The Prince's Secret Baby

by Jennifer Lewis

  “Except for getting murdered,” he said grimly.

  “Exactly. Forewarned is forearmed. Gibran has wireless audio equipment to wear any time you want someone listening in.”

  Sandro shook his head. “This is all so hard to believe. We had such a quiet and normal life here before.” He sighed. “I wanted to show Serena our country and have her fall in love with it, not get scared out of her mind by gruesome events.”

  Darias’s mouth pulled into a smile. “I can’t believe you’re serious about someone. I thought you’d be the last of us to settle down.”

  “Some events have a way of making you mature quicker.”

  Darias lifted a brow slightly. “She’s pregnant?”

  Sandro cursed his loose lips. How did he manage to inadvertently reveal Serena’s secret to almost everyone? But he could hardly lie to his own brother. “Yes. But don’t tell anyone. It’s too early yet, and she wants to keep it quiet.”

  Darias rose and hugged him. “Well, congrats anyway. I’ll keep mum until you make it public.”

  “Please. She’s still very hesitant about having a relationship with me. She doesn’t like me being a prince, for one thing.”

  “That’s a turnabout.” Darias laughed. “Usually that’s the biggest draw.”

  “Tell me about it. She’s not like that. Which is one of the reasons I like her so much. There’s something very old-world about her but not in the stodgy, fussy, snobbish way we’re used to.”

  “She has values.”

  “Exactly. And they’ve been under siege lately, partly due to me,” he said ruefully, “and partly because of other events beyond her control. So I don’t want her getting further freaked out by anything if I can help it.”

  “So we won’t tell her about the Cross of Blood.” Darias’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “Absolutely not. I’m sure that would scare her right off me.”

  “If recent events and Aunt Liesel haven’t already done the job.”

  “I know I didn’t exactly pick the perfect time to bring her here. I should get her back to New York before anything else goes down.”

  Darias leaned forward. “Don’t leave yet. I need you here. And we need to get Rigo’s sharp legal mind here too. We’re missing something, and I bet he’s the one to find it.”

  “Call him and command him—as his king.” Sandro was only half kidding.

  “I already tried that, but he’s in the middle of a big civil rights case. He says it could go all the way to the Supreme Court.”

  “Altaleone always was too small for Rigo. But I know he’d do anything for Mom. Maybe you just haven’t tried the right angle. I’ll talk to him tonight and see if I can work my famous charm on him.”

  “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

  He didn’t have any luck. Rigo promised to come as soon as he was able, which in Sandro’s experience with him could be any time in the next two decades.

  He slept passably well in his bed—considering that Serena was lying in a different bed without him only a few yards away—and in the morning he went down for breakfast.

  Where his luck took a considerable turn for the worse.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Uh, Sandro.” Beatriz called to him from across the dining room. She was eating the usual boiled egg with toast fingers that she’d eaten every morning—in that same spot—since she was about two.

  “Just a mo. Let me get some eggs.” He grabbed a plate from the sideboard and piled eggs, fresh local ham and sausage and hot baked pastries onto it, then poured himself a coffee. “I do miss these royal breakfasts when I’m not here.”

  “Really? I thought we were too dull for you here. I bet you’re missing your fiancée right now.”

  Sandro stopped in his tracks on his way to the table. “Fiancée?” He hadn’t planned a proposal to Serena, let alone popped the question and told his family about it.

  “Yes. Your fiancée. I was just reading about her in Hello.”

  Sandro put his plate down with a clatter and reached over to grab the paper from his sister. It took him a moment to find the short article declaring that he and Maya Dunham had announced their engagement and that they were planning their wedding.

  “What the—?” He threw the rag down on the table. “I’m not engaged to her. Not even close. I broke up with her.”

  “I suppose that explains why you’re here with someone else.”

  He glanced around. “Has Serena come down yet?” He hadn’t wanted to text her when he got up in case she needed to catch up on sleep. He was an early riser, like most people in his family.

  “Not yet.”

  “Don’t let her see this.” He shoved it back at Beatriz. “I’m serious. She means a lot to me, and this might upset her. Why are you reading this rag anyway?”

  “Um, did it occur to you that it might be better to show it to her and explain the situation rather than have her find it out from someone else? We women don’t really enjoy being lied to, despite what you men think.”

  “It’s not lying. I just don’t want her getting her feelings hurt over nonsense. She has enough on her plate.”

  “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “You won’t tell her, will you?”

  Beatriz shook her head—with exasperation rather than disagreement—and rose, taking her plate and Hello with her. She was gone before he could even ask her where she was the day before when everyone was worried about her.

  Beatriz could be annoyingly mysterious and he had to admit that until now he’d never put a great deal of effort into trying to investigate her mysteries. She was always there, like the antique furniture and the freshly cooked breakfasts. It occurred to him that he should stop taking her for granted. “Beatriz, wait!”

  But she was gone.

  What the hell was going on with Maya Dunham? He wanted to text her and ask, but he had a feeling that would open a whole can of worms that he really didn’t want to unleash.

