Secret Italian Prince's Baby

by Alyse Zaftig

  He gently set me back on my feet and held my hand. We thanked everyone in the chapel before collecting our marriage certificate, leaving our borrowed clothes, and heading out.

  "I love you, wife," Massimo said as we left the chapel.

  "I love you, husband," I told him. "Am I a princess now?"

  He raised our joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of my hand. "Not if my parents refuse to accept you, strip all of my titles and lands, and remove me from the line of succession. But you'll always be the princess of my heart."

  "That's all that matters to me," I replied.

  "Our hotel is too far away," he complained.

  "We don't even have a hotel," I giggled. "We can walk into any of these and be fine."

  "That's true," he said. "Normally, I have a security team scope out any hotels, but since we're being reckless tonight..." He dragged me into the nearest hotel. He gave them his card but asked to be "unlisted." I didn't know what that meant, but maybe it was something that celebrities and royalty did.

  In about a minute, we had key cards to the presidential suite and were in an elevator. His hand was in the small of my back, holding my body against his. My face rested on his shoulder. When the elevator chimed, we got out.

  "Get naked," Massimo commanded. I shivered at the tone of his voice and started taking off my clothes. As his body was revealed piece by piece, I shivered. He looked unreal, like an ancient statue. I stopped with my bra and underwear still on.

  "Come here, tesoro," he said. I took one step closer to him. His mouth came down on mine as he undid my bra and took it off of me. My underwear was next. He kissed his way down to my belly button and then licked my mound.

  "Hold onto my shoulders," he told me.

  I shivered as I obeyed his command. "Oh!"

  His hand carefully parted me so that he could access the center of my pleasure. I had to use his shoulders just to stay upright, but it was an uphill battle. My knees felt like they were about to give out.

  And then they did as my mind exploded like an Independence Day fireworks show. When I could breathe again, I opened my eyes. I was on a bed with a naked husband on top of me. All the lights were on. But before I could get self conscious, I saw the blaze in his eyes that said that he liked what he saw, soft stomach and all. His mouth descended on my neck, kissing and biting as I twisted under him, my back arching and my stomach melting. He put one expert hand between my thighs, making me cry out in a mini-orgasm as he played my body like a virtuoso would play a violin.

  I couldn't breathe when his hot mouth descended on my breasts, biting the tops before sucking on my nipples. I felt like there was a waterfall gushing between my thighs and knew that I'd gotten the sheets wet. My upper thighs definitely were wet at this point. But he kept going, stimulating me until I thought I'd go crazy.

  "Take me," I panted. I was proud of myself for getting out that much. I was almost beyond the point of speech.

  He pulled my ankles over his shoulders and leaned down, teasing me with his hardness.

  "You sure you want to consummate our marriage, wife? No going back."

  "I love you. Yes."

  When his body dove into mine, I screamed and immediately clenched around him. My entire world descended into explosive blackness as stars burst behind my eyelids. He was deeper than he'd ever been before. His hands moved to my hips to move them to the perfect angle. He filled me almost beyond what I could hold.

  His thrusts were brutal and unstoppable. I gasped my way through yet another orgasm as he continued to pound me into the bed. But when I felt his body tense, I knew he was close. I opened my eyes and whispered, "Come for me."

  He fell over the edge and filled me with his warm seed. There was too much for my body to hold. I could feel it leaking out of me. But he stayed right there, on top of me. He stared into my eyes and touched my cheek as gently as a leaf blowing in the wind.

  "You're mine," he told me.

  "Forever," I promised.

  With a groan, he pulled out of me. I felt cold where he'd left me, but he pulled me into his arms and took us both into the bathroom. There was a Jacuzzi there. He put me down before climbing in. He turned on the tap and began to kiss me, pulling me into his lap so that I could grind against him as his tongue invaded my mouth. I could feel him starting to get hard even though he'd just climaxed.

