Contract Wedding, Expectant Bride

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “I love you,” Ottavia said to the still form on the bed in a voice that was thick with tears. “I will always love you, my darling girl.”

  She bent and pressed a kiss to her sister’s smooth forehead and then walked out of the room. There were papers to sign, a funeral to organize, a life to rebuild on her own. She rested the palm of her hand against her lower belly. Not entirely alone, she reminded herself and the thought gave her strength.

  The next few days passed in a blur. Adriana’s graveside service was attended by only a handful of people, but those that were there had at least known and cared for her. Afterward, Ottavia hosted a small supper at her apartment.

  “What will you do now?” asked one of the therapists from the institution where Adriana had lived.

  “Now? I think I will return to the United States for a while.”

  “So far away?”

  “I need to regroup my thoughts and decide what I want to do with the rest of my life.” Ottavia admitted. There was nothing left for her in Erminia and the knowledge made her heartsick. Was there anything for her in the United States? It was doubtful, but at least there she wasn’t known and she could walk through the streets as just one insignificant character among tens of thousands of others. And maybe, in time, she would heal.

  * * *

  Rocco paced the floor of his office in the capitol city. It had been four months since the debacle with Ottavia Romolo and last night his parliament had, after a close vote, requested his abdication. The people were ready to support the pretender on the throne...even though they still did not seem to know who he might be. But Rocco had just uncovered a key piece of the puzzle, and now was the time to act, before he ended up dethroned.

  He thought back to the night he’d sent Ottavia away, at the intricately woven lies that had been presented to him. And he’d believed every one of them. He couldn’t afford to dwell on that—not now that he had concrete proof of who had been behind it all. The knock that came at the door was followed immediately by its opening. There was only one person on his staff who had the audacity to do that.

  “Sonja,” he said, before even turning around.

  “I have come for your decision,” she said uncompromisingly.

  “Decision?”

  “Parliament’s request to you last night to give an answer regarding your abdication. I suggest you make your announcement at lunchtime. I have arranged for the media to assemble in the palace receiving hall and I have prepared your speech.”

  He gave her a smile. She had no idea that she’d stepped into the noose. “Always so efficient. However, there will be no abdication, Sonja.”

  Twin points of high color stained her flawlessly made-up cheeks and her eyes burned bright with ferocity.

  “No matter what you do now you’ll never meet the terms of the old law. You must abdicate in favor of your older brother.”

  Must? The smile that had been on his face disappeared as he prepared to confront the viper in his nest that had hidden in the disguise of the person he’d trusted most. If he’d thought Ottavia’s perceived betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow, this was so much worse. His entire family had trusted Sonja, and for what? So she could attempt to put her own son on the throne?

  “You are mistaken. I have no older brother. You have to put aside your dreams for your son. Andrej can never be king,” he said emphatically.

  “He is your father’s oldest child,” Sonja spat back at him. “He deserves to be on the throne.”

  There’d been rumors—many of them—that his father and Sonja had once been lovers, but like so many rumors Rocco had dismissed them. Without proof they were nothing more than a nuisance. Even now, despite Sonja’s words, he didn’t know if Andrej was truly his brother or if Andrej and Sonja merely wished to believe it to be so. In all honesty, he didn’t care. His father had been a philanderer. Rocco wouldn’t be surprised if there were several illegitimate offspring scattered throughout the country. What mattered was that Andrej was a man no one should trust as their king.

  He had evidence now that the boat had been tampered with that day on the lake and, with the evidence from the money trail for funds used for bribes and to arm the men who had been responsible for abducting his sister several months ago, there was concrete proof that Andrej had been behind it all. Moreover, when the scandal broke of Ottavia’s supposed affair with Andrej, several members of his staff had come forward to say that Andrej had threatened or blackmailed them into bed, and that if Ottavia—toward whom they still bore incredible loyalty—had been caught with Andrej, then he had probably done the same to her.

  The picture was complete now. Andrej might or might not be the late king’s son, but he was definitely a liar, an abductor, a blackmailer, a sexual predator and—if his plan with the boat had succeeded—potentially a killer.

  “The whole country is unstable now,” Sonja continued. “You think you can avert civil war? You can’t. You call yourself the supreme leader of your nation but what do you know of military tactics? Andrej is the only one who can bring this country back to its former glory.”

  “After he created the instability we now face?”

  “The instability I helped him create.” She smiled smugly. “I knew about the succession law all along—I knew it would create the opportunity for my son to be crowned the rightful king. I would have been a far better queen than your weak-willed mother who wanted nothing more than to play with her flowers and hide from her subjects. But your father wouldn’t listen. So I made sure that one day my child would reign. It wasn’t so hard to wait, although persuading Elsa she didn’t want to be your queen was a little harder than I expected. But enough of this—you have no choice now, you must step down.”

  The news about Elsa came as a shock, but the impact was dulled under the body blow of finding out just how twisted his formerly trusted advisor truly was.

