Forbidden Bastard: Opposites Attract Matchmaker Romance (Princes of Avce Book 10)

by Victoria Pinder

  A taxi stopped for them.

  She headed toward it. He opened the door for her and said, “I’m not that man. To live happily.”

  “Charles, there is nothing wrong with being a hero.” She spoke with certainty, though she wasn’t sure; fake it till you make it.

  Regarding love, well, he needed to see that she believed in the emotion and it was a good thing--he should too. Sandi scooted into the taxi and he joined her.

  They had this chance to find out.

  Chapter 6

  Charles sat in the backseat of the taxi and gave the driver Clara's address. They left the touristy part of the city, and turned down a narrow side street with houses that had been converted to apartments inside.

  The cab stopped in front of a tall, four-story white house with three apartments on each floor; the tiny yard had just enough room for a thin green tree.

  He glanced up at the second floor where Clara lived and his hair stood on end when Sandi stood beside him. Like she fit there.

  This was it. He was bringing Sandi home.

  No one other than Clara knew the truth about the real him--and bringing anyone to this apartment he'd bought for the closest woman he had to a mother hadn’t been on his radar as a possibility until last night.

  Somehow he’d told Sandi the truth. Now he would suffer the consequences.

  He took a deep breath as she stepped forward and he reached out to touch her back. She stilled as he said, “Sandi, I should warn you that Clara isn’t always mentally there.”

  “Alzheimer’s?” She looked at him like she cared.

  Impossible. They hardly knew each other. And love was a stupid emotion with no basis in reality. “No. It’s not that bad, but sometimes she’s not focused. The stroke affected her, and I don’t push.”

  She nodded and offered her hand for him to hold. “Okay. I’ll pay attention and not get upset if she doesn’t answer me.”

  His heart thumped like he needed reminding that he'd made a bigger deal about nothing.

  Clara would shake her head in that way she had to make him feel like she didn't want him to worry.

  He guided Sandi up the steps to Clara's second floor landing and squared his shoulders as they neared her door. He gave his usual three-knuckle fast knock and stepped back. He hadn’t wanted to tell Clara who he'd brought over so she wouldn't ask him a million questions.

  His adoptive mother unlocked the door and a moment later came out to join him. He nudged Sandi forward and said, “Clara.”

  She'd covered her wild gray curls with a hat like she was a Victorian-era noblewoman--which was at odds with her usual "dance in the streets if you’re happy" mentality she’d tried to instill in him. What was she thinking?

  Clara didn’t say a word about the hat at all. “Charles, can you get the mail for me?”

  He nodded and rushed down the two flights of stairs, grabbed the grocery advertisements, and ran back up all while Clara was still inviting Sandi inside. He walked in behind them and reached out to touch Sandi’s lower back. “Clara, this is Sandi.”

  He let her go and put the mail in the usual place on the counter between the kitchen and the dining room.

  Clara still hadn’t explained the Victorian hat, but he saw a velvet dress and instantly figured out she was doing something for choir rehearsal.

  He didn’t ask as she always marched to her own drummer which led to her prodding him to loosen up. Clara led Sandi to the living room, past the piano, to the sofa. “Charles hasn’t brought a girl home since… well, when did you bring me to meet Sheena? That was at a restaurant.”

  He perched on the edge of the accent seat opposite the women on the couch. “Her father’s restaurant.”

  Sandi’s lips pressed together like she paid apt attention as she said, “My parents don’t live in Paris.”

  Clara pointed toward her teapot that she always had filled and he got up to pour three cups. She grabbed Sandi’s hand and declared, “You’re American.”

  “Yes. I’m from Denver,” Sandi said while he returned with a silver tray and three steaming cups.

  Clara normally drank hers black with nothing in it as did he, but he added the sugar bowl for Sandi.

  Clara said, “Nice to meet you, Sandi…”

  “Smith. Sandi Smith.” Sandi also took hers plain he noticed and returned to his chair. He sipped the black tea.