  The next morning, I felt like I'd been hit by a bus. I didn't want to get out of bed, but a ray of sunlight was hitting my eyes.

  "Morning, cara," I heard Massimo say. I opened my eyes. I was stark naked in a bed in a room that I'd never seen before. Blinking, I started to remember what we had done last night. I remembered the island and the wedding.

  "Morning, husband," I said. He kissed my forehead before pointing to the breakfast tray that was sitting on a table in the suite's breakfast nook.

  "Eat," he commanded. "You need your strength."

  I started to tug the sheet from the bed so that I wouldn't be eating naked, but with a few steps and some quick tugs, he pulled it away from me.

  "I prefer you like this."

  I supposed that during our honeymoon, however long it lasted, I could humor him. The two of us were the only people in this room. The curtains were white, which meant that they let through light but weren't transparent.

  He picked me up as if I weighed the same as a doll and put me in his lap. I could feel the press of his morning wood against my butt. His arms wrapped around my rib cage, but I ate pancakes and bacon. I didn't know why, but today everything tasted like it'd been sprinkled with ambrosia. I felt warm and loved, wrapped up in his arms and sitting in his lap.

  When I'd finished what was on the tray, Massimo spread my thighs. "Good morning," he told me as he slid inside of my naked body. I let out a half gasp as he entered my body. We'd done it so many times during the night that I couldn't believe there was anything left inside of him. Yet there obviously was, because he was stretching my body as if he hadn't had sex for a decade.

  He lifted me up and down in his lap. I held onto the edge of the table just to have a stable point during the bumpy ride. When he shot inside of me, I orgasmed right there. I felt as weak as a kitten afterwards. He lifted me off of his lap and carried me bridal style into the bathroom, where he sat me on the edge of the Jacuzzi and carefully cleaned me up.

  "What are your parents going to think of your pregnant wife?" I asked him.

  He smiled at me. "I don't care."

  I could hear the truth in his voice. Maybe our child would never inherit a throne, but honestly that'd be easier on me. I had no idea how to raise the heir to an ancient throne.

  "You're thinking too much." Massimo went down on me, at which point all of my thoughts about the future disappeared.

  "Should we leave the hotel?" I asked. My body felt sore in the best way possible. "I don't know if I can take anymore." I didn't know how many days it had been, but my entire world had become focused on pleasure. We'd make love, eat, sleep, and make love again.

  "Why would we leave this suite?" he asked, licking his bite mark on my shoulder. "I could stay here for a lifetime."

  "We both have responsibilities," I told him. "I like our honeymoon, but we have to return to the real world at some point. I have a business to run. Surely your parents can't be happy about your disappearance."

  The skin over his cheekbones tightened. "They aren't." I knew that he'd checked his cell phone once during our honeymoon before turning it off and taking the SIM card out entirely.

  "You have things to do," I told him gently. "I'd like to stay here with you and hide from the world, but you can't do it forever."

  "So sensible, cara," he told me, kissing my neck and making me moan. He slid out of bed. Taking a deep breath, he put the SIM card back into his phone and turned it on.

  Immediately, it began to buzz with a huge number of text messages. I could see his blood pressure rising with each second. I pulled him to the bed and began to massage his shoulders, pushin
g a little harder on the places he liked.

  Some of the stuff on his phone was in Italian. But some of it was in English. His business had been fine in his absence since he told them that he was taking an impromptu holiday. There were a lot of messages from his mother. I just put more effort into the massage. I couldn't control what his family decided to do.

  "I have to call them," he said, his voice tight. "Stay here, darling." He walked into another room in the suite and shut the door. I heard distant ringing before I heard shouting. I didn't know if she knew about his impromptu marriage, but she was about to find out.

  I slid into the bathroom and shut the door. I filled up a tub to soak my tired muscles and sore body. I was half asleep when the bathroom door opened.

  "Hey," I told him. He got into the tub with me and just held me against his hard body. "That bad?"

