sustain or restore her equilibrium, Violet slid into the car and fought back a shiver as it was shut softly but precisely behind her.

The car rolled forward. Through tinted windows, she saw the palace grounds whizz past. Mourned the beautiful architecture and stunning city of Playagova she’d been too preoccupied to fully appreciate.

Within minutes they were pulling up to a building that looked suspiciously like an aircraft hangar. Her suspicions were confirmed when the car glided to a smooth stop next to a gleaming jet a size smaller than the one in which they’d flown to Tanzania.

Its tail fin bore the same royal logo. The driver opened the door, courteously holding out his hand. For a moment, Violet hesitated. Sensing she would get no answers from the driver either, she alighted, then watched in surprise as he rounded the bonnet, slid behind the wheel and drove off.

‘Hey, where are you—?’ Realising she was alone in the cavernous space, and that she was speaking to thin air, she turned and eyed the steps that led into the plane.

Apprehension eating at her, she climbed the stairs and entered another sumptuous, custom-designed interior. Aged cherry wood complemented gold-veined marble in a masterful display of opulence that would have completely bowled her over had the sight of Zak, lounging in a large club chair at the far end of the plane, not absorbed every ounce of her attention. She approached him only because she didn’t want to conduct this meeting by shouting the length of the plane, her feet moving soundlessly over the thick carpet. She stopped within ten feet, close enough to talk but not enough to be overwhelmed by his presence. Much.

‘What is this, Zak? What am I doing here?’

He didn’t immediately reply, instead looked past her and nodded.

Glancing sharply over a shoulder, Violet saw the pilot acknowledge Zak’s silent command and retreat into the cockpit.

Only then did Zak address her. ‘Sit down, Violet.’

She eyed the doorway, swallowing with relief to see it was still open. ‘No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.’

‘I thought we could speak privately about your…news.’

‘You can’t say the words, can you?’

His gaze dropped again to her belly, a look slashing across his face but disappearing far too quickly for her to decipher. ‘That you’re pregnant? That you claim to be carrying my child?’

‘Claim? I thought you said I’d be too reckless to pull the wool over your eyes with such a claim?’

‘We’ll get to the details of that in a moment. First, I really wish you would sit down.’

Two things pierced her consciousness simultaneously.

The first was that the engines of the plane had started up, the stairs electronically retracting until the door shut with a soft whoosh.

The second, as icy foreboding raced down her spine, was the sight of the weekend bag that should’ve been in her hotel room sitting against an interior door of the plane.

The enormity of what was happening weakened her knees. Before she could collapse and disgrace herself, she sank into the nearest chair, which happened to be the one directly opposite him. He rose with lithe, efficient movements, secured her seat belt, then stayed put, crouched before her as if he expected her to jerk upright and sprint for the door. As she wildly wanted to do.

But already the jet was rolling forward, slowly gathering speed once it had left the hangar.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Her voice was nowhere as firm as she wanted it to be. Because she suspected she knew what was happening. Knew but refused to acknowledge it.

‘You’ve been demanding my attention, mia bella. So I’m giving you what you want.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

ZAK STARED DOWN at the sleeping form of the woman who claimed to be carrying his child. He wanted to be amused at the hours of silent treatment she’d punished him with following his announcement, right before she’d just as silently taken him up on his offer of the master suite to rest.

He couldn’t dredge up an ounce of humour.

He’d instructed his personal security chief to dig into every second of Violet’s movements since their night in Tanzania. Preliminary reports indicated that besides work and being in her apartment in New York, she’d done little else.

No secret lover hovered in the wings, aiding her plot to deliver this bombshell into his life. Even communication with her own mother had been kept to a minimum, fuelling his impression from what he’d spotted of the strain between the two women during Remi’s wedding reception that Violet was avoiding her own mother.

That notion had been confirmed when Margot Barringhall had, under the guise of congratulating the new royal couple, cornered Zak to demand if he knew what was up with her daughter.

If even her own mother didn’t know…

He shook his head, knowing he was avoiding the main subject that need to be addressed. His feelings towards her news.

He was going to be a father.

Simultaneous waves of ice-cold shock and a red-hot need to claim thundered through him, as had been happening ever since Violet had made the life-changing announcement.

A child.

His heir.

He didn’t regret the steps he was taking to ensure that no whiff of scandal accompanied this news. His mother’s announcement that she was stepping down from the throne with immediate effect, together with his brother’s imminent coronation, would be fodder for those who sought to take advantage of the changes going through the kingdom to further their own nefarious ends.