  He’d now had tea with the Queen of England and still Clara’s cup was tastier. He was almost calm again when she asked, “Well, how do you two know each other?”

  Sandi straightened. “Charles negotiated with my parents to have me as his bride.”

  Clara’s gaze narrowed and suddenly it was like coming home from school with his report card. “He what?”

  Sandi sipped her tea and acted like everything was fine as she said, “I met him when my parents accepted his offer.”

  Clara turned toward Sandi, took off her frivolous Victorian cap, and shook her head, gray curls free. “Either my son wants to push you away or he suddenly acted out of character--which would probably be good for him.”

  He jumped out of his seat. “Clara!”

  She waved for him to sit down while she continued, “It’s true, and I apologize on his behalf. Charles often becomes sarcastic and abrasive when his heart is on the line which it seems to be.”

  “I do not.” He plopped back into the chair.

  He hadn’t expected Clara to ever think love was possible for him. With Sheena she’d been dismissive and he assumed she’d be the same now.

  Clara held Sandi’s hand like she was explaining him to one of his teachers. “Once when Charles was in grammar school a kid said his mother was too old; instead of just telling me about it, he got into a fight with the boy, saying the boy’s mother was… well… impolite things. He doesn’t like anyone questioning his life and never has.”

  His cheeks flamed as he remembered the black eye he’d given Stephen for talking about Clara. He'd hated that the boys in school made fun of him, in part because he was never formally adopted. The paperwork had gaps due to the revolution. Clara had kept him and gone to bat for him countless times as a boy.

  Now he wished he’d never come here to relive his past. Sandi patted Clara’s hand and said, “I see. He speaks so highly of you and how you saved him. I don’t think I speak with such reverence about my own mother or father and I love them despite how they agreed to marry me off without asking me.”

  Clara wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Charles and I saved each other that day.” She picked up her tea and sipped. “I had news at the train station that my daughter and her son were killed already. I was distraught and took Charles’s hand in a daze. Honestly, when he asked me so quietly if I’d be his mom… well we both won.”

  Sandi put her cup on the table next to her and dabbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s a beautiful story.”

  Crying? His collar felt tight. With Sheena, Clara had sat there like she was to be catered to and hardly spoke a word. Now with Sandi, she kept talking—maybe too much.

  His expression must have been easy to read as clued Clara onto her belief in love and such nonsense because Clara glanced at him, smiled like she won their argument, and then met Sandi’s gaze as she said, “And one I’ve never told a young woman Charles was interested in. He must be serious.”

  This needed to stop. Love wasn’t real. He leaned in with his elbows on his knees. “Clara.”

  Clara waved at the air like he was being ridiculous and asked Sandi, “He spoke to your parents?”

  “Before we ever met,” Sandi said.

  It was time for them all to know the same things. He brought his chair toward them like he might get between them on the couch and end all touching as he said, “The Avce matchmaker gave me Sandi’s name. I wanted to thumb my nose at their country’s belief that true love wins.”

  Clara’s focus was on Sandi, and she squeezed Sandi’s hand. “Now that sounds truthful. Charles could never lie.”<
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  Sandi’s knees knocked against Clara’s as she scooted closer. “Well, that’s really interesting. He doesn’t lie to you.” Sandi smiled.

  Charles’s shoulders dropped but he walked across the room and patted the closest person he had to a mother’s back. She wanted him to marry Sandi. “No. Clara is the one exception.”

  Clara took his hand and guided it toward Sandi’s until he pulled away. His skin still was aware of her touch though when she laughed and said, “Charles is nervous around you. I’m very intrigued, and I hope I get an invitation to this wedding.”

  If he married, he’d want peace within his family. And this was it. He knelt down and wasn’t quite sure how to fix this situation. “Clara!” He’d been counting on her to stop the marriage. To be reasonable.

  She patted his cheek. “Charles, I want you to be happy and in love. Plus, I’ve been looking forward to moving to your villa near the ocean in Avce, but knowing Sandi will be there too will make the transition so much easier.”

