Cavelli's Lost Heir

Lily shook her head. “Why? So you can marry your princess and raise my child with her? Not just no, but hell no.”

Nico’s brows drew together. “We will need to work on that mouth of yours. It’s unfit for a royal.”

Lily snorted. “But not unfit enough for you two years ago when you seduced me, huh? Go to hell, Nico,” she said, stressing his name without the title.

“You most definitely require etiquette lessons, cara mia.” His gaze raked her from head to toe. “And a suitable wardrobe.”

Lily stiffened. Her clothes might not be the height of fashion, but they were usually clean and neat. Unlike now, when she’d spent the last twenty-four hours in a prison cell and just wrestled on the floor with a prince.

Nico retrieved a cell phone from a table. “You and your son will never want for anything again. You will no longer have to work. I will take care of you both.”

Lily stared at the gleaming phone held so casually in his hand, his words more seductive than she cared to admit. Never to have to struggle again? Never have to worry about keeping her apartment or her health insurance? Money and freedom from the fear of not having enough to take care of her baby?

But no. What was he offering her—the chance to be a kept woman while he married his princess and had babies with her? She’d work herself half to death before she accepted such treatment. She’d taken care of Danny this long; she could continue to do so just fine on her own.

“I can take care of my son without you,” she said.

His expression grew so chilly she had to suppress a shiver. “Apparently I have not expressed myself in a manner you understand. There is no choice, Liliana. You and the boy belong to me.”

Lily snorted. “Even you can’t own people, Nico.”

He merely smiled at her. A frisson of warning raced down her spine and pooled in her belly. A moment later, he lifted the phone to his ear and began speaking in Italian. This time, it was a conversation, not simply a set of orders. When he finished, he laid the phone on a nearby table.

“What did you do?”

His self-satisfied smile did nothing to ease her tension. “Five million dollars is a lot of money, no? Do you think your friend will turn this down for you?”

Black spots swam before her eyes, but Lily refused to buckle. “My God…”

“Si, it is not likely, is it?” He moved closer, shadowing her like the predator he was, impossibly male and utterly beautiful in spite of the hatred she felt for him in that moment. “She will not turn it down, Liliana. Shall I tell you why?”

When she didn’t reply, he continued, “Carla has a boyfriend with a little problem. He likes the game tables in New Orleans a bit too much, yes? He has taken much from her in the last three years. Her savings are gone, her house leveraged in excess of its current value. This money represents a new life, cara mia. She will not say no.”

Lily blinked up at him. She knew she was defeated. Carla hadn’t told her the extent of Alan’s problems, but Lily had known that it worried her. Carla was almost as bad as her own mother when it came to her slavish devotion to a man who cared more for himself than for her.

His fingers stroked down her cheek, impossibly tender when compared with his actions. She shuddered in spite of her vow not to react. “What do you plan to do with my baby?”

His eyes hardened, his hand dropping away. “Our baby, Liliana.”

Lily faced him squarely, ready to do battle, heartsick and heartbroken all at once. “You can’t buy me off, too, Nico. I will never leave Danny with you willingly.”

“Clearly not,” he said, his voice deepening with anger. “But you will not need to do so.”

Lily gaped at him. “My God, you are unbelievable—how do you think your wife-to-be is going to feel about me and Danny, huh?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“What? Are you insane?”

Nico grabbed her by the arm and propelled her toward the opposite wall, her puny resistance not slowing him in the least. He approached a door, and for one crazy minute she thought it was a bedroom and there was a woman inside. He would throw open the door and there she would be, the Princess Antonella Romanelli of Monteverde, a black-haired gray-eyed beauty, sprawled across silk sheets and pouting prettily because her lover was taking too long to get the baby mama under control.

Abruptly, they slammed to a halt, Nico pivoting behind her, the full length of his body pressing into her. She tried to jerk away, but he gripped her chin—more gently than she expected—and forced her head forward.

Lily gasped. “Is this a joke?”

She stared at her reflection—their reflection—in the mirror. The darkness of his fingers against her skin, her hair wild and tumbling around her shoulders in a silky mess. Her pink cotton shirt was stained over her left shoulder, and her eyes, though tired, gleamed with fury. Nico, in contrast, was cool and unruffled. If not for his quickened heartbeat against her, she’d almost think him bored.

But no, there it was, that flash of something in his eyes, in the set of his jaw, that spoke volumes without a sound being uttered.

“No joke, Liliana. I have broken a long-sought-after treaty between my country and Monteverde, not to mention embarrassed my father and our allies, so that I can do what should have been done the instant you conceived my child.”

“I—I don’t understand,” she whispered, searching his face in the mirror, her heart slamming into her ribs.

“Of course you do,” he replied, dipping his head until his lips almost grazed the shell of her ear. Almost, but not quite.

“You, Miss Lily Morgan, are about to become the Crown Princess, my consort, and the mother of my children.”