But kidnap? Really?

Si, he affirmed to himself. His actions were justified. As he had learned to his cost when his father had died, delaying in taking action could prove detrimental.

While she may have lapsed into mutinous silence following his announcement that he was in effect kidnapping her, he wasn’t in any doubt that this was merely the calm before the storm.

Zak shoved his hands into pockets, refusing to acknowledge the act was to stop him from tracing his fingers down her smooth cheek, then running them through silky hair loosened by sleep. Long eyelashes curled against her paler than normal cheeks, her make-up having failed at its job of disguising the shadows under her eyes or the weariness turning down her sensual lips.

He’d spotted the signs of strain long before he’d approached her at the reception. Had spent far too long wondering if he’d overworked her.

He frowned, belatedly realising he hadn’t asked after her health. How was she coping with the baby? Was his child the reason she looked so pale?

His child…

He exhaled long and hard, registering that with the passage of time the icy dread was receding, and in its place was an even greater clamour. One that demanded immediate and definitive resolution to her claim with a claiming of his own.

As if she could intuit his thoughts, she shifted in her sleep, angling her body away from him and cradling her belly with her right hand.

Another hard smile curled his lips.

Whether she knew and expected it or not, she’d sealed her fate by informing him that she carried his child. No Montegovan child born of the royal family had ever gone unclaimed. When his father’s indiscretions had come home to roost, they’d been forced to accept his half-brother, despite Jules’s existence creating chaos within the royal household.

Even the very thought of a small part of history repeating itself made him grit his teeth. He turned and strode to the nearest window. They were still hours away from landing at their final destination. He needed to return to his seat, ensure his plan was firmly in place.

But even as the thought rippled through his mind, he was looking over his shoulder at Violet as she tossed again in bed. For a moment he entertained the notion of joining her there.

Almost immediately he rejected the idea.

Temptation was what had led them here in the first place. Temptation was what had driven him to Australia for the last two months, pursuing his trust’s interests on the other side of the world secure in the knowledge that she was on her way out of his life.

Except she hadn’t been. And she couldn’t have found a more permanent solution if she’d tried.

Bitterness twisted inside him. She’d well and truly pulled the wool over his eyes.

But no more.

If the child she carried was his—and he was still of the opinion that she wouldn’t dare to attempt to foist another man’s baby on him—Violet would be left in no doubt that he fully intended to claim what was his.

That thought settled deep within him, finally erasing any doubt or apprehension about the course of action he was taking.

Slowly retracing his steps back to her, he paused long enough to pull the light coverlet over her body before he exited the master suite. Passing the sitting area, he made his way to the conference table on the lower deck of the plane. Within the hour, he had temporarily relocated the hub of his trust, prioritised the most urgent matters, and effectively rearranged his immediate future in anticipation of what was to come.

By the time the plane touched down on his private runway, Zak was ready and armed with every weapon he needed to ensure the outcome he wanted.

The thought that ripped through him, the one that boldly hinted that claiming his child was no guarantee that he would be a better father than his own had been, he pushed away, and rose when the plane slowed to a stop.

First he would claim his child. Then he would attempt to do what his father hadn’t been able to do. Not irreparably shatter his child’s life with lies and callous betrayal.

Even more determined, he headed for the master suite to wake Violet.

It was time to face this thing head on.

‘Where are we?’ Violet asked, blinking at the blinding sunshine pouring through the aircraft windows.

She hadn’t expected to sleep for this long. Was sure she looked a sight.

The strain of delivering the news of her pregnancy and what had come afterwards had been too much to withstand. And once she’d realised there had been no way to escape Zak, she’d barely been able to contain her composure, seeking solace in silence as a way to counteract the wild hysteria simmering just beneath the surface.

When Zak had offered the master suite, it’d been all she could do not to race from his presence and lock herself in the room as quickly as possible. Expecting to stay awake from her churning thoughts, she’d fallen into a deep sleep, the most restful she’d had since discovering she was pregnant.

Now she was awake, the enormity of the situation was even more overwhelming, not less. Aware he hadn’t answered, she sucked in a breath and glanced his way.

He was waiting for her, incisive gaze devouring her as he answered, ‘We’re at my private island in the Caribbean.’

Of course they were.

He would hardly kidnap her and take her to a bustling metropolis where she could scream her head off and attract attention at the first opportunity, now, would he?

She shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself, fearing the worst. But how else could she explain what he done? ‘You kidnapped me,’ she accused, while hoping he would deny it.

He merely shrugged. ‘Let’s not place labels on actions just yet, shall we?’

‘Of course not. Because what could be more damning than a royal prince intent on protecting his pristine image?’

His eyes narrowed on her face. ‘You look better rested,’ he said, smoothly changing the subject.

‘In time for the interrogation you have in store for me, I’m sure.’

His sensual lips pursed and he advanced towards her, holding out his hand. ‘It doesn’t have to be an interrogation.’

‘Oh? What do you call this, then, spiriting me thousands of miles away just to have a discussion with me? Did you even think to ask me or are my wishes completely irrelevant to you?’

His hand dropped like a stone, his face hardening even further. ‘I told you why I was taking steps to safeguard my family’s privacy. My brother just got married. My mother is weeks away from stepping down from the throne. Have you forgotten that there are those who will take advantage of another hint of scandal to further their own agendas?’

Her heart lurched, a reminder of that meeting with his defence minister rising to the fore. ‘You really think they would use news of a child as a tool?’ she muttered.

His hand rose again, this time more commanding. ‘It’s not a scenario I’m willing to wait around for or risk discovering first-hand. You will stay here until we settle things between us.’

He wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

That much was evident in the watchful intensity in his eyes. But the suspicion that he wasn’t giving her the full picture and that she really couldn’t very well stay on the plane for ever forced her to toss aside covers she couldn’t remember pulling over herself and, ignoring his outstretched hand simply because she didn’t think she could withstand his touch on top of everything else, rose to her feet.

Her shoes were nowhere in sight, neither was her weekend bag.

Before she could demand their whereabouts, he reached for her, sweeping her smoothly into his arms.

She suppressed a gasp as he pressed her against his hard-muscled body, reminding her with sizzling efficiency of everything she’d tried to forget about his physical perfection. And failed. ‘Put me down. I’m quite capable of walking.’

‘Your things have been packed in the car, including your shoes. Unless you wish to burn your feet on the baking asphalt outside, I’m your ride.’

There was no use arguing because he was already striding out of the plane.

If it hadn’t been the height of absurd childishness, she would have squeezed her eyes shut and pretended he didn’t exist.

But he did exist.

He was a solid unshakeable presence in her life, intent on…

What were Zak’s true intentions besides the excuses he’d tossed at her? And why couldn’t she stop the rush of awareness at being pressed so tightly against him?

Violet took a keener interest in her surroundings, eagerly wishing for anything to dissipate his effect on her. But even her surroundings were intent on assaulting her senses with an overload of beauty.

Tall palm trees swayed in the distance, a carpet of lush greenery extending left and right of the long runway as far as the eye could see. What she knew of private Caribbean islands was that they were compact, easily traversable from one end to the other.

Not this one, of course.

Several minutes after Zak had placed her in the front seat of a gleaming SUV and slid behind the wheel, they were still nowhere near their destination. Sunglasses shielded his expression from her and, apparently deciding to take a leaf from her book, he’d lapsed into silence once they were in the car.

Behind them, two more SUVs followed, one containing his bodyguards and the other with a boot full of luggage, triggering the suspicion that Zak intended to remain here for a while. It was that thought that triggered her speech.

‘How long do you expect this theatre to play out?’

He slanted a glance at her. ‘Theatre?’

She waved her hand at the scenery. ‘You say you’re trying to protect your family from the scandal you think my announcement will bring. But we could’ve had this conversation anywhere. Instead, you’ve brought me here to yet another symbol of your status. To what? Drive home the fact that I’m a mere commoner? You want to put me in my place, is that it?’

‘Yes. All of the above,’ he replied drily.

So drily, she couldn’t decipher whether he was serious or joking. Then she called herself ten kinds of fool for thinking he would deny the accusation.

‘I also intend to limit your access to the outside world, at least until we have a few things straightened out between us.’

‘There’s nothing to straighten out. I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby. End of.’

She wasn’t aware of the full extent of his tension until his grip visibly relaxed on the steering wheel. ‘I believe we’ve just settled the first thing to my satisfaction.’

About to frown, her jaw dropped as she stared at him. ‘You brought me here suspecting that I wasn’t going to go through with this pregnancy?’

One shoulder lifted in an eloquent shrug.

