The Reluctant Prince

by Candice Gilmer

  She smiled. “I’ll take care of it. Coming to visit your mom?”

  “I don’t know if I will, but I might have a friend come stay there.”

  She nodded. “This Sydney woman?”

  “Maybe, if she’s open to the idea.”

  “You can’t let some random stranger stay in your house,” Alicia snapped at him.

  “Sydney is not a stranger,” he answered her.

  “Why would she be? They’re dating,” his mother countered.

  “He met her in Vegas. He doesn’t know anything about her. She could be a psychopath, a lunatic. Someone who wants him for his crown. She can’t be completely normal, considering the display as we were leaving—staging that whole fight so Hadrian would come to rescue her.”

  Hadrian jumped up. “Alicia, she didn’t stage anything. You can’t consider her a psycho because she’s got a problem with her ex-husband.”

  “Do you really want to be around a woman who has that kind of baggage? That’s certainly not what you need, considering your position, duke.”

  “Did you have a purpose for coming out here, or did you want to follow me around?”

  “Yes, I did,” she snapped. “There’s a charge on your account that I was going to cancel, but the password’s been changed. Someone, and I can think of who would, has charged a new Kindle on your card, and it is being sent to Kansas.” She glared at him, certainty in her eyes.

  Hadrian raised a brow at her. “And you assume it’s Sydney, huh?”

  “She can’t be very smart if she had it sent to her residence.”

  Hadrian clenched his fists. “I ordered that. If you cancel the order, I’ll fire you on the spot.”

  Alicia stomped her foot on the ground and spun around, walking away.

  “Hadrian?” his mother said, bringing his attention back to her. “What is a Kindle?”

  Doctor’s offices, even when they were clean and fresh, like this one, were still the pits. Decorators try so hard, making the rooms warm and inviting with earthy tones and calming colors like sage, pale yellow and light tan. It never seemed to take the edge off the fact that someone was going to come at you with something sharp and stick it in you.

  Today was no exception.

  I was already agitated, because they made me do more blood work before giving me my shot. And God knows needles aren’t my friend. Half the time, I wind up staring at the wall, not at the lab tech taking the blood, because if I see them stick the needle in, I’ll tense up, and snap. There goes the needle. And it didn’t help that I have those easy to roll and collapsing veins.

  Nope, I wasn’t a fan of the needle.

  That was the nice thing about the birth control shot. They stick it in your butt, where you can’t see it. ’Course, I probably would tense up now, anyway, since more needles than expected came at me today.

  I didn’t know what the big deal was. I’d been on the birth control shot for the last two years. I got it every three months, like I’m supposed to. My last appointment was in October.

  I’d been waiting about thirty minutes when the door came open. My doctor, Dr. Brannon, came in. He was probably fifty, thinning salt and pepper hair and a hearing aid in one ear, a very patient man.

  Sometimes, though, he seemed too patient. Always on the days I was in a hurry. Go figure.

  I glanced at his hand. There wasn’t a needle in it. “Where’s my shot?”

  “Sit down, Sydney.” He motioned for the chairs next to the little worktable in the room. I’d been sitting on the exam bed, so I slid off it and sat down in the little plastic chairs that were cold as ice.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We took blood because according to our records, you haven’t had a shot since last July.”

  “That’s not possible,” I replied. “I got my shot in October. I remember setting up the appointment.”

  “You did set it up, but you didn’t show. You’ve been off the shot since October.”

  My face went white.

  Dr. Brannon’s eyes softened, and he reached out, touching my shoulder. “I bet you know what I’m about to tell you.”

  I shook my head. No, I don’t think so—couldn’t be. I couldn’t possibly be… No way. Surely I wasn’t that unlucky. My stomach felt weak. “Seriously, this must be a dream.”

  “You’re pregnant, Sydney. Not very far along, maybe three weeks. Odds are, if you took a home pregnancy test, it probably wouldn’t show up yet. Did you not have a period at all since October?”

  I thought back for a moment, trying to remember. I didn’t really have a period while on the shot, part of the reason I loved it.

  But there was those few days… “I had some spotting back in December. Not enough to consider it a period by any means.”

  “Do you remember when?”

  “A few days before Christmas.” Hard to forget, really, when I remembered the white pants I’d had on at the time.

  He nodded. “We can use that as a guestimate of a due date.” He pulled up a calendar on his laptop. He clicked, the sounds echoing in the room.

  Pregnant? I was pregnant? I put my hand on my stomach.

  My God, I was going to kill Hadrian. What had I been thinking? Why didn’t I insist on condoms? That selfish ass. He probably is one of those guys who always goes in bareback, never uses the things… Just making a big show. And here I come. Oh, dude, it’s okay, I’m covered.

  A flash came to my mind. He had asked, hadn’t he?

  Dammit.

  I made a fist. If things couldn’t get any worse, Fate finds a way to make them. Because I’m such good Mommy material—blue hair, crazy ex, baby’s daddy in a friggin’ other country.

  The doctor continued, oblivious of the mental conversation I was having with myself. “Your due date would be around September twenty-ninth or so. That is a rough estimate, and you’ll know more when you’ve had a sonogram.”

