and nodded. ‘But I appreciate you want to change.’
‘I do. You need a show, and a show is exactly what I can provide. Luckily I kept some of the clothes from my modelling days.’
Even if she’d never once worn them, she loved them still. Silk, chiffon and lace, denim and velvet, long skirts and short, flared and skinny—she had enjoyed showcasing each and every outfit. Had refused to wear any item that didn’t make her soul sing. And now there was no denying the buzz. This was what she had once lived for and craved. Publicity, notice, fame—all things she could spin and control.
Almost against her will, her mind fizzed with possibility. Amil was no longer a secret, no longer in danger—they could live their lives as they wished. She could resume her career, be Sunita again, walk the catwalks and revel in fashion and all its glorious aspects. Amil would, of course, come with her—just as she had accompanied her mother to fashion shoots—and Nanni could come too.
Life would take on a new hue without the terrible burden of discovery clouding every horizon. Though of course Frederick would be part of that life, if only a minor part. His real life lay in Lycander, and she assumed he would want only a few visits a year perhaps.
Whoa! Slow right down, Suni!
She had no idea what Frederick’s plans were, and she’d do well to remember that before she waltzed off into la-la land. She didn’t know this man—this Frederick.
Her gaze rested on him, absorbed the breadth of his body, his masculine presence, the determined angle of his stubbled jaw, the shadowed eyes crinkled now in a network of lines she thought probably hadn’t come from laughter. Her breath caught on a sudden wave of desire. Not only physical desire, but a stupid yearning to walk over and smooth the shadows away.
A yearning she filed away under both dangerous and delusional as she turned and left the room.
FREDERICK CHANGED INTO the suit he’d had delivered to him whilst he was waiting and prowled the flat on the lookout for evidence of Amil’s life.
Amil. The syllables were still so unfamiliar—his only knowledge of his son that brief glimpse a few hours earlier. But there would be time—plenty of time—to catch up on the past fourteen months. Provided Sunita agreed to his proposition—and she would agree.
Whatever it took, he would make her see his option was the only way forward.
He paused in front of a framed photograph of Sunita and a newborn Amil. He looked at the tiny baby, with his downy dark hair, the impossible perfection of his minuscule fingernails, and the utter vulnerability of him twisted Frederick’s gut.
Shifting his gaze to Sunita, he saw the love in her brown eyes clear in every nuance, every part of her body. Her beauty was unquestionable, but this was a beauty that had nothing to do with physical features and everything to do with love.
Perhaps he should feel anger that he had missed out on that moment, but his overwhelming emotion was relief—gratitude, even—that his son had been given something so vital. Something he himself had never received. His mother had handed him straight over to a nanny and a few scant years later had disappeared from his life.
For a long moment Frederick gazed at the photo, trying to figure out what he should feel, what he would feel when he finally met Amil properly, held him... Panic hammered his chest and he stepped backwards. What if he was like his mother—what if he quite simply lacked the parenting gene?
The click of heels against marble snapped him to attention and he stepped back from the photo, turning to see Sunita advance into the room. For a moment his lungs truly ceased to work as his pulse ratcheted up a notch or three.
Sunita looked... It was impossible to describe her without recourse to a thesaurus. This was the woman he remembered—the one who dressed to catch the eye. But it wasn’t only the dress with its bright red bodice and gently plumed skirt that showcased her trademark legs. The bright colour was toned down by contrasting black satin panels and silver stiletto heels. It was the way she wore it—she seemed to bring the dress alive. And vice versa. A buzz vibrated from her—an energy and sparkle that epitomised Sunita.
‘Wow!’ was the best he could do as he fought down visceral desire and the need to tug her into his arms and rekindle the spark that he knew with gut-wrenching certainty would burst into flame. To kiss her senseless...
What the hell was he thinking? More to the point, what part of himself was he thinking with?
Maybe he was more like his father than he knew. Alphonse had always put physical desire above all else. If he’d been attracted to a woman he’d acted on that attraction, regardless of marriage vows, fidelity or the tenets of plain, common decency. The last ruler of Lycander had believed that his desires were paramount, and it didn’t matter who got hurt in the process.
Frederick wouldn’t walk that road. He never had—that, at least, was one immoral path he’d avoided.
His business with Sunita was exactly that—business. He had an idea to propound, an idea he would not mix with the physical.
‘You look fantastic.’
‘Thank you. I know it sounds shallow, but it is awesome to dress up again.’
She smoothed her hand down the skirt and her smile caught at his chest.
‘You look pretty good yourself. Where did the suit come from?’
‘I had it delivered whilst I was waiting.’
‘Good thinking, Batman.’
Her voice was a little breathless, and he knew that she was as affected as he was by their proximity. Her scent teased him, her eyes met his, and what he saw in their deep brown depths made him almost groan aloud.
Enough.
Right now he had to focus on the most important factor, and that was Amil. Irritation scoured him that he could be letting physical attraction come into play.
He nodded to the door. ‘We’d better go.’
* * *
Sunita wanted, needed this journey to come to an end. Despite the spacious interior of the limo, Frederick was too...close.
Memories lingered in the air, and her body was on high alert, tuned in to his every move, and she loathed her own weakness as much now as she had two years before. She needed to distract herself, to focus on what was important—and that was Amil.
The day’s events had moved at warp speed and she was desperately trying to keep up. The truth was out, and it was imperative she kept control of a future that she could no longer reliably predict.
Frederick wanted to be a real part of Amil’s life—he had made that more than clear. But at this point she had no idea what that meant, and she knew she had to tread carefully.
The limo slowed down and she took a deep breath as it glided to a stop.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Ready.’
