She wondered how her life—how her and Nate’s life—would change if they added a new element…a baby. It was a ridiculous question, of course. Their lives would change forever, individually and as a couple. She just wondered whether the pair of them would weather those changes together, or if she’d be left alone to struggle with motherhood.
Because she had absolutely no doubt she’d be a shit mother.
She slammed the dough a little harder after that thought.
How was she supposed to do this? She didn’t know anything about mothers. Hers had been an awful one. Some piece of shit that illegally sold prescription drugs with her alleged father, both of whom had abandoned her when the heat started coming down on them. Neither cared about her. Coming from people like that, of course she’d be shit at parenting herself. She was glad she didn’t remember much about them.
Once she’d been pulled into the system back in the States, she’d moved from foster home to foster home. No one cared about her then, either. All except the last had only cared about the goddamn checks they got in the mail for pretending to care about her.
She’d never felt settled in the States, except for the time she’d spent with Miss Lola, her final foster mother. After Miss Lola passed away, a year after Charlie left for culinary school, however, she hadn’t wanted to stay. That had been part of the reason she’d decided to come to Europe to work after graduation, as well as to taste food and learn new techniques and recipes along the way. She’d eventually wound up in Valentia, Valleria’s capital city, and then had gotten a job in the palace. She’d been working in this very kitchen when she and Nate had first started seeing each other.
God, Nate. How was she going to tell him if she were pregnant?
Another doughy slam, the sharp sound echoing through the small kitchen along with her occasional grunts.
Kneading brioche dough was fucking hard work. Especially when it gave her too much time alone to think. Maybe she’d been wrong to hide out here. Maybe she’d be better off curled in Nate’s arms while they watched something mindless on television.
She sighed and stopped kneading. She stretched the dough out between her hands, testing the gluten, and determined another five minutes of kneading should do it.
Then she’d find Nate’s arms.
* * *
Nate leaned on the doorjamb to one of the smaller kitchens and watched his love. He’d had another long, grueling workday, and all he’d wanted was her and a hot meal at the end of it. Yet, when he’d gone back to their apartments, she wasn’t there.
He’d left his jacket and tie behind, rolled up the sleeves to his once-crisp white shirt, and made his way down to the kitchens. He could have called, but she never picked up when she was cooking or baking, so there seemed little point in it.
She was oblivious to his presence, which meant something was wrong. She would usually sense him. Her head would turn and catch his eyes just as he walked through the door. A soft smile—one he wasn’t sure she was aware of making—would grace her lips and a light would come into her eyes.
Both the smile and light were only for him.
She had neither of them now.
She could brood, he knew that. God, did he know it. She’d shut down and shut him out. Even now, after over a year together, she didn’t trust him with everything. If the problem was work, she might share it, so long as the problem didn’t involve his family. If there was ever any problem that did concern his family, she’d keep quiet about it. She’d always want to solve it on her own and she rarely involved him.
It seemed as though she were afraid of rocking the boat that they traveled in together. If she mentioned problems to him, perhaps she thought he’d tip the boat away from her and towards his family, or that he’d jump out of the boat entirely.
He’d never leave her. She was his heart, walking outside his body. He’d lost a love before, but the love he’d felt then seemed so little compared to what he felt for Charlotte.
His family also adored her. She was head of the kitchens, which meant his family were technically her boss, but they didn’t look down on her for it.
Well, not anymore at least.
They loved her, would do anything to protect her. Just as he would.
A sudden rush of love overtook him, and he decided to act upon it.
He pushed away from the jamb and strode toward her. Her head jerked in surprise—still no smile—and she stepped back from her workbench, her sticky, doughy hands held aloft.
“Charlotte-mine,” he murmured.
“Nate, what-uhn!”
He cut off her question with his lips. His arms banded around her and pressed her long, lean body against his. She didn’t hug him in return—her arms were angled away—but after a moment she relaxed into the swift, hard kiss.
His lips drifted to her cheek and the long slope of her neck. When she sighed, he pulled back. “Hold me, Charlotte-mine.”
She waved her hands a little. “They’re dirty.”
“So?”
“So, your shirt, which is probably very fancy and very expensive, will get dirty, too.”
He nearly smiled. His Charlotte cared little for fashion, makeup, or anything similar, so she didn’t realize just how fancy and expensive his shirt really was. “You know the wonderful thing about the modern age?”
She frowned slightly. “What?”
“Washing machines. Detergent. Dry cleaning. The ability to clean clothes—even fancy ones—easily.”
She snorted, the sound music to his ears. “When have you ever washed your own clothes?”
That was a fair point. As a royal, it wasn’t something he’d ever had to do or worry about. Even in the years he’d spent away from Valleria, he’d been able to hire staff to take care of those things for him.
He just smiled and held her tighter. “Hold me.”
