about ten minutes after that, Lily had called.
He had slept with Lily. He’d been angry that she’d left, frustrated that he hadn’t been able to find her—and, despite his precautions, pregnancy was possible, though unlikely. So he’d come out with his glib, joking line…
‘You’re not trying to slap a paternity suit on me as well… ’
She’d said… what was it? ‘Get lost.’ And cut the connection.
He remembered staring at the phone, feeling bad, thinking he should trace the call. And then thinking of Mia and how much he disliked her—how much he loathed Lily’s connection to royalty. And how much attachment hurt. How love ended in grief. How a sister of Mia’s could never be worth that hurt. And it had sounded as if she clearly didn’t want him anyway.
And he’d made the conscious decision, there and then, not to make any further attempt to contact her.
‘You could have tried again,’ he said, but her face was grim now, and drawn.
For over a year now he’d tagged this woman as just like her sister. He’d treated her accordingly. His response to her phone call had been glib and cruel, but if it had been Mia he’d been talking to, maybe it would have been justified.
She wasn’t Mia.
And now? She was expecting him to walk away. No, she was wanting him to walk away. With or without paternity payments, he thought. The fact that she wanted nothing to do with him was obvious.
Unbidden, he remembered Lily as he’d first seen her. Dressed simply in a little black dress. Very little make-up. Those glorious curls.
He’d said something sardonic about their surroundings—the glitz of the royal ballroom—and she’d chuckled her agreement. ‘I do like a bit of bling,’ she’d said. ‘Mind, these chandeliers are a disappointment. I’d prefer them in pink. Plain crystal is so yesterday’s fashion. Like stove-pipe pants and shoulder pads.’ She’d eyed him up and down—in his tuxedo. ‘And tuxedos,’ she’d said, and she’d said it like a challenge.
He’d been entranced.
But there was no trace of that humour now. Her gaze was glacial.
‘I don’t have to tell you more,’ she said. ‘You’re not King here.’
‘I’m not King anywhere.’
‘Or Prince Regent.’
‘It seems I’m not Prince Regent either,’ he told her. ‘If Michales isn’t Giorgos’s son… ’ He hesitated, trying to find words to clarify what he’d figured over the last week. ‘If we can get this sorted without calamity, the Diamond Isles will be split into three again. I’ll be Crown Prince of Sappheiros and Khryseis and Argyros will be ruled as separate countries.’
‘So can you get this sorted?’ she asked, but she didn’t sound interested.
‘Maybe. No thanks to you.’
‘On the contrary, it’s all thanks to me,’ she snapped. ‘If I hadn’t claimed Michales you’d still be ruled by my sister’s lie. So now you can be whatever sort of prince you want and you can get out of my life.’
‘There’s the small issue of my son… ’
‘You need to earn the right to be a father. I’ve seen no evidence of it.’
‘I didn’t know he was my son!’
‘You’ve known for a week. So what did you do? You disappeared. You went away and did anything rather than come here and say this is my son and I want him.’
‘I didn’t know… ’ he started, but then he paused, unsure where to go.
‘You didn’t know what?’
‘I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,’ he snapped. ‘I needed time.’
‘Like I needed time when I saw the thin blue line,’ she retorted. ‘Parenthood isn’t something you can think about and then decide ooh, maybe I’d like a little bit.’
‘Isn’t that exactly what you did?’
‘I had no choice.’ She moved still closer to the cot, putting her body between him and her baby. It was a gesture of defence as old as time itself.
‘So why did you give him up?’ he demanded, trying to keep his focus on indignation. Trying not to think how beautiful she was when she was angry. How vulnerable. How… frightened? ‘How much did they pay you?’
‘Millions!’ The word was a venomous hiss.
Okay, not millions, he conceded.
What, then? Had she simply offered her son to her sister instead of having him adopted?
Had she really been ill?
His eyes flew to her baseball cap. She’d covered her curls at the coronation, too.
Cancer? But Lily didn’t have that look. Soft curls were escaping from under the cap—short, yes, much shorter than last year, but not regrowth short.
‘Just how ill were you?’
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Your hair… ’
‘I had an operation,’ she snapped. ‘I’m fine now.’
He got the message. Ask no more questions. Move on.
Okay, he would. But maybe here there was an explanation.
The consequences of illness, even if relatively mild, might well have been catastrophic. If she didn’t have insurance, medical expenses could be huge.
If Mia and Giorgos had paid her expenses and in return taken a child she could ill afford to keep… A child she didn’t really want, until Mia’s abandonment had given her second thoughts…
It didn’t absolve her from blame, but it might explain it.
Maybe something of what he was thinking was apparent.
‘Don’t even think about pushing into what’s my business,’ she told him coldly. ‘Let’s get this sorted. If you want to deny Michales is your son, that’s fine by me. I don’t need or want financial aid. If you want access I won’t block it—as long as he stays with me. But that’s my bottom line. He stays with me.’
‘I can’t let him stay here.’
‘He will stay here.’ She sounded blunt and cold and definite. But, underneath, he heard the beginnings of fear.
There was no way he could allay that fear.
‘I have to take him back to Sappheiros.’
‘You’re