  I nodded.

  He reached over again and touched my hand. “I’m sorry this has come as a surprise. Is the father still in your life?”

  I let out a sad little smirk. “Sort of. He’s away, on, uh, some family business.”

  “Is he coming back?”

  “I don’t know.” Tears welled.

  “You know, we’re here for you if you need anything.” He handed me a tissue. “Do you have a gynecologist here at the clinic?”

  I nodded as I wiped my nose. “Yeah, Dr. Marvers.”

  “He’s a good doctor. Would you like my nurse to set up an appointment for you for your first visit?”

  “Mondays would be best,” I said.

  He got up from the chair and started to leave. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now, but it is a baby. And a baby is a good, beautiful thing.”

  “I’m not married, Doctor. I’m single, I have an insane ex-husband who broke into my car a week ago and pissed on the seats, then left the windows down so it would freeze.” I cradled my stomach. “The father? He’s in Koros. His cousin was shot and killed and his other cousin was maimed in an attack. He might never come back. My parents pretty much don’t have anything to do with me, because I’m divorced. I’m alone in this. Completely alone.” I buried my face in my hands and started to weep.

  A random thought slides through my brain, that if I were reading this in a book, I’d probably slam the thing shut for stupidity on the heroine’s part. Yet this was real. This was my life, and it was happening to me.

  I wanted to scream at Hadrian. How dare he boink me silly and not insist on condoms? What were we thinking? Flashes of our one night together, and I knew the answer to that dumb statement.

  We weren’t thinking. I thought I was covered.

  I started to wipe the tears away, and I looked up at the doctor, who was staring down at me.

  “What? Am I that pathetic?”

  He shook his head. “It’s hard, especially when your partner is away. Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon, then you can figure out what to do.”
>
  I snorted. “I doubt that.”

  “Keep your chin up, Sydney. Things aren’t always as bad as you think they are.”

  I raised my eyebrow at him. “This isn’t the most positive of situations.”

  “It’s always darkest right before dawn.”

  I let out a sigh. Isn’t that the truth.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I skated through the rest of the week, barely aware of the world around me. On Thursday, I had a couple of hours to kill, so I had Kitti mix up some brown hair dye to cover up the blue.

  It would have been fun, because Kitti was scared to death to put the brown I’d mixed up over the top of the blue, but I wasn’t in the mood to find the humor in it. She asked me probably seven times when she applied it if the color was supposed to develop a strange teal tinge.

  I told her it was fine. It was the developer pulling the blue out of my hair.

  I got a fairly nice, downright normal looking hair color. It was a bit on the ashy side, but that was to be expected with the blue underneath. Still, it came out well.

  I was desperate for a smoke when she finished, but I knew I couldn’t have one. Yet if I didn’t go outside for one, I would probably raise even more eyebrows.

  So I got up, slipped my coat on and headed for the back door.

  As soon as the door closed, I took in a deep breath of the chilly almost-February air. Pretty soon, the salon would start getting busier, people coming in to get fixed up for Valentine’s day, and taking away the winter blahs. Not that I was complaining, I was reeling from the super packed book of last week.

  I almost considered taking a vacation after that.

  At least now I knew why I was so darn tired every night.

  I about jumped out of my skin when my cell phone in my coat pocket started screeching.

  I didn’t bother looking at the screen before I answered.

  My mistake.

  “So how’s your car?” Jim asked me.

  I paused for a second, about to hang up, but then he’d call back.

  “What do you want?” My stomach roiled, and I don’t think it was morning sickness.

  “You owe me a camera.”

  “Eat shit and die, asshole.”

  “Such language. We’ll have to work on that.”

  “Whatever,” I said, wincing at how much I sounded like someone on Jerry Springer.

  “Like every other stupid girl out there, you’ll fall back in line and we’ll be back to that perfect little life we had.”

  This time, I did physically wretch. “It wasn’t perfect, dickwad. Your pencil dick fucked any pussy around.” Maybe it was hormones, maybe adrenalin. Couldn’t explain my mouth, but I was perversely pleased that I said it.

  “Don’t get too comfortable in that little apartment of yours. I might be stopping by for a visit.” The line went dead.

  I clenched the phone and considered throwing it across the field behind the salon.

  But it was new.

  I looked at the screen, wiping away a bit of my makeup. Fingers, of their own accord, clicked open the text messaging screen.

  Ever friggin’ want to eliminate anyone?

  Syd

  I sent the message to Hadrian. As soon as I did, I checked the time, realizing he was seven hours ahead. It was only one o’clock here, so I didn’t worry about him being in bed.

  My phone chimed with an incoming text message.

  More than you want to know. You okay?

  H

  I replied.

  Just the stupid ex.

  Syd

  I took in another deep breath of the cold air, letting it clean out my stomach. Maybe it wouldn’t be swirling so badly. My heart was starting to slow down, which was good.

  Why was it a few words from Hadrian and I suddenly felt better? It wasn’t even live words, it was text on a screen, and it soothed me immensely.