She pursed her lips for a moment, then let out another sigh. Her arms wrapped around him, though he sensed her hands were still away from his back.
He could always tell when those slim, capable hands touched any part of him.
She rested her head against his chest, and he rested his chin on her head. She fit perfectly against him.
He rocked them gently, and oh-so-slowly. “You’re working late tonight.”
“I’m making your brioche.”
“I love your baking, Charlotte-mine, but you don’t need to kill yourself working late to make it.”
“I’ve already got some for tomorrow. This is for the day after. The dough needs to rest for a long time before I bake it.”
He kissed the crown of her head. “Why don’t you get some rest, too? I think we both could use it.”
She turned her head and rested her chin on his chest so she could peer up at him. “You had a rough day.”
He kissed the tip of her nose because he just couldn’t resist. “I’d say we both did.”
She turned from him then and started stepping away.
Oh, yes. Something was definitely wrong with his Charlie.
“Let me just stick this in the fridge and we’ll head up. Did you eat anything yet?”
He shoved his hands into his slacks because he wanted to pull her back, force her to tell him what had happened. “No. I wanted to eat with you.”
She nodded. “What are you in the mood for? We’ve got some beef I could do something with, or pasta, or—”
“Let’s just grab something from the kitchens and take it up. No sense in you making anything when you’re so tired.”
She looked as if she was going to fight him on it but nodded again.
Another sign something was wrong: no matter how tired she was, his Charlie would always insist on making their meal.
He watched her move swiftly around the kitchen, her movements assured and easy. Finishing up with the dough, cleaning up her workspace, washing her hands—everything she did with a strict efficiency. She wasn’t tense or agitated by anything here.
This—whatever was both
ering her—clearly wasn’t work.
His mind flipped through the morning they’d shared, last night, the last few days, straining to remember if he’d done something or forgotten an important date. Nothing immediately came to mind. Charlie wasn’t fussy about things like that, not usually anyway.
When she came back to him, they slipped their arms around each other’s waists and walked out. They stopped to pick up some stew and bread from the main kitchen, and he carried it in a picnic basket as they made their way through the corridors, protection agents trailing them discreetly.
“I didn’t see your agent down here. Did you evade her again?”
Charlie crinkled her nose. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Charlie.”
“I know. I know. I’m still not used to them, I guess.”
“It’s been over a year.” She started to slip her arm away, but he kept her against him.
She sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I was just distracted tonight. I went home but then needed to see Rebecca. I used the secret passageways to her apartment where I didn’t need an agent. After we finished, I decided to come here to work, but I used the hallways and forgot to tell my agent where I was.”
He kissed her temple. “You know better than anyone that the palace walls can’t protect you from everything.” Charlie had been shot inside these palace walls. So had he, come to that. “Please do better. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. I need you, you know.”
He thought fleetingly of the previous woman he’d loved and lost. He’d eventually recovered from her death, as much as one could recover from the death of a loved one, at any rate. He’d thought that she had been the one and only for him.
How wrong he’d been.
It was difficult to think of it now, to know that he hadn’t loved her as much as she deserved, but it had been as much as he thought himself capable of giving at the time.
He’d been wrong on that score as well. The love he felt for Charlotte was more than anything that had come before. Charlotte was his one true love, he knew that without a shadow of a doubt. Just as he knew he’d never recover if anything else happened to her. He thought he’d known devastation when his first love had died, but that would pale to the loss of Charlotte.
She relaxed against him. “I need you, too. I’ll do better.”
He gave her a squeeze. “Good. What did you need to see Rebecca about?”
Her step stuttered, but he kept her from tripping.
“Uh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.”
As the floor was marble smooth and worn from centuries of use, he knew there was nothing there to trip her.
Could Rebecca hold the key to her distraction?
Charlie cleared her throat. “Well, um, Grace and I are helping her with her work at the hospital. We’re going to go with her tomorrow and I guess I’m just nervous about it.”
That was a surprise. “I didn’t realize that was something that interested you, as you do so much with food donation charities in Valentia.”
She flushed. He knew she didn’t like it when he pointed out the good work she did, such as donating leftover palace food to various organizations that helped the homeless, people in shelters, various schools, and others besides.
“It’s just something I’m trying out. I’m not sure I’ll be all that good at it, but we’ll see.”
“You’ll just be working with children, will you not? That’s typically where Rebecca spends her time at the hospital.”
She stutter-stepped again. “Yeah. Um, I don’t know if I’ll be any good around kids.”
“You’ll be wonderful.”
She gave him a wary glance. “You sound pretty sure of that.”
“I’m sure of you, Charlotte, so yes.”
She didn’t say anything the rest of the walk back and said very little through dinner. She did stay cuddled up against him while they watched a mindless movie and fell asleep in his arms.
He wanted to make love to her, to re-connect with her in the most elemental way possible, but he wouldn’t wake her. Perhaps some sleep would help both of them.