  Good.

  If Sandi came to Avce, then living there might not be so horrible and the plan to accept the title was always to ensure Clara’s retirement was easier.

  Claiming his inheritance and not explaining who he was just meant everyone in Avce thought the worst.

  Clara’s simple touch made him remember that there were good people too. “It will?”

  Clara’s blue eyes glistened and she stared at her lap. “Yes, while I relearn the streets of my childhood, I’ll know my son is happy and in love.”

  Son. Clara had always been the only person in the world that cared about him, ever.

  He’d do whatever she wanted, including marry Sandi.

  Sandi was too happy and nice for him, but somehow he had to find a way to keep her in his life.

  He’d have to be open, at least a little--but right now he had no words. Instead he stood suddenly. “I don’t know… Sandi we should go.”

  Sandi hugged Clara goodbye. “It was nice to meet you.”

  Clara followed them to the door as she said, “You too. I hope to see you again.”

  The two of them hugged once more and his heart became sure.

  He’d marry Sandi now.

  They didn’t suit at all. She was beautiful and smart and not the choice he’d make, but if she was willing because of his half-sister’s computer program then he had no argument.

  He’d go along.

  Once they made it outside and the bright sun of the day shone on them, he gently bumped into her and motioned with his head down the boulevard. “Sandi, I didn’t expect that. Walk with me?”

  She snapped her fingers at her side to some internal music that was her own. “Sure. Clara seems sweet. You were lucky to have her.”

  The actual question of asking her to be his wife was hard. It equaled giving up his freedom. He massaged the back of his neck to calm down. “Yes, and if she says she wants me to marry you then I want…”

  She blinked her green eyes and asked, “Yes?”

  “I want us to do it.” He let his hands fall to his sides.

  He had no fight left in him about it.

  She sucked in her bottom lip and just stared at him as they headed down the street. She didn’t say a word until they reached an oak tree with full green branches. Sandi sighed. “I won’t force you.”

  The only person in the world with the right to tell him what to do had just given her approval, and it wasn’t Sandi. He kept his voice low. “It’s not you forcing me.”

  She shook her head like she’d say no, but then changed her mind. “I insisted we come here. I’m done finding other women for you, but…”

  Her voice didn’t need to trail off. He reached for her hand and she squeezed his fingers. “Yes?”

  Her cheeks had a slight blush as she met his gaze, trust in them that he wasn't sure he deserved. “I want a week where it’s just you and me every day and then we can see if we…suit.”

  Suit… did that include sex?

  In the hotel room with those sheets all wrinkled he’d imagined for one second stripping her black dress off her body to discover what was underneath.

  But he’d hold off.

  It was better not to if he somehow found a way out of this mess. He waved to his driver, who he'd texted their location to come and get them. “Agreed. Let’s get your stuff and head to the airport.”

  “Airport?” she asked as his black Mercedes town car pulled to the curb.

  He placed his hand on her lower back and opened the door so she knew it was their ride. “We’ll stay at my villa for the next few days while we plan the wedding.”

  She slipped into the backseat. “So you’re that determined now?”

  He turned toward her and their thighs touched. “I’m that committed now. I can give you space until your parents arrive for the big day.”

  Her eyes widened. But she didn’t move and his heart beat faster as she said, “Alone time first. The rest will work itself out if it's meant to be.”

  “Then let’s go.” He motioned for the driver to take them toward the hotel.

  She licked her lips and his body heated. It was better not to kiss her, or touch her, if somehow there was an escape clause he hadn’t seen.

  But if not, he’d ensure they suited, in every way.

  Chapter 7

  Sandi hadn’t ridden in a private jet in years; the private school girl with uber-rich friends wasn’t exactly invited to much these days.

  She’d wanted to marry Reza but his small plane was nothing like this huge jet with multiple rooms inside.

