The Prince's Pregnant Mistress

She flicked the top button of her coat open, her heart pounding. “I’m not going to be your lover, Raphael,” she said, her voice trembling as she continued undoing buttons. She let her coat fall free and revealed the bump that was only just now visible beneath her tight-fitting sweater. “But whether you want to be or not, you are the father of my baby.”

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS RARE that Prince Raphael DeSantis was rendered speechless. But then, it was rare for him to be rejected.

And that had happened twice in the past week.

Were he a man with any insecurity, he might be wounded. However, he was the Crown Prince of Santa Firenze, a man who had been born with the world in hand and every advantage available to him. A man who—upon his birth—had been worshipped by the palace’s many servants, simply because he existed. Reverence was a gift bestowed upon him from his first breath. And he had spent his life ensuring that he maintained the admiration of his people.

And this little waitress had refused him. Then gone on to reveal a surprise he certainly hadn’t seen coming.

“You are certain it’s mine?” He knew the question would earn him more of Bailey’s ire, but he suddenly felt as though everything was hanging in the balance. This woman, who looked at him as though she wanted to do him bodily harm, was carrying the heir to the throne of his country.

She recoiled from him. “How dare you ask me that?”

“I would be remiss if I did not.”

He tried to ignore the hurt in her blue eyes. This changed things. It changed everything. Bailey had been a diversion he wasn’t looking for. And he had allowed himself to get caught up in it. To enjoy the fiction that she had built up around them. That he was a businessman, coming to Vail once every couple of months for meetings and to spend time with her.

Somehow she hadn’t seemed to know who he was. But then, part of maintaining the admiration of his people had been keeping himself out of baser things like tabloid news. Which he had clearly failed at recently. He attributed that to his former fiancée, Allegra.

But it had all come to an end three months ago. He had known that he couldn’t continue his assignation with Bailey right up until his marriage. He had never touched Allegra, and he didn’t love her, but he had intended to be a good husband to her. A faithful husband. Or at least—depending on the agreement they ultimately reached—a discreet one.

When the engagement had ended, however, he had immediately thought to come back to his mistress.

The world was crumbling as he knew it—a slight exaggeration perhaps, but the cancellation of a royal wedding could hardly be deemed insignificant. It had made him tabloid fodder.

His father, the late ruler of Santa Firenze, had despised all forms of media and had felt it wholly beneath a leader to become a headline when he should be aiming to be part of history.

He had instilled this in Raphael, along with strength and steel. There had been no softness allowed in his childhood, and Raphael could see it for the benefit it was now that he was a man, both of his parents long dead and an entire nation left to him to oversee.

In fact, his marriage to Allegra was a testament to that strength. That he had been more than willing to set aside the desires of his flesh for the betterment of his kingdom.

Bailey, no matter that he desired her, could offer no political advantage to his country. Allegra, on the other hand, would bring an alliance with one of Italy’s oldest families and a great deal of influence within the business community thanks to both her father and brother.

Bailey heated his blood. But his time with her was outside the norm...something separate from Santa Firenze. Something he could not afford to bring back there, he had known with certainty. Not only was she beneath him in status, she was a distraction. The sort his father had always warned against.

The only thing Bailey had...was his heir. And that was something that could not be ignored.

He had not foreseen this complication.

“Yes, Your Royal Jackass, it’s your baby. Since you were the one to take my virginity, I would think you would know that.”

“Nearly a year ago, Bailey. Many things could have happened since that first time we were together. I was not always here. And it has been three months since I left you. For all I know, in your grief, you sought solace with another man.”

“Yeah, it’s been a nonstop orgy since you dumped me. I figured, why not just go for it? After all, your royal scepter paved the way. Might as well allow the common folk a chance.”

“Enough. You are being crude, and it doesn’t suit you.”

“Yes it does. It suits me perfectly. As you well know. I am not the kind of woman that you could ever take back to your country, so you must think that. I’m a waitress. A lowly server that you met in a sleazy restaurant better known for the waitresses breasts than the chicken breasts. I would say this behavior suits me perfectly.”