  He decided to text Serena.

  The sound of Serena’s text alert woke her from a deep sleep. She groped for the phone on the bedside table and quickly realized that the bedside table wasn’t there because she wasn’t in her bed at home. The horrible realizations flooded back—she was in a strange royal palace and possibly under the gaze of a murderer.

  She groped around and found her phone where she’d left it on the other pillow, already dreading what the new text might say.

  8:03 A.M. She must have been so exhausted she could have slept through the end of the world. Poor Lucky must be desperate to go out by now. Though it was still the middle of the night in New York, so maybe he didn’t care.

  And the text was from Sandro. Heaving a huge sigh of relief she opened it. I’m downstairs having breakfast. Would you like me to come get Lucky?

  I’ll bring him down in a minute, she replied.

  Relieved to have made it through the night, she eased herself out of bed, switched on a light, since the curtains left the room in almost total darkness, and tugged some clothes on. She spent more time than usual on her hair and makeup for first thing in the morning, because she might well come face-to-face with the whole royal clan downstairs.

  Lucky was still sleepy, and she picked him up in her arms and carried him before tucking her phone in her pocket and leaving the room. Hopefully she could get Sandro to come outside, out of earshot of the palace, where she could warn him about the threatening texts she’d received last night.

  She could hear voices coming from the dining room—on the far side of a long hall—so she braced herself to face the group.

  “Good morning.” Sandro’s deep voice startled her. She spun around to face him. Dressed in dark jeans and a navy sweater, he looked good enough to drink instead of coffee.

  “You made me jump.”

  “I was waiting for you. I wanted to get a moment alone with you before you went in for breakfast.”

  “Why?” Alarms rang inside her despite his ca
lm expression. “Is something wrong.”

  “Why is it wrong for me to want some privacy with you?” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Isn’t that why you came to Altaleone?”

  “I don’t even remember why I came here.” Everything had spiraled out of control so fast. “But I really should take Lucky out.”

  Sandro pulled her coat from the big hall closet, took Lucky from her and helped her into it, then ushered her down yet another wide hallway toward a side door. Together they stepped out onto about an inch of new snow coating the big lawn on that side of the house.

  “Goodness, it is beautiful.” The lawn rolled away into fields, then rose up again in the distance toward snowcapped mountains.

  Lucky yelped at being put down on the snow but soon made use of the opportunity.

  She wasn’t going to waste her opportunity either. She reached into her pocket and switched her phone completely off. “Something weird happened last night,” she whispered.

  “The ghost?” Sandro didn’t look like he was taking her seriously.

  Who are you?

  The ghost, of course.

  The text—designed to creep her out—sprang into her mind. “A human. Someone texted me.” She kept her whisper as quiet as possible. “And they said they would kill you if I told you.” She couldn’t hide the fear in her voice.

  Sandro peered at her. “Told me what?”

  She frowned. She wanted to look at her phone to check the message but didn’t want to draw attention to it in case someone was watching from the palace’s many windows. “They want you to join the Cross of Blood.”

  Sandro looked shocked. “Can I see the message?”

  “I don’t think it’s safe for me to show you my phone right now. They could have a gun trained on you.” She fought the urge to look behind her at the house. “Isn’t the Cross of Blood the society you guys were talking about last night?”

  “Yes.” He frowned. “And I was planning on joining it anyway. Darias wants me to infiltrate it and get to know the other members.”

  “Why would this person want you to join?”

  “I have no idea.” He spoke slowly, scanning the snowy landscape as if for clues. “I need to tell Darias. And Gibran.”

  “But they told me not to tell you. What if they find out and—” She swallowed, assaulted by the awful thought of Sandro being shot dead in front of her. “Why don’t we go back to New York today?”

  She hadn’t planned to say the last part. She knew he was royal and had a duty to his country. But it just flew out. She wanted to get out of here more than anything—and take Sandro with her for his own protection.

  “I can’t. I have important work to do and I can’t abandon my family at a time like this. But I understand why you would want to go.” His expression grew grim. “If you feel that you can’t stay here, I can have someone drive you to the airport as soon as the roads are clear.”

  Yes! Her heart soared at the prospect of escaping this intimidating royal milieu complete with ghosts and death threats.

  No. Something in her gut—something sharp and powerful—told her not to leave Sandro. Told her that he was safer with her here. That if she left she might never see him again.

  “I don’t think I should leave yet.”

  “I don’t want you to leave.” He said it softly. He took her hands in his—his were warm—and looked into her eyes. “With so much going on I want you and our baby close. I swear I’ll protect you both.”

  Her insides stirred at his powerful words. Was it the baby inside her? She felt such a powerful connection to Sandro.

  That was bad. His family had no idea that she was carrying his baby, and even having met them she still had no idea how they would react.

  And how could he promise anything with an unknown killer right in their midst? “We shouldn’t stay out here too long. I don’t want the killer to know that I told you.”

  “What makes you think it’s the killer?”

  “Because they said they’d kill you the way they killed your father and grandmother.”