  The cell phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  It was Hadrian. At least I looked this time. “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine. He’s just… He’s being himself.”

  “Are you sure? I could be there in, uh, a day.” He sounded very, very worried.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine. He really can’t do anything to me. Besides, you have stuff to do there. Surely that whole mess isn’t worked out yet.”

  “I don’t care. I’m more worried about you than the crown.”

  I smiled. “Don’t let your assistant hear that.”

  “Maybe she should.”

  Hadrian really didn’t like this, not one bit.

  He walked as fast as his legs would carry him toward the king’s suite. Well, that was his first stop, anyway. Odds were, though, the king would be down in his study.

  Didn’t matter. He had to talk to him. He needed to get out of here. His gut churned at the thought of leaving Sydney alone. In his rational, usually business-like brain, he weighed the situation.

  Really, he didn’t know Sydney, not enough to justify caring this much about her. He couldn’t help it, though. His gut was screaming at him that if he didn’t immediately get back to her something was going to happen.

  No matter what she said about her husband really not doing anything.

  The evenly spaced doors on the family floor all looked the same, and he had to count as he walked to remember which door was the king’s. Once, someone had told him that all the identical doors were a security precaution. He could understand that—Hell, half the time, he was knocking on the wrong suite door and he’d practically grown up here.

  He walked past the spaced doors, knowing that he’d passed Elizabeth and George’s suite, and next was the king and queen’s. Under the circumstances, he half expected to see royal guards outside the doors.

  Instead, the door was cracked open, and he could hear the king and queen’s voices inside.

  The king coughed.

  “Do you need more water, my love?” the queen asked him.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  Hadrian peaked in the door. Inside, two royal guards stood at posts around the room, and Robert was there, speaking in low tones to the king. Another guard Hadrian didn’t know stood beside him. Hadrian slowed down, almost as if he were a child, listening to see if he needed to tiptoe by.

  “I have a hard time believing that assumption,” the king said.

  Robert spoke. “This wasn’t happenstance of one radical extremist. This was far more sinister.”

  While Hadrian listened, he swore he felt Dante’s spirit right there with him, urging him on to listen at the door like they did when they were kids.

  “I do not believe that a planned assassination is this easy to pull off.” The king moved around, his shadow dancing on the wall, the only part of him Hadrian could see.

  “We’re tracking down the orchestrator of it, and we have a few leads. There are several contract assassins out there who would attempt a royal assassination. But these men work for money. Someone had to hire them,” the other guard said this.

  “But what would the motivation be, Bastien?” the queen asked.

  “Majesty, it could be anything. Money. Power. Thrill. There are a thousand reasons the family could be targeted. It could be personal. How is their marriage?” Bastien asked.

  “Fine as far as I know,” the queen said.

  Hadrian grimaced. Heather and Michel had a picture perfect marriage, or so it seemed. The only problem was Heather’s few miscarriages. Though it seemed the losses had strengthened them more than ripped them apart. And of course, they had little Sara too, though she was further down the heir line than Hadrian, because she was a girl.

  “We already questioned Michel. He’s told us what he can remember. His attackers were planning a ransom. He attempted to get away, but they shot him. He assumes they regarded him as damaged, and that’s why they dumped him. He does feel strongly that they were acting under the orders of someone else,” Robert stated.

  “And that is the key.�
�� The king started to cough again. The clatter of a glass, and the king sipping at it crackled in the silence of the room. “Tell me who you suspect.”

  “There is only one person who would benefit from the death of the princes,” Bastien said.

  Hadrian’s stomach dropped. They suspected him of arranging his cousin’s attack? It was one thing for the media to throw out such wild accusations, but surely the royal family didn’t think he was responsible.

  “I refuse to believe that. Hadrian’s never shown any sign of wanting the crown.” The king made a strange rasping sound. “Even when he was here over the holidays.”

  “I do not like the evidence either, Majesty. I swore to the grand duke I would protect Hadrian,” Robert said, glancing at Bastien.

  “The timing is incredibly suspect,” Bastien added.

  Robert glared at him.

  “Doesn’t mean that boy knew anything about it.” The king coughed another deep cough. “Putting him on the throne would be a disaster. Anyone who knows this monarchy knows that.”

  Hadrian grimaced. Thanks, Uncle.

  “It makes no sense,” the queen replied. “Hadrian has a life in the Americas. He has his show, his world there. Why would he suddenly change?”

  The king coughed again, a raspy, choked sound, like his lungs couldn’t suck in enough air.

  “Should we call a doctor?” Robert asked.

  “No, they said this was normal at this stage.” The king’s refusal was hoarse and dry. A hiss of air, and Hadrian peaked in and saw the king in a chair, a portable oxygen mask in front of his face, taking deep breaths. The queen knelt on the floor next to him, helping him hold the mask.

  His uncle looked worse than Hadrian had ever seen him. What in the world was wrong with him?

  “And the cancer is how far now?”

  “Soon it will be everywhere.” He coughed again.

  Hadrian’s stomach dropped out. The king has cancer?

  “You’re not going to be able to keep this up much longer, love,” Patrice told her husband.

  “For now, though, no one must know.”