She was vibrating with rage, angry like she’d been the night he had ended things with her. When she had screamed at him, thrown a shoe at him. Hit him with a shoe. It had been the exact response he’d been looking for. He could not have her coming after him. Could not have her being tempted in any regard to find him, not when he was ready to get married and begin producing children. He had made their separation as devastating as possible so she would not seek him out.

Better to spoil her memory of him than leave her longing. Of course, he had changed his mind about that. Which he reserved his right to do. He was a prince, after all.

“You are carrying my child,” he said, looking down at her stomach. She wasn’t showing dramatically, just a vague bump beneath her sweater. Her curves looked a bit more abundant. He considered himself an expert on Bailey’s curves, so he was certain his assessment was correct. “How far along are you?”

“Close to four months,” she said. “It happened before we broke up. But I didn’t know until after.”

“Did you try and get in touch with me?”

That question seemed to make her angry, too. “Yes. I did. Though, since I didn’t know your actual identity, it was a little bit tricky. I texted you.”

The only number that Bailey had was to the phone that only she used. He had been careful to keep everything with her separate. Particularly when he had discovered that she truly didn’t know who he was. There had been something so enticing about it. The chance to come here and be with a woman who had no expectations. To be more himself than any other venue allowed.

And when he had ended things with her, he had gotten rid of the phone. Cutting off his temptation. He didn’t need to save messages from her. Or the occasionally suggestive photographs that she had provided.

“I no longer have that phone,” he said.

“Wow. When you break up with a girl, you really go hard-core.”

He frowned. “You keep using that word, Bailey. As though you were my girlfriend. From my point of view, we never had that kind of relationship.” He realized, even as he spoke the words, that he was being extraordinarily unfair to her.

With most women, he laid out the ground rules from moment one. He had not been seeking Bailey out. Not at all. He had come to Vail to visit a friend’s resort and see about investing in the property and its expansion. And then a blizzard had waylaid his travel.

Not even a man such as himself could control a storm.

He had wandered into a restaurant not far from his hotel, and had nearly walked right back out when he’d seen what sort of establishment it was. But then he had seen her. Somehow, in spite of the tacky surroundings, the horrendous uniform and the dim lighting, she had shone.

He had been able to think of only one thing. One word. Mine.

And there had never been a single thing in his life that he had wanted and had not gotten. He had purposed in that moment that the waitress would be one of them.

When she had made assumptions about who he was, he had allowed her to do so. He had encouraged it. And he had not done as impeccable a job as he usually did of ensuring that the relationship stayed in the bedroom. But he had reasoned that he only ever saw her for a long weekend every couple of months. And it would be wrong to keep her in a hotel room the entire time.

So he had taken her out. He had no connections to Vail other than that one visit to see about investing. The press never had any reason to take an interest in him being there. Or even think that he would be there.

There were a great many advantages to having a relatively low profile.

“What I mean,” he said, attempting to soften his tone, “is that I have lovers, not girlfriends. Women that I carry out affairs with. I don’t date. That’s the issue with being a prince. You cannot simply go public with women, not without expectation being attached. However, I was hardly going to live my life celibate.”

“You had a fiancée.” The words were low, carrying with them an edge of violence.

“Allegra was nothing more than a convenience. She is from one of Italy’s most revered families. She was a reasonable choice for a man in my position. She was not my lover.”

“Well, I guess that’s something,” she said. “So. I figure we need to come to some kind of child support arrangement? I’m having your baby. If you need me to get a paternity test, fine, whatever. I’ll hate you, but I already do. Whatever you need. A cheek swab, my blood. Though I’d prefer not to give blood. I’ve already bled for you. I’m not doing it again.”

“What are you talking about? A child support?”

“Presumably you have a castle. I would like to not live in a heap.”

“And so you want money?”