‘Establishing there’s a pregnancy and telling a father of his child’s existence doesn’t automatically mean the state is willingly accepted. Not yet, anyway.’

‘What other reason could I…?’ She froze, then gasped again, growing a little light-headed as his meaning sank in. ‘You believe I told you about the pregnancy to leverage it? For what?’

‘Off the top of my head? Everything you’ve ever desired since you were old enough to desire it. But your outrage is duly noted. As is your protectiveness.’

The last bit was uttered in a gruff voice, his gaze dropping to where her hand had somehow found itself over her belly again.

This time she didn’t drop it or attempt to disguise the action. They were alone, and really she was done being the soul of discretion about the child she carried. Zak had brought her here just so she’d be out of the public eye. She wasn’t about to deny her child’s existence.

She was still absorbing the twisted cynicism that informed his every action when they crested a low hill.

The white, sprawling plantation style house sat on top of another hill, surrounded on either side by tall swaying palm trees. And sloping away on either side, lush grass rolled away several hundred feet before turning into the white sand of a pristine beach.

All that perfection was set against a backdrop of a sparkling sea that couldn’t have more stunning if it had been drawn by the world’s most talented artist.

As prisons went, it was magnificent enough to snatch her breath from her lungs. On any other occasion, Violet wouldn’t have stopped herself from vocalising her appreciation.

But this wasn’t any other occasion. She’d been brought here for the sole purpose of being kept away from the world, a problematic stain that Prince Zakary Montegova had yet to decide what to do with.

The stony ache in her chest bruised her but she managed, barely, to hang onto her composure. She’d displayed far too many weaknesses in his presence already. The even bigger battle was ahead of her, so she had to keep her wits about her. Remain calm in the face of his highhandedness.

And find a way off this gilded paradise as soon as possible.

The moment the car drew to a stop, she reached for the door handle.

‘Violet, wait—’

She ignored his growled instruction. And stepped out onto baking paving stones.

With a yelp, she sprinted towards the front door of the mansion, fleeing the suppressed curse that sounded behind her and Zak’s quick strides as he chased her down.

So much for maintaining her composure.

The doors opened smoothly and Violet skidded to a halt, her face flaming as she caught the stares of a dozen uniformed men and women who comprised the household staff.

A few glances at her attire reminded her that she was still in the gown she’d worn to Remi’s wedding. Despite the air-conditioned interior, the heavy silk stuck to her skin, the short train dragging and out of place in this place where shorts and bikinis were the norm.

With her feet bare and her hair in disarray, she knew she looked a sight. Nevertheless, she plastered on a tentative smile as Zak sauntered to a stop beside her.

In deep languid tones, he made introductions, the amusement in his voice as he introduced her as Lady Violet Barringhall setting her teeth on edge.

There was nothing ladylike about her appearance. And it was all his fault. Once the majority of the staff had dispersed, they were left with the head butler.

‘We’ll take refreshments in the living room, Patrick,’ Zak said, and then he caught hold of her wrist.

Violet went along with him simply because she didn’t want to give an even worse impression of herself in front of his staff. The moment they were alone, she wrenched herself from his grasp.

‘We can finish this thing now. I’m sure it’ll only take a few minutes. Then you can get me off this island.’

He waved a hand at one exquisite striped sofa. ‘Sit down, Violet.’

‘I’m getting tired of you ordering me about, Zak.’

‘You’re a guest in my house and I’m offering you due courtesy.’

‘I’m not a guest. I’m your prisoner. Let’s get at least one thing straight.’

His face tightened. ‘Very well. If you think yourself a prisoner then you should be aware of a few things. There is no way off the island except by boat or air, both of which are under my strict command. Attempt to solicit help from the staff and you will merely be embarrassing yourself. Is that clear?’

She swallowed a knot of disappointment.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Did I just shatter your dreams?’

She forced a laugh. ‘Don’t flatter yourself.’

For a second, a bewildered look chased across his face but it was extinguished just as quickly. ‘Would you like a tour of the property? Most people are content with being in the lap of luxury. Perhaps you’ll change your mind after you’ve seen the place properly?’

‘If you wanted me to view this place as anything but a prison, you should’ve tried inviting me instead of kidnapping me.’

‘Would you have come?’

The question was so unexpected it left her speechless for a moment. Would she have dropped everything to spend time with Zak on his island paradise? When self-preservation alone dictated that she stay as far away from him as possible? ‘No.’