Chapter Three

SHE LOOKED UTTERLY STUNNED. Not that he blamed her; he was still somewhat stunned himself. He had a son with this woman, a fact that had the power to punch him in the solar plexus and leave him gasping for breath every time he thought of it.

A son she’d kept secret from him. The electric current zapping through him as he pressed against her was most certainly rage, nothing more.

“You can’t be serious,” she finally squeaked out. Her green eyes were huge as she blinked at him in disbelief. The platinum color of her hair made her almost ethereal. Surely, this is what had attracted him to her in the first place. That and the fact she’d been blissfully unaware of his identity. The experience was so novel that he’d quite possibly been more attracted to her than he would have otherwise been. She’d treated him like an ordinary person and he’d found it refreshing.

“I am indeed serious, Liliana.” He’d gotten his answer in the moments before he’d left his quarters to attend the State dinner. His investigators worked remarkably fast, and what they’d turned up was evidence he could not ignore. She’d given birth almost nine months to the day from the night he’d made love to her. She could have found another lover right away, true, but the child’s resemblance to him was too strong to discount. He would of course take the official step of verifying the child’s parentage, but it was merely a formality at this point.

When he considered how he’d missed the first seventeen months of his boy’s life, how this woman had kept his son from him, he wanted to shake her and demand to know how she could do such a thing. He let her go before the urge overwhelmed him and took a step away.

He would marry her because his personal code of honor would permit nothing less. It was his duty. But he didn’t have to like it. Or her.

She spun around to face him. “B-but I’m not a princess, I don’t know how to be a prin—”

“You will learn,” he said harshly. She wasn’t the ideal bride for him, but she could be trained. She was attractive enough, and she’d already proven she had the moxie required to stand up beneath the pressure. When she was coiffed and dressed appropriately, she would no longer appear so common. She was not as beautiful as Antonella, but she was quite lovely in a natural way. Antonella didn’t affect him one way or the other. He could take or leave the Monteverdian princess.

But Lily—

Nico crossed to the bar and poured another cognac. This time he downed the liquid himself, welcomed the burn of fine Montebiancan brandy. Per Dio, it’d been a hell of a night thus far. And he wasn’t finished fighting with himself.

Part of him, a mad and primal part of him, was so completely aware of the woman across the room that he wanted to haul her to his bed and strip her slowly before burying himself inside her for the rest of the night.

Madness. Sheer madness. The urge filled him with both hunger and rage, and he worked to force it down deep and put a lid on it.

In the two months since Gaetano had died, he’d mostly ignored the sensual side of his nature as he’d worked to further Montebiancan interests and be the kind of heir to the throne that his people deserved. He was sorely regretting the lack at the moment. It made Lily Morgan seem far more irresistible to him than she should be.

“Surely we can work this out another way,” she said, her voice small and hesitant. “You can have visitation and—”

“Visitation,” he exclaimed, slicing her words off before she could finish. He shrugged out of the sash and tossed it aside, then worked the buttons of his uniform jacket with one hand, throwing it open with an angry gesture to let the air from the terrace door he’d left ajar cool his body. This night had thrown him so far out of balance that he half wondered if he would ever recover his equilibrium. “You are quite lucky this is no longer the Middle Ages, Liliana. As it is, you are getting far more from me than you deserve.”

If he thought she would be chastened by his words, he was in for a surprise. She lit up like a firecracker. Dio, she was lovely. And she’d just cost him five million dollars, a trade treaty with a neighboring kingdom, and every last shred of credibility he’d built since becoming the Crown Prince. Being illegitimate, and having the playboy reputation he’d had before his brother’s death, he’d had to work doubly hard to prove himself.

Now, all his effort lay in tatters around him. The thought fueled the anger roiling in his gut.

“More than I deserve?” she said, her voice not small any longer but large and strong. “How dare you! I’ve been on my own for these two years, enduring what you could not begin to imagine in your ivory tower, taking care of a baby and—”

“Silence!” There was no way on this earth he would listen to her berate him for what had been essentially her decision to keep him in the dark about their child. She would pay for what she’d done. He was far too angry, far too close to losing the last shred of his control. “If you are aware of what is good for you, cara, you will not speak of this any further tonight.”

She opened her mouth, and he slapped the crystal on the table and moved toward her. When she scurried backward, her eyes widening, he checked his progress. He was on the edge of emotions he’d never felt before, torn between wanting to protect and destroy, and it made him reckless.

He snatched up the phone and pressed the button that would summon his housekeeper. When he put it down, Lily was chewing her lip, arms folded beneath her breasts as if to protect herself. Or to keep warm. The night was probably cooler than she was accustomed to in her native Louisiana. A tremor passed over her, confirming his observation. Beneath her shirt, her nipples peaked, small and tight, and goose bumps rose on her skin.