He found her fascinating. This woman who had not known who he was. This woman who was standing there with a tabloid featuring him at her feet, who had been a virgin when he’d first taken her. Who was asking for child support, and not threatening to go to the press. Not demanding a pied-à-terre in various cities or pieces of the crown jewels.

Clearly, she had no understanding of the situation she found herself in, in spite of what she thought.

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable,” she said. “My own mother was single. And my father didn’t give us anything. I’m not going to consign my son or daughter to that life if I can make it better. I have a responsibility. And so do you.”

“Undeniably I have a responsibility to this child, but I do not think you understand exactly what you’re dealing with here,” he said, staring at her, mystified.

“I’m dealing with an unexpected pregnancy and the best way that I can think to handle it. I want to make sure that you are not living in the lap of luxury while your son or daughter has nothing.”

“Oh, I have no intention of my son or daughter lacking for anything. But if you think that I’m leaving them here in Colorado to be raised alone by you, you have failed to understand the man that you are involved with.”

Her entire face turned pink, her rage seemingly silent for the first time since he had aroused it three months ago.

“I am not sending child support checks, cara. There will be no more discussion of it.”

“What do you mean you aren’t allowing me to raise my child in Colorado? Under what authority? This is America! And last I checked, you probably aren’t a citizen.”

“Diplomatic immunity,” he said, waving his hand, “and a desire to preserve relations with my country, will no doubt see any kind of court battle you should wish to wage fall in my favor. Who would give custody to a waitress from Sweater Bunnies when a prince is on hand to raise the child to rule?”

“You’re going to take my baby from me?” Her voice had turned shrill, and he could see that she was looking around the room, her eyes darting back and forth. Probably looking for a weapon.

“It should not come to that.”

“Start speaking slowly, and spelling out what exactly you’re implying. Obviously I’m not picking up on it.”

“Of course,” he said, “there will be no discussion of my sending you child support checks, and no discussion of the child being raised here, because you will both be in Santa Firenze.”

“I thought I wasn’t fit to be brought back to your country.”

She wasn’t. Even now, looking at her, that intense possessiveness had him in a stranglehold. Taking her, claiming her seemed to be the most obvious choice.

Which was what gave him pause. A ruler was meant to be cool. A ruler was meant to direct his actions with his mind, his sense of honor, not with anything half as fickle as desire or heat.

He wondered what his father might have done in this instance. And then had to concede that his father would never have been so foolish as to get himself in this situation.

He was forced then to weigh his options. To bring back a woman such as this, one he had already decided was unsuitable for his kingdom...it was unfathomable.

But honor. Honor and duty were at the center of all of it, regardless of what she made him feel. His duty was to his child.

“That was before I knew you were carrying my heir.” He took a step toward her, the word mine pounding itself through his head in time with the thundering of his heart. “Of course you are coming back to my country with me now. But not as my mistress. Bailey Harper, you are going to be my wife.”

CHAPTER THREE

“YOU HAVE A private jet.”

“Of course I do,” Raphael said, brushing past her and walking up the stairs into the sleek-looking aircraft.

“Were you in your private jet the night that we met?”

He treated her to a withering look. “I wasn’t flying economy.”

“I just...” She let the words trail off. There wasn’t much to say. Not really. He was not the man she had thought he was. That had become apparent when he’d broken her heart the way that he had, when it had been revealed that there was another woman in his life. This was just another layer to it. She supposed that some people would view this as good luck. The fact that the man who had gotten her pregnant was wealthy, titled and powerful should be some kind of boon.

She looked up at the plane. She didn’t really feel like it was a good thing. Not now.

She just felt small. Small and so desperately out of her depth.

She had argued with him about the marriage thing, and she intended to argue with him even more. But...what could be done? He presented a pretty ironclad case when it came to how he would go about getting custody. And she didn’t want to lose her baby.

Are you sure part of you just doesn’t want to go off with him because it sounds easy?