  "Worse," he said, kissing my shoulder. "But nothing I can't handle." He spun me so that I faced away from him and slid into me without another word. I worked myself up and down him, feeling the tension in his body ease with every stroke inside of me. His hands were playing with my breasts. Soon, he was groaning as I clenched down on him. "Oh!" I gasped.

  He moaned a little as he spilled inside of me. "I would do anything for you," he whispered in my ear.

  "I love you," I told him, and it was a promise.

  His hand found my clit and pushed me into another orgasm. "And I love you."

  Almost Abdication

  The next morning, I heard a phone buzz. I turned towards the irritating sound. Massimo's face went white when he read the text message that'd woken him up. I only had one eye open and a hand on his chest.

  "What's wrong?" I asked him.

  "My father is dead."

  Silence echoed in the room.

  "It's time for you to take the throne, then." I yanked the sheet up and grimaced at myself in the mirror. I was surprised that anybody wanted to be in bed with a troll like me. I was a total mess. "You have a coronation to attend. You're the crown prince. The king is dead. Long live the king."

  "I'm going to abdicate. You and the baby are more important to me than any throne.“

  I looked at my husband. "You can't." I shook my head. "I'll just divorce you. I can be your mistress or something."

  His jaw clenched. "No chance in hell," he told me. "You're never going to be a dirty secret or be called one ever again. You are my wife."

  "Stop being stubborn and think about what's best for your people," I argued. "They deserve a real princess."

  "As far as I'm concerned, you are one. There's precedent in my family lineage for a prince to marry a commoner. And we have a baby to think about.“

  "Don't you think that your people deserve to be proud of their princess?"

  "They should be proud of you. They will be."

  I shook my head. "I won't allow you to fall on the sword for me. Our marriage is bigger than just the two of us. You have responsibilities as head of state that are impossible for you to ignore."

  "I love you," he told me. The desperation in his voice brought tears to my eyes.

  "I love you more," I told him. "And I'm not going to let you sacrifice everything just to have me."

  A tear dropped from my right eye as I turned away from him. One way or another, I was going to find a way to fix this.

  I was quiet in the plane. Massimo was much paler than he usually was. I knew that losing his father was a huge blow. I held his hand the whole time as we flew from New York to Italy. His mother had already left. She’d been en route to Italy when his father had died.

  When I got there, I had a maid waiting for me in rooms that adjoined Massimo’s suite. She had a bunch of scratchy black clothing laid out. I didn’t protest. I was there to support Massimo while he took care of his father’s funeral. My personal comfort was secondary. I absolutely refused to put on heels, since they’d be a nightmare in a cemetery. I wore my own worn out Mary Jane shoes, despite my maid’s protests.

  I stood by Massimo's side as the pallbearers carried his father's remains away. If he weren't a prince, I'd be holding his hand right now. But royal etiquette regarding funerals did not permit me to touch him. The funeral was public. The burial was going to be private, just his immediate family and closest friends. The small group of us went in a handful of limos. The burial was a blur. I was standing behind Massimo and couldn't see his face. I noticed the stir in the crowd when Massimo put the first ceremonial shovelful of dirt on top of his father.

  When he turned around, his hands were shaking. He didn't seem like he was all the way there.

  "Let's get you home," I told him, curling one arm around his waist. He let me bring him into the car and head back to his palace. We'd been staying there since we'd flown in from another continent. His mother wasn't exactly welcoming, but I hadn't found any dead rodents in my bed yet, so I was safe for now. I knew that she'd been too preoccupied with her dying husband to pay real attention to me. Now that her husband was dead and buried, I was expecting to experience even more scrutiny than usual. Terrifying wasn't enough to describe her.

  As soon as we walked in the door, we were ambushed by his mother and a cadre of serious men in black suits.

  “We need to talk,” his mother said without preamble. She turned to me. “You should go.” I didn’t know if she meant now or forever, so I clung to Massimo’s hand a little harder.

  “She can be here for whatever you want to say to me.”

