The thought of her finding them first sobered him.
Not enough to drive.
But enough to make him fear how much he had to lose. Last night, making the decision to go out to the club, he’d thought to himself that it would be better for Kyra to see this side of him—to understand what she’d be risking by being with him, in case she wanted to walk away.
Now, truly faced with the prospect of her leaving, he knew he’d do anything to keep that from happening.
* * *
“Did you pack Pandy, Mama?”
Kyra handed her niece her stuffed panda. “Here you go, sweetie.” She looked at Maggie, who was bustling around the hotel room, making sure she had everything. “All set?” she asked.
“I think so,” Maggie said and met Kyra’s eyes.
Things had been a bit tense between the two of them since their argument the day before. Kyra hated having drama between her and Maggie and wanted to make things right.
“I want to say I’m sorry about coming down so hard on you yesterday,” she said. “It’s just—”
“No,” Maggie interrupted, holding a hand up to stop Kyra’s apology. “You were right. I should never have gone off to Barcelona and saddled you with Ava when you were busy with work. It was thoughtless of me.”
“You know I love having Ava around,” Kyra said. She didn’t want her sister to think that she ever felt saddled.
“I know, but I’m her mother—it was my responsibility to make sure she was taken care of, and I shouldn’t have just assumed you’d handle it, no matter how short my trip was supposed to be.”
Kyra shrugged then nodded.
“Look, Kyra,” Maggie began, “I made a mistake—I acknowledge it and I apologize for it. But that’s all it was. A mistake. It’s not the sum total of who I am. Not anymore. I’m not perfect, but you have to start giving me some credit for the strides I’ve made. I’m not the same little girl who needs you to rescue her all the time. Work is going well. I’m focusing on what matters, putting Ava and my job first. I need you to realize that and not always judge me like I’m still an irresponsible teenager.”
Kyra was a bit stunned. Maggie never stood up for herself in such a controlled and logical manner. When criticized or questioned, she always seemed to retreat or act like a victim. Acknowledging when she was at fault and apologizing really did make it seem like she’d matured. And maybe it had become too easy to see what Maggie was doing wrong and miss the stuff she was getting right. Maggie had been working at the same job for a long time. She’d gotten raises even. She never missed any of Ava’s school events if she could help it.
Maybe Maggie had a point.
“I’ll try to be less judgmental and more encouraging, Maggie. I’m sorry.” She folded her little sister into a heartfelt hug, and Maggie let her. “Will you be okay for a couple more weeks at home by yourself? You have help, right?” Kyra wasn’t totally sold on the idea of her baby sister being all grown up and able to take care of herself.
Maggie raised her eyes. “I told you I’m good, sis. You have to trust me.”
“Alright.” She glanced at the time. “You’d better get going. You have to be at the airport at least two hours early, right?”
“I think closer to three, for an international flight,” Maggie said.
Kyra patted Ava on the shoulder. “Okay, Ava. Time to go.”
They took the elevator down to the lobby and called a car.
Kyra hugged her sister goodbye and kissed Ava on both cheeks.
“Bye, Auntie Kyra!” Ava waved to her from the window of the taxi, and Kyra had to squelch a sensation of worry at the idea of them being alone again. She reminded herself to try to trust Maggie. They’d be okay without her for a little while.
She headed back into the lush lobby, where the air smelled like expensive perfume and the crystal chandelier probably cost more than her car. She enjoyed the luxury here, that was for sure. She wasn’t a woman who needed the finer things, but she certainly didn’t mind living like a princess for a hot minute.
Back in her room, Kyra took a moment to catch her breath. She fell onto the bed and closed her eyes, relishing in the silence and the absence of clutter in her room. No tripping on crayons or tiny shoes. No cartoons playing on the television in the background.
Not five minutes into her quiet time, there was a knock at the door. Kyra smirked to herself. Maggie, Miss Independent, must have forgotten something. She looked through the peephole, expecting to see her frantic sister, but it wasn’t Maggie. It was a middle-aged man, dressed in a pricey looking suit, with an entourage of what looked like assistants standing behind him. Kyra cocked her head, thinking something about the man looked oddly familiar. A moment later it hit her. He looked like an older version of Marcus.
It must be his father.
Why in hell was the King of Sovalon outside her hotel room door?
She swung the door open. “Hello,” she said.
Without smiling, he held his hand out for her to shake.
“Hello, Miss Rogers, I’m Hanson Ashton, King of Sovalon.”
“So nice to meet you,” she said and shook his hand. “Come on in.”
“Thank you,” he said and followed her to the sitting area. She was extra glad that Ava’s crayons no longer littered the floor. At least the room was cleaned up.
“Can I get you a beverage?” she asked, feeling just a bit uncomfortable seeing the two hulking men who stood behind the king with their arms crossed over their broad chests. She’d never had a tete-a-tete with anyone who required a bodyguard.
Or two.
“I’m fine, Kyra,” he said. “Is it all right if I call you Kyra?”
“Absolutely,” she said and sat across from him. She was dying to know why King Hanson was here, paying a her a visit. Maybe something was wrong with Marcus? Her heart began to race.