She banished that traitorous voice, began to walk up the steps and into the jet. And that feeling of being tiny only increased. She was nothing. No one. Just a girl from Nebraska who had gone to Colorado seeking mountains and a fresh start. A girl raised by a single mother in a drafty house built in the 1920s with a sagging foundation and a crack in the ceiling.

She looked around the cabin, her jaw a little bit slack. It was...she had never seen anything like this on the internet. She had idly scrolled through the odd slideshow on various lifestyle websites showing the ridiculously luxurious way that the rich and famous traveled, but she had never imagined she would be standing in the middle of it. Much less ready to fly on board.

“There are bedrooms back that way,” he said, gesturing past the plush living area and bar to the back of the plane. “There is also a bathroom and a shower.”

“There’s a shower?”

“Of course there is.” And that was it. No further explanation. As if it really were the most typical thing on the planet for a man to have a shower on his plane, and she was the absurd one for thinking otherwise.

“Okay then. I will keep that in mind in case I feel a little bit travel stale.”

Her heart began to hammer loudly, her hands shaking as the door to the plane closed.

“You know,” she said, “we don’t have to go now. I have... I have school to finish.”

“You mentioned. In your rant as you packed your things.”

She was failing right now, but still. “Well, it was a valid rant. I worked hard to pay my way this far through school, and if I don’t finish this term, I’ll be out the money for the classes.”

He sat down on one of the tan leather couches, spreading his arms wide over the back, his posture laconic. She had to wonder how on earth she hadn’t realized he was royalty. Sure, she had never been in the presence of anyone who could be considered royal, but he exuded it. How had she ever thought he was a normal man?

You never did. You saw him and the world stopped.

“Come now,” he said, “cara mia, the cost of your college tuition will be the least of your concerns. I can arrange to have you complete your courses remotely. Or you may transfer to one of the universities in Santa Firenze. Of course, you will have to take classes at the palace and not on campus should you choose to do that.”

“Why can’t I go to the campus?”

“You would create a circus.” He tapped the back of the couch with his fingertips. “I am not a man accustomed to getting tabloid attention. My family name has always been upheld, whispered reverently, spoken of with great respect. We are not part of the nouveau riche royal set who takes great pride in posting our social engagements on various online accounts. We take pride in the title. My father did before me, and I do it now. That headline you saw today was an aberration. There is a reason that you were not aware of my identity. I simply don’t court publicity. That is the vocation of celebrity, and I am not a celebrity. I am the ruler of my country.” He sighed heavily. “I dislike the position I find myself in. Because you...you will be a problem.”

“Oh, will I? Excellent. One hopes that I will be too much of a problem for you to want to take on.”

He waved a hand. “Not at all. You see, cara, you are carrying my baby. The most important thing on this earth is the birthright of that child. You must be married to me in order to secure that birthright.”

She blinked. “Is this the Middle Ages?”

“No, this is Santa Firenze. And this is the cost of being royal.”

“Good thing you’re rich. It seems damned expensive.”

“You have no idea. But, suffice it to say, your tuition is not my concern. In fact, it isn’t your concern, either. You have no more financial concerns.”

His words were strange. Made her ears feel fuzzy. She could hardly comprehend them. All she had worried about—from the time she had known what it was like to be hungry, from the moment she had experienced her first night in winter with the heat off because the electricity had been interrupted by the power company—was money. To have this man look at her, snap his fingers and say it was no longer a concern was...it was beyond surreal.

“I don’t... I don’t understand...any of this.”

“It is simple,” he said as the engines to the plane fired up and the aircraft began to glide down the runway. “I am a prince, I cannot have a bastard. I would have preferred a more suitable wife, a wife with a title or a pedigree of some kind. However, you are the one carrying my baby. That means I will have to make do with what I have.”

“More flattering words have never been spoken, I’m sure.”

“This is not about flattery. This is about reality.”

The aircraft lifted off, and as it rose higher, Bailey’s stomach sank into her feet. The longest plane ride she had ever been on was the short trip between Nebraska and Colorado. And nothing more. Which brought to mind other concerns. “Wait,” she said, her heart kicking desperately against her chest, thinking that perhaps she had found a reprieve. “I don’t have a passport.”