  “I am still king and I will fight you with every resource at my disposal,” he warned.

  And those resources were quite a bit more extensive than Sonja herself probably realized. She thought she had succeeded in turning everyone influential against him, but when Rocco had called for a secret session of the parliament and presented the chamber with evidence of all that the Novaks had done, the members had been horrified and shocked. Or at least, they had pretended to be. Perhaps some of them had known of the steps Andrej and Sonja had taken beyond the boundaries of the law...but now that the evidence was clear against them, no one was willing to be seen as on the Novaks’ side. They had agreed with Rocco’s decision to have them both arrested. He’d sent a security team to capture Andrej, but had insisted on confronting Sonja himself.

  He pressed a button on his desk and four members of his security team entered his office immediately.

  “Relieve Mrs. Novak of her electronic devices and take her to the detention center. Hold her there until further notice.”

  “You can’t do this,” she spluttered, already resisting the arms that now held her. “My son is the true leader of Erminia.”

  “Take her,” Rocco said, filled with disgust for allowing himself to be so manipulated. For not seeing more clearly that she had been operating under her own agenda for several years now.

  Sonja’s protests could be heard as his team took her down the corridor. She would be held until she could be officially tried. Oh, they would verify her claim as well—Rocco had ordered the DNA test for Andrej. But whether her son was biologically royal or not, he was still subject to prosecution for the many Erminian laws he’d broken—or ordered others to break. And so was Sonja.

  The head of his personal security entered the room.

  “Sire, our men met with some resistance, but General Novak has also been secured. He has also been confined at the detention center along with several of his men.”

  “And the DNA testing?”
r />   “Samples have been taken. The general didn’t protest. He is quite confident of being proved correct in his claim.”

  As if the claim was the only thing that mattered! Didn’t the man realize how much damage he’d done, how much trouble he was now facing? The mother and son were far too much alike, both certain that the ends justified the means...even if those ends included something as reprehensible as the disgrace and sexual assault of an innocent woman. But no, he couldn’t let himself think of Ottavia now. Not when his focus needed to be on guiding his people through this crisis.

  In the end it only took a week to disprove Sonja and Andrej Novak’s claim. Sonja, of course, disputed the reports, saying they were rigged, but Rocco had taken the precaution of having the samples taken and analyzed by a laboratory in Switzerland, so there was no question of bias. With no royal blood to provide him any degree of protection from the law, Andrej was charged with an extensive list of crimes. He would be in jail for a very long time—which was a good thing for him, in the end. When King Thierry had returned from his honeymoon and found out that the man was responsible for Princess Mila—now Queen Mila’s—abduction, he’d been ready to tear Andrej Novak apart with his bare hands.

  The roll-on effect was immense as his people worked behind the scenes to flush out the Novaks’ supporters as quickly and as quietly as possible. No one was willing to publically support them once their crimes were unveiled, but there were plenty of people who’d invested heavily in the political instability the Novaks had courted, and they were not easily quelled. But, finally, the last of the Novaks’ supporters was arrested and held awaiting trial. Riding on the wave of public support, a nationwide referendum was held regarding the succession law and, to Rocco’s relief, it was overwhelmingly overturned.

  He’d repaired his country—he’d held on to his throne. Maybe now he could begin to repair some of the damage to his heart.

  Sixteen

  He pressed the buzzer several times but there was no response from the apartment upstairs. Rocco turned and strolled down the sidewalk. People milled around him and traffic swooshed by on the wet road, oblivious to his turmoil. He’d thought it would be so easy. He’d decided what he needed and he’d come to get it—her. The crusading knight on his shining white charger. But, despite what his observers had told him, she wasn’t there.

  She couldn’t be deliberately avoiding him. Rocco knew his visit to New York had been kept completely under wraps so there was no way she’d have had any idea that it was him requesting access to her. He must simply have timed his visit badly. His driver held the door open to the town car parked at the curb but Rocco shook his head. “I’m going to walk for a bit,” he said to his security team who expressed their alarm immediately. But Rocco held firm. He wanted to be somewhere where he could watch the entrance to Ottavia’s building. Where he could see if she returned. Where she couldn’t spot him and decide not to return home until he was gone. Down the street was Union Square Park. “I’ll head over there.”

  His team surrounded him at the crosswalk, protecting him even while attempting to look as though he was just another New Yorker bustling about on a Saturday morning rugged up against the autumn air. Rocco accepted it as necessary—after all, he’d been surrounded by one team or another all his life. But he found himself wishing he could be a regular guy. One not unlike the man across the street, waiting with an eager smile on his face and a bunch of freshly purchased blooms from the nearby market in his hand.