  “That’s a confession. We have to get the source of the text analyzed.”

  “But what if—?” She held her tongue. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “If I do what you supposedly really told me and join the Cross of Blood, then you can tell them you did your part.”

  “True. And we mustn’t talk about it unless we’re away from the house and any recording devices. I turned my phone off, just in case someone can listen to me through it.” She glanced around. “I’m getting paranoid.”

  “With good reason, apparently.” He sighed. “Damn I want to take you in my arms right now.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Danger aside, she didn’t want anyone ogling them from the house. Anything that happened between her and Sandro was their private business.

  “Then I guess I’ll continue to exercise my impressive self-control.”

  She smiled. “I appreciate that. “

  “And today, in between signing up for the Cross of Blood and whatever other madness is coming my way, I intend to spend some private time touring Altaleone with you.”

  “And a small entourage of security guards?” She lifted a brow.

  “And them, too.”

  Before she could protest he leaned in and pressed a swift kiss to her lips. He pulled back just as fast, leaving her lips humming with sensation.

  He gathered up Lucky, and she tried to collect her thoughts. Sandro’s kisses had a way of scattering them to the four winds. “I’ll tell the texter that you will join the Cross of Blood,” she whispered. “Should I say anything else?” They started to walk back to the house.

  “Ask them what they really want.” Sandro spoke low. “I don’t want you to be alone, though. Not even for a second.”

  “What about in the bathroom?”

  He hesitated. “Hmm, maybe Lucky can guard you in there. But I don’t think you should sleep alone.”

  “No?” She lifted a brow. This was an interesting pretext to get into her bed with him. And truth be told she’d feel a lot more protected with him there, even if she wasn’t actually safer at all.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “A little,” she admitted. “I slept like the dead.” She instantly regretted her choice of words. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m glad you slept well. Our three-hundred-year-old beds are more comfortable than they look.”

  Back inside, they hung up their coats and let Lucky run off to wherever he wanted. Then they headed back to the dining room, where Sandro’s mom, Lina, his sister Beatriz and his Aunt Liesel were eating or drinking coffee at the long table.

  “Good morning, Serena,” called Lina as they entered.

  “Good morning. I’m sorry I slept so late. I had a very good night.”

  “No disturbances from the ghost?” inquired Liesel, peering over the rim of a gold-edged coffee cup.

  Serena shook her head and managed a smile. Was Liesel somehow behind this? She hadn’t dared mention her conspiracy theories to Sandro. She wasn’t sure he’d appreciate hearing his family members accused of treason. “Do I help myself?”

  “Yes, dear. Plates are on the sideboard. Do let us know if you need more of anything.” Sandro’s mom smiled with what appeared to be genuine warmth. Then again, royals got a lot of practice being polite.

  Serena would have preferred a bagel with cream cheese, but since that wasn’t an option she helped herself to scrambled eggs, a piece of ham and something that looked like brioche, and was heading for the table when Liesel spoke.

  “Sandro, when were you going to tell us about your engagement?” Her words—delivered in a syrupy sweet toll of delight—stopped Serena in her tracks. She glanced at Sandro. Did his aunt think they were engaged?

  Sandro glanced at Beatriz, who shrugged and said, “I didn’t say a word.”

  Serena’s stomach clenched. What’s going on?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


  “It’s nonsense,” said Sandro gruffly. “Made-up nonsense.”

  Serena felt chastened. Clearly he hated any rumors of him being engaged to her. Ouch.

  “Serena thinks you mean to her,” said Beatriz coolly.

  “What? No! I…” Serena stammered. “What’s going on?”

  Sandro had the decency to look mortified. “It’s some stupid story in the papers about me and Maya Dunham.” He turned to the others. “Serena knows I broke up with Maya. I don’t know where they got the idea that we’re suddenly engaged.”

  Sandro knew about this story and hadn’t warned her? That reliable sinking feeling returned. She couldn’t trust him to be straight with her.

  “There are some lovely pictures of the two of you together.” Liesel gazed at them as if riveted.

  “It was a brief thing.”

  “It always is with you.” Liesel shot him an icy smile. “So you’re not engaged at all?”

  Serena still hadn’t managed to move. She attempted to lower herself into a chair while wishing the floor could swallow her up. None of these people likely thought she was just a friend to Sandro—originally here to stay overnight at his remote home—so this open speculation about his love life with someone else was beyond humiliating.

  “No. Not to her.” He looked directly at Serena. But didn’t say anything. Which was merciful. She might have just died on the spot if he’d said he was in a relationship with her—because she’d made it clear that she wasn’t ready for that.

  “You should make them issue a retraction,” murmured Liesel through a sip of coffee. “She apparently says you’re planning a June wedding.”

  “She’s insane. Besides, she probably didn’t even say that. Who knows where these papers get their stories from?”

  Serena burned with curiosity to see the article. Had Maya Dunham been desperate enough over losing Sandro to plant a false story? That seemed crazy, especially when her personal star was burning so bright right now.

  “Did I upset you…?” Liesel appeared to struggle to remember Serena’s name.