  Besides Reza, she never quite fit in with the entitled people she’d grown up with, but Amanda, Megan, Courtney, and Jennifer, her childhood pals, would be pea-green with envy. In Avce, Charles’s private chauffeur drove them down streets lined with olive trees, then a long paved driveway.

  Once they passed glossy black gates, a green lawn stretched to the sea. A house that could be considered a palace sat right in the middle of all of this cultured beauty like a jewel.

  The driver brought them to the front of the yard where staff lined up, waiting to meet them. She got out of the limo and saw a crystal chandelier near the open doors that prismed from sunshine.

  At night, lit up, this house must be gorgeous.

  The sun shone on her face and Charles placed his hand on her lower back to introduce her to the head maid, a dark-haired woman with her hair in a bun named Chiara, then the head butler, Bernard, balding, an upstairs maid, downstairs maid and chef.

  Until now the only chef she’d had was whoever cooked at the restaurants her family had gone to, and then that had stopped and they'd prepared their meals at home.

  Her mansion in need of repairs was nice but similar to her neighbors. This was beyond unique. As the staff left, she turned toward Charles and ignored how her limbs were alight like she had pins and needles all over her body. She hadn't thought she’d live anywhere… so luxurious. “Wait. This is seriously your home?”

  His nose twisted and he directed them onto a path around the house.

  She didn’t mind as the salt in the air meant they were heading toward the ocean.

  Her skin was alive and she couldn’t wait to see the view as Charles said, “Home isn’t the right word."

  "This is right out of a dream, like in some Romeo and Juliet movie. I love the balconies.”

  He glanced up at the balcony they passed overhead that had the perfect full-limbed tree for climbing nearby. Charles just shrugged. “It’s a lovely bribe for my silence.”

  Sandi gasped. The clear blue ocean glimmered within walking distance, and she'd bet the marble fence between the house and water had to be a hundred years old. There was a private dock for a yacht to her right but no ship waited.

  Sandi's gaze went to the marble ship half-submerged in the water that acted like a wave breaker but was also low enough to walk across for a full view of the sea.

  She’d never seen anything like this. Wait, he'd said somet
hing about a bribe. She asked, “Silence?”

  He bumped into her side and his presence was the closest thing to grounding she'd ever had. “About my natural parentage.”

  She turned and faced him. Charles's dark eyes, strong shoulders and defined chin made him outwardly sexy, but he knew that. Her heart pinged that he could be her husband as she blinked and said, “You said you were the king’s bastard…”

  She wasn’t sure what to add there. It didn't matter to her, not really.

  He guided her toward a patio that overlooked the ocean. “My mother was a model who wanted to be queen and settled for an earldom.”

  She shook her head as they climbed a few white marble steps.

  His staff had set out a coffee service for the two of them and the air had an ocean-mixed-with-dark roast smell. “See, that sounds like some historical situation that doesn’t happen in modern days. They just left you at a convent?”

  He went to the table and poured two cups for them. She followed as he said, “The king said he didn’t know what happened to me." He shrugged. "I didn’t tell any of the royals about Clara.”

  Keeping his private life separate must be hard if he was under constant supervision. She sat in the chair he held for her. “Because she lives in Paris?”

  He scooted beside her and they both looked out to the ocean. He sipped his coffee. “Because… because when I came to Avce, I wanted the money mostly to ensure I could afford the best for Clara to retire. I do all right for a small business but she always refused a dime and told me to reinvest it in myself. I bought the apartment in Paris telling her I needed an investment so she might as well live there, but she refuses to take cash from me.”

  His profile was classically handsome. Her body warmed from his nearness though he hadn't kissed her since this morning. She took another sip of her coffee. “What did she say about your actual parentage?”

  He put his cup down as he turned toward her, and the full force of his personality hit her hard and fast. “That now she understood why my paperwork was always missing details and that I should claim my heritage before the law where no more nobility can come forward becomes an issue, but I think she just wanted to make sure that I was secure financially.”