  A dark-haired woman ran along the sidewalk toward the other man, wrapping her arms around his waist and lifting her face to his with a welcoming smile. Rocco felt a stab of loss pierce him until he realized she wasn’t the woman he sought. He still had a chance. For every minute he knew that Ottavia hadn’t moved on—to another man, another relationship, another contract—he still stood a chance. He crossed with the crowd and entered the park. A squirrel dashed across the lawn and up a tree next to him, dragging his attention from his scrutiny of the crowds that milled around the farmer’s produce market. Beneath the tall trees it was far cooler than on the busy sidewalk. He took a seat on a bench that faced toward Ottavia’s street and pulled his collar up against the cold, early winter air.

  It was busy at the market and the stalls were thronged with people. Rocco cast his gaze around, searching for the familiar shape and graceful movement of Ottavia’s form, the sweep of her long dark hair or the bright-colored clothing she had always preferred. But there was nothing. Had this been a wild-goose chase?

  He was not a man used to second-guessing his decisions. The investigators he’d retained had assured him that the address he now watched was hers and that she’d lived there since leaving Erminia after the death of her sister. He’d been horrified to learn the truth about Adriana. But his investigators had uncovered more about his beautiful courtesan than he’d ever expected to learn.

  It had come as a shock to learn that she’d channeled so much of her earnings into a trust to ensure that the facility where her sister had lived would continue to run to assist other disabled children for many years into the future. He shouldn’t have been surprised to discover that his courtesan was not only discreet, but she was a philanthropist, as well. She was every bit as wonderful as he’d thought her to be on the night she’d agreed to marry him.

  God, he’d been such a fool. He should have believed her. He should have known she was telling him the truth. Rocco dropped his head and stared down at the ground between his feet. He was desperate to see her. To tell her what an idiot he’d been. To find out for himself if there was a chance she’d allow him to prove his love for her. The shame he felt at abandoning her when she had been the one telling him the truth consumed him. He could only hope she’d listen to what he had to say. A cold voice at the back of mind prodded him. Why would she listen to him after the way he’d treated her, especially when she’d called to tell him about the baby?

  A child. His child, growing inside the woman he loved. And he’d sent her away.

  “Sire?”

  “What is it,” he replied to his guard.

  “I believe she has returned.”

  Rocco lifted his head and looked across the street; he saw the flash of the ruby red of her coat topped by the glorious fall of her long, dark hair. She waited at the crosswalk and carried several shopping bags. He didn’t realize he was on his feet and heading toward her until he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.

  “Fall back,” he commanded over his shoulder, at the same time keeping his eyes on Ottavia—not willing to let her out of his sight for a moment now that she was here.

  Two more steps and he was behind her.

  “Ottavia.”

  His voice cracked as he spoke her name and she wheeled around to face him. Recognition was followed swiftly by pain and shock. Each chased across her features and he watched in horror as all color drained from her face. She swayed on her feet and he reached forward to put out an arm to support her, but she rallied in an instant.

  “Don’t you dare touch me,” she said in a voice that could have stripped paint.

  His hand fell uselessly to his side. It was at that moment that he noticed the bulge of her tummy, of the evidence of the babe she carried. A powerful wave of pride and protectiveness overcame him. He hadn’t realized that facing the evidence of the life created by them would affect him so profoundly. At that moment, he knew he would move heaven and earth to provide for and safeguard his child—and Ottavia, too, if she’d let him.

  “You shouldn’t be carrying those heavy bags,” he said and reached for them.

  “I can manage,” she said tightly.

  “But you don’t have to,” he said and gently pulled them from her hands and passed them back to one of his guards.

  Ottavia rolled her eyes. “And what now? I suppose you think you’re going to walk me home?”

 
“If you’ll let me.”

  He stared into her eyes, willing her to say yes. The lights changed and everyone around them began to cross the street. With a huff of frustration Ottavia wheeled away from him and started to walk across the street. Rocco hastened to her side, his hand at her elbow.

  “I’m not helpless, you know,” she bit out in response to his touch and tugged her arm away.

  “I know,” he answered simply. “I’d like to talk.”

  They reached the lobby of her building and she halted.

  “The time for talking has long gone. There is nothing left to say between us.”

  Beneath her cool, impersonal words he caught a hint of the piercing pain he’d caused her.

  “Please?”

  It was the one thing left in his arsenal and thank goodness it worked.

  “Fine,” she said to him with a glare toward the security detail. “But not them. Just you.”

  “You heard the lady,” Rocco said to his men and took back the grocery bags.

  “We will wait for you here, Sire,” the leader of the team said, although he didn’t look too happy about it.

  “He won’t be long,” Ottavia said before spinning around and heading inside the lobby.

  The elevator was small and slow but Rocco relished having the opportunity to study her in the confined space. Her color had returned, to his great relief, and he began to notice the other changes in her that pregnancy had wrought. While she’d never been one of those thin, gaunt-faced women who paraded the fashion runways, the sensual sweep of her cheekbones and the curve of her jaw had never had quite this maternal softness about them as they did now.