  “You’re a king now,” his mother hissed. “And you have a little…strumpet.”

  I flinched a little but just gripped his hand tighter.

  “She’s my wife and about to be your queen, Mamma.”

  “Never,” she hissed. “We’ll annul your marriage.”

  “I’m the king,” he said. “Without a crown yet, but I get final say.”

  The men in suits looked at each other. Evidently, he hadn’t clued in the people back home about our marriage.

  “Your marriage changes everything,” one of the men said. “Perhaps we can turn it into a morganatic marriage? Your cousin will inherit when you die.” He looked me up and down. I felt as worthless as the dirt under his feet.

  “She will be my queen,” Massimo insisted.

  “Pietro,” his mother started.

  “Massimo,” he countered. “Prince Pietro is the name that Father gave me. Massimo is the one that I chose.”

  “Massimo,” one of the men in suits said.

  “Uncle.” Massimo raised an eyebrow. “Your son will be happy to hear about my abdication if they cannot accept my commoner queen.”

  I was probably cutting off the circulation in his hands at this point with my tight grip.

  “Let’s not be hasty. Enrico has certain qualities that might not be ideal for our sovereign.”

  “You mean his addictions to hookers and blow?” Massimo raised an eyebrow. “Ah, well, you can force him to renounce his claim to the throne if you wish. You simply haven’t done so before now since I haven’t had a child or been married.”

  “You haven’t tried to advance the throne, that’s true.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, my voice a little more shrill than I liked.

  “You’re his wife,” his mother said, a touch of vinegar in her voice. “We’re referring to his refusal to marry and produce any children.”

  I touched my stomach, a gesture that everyone noticed.

  “You’re pregnant?” Massimo’s uncle asked.

  I turned to Massimo and asked him with my eyes to respond.

  “She is,” he said after a few seconds. Everyone gasped. “And we’re already married, so she potentially has my heir inside of her.”

  His mother fell backwards into the arms of an elderly gentleman who looked like he needed help. Massimo quickly helped the gentleman gently place his mother on the floor.

  “What’s the phone number for emergency services here?”

  “We have a doctor on our staff,” Massimo said. He walked
to a phone hanging on the wall and dialed a number. He spoke in rapid Italian. I only caught the word “dottore.”

  Within five minutes, a very slender man with white hair and a white coat knelt beside the current queen and soon-to-be dowager queen, if the nobles could accept Massimo as their new king and me as a queen. He put two fingers on her neck to check her pulse.

  “She’s breathing,” he said in English, looking at me. “I think she’s just had a shock. I’ll take her to the infirmary.” He clapped his hands and two men came to lift the queen off of the floor and carry her away.

  I was surprised that they had a doctor, but I guessed that it would be handy if I were going to stick around the palace. But whether or not I lived here would depend on the nobles who were still standing in the hallway.

  “You’ve proven that you have no intention of being the king that your father was. So what do you want?”

  Massimo stared at them. “Why don’t we sit down at a conference table?”

  There was a mini-stampede that would’ve been funny if the moment hadn’t been so serious. Massimo sat down at the head of a giant oak table. It looked like it was at least 500 years old, maybe older. I would ask under other circumstances, but we were a little busy with other stuff now.

  “What are your demands?” his uncle asked.

  “You’re making it sound as if I’m issuing proclamations,” Massimo said. “I’m just asking for as close to a normal life as possible.”

  One of the other lords put his hand over his heart. “Are you talking about living like a commoner?” He gave me a hard glare. “Your wife put these thoughts in your head.”

  “She doesn’t need to learn about palace protocol. She’s pregnant and doesn’t need any extra stress.”

  “We’ll keep her as your consort, then, a princess instead of a queen.”

  “Do you want to be a principessa, cara?”

  “Why not?” I asked. “If it’ll help them accept me, sure.”

  “So my wife will be my princess. I’ll agree to be crowned. But we will not be living here.”