Nico swallowed, remembering how perfect her breasts had been when he’d first bared them to his sight. How responsive she’d been as she’d moaned and clutched his shoulders when he kissed the tight little points.

Dio, this was insane.

Nico shook the memories away and peeled off his jacket. “You are cold,” he said as he closed the distance between them. “Take this, cara.”

He placed the jacket on her shoulders and she clutched the material around her, thanking him softly. He turned his back on her and moved away.

He heard the intake of her breath, braced himself for what she might say next—but there was only silence.

Finally, she spoke. “Nico, I’m sorry that—”

The door opened and the housekeeper entered, interrupting whatever she’d been about to say. Nico didn’t look at her again.

“Please show our guest to her room,” he told the woman awaiting his instructions. “And send someone to clean up the broken glass.”

Signora Mazetti gave a short bow and waited for Lily to join her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily remove the jacket and place it carefully over the back of the settee closest to her. Then she followed the housekeeper without complaint.

Lily awoke to the sound of china and silverware delicately clinking together. She sat up, yawning, and blinked as she tried to take in her surroundings. Brocade curtains hung from a canopy and were drawn back to let light filter into the giant bed. For a moment, she thought she’d been upgraded to the best suite the hotel had—but then she remembered.

She was in the palace, in Prince Nico’s apartment. If you could call a wing of a royal palace an apartment. And she was as much a prisoner here as she’d been in the dungeon cell of the old fortress.

A woman in uniform stood off to one side, fussing with a tray. She turned and dropped a curtsy before coming forward and settling the tray laden with bone china and thick silverware across Lily’s lap.

“His Highness says you are to eat and dress, signorina. He wishes you to join him in precisely one hour.”

The woman curtsied again and slipped out the door, closing it behind her. Lily started to set the tray aside, but the scents of coffee and food wafted up to her, reminding her how hungry she was. She’d been unable to eat during the twenty-four hours she’d spent in prison. Last night, all she’d wanted was to shower and sleep—but now her stomach rumbled insistently.

She thought about tossing on her clothes and trying to find a phone—maybe she could call Carla and explain she was being held against her will. Or maybe she could call her boss and tell him she’d been kidnapped. She’d call the consulate herself except she couldn’t waste precious time looking for the phone number. Someone would help her, she was positive.

Her suitcase had arrived, but her laptop, cell phone and passport had not been returned, naturally. Nico had cut off not only her contact with the outside world, but also any chance of escape. But Lily Morgan did not give up so easily, damn him.

Her stomach growled so hard it hurt, and she had to acknowledge that if she didn’t eat something now she wouldn’t get very far. Lily wolfed down the fresh bread and thinly sliced meats and cheeses along with a soft-boiled egg and two cups of strong coffee with cream.

Half an hour later, after she’d showered again and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she tried the door. It was unlocked and she slipped into the corridor, looking right and left. Which direction had she come from last night? She couldn’t remember, so she started down the hall and tried doors. When she emerged into the living room where Nico had coldly informed her she would be his wife, she stumbled to a halt, a shocked “Oh” escaping her. With bright sunlight spearing through the windows and through the terrace doors, the room glittered with gold and colored glass mosaic.

She dragged her gaze from the opulence of the room and searched for a phone, finally finding it on an inlaid cherry-wood table beside one of the velvet couches. Lily snatched it from the cradle, not sure who she should call first.

“You have to go through the palace operator, I’m afraid.”

Lily jumped and slammed the phone back down. Nico stood across from her, a newspaper in one hand, a cup in the other. He was so tall and elegant. She didn’t usually think of men as elegant, but Nico was. Elegant, gorgeous and so masculine he shot her pulse through the stratosphere just looking at him.

He wore a dark gray suit that was clearly worth more money than she’d ever made in six months of work. The fabric looked beyond expensive, perfectly tailored. He also wore a crisp white shirt with no tie, and black loafers. A ruby signet ring glittered on his right hand.

“I want my phone back.”

“You will have a new phone, Lily. And many other things besides.” His gaze raked her from head to toe and she bit the inside of her lip. No doubt he saw a poor ragamuffin, a woman unfit to be a princess, and was disappointed. Well, by God, she was unfit to be a princess. Nor did she want to be one. She would never, ever fit in here. It was preposterous.

Lily thrust her chin in the air. “I’ve reconsidered your offer,” she said. “You can visit Danny whenever you like, and I will bring him to Montebianco often, but it’s impossible for me to marry you. We’ll just have to manage another way.”

“Manage?” He set the cup and paper down and came over to where she stood, looming above her. He seemed surprised—or maybe he was amused—but quickly masked it with his trademark arrogance. “You have misunderstood once again, Liliana. There was no offer. There is simply what will be.”

“You can’t possibly want to marry me,” she said softly, staring up at him with her heart thudding into her throat. Did he have to be so darn breathtaking?