He carried her into their bedroom and undressed her, then himself. She didn’t wake through any of it, not even when he slipped into bed beside her and positioned her in his arms. She merely wrapped her arms around him and settled into sleep.
Facing each other, her face tucked against his throat, their bodies warm and snug, his mind began to drift through his day and the days ahead. He gently tugged the band out of Charlie’s hair—she always wore it back when working in the kitchens—and tossed it aside. His fingers ran gently through the silky, mouse-brown strands.
Besides the obvious concern about Charlie, he had his own worries. He’d had another in a long line of grueling days. His post as Minister of Finance and Treasury meant he was responsible for Valleria’s finance and prosperity.
These days, that was a tall order.
The markets around the world were teetering from one extreme to the next. He tried his best to ride the highs and weather the lows, but it was becoming more difficult to manage. More difficult still as certain incompetent leaders in other countries cared little for the effect their actions had on the market. To manage the last was Alex and their father’s job, and one he didn’t envy in the slightest.
Nate never thought he’d stay in this position so long. He’d begun the job at his father’s urging and stayed because there had been work he’d wanted to complete. Now, the lives of the people, of Vallerians, weighed heavily upon him.
He was responsible for ensuring their pensions were available, for ensuring their retirement was easy in an uneasy world. He was charged with protecting the nation’s finances, a task he’d nearly lost his life for after discovering billions had been siphoned from the country’s coffers. Though they’d gotten that back, it all still weighed heavily on his mind. He was so afraid of letting his family and his people down, of letting down the woman in his arms, he was seriously contemplating leaving.
Yet, there was always a reason not to leave his post. Always a problem seeking a solution, always some fucking politics with the Royal Council that they all had to pander to from time-to-time. The last was one of the biggest reasons to stay; his leaving such an influential post could shift the makeup of the Council. Though the Council did not hold real power to change laws—they were established as an advisory council to the monarchy centuries ago—certain members on the Council would do anything to change that. Alex had declared Nate his right-hand man, which meant Alex believed Nate would be on the Council and in this post long-term.
Yet, should he continue to do this? Continue to stress and worry, and spend too many hours away from his love? He loved his country, loved his family. He would do anything for them. As Charlie ran the palace kitchens, their life was here, at the palace. What else could he do if he didn’t do this?
He sighed, and the movement caused Charlie to turn in her sleep. Once she settled again, he spooned her from behind and willed his body to relax.
He’d put aside his thoughts of his post, and his worries about Charlie, for tomorrow.
Chapter Four
Charlie walked behind Rebecca, her hands fisted and stuffed in her pockets, while Royal Protection agents trailed them.
Charlie felt sick.
It was the hospital. Even working in kitchens and getting burns or cuts or something worse, she’d never had to go to a hospital for treatment. The mentality in the food world was to fix yourself up and, if you wouldn’t contaminate the food, to keep on going. Though she had been admitted when she’d gotten shot and visited the hospital when a member of Nate’s family had been admitted, she hadn’t been to a children’s ward at the hospital in years.
Not since she was about four years old.
Then, she’d been taken there by the police. She wasn’t hurt, just neglected because her parents had abandoned her to go on the run. For years, Charlie had been angry at her parents for leavi
ng, but that was only until she met Miss Lola.
Then, she realized her parents had given her a gift by not dragging her further into their world and taking her on the run with them. She’d never forgive her parents for what they did—gift or not, they were still her parents and should’ve done better by her—but she didn’t feel particularly angry anymore.
Yet, standing in the hospital, where the scents and sounds never changed no matter which hospital it was, memories had come rushing back in a wave.
Everyone had seemed so tall and huge when she was little, towering over her, asking her questions she didn’t understand or know the answers to. Four was a fleeting age, so she didn’t remember much about it, but she remembered feeling scared by all the adults and by being alone.
She also remembered that she’d wanted her mommy and her stuffed bunny rabbit.
She never got either of them.
Her mother was gone, never to be seen again, along with her father.
Her bunny rabbit had been taken by the police, and she’d never seen that again either. When she was old enough, she’d looked into her past. According to the police records and warrants, her parents had used stuffed animals to transport illegal prescription medication throughout suburbia.
Assholes.
She wouldn’t forgive her parents for taking away her bunny rabbit, either.
Now, she and Rebecca entered the children’s ward. The walls were covered with a bright mural, but the rainbow of colors couldn’t hide the shadows underneath, or the scent of cleaners or the sounds of machines beeping. When she’d been taken to the hospital as a child, everything had scared her. Later in life, she’d realized that had been the moment when she’d decided she wouldn’t be scared again.
So, she’d become the tough bitch she was known for.
Since meeting Nate, she’d mellowed from being a full bitch to a moderate one because he made it okay to feel scared or happy or anything, which she did because he was there to hold her through all of it.
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