“So, how are you finding Sovalon?” the king asked.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “Although I haven’t had much time for sightseeing. The women’s shelter project has kept me quite busy.”
An odd look crossed the king’s face, as if he were mocking her silently.
“And you enjoyed you stay at the estate in Havershire?”
She nodded. “I think it’s the perfect location for the shelter. It’s just out-of-the way enough to feel like an oasis. Safe.”
“Mm-hm,” he said.
An uncomfortable silence enveloped them then, and Kyra could stand it no longer.
“Your majesty.” She decided to just be straight with him. “Can I ask the purpose of your visit to my hotel?”
“Yes, let’s get down to business, why don’t we?” He stared at Kyra’s face, his eyes squinted with what looked like suspicion. “Kyra, I know you’re pregnant with Marcus’s child.”
Kyra swallowed, taken aback and speechless.
“I’m not sure how much you know about Marcus, but he has had his share of media coverage.” He pursed his lips in seeming disapproval. “None of it has been positive.”
“I have heard some—”
“Well, I’d like to nip this story in the bud before it goes public,” he said. “What will it take to keep you from going to the media?”
Kyra tilted her head, confused. What was he asking her? “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand what you’re asking. Does Marcus know you’re here?”
The king scoffed at the mention of his son’s name. “Marcus is too immature to know how to handle such a sensitive situation. He knows how to create problems but not how to deal with them.”
Listening to the king talk about his son, Kyra understood why Marcus felt so dismissed by his family. How sad.
“You and the child will be better off if you just return to the US and cease all contact with the prince,” he continued. “I’m more than happy to give you whatever financial compensation you need to ensure you and the baby never want for anything.”
Kyra shrank back from him. “You want to pay me?” she as
ked. “To go away?” Was this really how Marcus’s family handled things like this? Scandals just brushed under the rug?
Anger coursed through Kyra, and she stood from her chair and put her hands on her hips. The two bodyguards moved a step forward as if she were some kind of threat.
Seriously?
“With all due respect, King Hanson, what Marcus and I decide to do regarding this baby is between the two of us.” She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “You should really try giving your son a chance. He’s capable of more than you think. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Maybe you don’t know your son as well as you think.”
The king gave off a sarcastic snort, and it enraged her.
“Marcus isn’t some immature little boy anymore,” she tried again.
“Oh no?” the king asked and rolled his eyes.
“It’s true. He’s been working his tail off to get the location tied down for this women’s shelter,” she said. “Just last night he met with an investor.”
“Yes, I’m well aware.” He smirked at her. “He had quite the night out with this investor.”
Kyra eyed the king nervously. What was he talking about?
“Oh, you mustn’t have seen the news today, my dear,” he said.
“What news?”
King Hanson tapped his chin and shot Kyra a look of feigned sympathy. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t truly know Marcus. I’d recommend looking at some online news.”
A chill fell over her.
The king stood from his chair. “I must get going. Think about my offer, Kyra.”
He let himself out of the room, and his bodyguards followed. The minute the door clicked shut, Kyra raced to her computer and logged on.
Marcus’s picture was everywhere.
He was partying with another man, surrounded by scantily dressed women who had their hands all over him. And all the articles included her picture, too—saying how she’d been dumped, she’d been used…and that she’d been a fool to expect anything else. Her stomach roiled with a mix of morning sickness and utter disappointment. She slammed the computer shut and ran to the bathroom to throw up.
12
After Kyra’s belly was emptied of everything but a lining of regret, she couldn’t help herself. She went back to her computer and continued scanning through photo after heart-breaking photo of Marcus’s night on the town.
What a fool she’d been to think that he could change.
Another knock at her hotel door pulled her away from the computer. What now?
Marcus stood in the doorway looking forlorn, guilty, and very hungover.
“Please, Kyra, let me in,” he said. “I can explain everything.”
She opened the door and allowed him in, reminded of his frantic attempts at explaining away the online articles she’d read just yesterday. Was this what their future would have been like? Him showing up at her doorstep every other day with explanations for his bad behavior? She didn’t have the stomach for this kind of life.
“Marcus, do you think I’m a fool?” she asked, interrupting him from his litany of excuses.
“Of course not,” he said.
“Well, I think I am,” she told him, wanting to hurt him like he’d hurt her. “I never should have put any faith in you. You can’t be serious for one hot minute. You’ll always be a party boy.”
“I swear to you the last thing I wanted to do last night was go out clubbing,” he said. His eyes dug into hers, and there was pain in them. She refused to be sympathetic. “The investor, Jonathan Glasgow, wanted to go out. He insisted we go to Skin.”
Kyra rolled her eyes. What kind of place was called Skin? Somewhere seedy for sure.
“Even if you didn’t want to go out, you did, and you lied to me about it. You knew I’d assume you were going to bed after I texted you last night, but those pictures were taken at four in the morning.” She shot him an accusing look. “So much for being tired.”