“What I want is of no consequence.”

“It’s not what I want.”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that two years ago.”

Lily blew out a breath. “I don’t think either of us was thinking much that night, were we?”

A muscle in Nico’s jaw ticked as he watched her. “Clearly not. But what about after, Lily? What about when you learned you were pregnant?”

She studied her clasped hands, suddenly unable to look at him. “I didn’t know who you really were.”

“But you found out. Why did you not contact me then?” His voice was controlled, as if he were struggling with his temper.

Lily put distance between them, instinctively wrapping her arms around herself. How could she tell him she’d been afraid? Afraid he would take her baby away and paradoxically afraid he’d be the kind of father she’d had growing up? Instead, she focused on the one truth that was easily explainable. “Assuming I could have figured out how to get past the layers between you and the public, would you have believed me?”

“Eventually.”

Lily bit back a bitter laugh. “Oh yes, how lovely that would have been.”

Nico sliced a hand through the air, as if cutting through their conversation. “None of this is important now. What is important is that you still had no plan to inform me. Had you not found yourself detained here, I would never know of our son’s existence, would I?”

“No,” Lily said quietly, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

Nico’s eyes hardened. “Trust me, cara, if there were another way, I would send you far from Montebianco and never see your deceitful face again. As it is, I think we shall have to make do with the situation, si?”

“I’m deceitful?” she said, her voice rising. “Me? What about you? Not only did you fail to tell me you were really a prince, but you also seem to have forgotten you were supposed to meet me in front of the cathedral—”

“I was called back to Montebianco unexpectedly,” he cut in, his voice rising to match hers. “I sent someone to inform you.”

“I didn’t get the message.”

His expression didn’t change. “You have only yourself to blame. When my man was unable to find you, I sent out inquiries. Had I known your real name was Margaret, I might have been able to contact you.”

Lily bit down on her bottom lip, surprised at how quickly she found herself on the verge of angry tears. She would not allow this man to affect her so strongly. Not now. It was too late to discuss what-ifs.

“I’ve always gone by my middle name. Why would I have told you my legal name as if you were a prospective employer or something? It simply didn’t occur to me.”

She shook her head. Wasn’t it just the story of her life to have something so vital hinge on something as simple as a legal name? “I don’t want to be unhappy. I don’t think you want to be unhappy, either. And if you force me to marry you, we will both be miserable. You have to see this is true, right?”

“It is too late for that,” he said harshly.

Lily tried to sound reasonable. “Why? You could still marry your princess and have children with her. And how can Danny be in line for the throne anyway? Don’t princes have to be born legitimate?”

Nico’s face was a stone mask. “In Montebianco, royal is royal.”

“I don’t want this for my child,” Lily insisted. “I want him to grow up normal.” The wealth frightened her. And not only Nico’s wealth, but the atmosphere he lived in. How could Danny be anything but spoiled rotten if he grew up here? How could he become a decent young man, and not a womanizing lothario like the prince standing before her? It terrified her, the thought her boy would be lost to her once he arrived. And that he would become the kind of man she despised most.

Oh God, how could she be tied to a playboy prince for life? Because no matter that she was the only woman he’d ever gotten pregnant—and it must be true considering the lengths he was going to in order to keep her here—he was still the worst sort of Casanova. Would she become just like her mother, desperate for one man’s affections and willing to put up with whatever he dished out just to be with him?

Worse, would Nico be a fair-weather father?

“He is our child, Lily. You have already tried to deprive him of his birthright with your selfishness.”

She blinked. Selfish? Was she? Was it possible?

“That’s not true,” she said. She sounded defensive to her own ears. And perhaps a bit guilty. In protecting her baby, had she really been trying to keep him all to herself? Had she really been afraid Nico would take him away? Or had her motives been purely because she’d believed he was not the kind of man who could be a good father?

“You will do so no longer,” Nico continued. “Daniele is my son and I will be his father in truth from this moment forward. If you expect to remain in his life, then you will stand before the authorities and agree to be my wife. That is your choice, Lily.”

“That’s not a choice,” she said, her throat aching with the effort to speak normally. “It’s a command.”

Nico’s gaze was unreadable. “Then perhaps we finally understand one another.”

When Nico had said she needed a suitable wardrobe, Lily hadn’t realized he’d meant to fly her to Paris to visit couture shops that very afternoon. While they were winging their way to France, he’d finally let her call her boss and explain that she wouldn’t be back at work tomorrow as planned.

Hell, she wouldn’t be back at all it appeared, though she didn’t say that. Darrell was curious, but Lily had no words to explain what had happened. She assured him she was safe, said she would e-mail him her impressions of Montebianco along with the photos she’d taken, and ended the call.

Then she looked over at Nico. He was typing something on his laptop. “I need to use a computer,” she said firmly. “I have a job to finish.”

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