He laughed. “That is of no concern to me. I can arrange to have one secured for you.”

“Not by the time we reach your country.”

“That is the thing. It is my country. No one is going to deny you admittance if I say you may have it. And as for coming back to the States, you certainly will eventually. So, we will secure you documentation for that eventuality. However, either way you’ll be fine. You will be traveling with me.”

He was maddening. Nothing fazed him. Nothing even made him pause. He was going about this with all the ruthless efficiency of a commander going into battle. And each and every protest issued from her lips, he struck down like an enemy of war.

“Does none of this bother you?” she asked. “I mean, you say you don’t like being in the tabloids, but you say it with all the fire and passion of an iceberg. Meanwhile, I feel like my life is falling apart. I feel like I’ve been dropped into some third-rate reality show.”

“That’s insulting. This is first-class,” he said, his tone dry, “all the way.”

“Is this a joke to you? Your life has been easy, I get that. It radiates off you in waves. Your privilege. Your wealth. Everything I’ve had I’ve worked for. Every day of my life has been infused with some kind of struggle. Every single thing I own was purchased at great cost. You spend more on bottled water in a week than I spend on groceries in a month.”

“That is probably true. But now this is your life. Do not worry about your roommate, by the way. I made sure to give her several months of rent so that she would not feel your absence too keenly.”

“Nice of you to consider her feelings,” she said, though she was grateful that Samantha wouldn’t be left high and dry. Suddenly a wave washed over her, leaving her feeling adrift. Weightless. “I think I’m in shock,” she said, sinking further back into the chair across from him, her limbs suddenly feeling very shaky.

“Bailey,” he said, his expression concerned. “Are you able to breathe?”

She laid her head back, feeling dizzy.

“No,” she said.

Suddenly he was next to her, his large hands cupping her face. He was warm, and he was so very Raphael. “Bailey,” he said, his tone stern. “Keep breathing.”

Her vision went fuzzy around the edges for a second, then dark...

It came back, with too much clarity, too much brightness. She felt sick to her stomach, a cold sweat on her forehead, her fingers icy. “What happened?” she asked.

“You passed out,” he responded. He looked...he looked genuinely concerned. Though she wondered if it was for her or for the baby.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, pulling away from him. He complied, removing his hands from her face. She hated it. Hated that when he touched her she still felt something. Hated that he wasn’t touching her anymore. Hated herself for caring.

“Have you been passing out regularly?”

“No,” she said, trying not to watch him as he stood up and crossed to the bar. Trying very, very hard not to pay total and complete attention to his every movement. “I’ve had a little bit of a shocking day. I walked into a grocery store and saw that my ex-lover was a prince. Seeing as I knew I was having his baby, it suddenly occurred to me that I was having a prince’s baby. Then I went home, and said prince was in my bedroom. Then he dragged me onto a private plane, all the while demanding that I marry him or he’ll take my baby away. I think I’m just suffering the aftereffects.”

He opened up a bottle of sparkling water and poured it into a glass, his movements deft and swift. Then he crossed the space to her, handing her the drink. “I found out I was going to be a father today, and I seem to be handling it well.”

“Because you’re a robot,” she replied, taking a sip of the bland, fizzy liquid.

“I think that you can attest to the fact that I’m all man, Bailey. Not a robot.”

“Not all. Parts of you,” she said. “You seem to have Tin Man syndrome. No heart.”

“I love my country,” he responded, his tone cool. “I am eternally loyal to it. And I will do whatever is necessary to preserve the legacy. There is no reason for me to panic about the situation we find ourselves in. There is no question that I must marry the mother of my child. And while who you are will require a little bit of damage control, I was already set to be married in the next month. And, presumably, sometime after my wife would have given birth to a child. That has always been the course plotted out before me. All in all, only the bride has changed.”