are accused of trying to smuggle Montebiancan antiquities out of the country,” he said coolly, once the echoes from the man’s footsteps faded away.
Lily blinked. “I’m sorry?” Of all the things she’d expected him to say, this had not been even a remote possibility.
“Two figurines, signorina. A wolf and a lady. They were found in your luggage.”
“Souvenirs,” she sputtered in disbelief. “I bought them from a street vendor.”
“They are priceless treasures of my country’s heritage, stolen from the state museum three months ago.”
Lily’s knees went weak. Oh, God. “I know nothing about that! I just want to go home.”
Her pulse hammered in her ears. It was all so strange. Both the accusation and the fact he didn’t appear to recognize her. But of course he wouldn’t! Had she really expected it? She gave her head a tiny shake. No, she hadn’t, but after all she’d been through the last two years, it hurt nonetheless. How could he not look at her and know? How could he not be aware of her the way she was of him?
Prince Nico drew closer. His hands were thrust in his pockets as he gazed down at her, his cool eyes giving nothing away. No hint of recognition, no sliver of kindness, nothing. Just supreme arrogance and a sense of entitlement so complete it astonished her. Had she really spent hours talking with this man? About what?
Without meaning to, she remembered lying beneath him, feeling his body moving inside hers. It had all been so new to her, and yet he’d been tender and reassuring. He’d made her feel special, cherished.
Now, the memory seemed like a distant illusion, made all the more so by his lack of awareness of it.
She dropped her gaze, unable to maintain the contact. His eyes were unusual in their coloring, pale and striking, but that wasn’t the precise reason she couldn’t look at him.
No, she couldn’t look because it made her heartsick for her child. She hadn’t realized it until she was face-to-face with the prince again, but Danny was the exact image of his father.
“I am afraid that is impossible.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes beginning to tear again. No. She had to be strong. “I—I have to get home. I have responsibilities. People need me.”
Prince Nico’s gaze sharpened. “What people, signorina?”
Lily’s stomach hollowed with fear. She couldn’t tell him about Danny, not now. Not like this. “My family needs me. My mother depends on me.” She hadn’t seen her mother in over a year, but he didn’t know that.
He studied her, his quick gaze sweeping over her with interest. And something more. Her nerve endings prickled.
“No husband, Lily?”
His use of her name was like the subtle caress of his fingers against her skin: shocking, unexpected and delicious. At first she thought he must recognize her, must remember her name after all—though he’d called her Liliana in their time together. But nothing in his demeanor indicated he had. He’d gotten it from the police. Of course.
She felt like a fool for thinking otherwise. But why was he here? Did a prince really come to the prison when someone was accused of theft? She felt as though she was missing a piece of the puzzle, as though there was something she should know, but she couldn’t quite grasp what it was.
“No, no husband,” she said. She couldn’t mention Danny, she simply couldn’t. Fear for her baby threatened to overwhelm her. If Nico knew he had a son, would he take her baby away from her? He certainly had the power and the money to do so.
She pressed closer to the bars, beseeching him, pouring every ounce of feeling she had into her words. “Please, Ni—Your Highness,” she corrected, thinking better of calling him by name. “Please help me.”
She thought he looked puzzled, but it was gone so fast she couldn’t be sure.
“How is it you expect me to help you?”
Lily swallowed the hard knot in her throat. Could she confess just a little bit? Would she endanger her baby by doing so? Or was she endangering him by not speaking? What if she never got out of here? Would Carla raise Danny as her own? “W-we met once. In New Orleans two years ago. You were kind to me then.”
If she expected awareness to cross his features, she was disappointed. He remained distant, detached.
“I am always kind to women.” His voice was as smooth and rich as chocolate. And as cool as an Alpine lake.
Heat rushed to Lily’s face. How could she stand here and have this conversation with him, with the man who’d fathered her child and didn’t even know it? She’d been right about him, right not to persist in her efforts to track him down once she’d learned he was so much more than an ordinary man named Nico Cavelli.
She still remembered the shock of finding out who he really was, the endless parade of photos and sensational tabloid articles once she’d discovered his identity. Prince Nico of Montebianco was nothing more than a playboy, a jet-setter on a global scale who’d once gone slumming in New Orleans. He did not remember her, did not care about her, and certainly wouldn’t care about Danny.
Just as her father hadn’t cared about her or her mother. Of all the men in this world, how had she chosen this one to initiate her into the ways of intimacy between a man and a woman? It was mind-boggling how ignorant she’d been, how duped she’d been by his charm and sincerity. He hadn’t exactly lied about who he was, but he hadn’t told the truth, either. She’d known his name and where he was from, but she hadn’t known he was a prince until later.
Once he’d gotten what he wanted from her, he’d abandoned her to her fate. She’d stood in the rain for over two hours that last night, waiting for him. He’d promised he would be there, but he never showed.
God, he made her sick.
Before she could gather her thoughts to speak, to think of another method of approach, he whipped something from his shirt pocket and thrust it toward her. Gone was the cool facade. In its place was a wrath so deep it would have frightened her had there been no bars between them.
“What is the meaning of this? Who is this child?”
Lily’s heart squeezed. She shoved her hand between the bars, tried to reach the picture of her and Danny, but the prince snatched it away. A sob tore from her throat before she could stop it. They’d gone through her things, dismantled her suitcases as if she was a common thief and passed her possessions around for comment. Worst of all—he knew her secret!
“Who is he?” the prince demanded again.
“That’s my baby! Give me that,” she cried, clawing between the bars. “It’s mine!”
He looked furious. And a little bit stunned, if that were possible. But he recovered quickly. “I don’t know what you think will happen now that I’ve seen this, but it will not work, signorina. This is a cheap attempt to blackmail me, and I will not bow to it.” His voice dripped menace.
Lily stopped struggling and stared at him, her head
