on the pillow. A glance at the clock told her it was not long past his normal bedtime, and she congratulated herself on her minor victory.
Downstairs, her mother had opened a bottle of her favorite Gavi, a crisp Italian white with delicate notes of apples and honey. She handed Noelle a glass without asking if she wanted any.
“I thought you might be in the mood to celebrate,” Mara said, eyeing her daughter over the rim of her glass.
Resentment burned at her mother’s passive-aggressive remark. “Because Christian discovered I’ve been hiding his son all these years?” She snorted. “For the thousandth time, I’m not in love with him.”
Mara didn’t argue. “What are his intentions toward Marc?”
“He wants to get to know him.”
“And that’s all?”
“Of course. What else could there be?” Noelle had gone outside and shut the door before her conversation with Christian had gone too far, and knew her mother hadn’t overheard anything. Still, she experienced a flash of despair as she recalled how Christian had raised the notion of legitimizing Marc by marrying her.
“The kingdom needs an heir. Now that both Prince Gabriel and Prince Nicolas are married, the media are obsessively speculating who your Prince Christian will choose to marry. The pressure is all on him to produce a son.”
“He’s not my Prince Christian,” Noelle muttered, letting her irritation show.
“And now he knows he has a son.”
“An illegitimate son.” Noelle wanted to take back the reminder as soon as her mother’s eyes lit with malicious delight.
“And here you are single and Sherdanian. Not to mention still harboring unrequited feelings for him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to marry Christian so that he can claim Marc as his heir.”
Her mother didn’t look convinced. “Wouldn’t it be your dream come true?”
“You were living in Italy when I met Christian, so you don’t know what it was like between us. He’s not husband material, and I’m not going to marry him because he needs an heir.” Noelle heard heartbreak beneath the fervor in her voice. Five years had passed, but she hadn’t fully recovered from the hurt dealt to her when Christian pushed her out of his life.
It wasn’t something she intended to forgive or forget.
* * *
The café table on his cramped, third-floor balcony was big enough for a cup of coffee and a small pot of hot pink petunias. Christian sat on one of the two chairs, ignoring the laptop balanced on his knee while he stared down the narrow street whose details were lost to shadow at this early hour. Thoughts on the encounter with Noelle the night before, he watched the light seep into this old section of Sherdana’s capital city of Carone.
Although Christian had rooms in the palace for his use, he rarely stayed there, preferring the privacy of his own space. He’d lost track of how many homes he owned. He did business all over Europe and had apartments in the major cities where he spent the most time. He owned two homes in Sherdana: this cozy two-bedroom apartment in the center of the capital where he could walk to bakeries, cafés and restaurants, and a castle on a premier vineyard two hours north of Carone.
After discovering he was a father, Christian had lain in bed, staring at the ceiling while his thoughts churned. Eventually he’d decided to give up on sleep and catch up on his emails. Nic and Brooke had gotten married on a Wednesday, which meant Christian had lost an entire day of work. He usually worked from home until late morning. His active social life kept him out late most evenings, and if he saw the sun come up, it was more likely that he was coming home after a long night rather than getting an early start on the day.
Despite his good intentions, he couldn’t concentrate on the reports that had been compiled by his CFO regarding his purchase of a small Italian company that was developing intelligent robot technology. The columns of numbers blurred and ran together as his mind refused to focus.
Noelle had borne him a son and hidden the truth for five years, a pretty amazing feat in this age of social media. Last night, as he’d driven back to the apartment, he’d been furious with her. It shouldn’t have mattered that he’d let her believe he wanted their relationship to end. She’d been pregnant with his child. She should have told him. And then what? He’d thought letting her go to pursue her dream of being a designer in Paris had been the best thing for her. What would he have done if he’d known she was pregnant? Marry her?
Christian shook his head.
It wouldn’t have crossed his mind. She’d known him well. Better than he’d known himself. As the third son, he’d had little responsibility to the monarchy and could do what he wanted. So he’d partied to excess, made a name for himself as a playboy, indulged his every desire and thought no further than the moment.
The accident had changed all that. Changed him. He’d risked his life to save someone and had been permanently scarred in the process. But the fire that had ravaged his right side had wrought other changes. His selfless actions had impaired his hedonistic proclivities. Made him aware of others’ needs. Before the accident he’d enjoyed being selfish and irresponsible. Losing the ability to act without recognizing the consequences to others had been almost as painful as the slow mending of his burns.
Thus, when he arranged for Noelle to train in Paris, he’d known that letting her think he no longer wanted her in his life would break her heart. Hurting her had pained him more than sending her away, but he’d known that if she stayed with him, he risked doing her far greater harm.
And now, thanks to his discovery of their son, she was back in his life. He ached with joy and dread.
Showing up on her doorstep last night had been a return to old patterns. When they’d been together before, he’d often popped by unannounced late at night after the clubs closed.
He’d met her at the café near his apartment where she waitressed. Unlike most of the women he flirted with, she hadn’t been intrigued by his title or swayed by his charm. She’d treated him with such determined professionalism that he’d been compelled to pursue her relentlessly until she agreed to see him outside of work.
They didn’t date. Not in a traditional sense. She was too serious to enjoy his frivolous lifestyle and too sensible to fit in with his superficial friends. But she was exactly what he needed. Her apartment became his refuge. When they finally became lovers, after being friends for six months, she was more familiar to him than any woman he’d ever known.
Not that this had stopped him from taking her for granted, first as a friend and confidante, and then as the woman who came alive in his arms.
Christian closed his eyes and settled his head back against the brick facade of his apartment. The breath he blew out didn’t ease the tightness in his chest or relax the clenched muscles of his abdomen.
Last night he’d suggested that they should marry. The ease with which the words had slipped off his tongue betrayed the fact that his subconscious was already plotting. Speaking with her at the party had obviously started something brewing. Why not marry Noelle? The notion made sense even before he’d found out about Marc.
Years before they’d been good together.