Marcus bit his lip, and his fingers curled into a fist. For a minute, Kyra thought he might punch the wall or something, he looked so frustrated, but he didn’t. “Please cut me some slack,” he begged. “I’ll have enough to worry about when my father sees those photos.”
Cut him some slack? Please.
“For your information, your father had already seen them,” she said. “In fact, he’s the one who told me about them.”
“What?” Marcus’s eyes bulged.
“He showed up here earlier today with his posse of bodyguards.” Kyra nearly shivered remembering the coldness of the king’s words. “He told me you’re too immature to make decisions about your future, and then he tried to pay me off to leave without telling the press about our baby.”
Marcus paled, and he shook his head.
“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that, Kyra. But I can’t say I’m surprised that he came to you. He told me the same thing.”
Kyra was shocked. Why hadn’t Marcus told her?
“What did you say to him?”
“I told him it was our decision and that we’d make it together.” He put a hand over Kyra’s, but she bristled and pulled hers away. “Look, you don’t have to worry,” he continued. “I’ll take care of my father, I promise.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Just like you took care of that investor last night?”
Marcus shot her a dirty look. “No! Not like that! That was unavoidable, I told you. I had to take him out.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Easy for you to say,” he retorted. “You’re not the one everybody was counting on to get the investment.”
Excuses. That’s all he was good for. She was done with this conversation and done with Marcus Ashton. He was no good to her if she couldn’t trust him. It was time to end things before they got worse.
Anger coursed through her veins, both at Marcus for being weak and immature, and also at herself for being so gullible as to let him into her heart. “You know what, Marcus? You’re just like my sister. You promise you’ve changed, that you’ve grown up, and then you bounce right back into your old games. And you drag me into them, turning me into tabloid fodder. I’ve dealt with people like you my whole life, and I don’t need another one.”
“What are you saying?” he asked quietly, looking broken.
She was saying she couldn’t do this. How could she ever trust a man with a reputation and past like Marcus’s? Especially after he’d lied to her. Even if she wanted to give it another chance, they were too different to make things work. She’d never fit in with his family, and she had no desire to deal with his lifestyle and all the paparazzi it entailed.
What they’d had at the estate had been a fairy tale. They couldn’t sustain it within the realm of reality.
“I’m saying it was good while it lasted, but it just isn’t going to work,” she said, fighting back tears. “We aren’t going to work.”
She explained her reasons to Marcus, who nodded but looked completely devastated. He didn’t argue with her but gave her a hug then dejectedly slumped out the door.
As soon as the door closed, Kyra burst into tears.
* * *
To Marcus’s chagrin, the next day he had to drive back out to the estate house to meet his brother Edward. The two had planned to meet to discuss renovations, which Edward’s fiancée would oversee. Clementine specialized in big restoration projects that involved old houses. She’d managed the reconstruction on their aunt’s old castle just last year. She was excited to start work on the estate.
Everywhere Marcus looked, he saw Kyra. The minute he pulled up, he imagined Kyra standing on the wraparound porch, looking pretty, kissing him goodbye sweetly before the sneaky reporter began snapping pictures. The house itself reminded him of their lovemaking the night of the storm. He wished he could go back and do it all over.
Maybe he’d find a way not to hurt her.
But who was he kidding? More likely, he’d make the same mistakes
.
In the kitchen, Marcus noticed a leftover half-loaf of garlic bread from their spaghetti dinner. He tossed it in the trash, remembering the fun they’d had cooking with Ava.
It was just a few days ago, and yet it felt like another lifetime. They were so happy out here, with the real world far away, but as soon as they returned to reality, everything fell apart. Kyra was right—it was just a fairy tale out here.
“Hey, brother.”
Marcus looked up to see Edward strolling through the kitchen doorway.
“Hey, Edward.”
“You look like you’re lost in thought,” his brother said. “Or maybe simply lost.”
“I’m just tired,” he said. “It’s been a long and busy few days.”
Edward patted him on the back. “And a successful few days as well, so I’m told. I hear you landed that investor in a matter of hours. Great work.”
Marcus sighed. Life was so complicated. He’d gained the respect of his brother for closing a deal he’d won by losing the respect of the woman he wanted.
“Want to walk the property and discuss renovations?” he asked.
“That’s what I’m here for,” he said. “Let’s begin inside. It’s starting to rain.”
With the mention of rain, Marcus remembered the bedroom upstairs where the water had come in. He mentioned it to Edward, then led him to it.
As they passed the room where he and Kyra had spent the most amazing night of his life, he felt himself deflate. His shoulders sagged, and he sighed audibly.
“Marcus,” Edward said. “What’s going on with you? You look like you’re about to cry.”
“I’m not about to cry,” he said defensively, and Edward laughed.
“What’s wrong, bro?”
Within a few minutes, he’d spilled the entire thing to Edward—the one-night stand, the pregnancy, and their father’s attempt to pay Kyra to leave the country.
Edward’s mouth hung open.
“A baby,” he said finally, sounding stunned.
“Yeah, I know it’s a lot to digest all at once.”
The Playboy Prince’s Pregnant American: Sovalon Royals Book Two Page 8