The Prince's Second Chance

by Brenda Harlen

  He frowned over that question as he helped Gabriella tidy up the kitchen. She was right—he hadn’t been ready to be a father sixteen years ago, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready now. But he was thirty-six now—old enough and mature enough to own up to his responsibilities, to be a father to his daughter—even if she didn’t seem to need him.

  He looked through the window over the sink. Most of the guests had already gone, but a few of Sierra’s closest friends had lingered, along with a guy who was—in his opinion—far too close to his daughter.

  “Who’s that with Sierra?” he asked Gabriella.

  She squeezed out the dish cloth, wiped around the outside of the sink. “Paolo.”

  He didn’t want to ask, but the question sprang from his lips anyway. “Boyfriend?”

  She nodded. “They’ve been seeing each other for about six months now.”

  “Isn’t she too young to have a boyfriend?”

  “She’s sixteen,” she reminded him.

  “Just turned sixteen,” he shot back.

  She only smiled. “Paolo’s a good guy.”

  He frowned. “Are you really okay with this?”

  “Let’s just say that I’ve learned to pick my battles.”

  “You seem to have a really good relationship,” he commented. “I can’t imagine you having any battles.”

  “If you stick around long enough, you’ll see plenty of them,” she promised.

  “But you don’t think I will stick around, do you?”

  She was silent as she carefully folded the dish cloth, then draped it over the faucet. “I don’t have any expectations one way or the other.”

  “I guess I can’t blame you for that,” he said. “But I can promise you that I’m sticking around this time.”

  “Because you think it’s the right thing to do?”

  “Partly,” he admitted.

  “But what if it’s not?” she challenged.

  “What do you mean?”

  Her gaze went to the window, and when she finally turned back to him, he saw the confusion and uncertainty clearly in the depths of dark eyes. “What if telling Sierra the truth about who you are isn’t the right thing for her?”

  “Would you be asking that question if I wasn’t a prince?”

  Her hesitation confirmed that his title was a concern to her. Most people wanted to exploit his royal status; Gabriella would prefer it didn’t exist.

  “The fact is, you are a prince,” she said. “And when word gets out that you have an illegitimate child, there will be a media frenzy with Sierra at the center.”

  “She’ll deal with it,” he said confidently.

  “But why should she have to?”

  “Because whether you want to acknowledge it or not, she is a Leandres, a princess and a member of the royal family of Tesoro del Mar.”

  “I’m not the only one who might not want to acknowledge it,” Gabriella warned him.

  “What’s the supposed to mean?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “Obviously it was something,” he said. “And I’m growing frustrated by the way you continually dodge my questions.”

  “I’m not dodging,” she denied.

  He lifted a brow. “Just picking your battles?”

  She gave him a half-smile. “Something like that.”

  “If you’re not dodging, then tell me what your mother meant about Sierra almost dying.”

  “It really wasn’t as dramatic as that,” Gabriella said.

  “Sounds like a dodge to me.”

  “She was born with an atrial septal defect—more commonly called a hole in the heart,” she finally admitted. “It wasn’t anything that was immediately apparent. She came out crying and she had ten fingers and ten toes, but her skin had a slightly bluish tinge and she seemed to struggle a little with her breathing, something that became more apparent during nursing.

  “When it was diagnosed, the doctors were optimistic that it would close on its own. But it didn’t, and when she was six months old, she had open heart surgery.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re glossing over a lot of details?”

  “Because I am. Because I really don’t want to go back to that time, even in my mind, and remember how terrified I was.”

  He couldn’t blame her for that. And he could understand why her mother resented him. Katarina was right—he hadn’t been there for Gabriella, he’d done nothing to help when her baby had almost died, and now he’d stormed back into the life she’d built for herself and her child and was threatening to turn it upside down.

  “The worst thing,” she said to him now, “was knowing that Sierra needed the surgery and not knowing if the doctors would do it.”

  “Because she was so young?”

  She shook her head. “Because I couldn’t pay for it. I had no medical coverage, no savings.” She looked down at the hands that she’d linked her lap. “I had nothing but my baby, and I was so scared I was going to lose her.”

  He couldn’t even begin to imagine. Even now, only knowing about his daughter for a few weeks, he would be devastated if anything happened to her. Gabriella had carried their child in her womb for nine months, she’d struggled through he-didn’t-know-how-many hours of labor to bring her into the world, and then she’d been given a medical diagnosis that forced her to face the possibility that her baby might die.

  “But they did the surgery,” he said, trying to refocus her thoughts on the positive outcome rather than the obstacles she’d faced.

  She nodded. “I would have done anything, given anything, to save my baby.”

  Something in her voice alerted him to the fact that there was more to the story, some other detail that she wasn’t telling him, something that he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “But you didn’t come to me,” he noted.

  “No,” she admitted. “I couldn’t.”

  He didn’t understand. She had to know that money wasn’t an issue for him. Not only could he have taken care of the bill for Sierra’s surgery, he could have bought a hospital—and would have—if it was necessary.

  Maybe, after the way things had ended, she’d decided that she couldn’t count on him for anything. But by her own admission, she’d been alone and scared and desperate. It seemed to him that desperation would have trumped everything else, and yet she still hadn’t come to him.

  “Why not?” he demanded.

  She met his gaze evenly. “Because I’d made a deal with your mother.”

  Gabriella’s tone was matter-of-fact. She refused to feel any guilt for what she had done and the only regret she had was that it had been necessary. But she’d meant what she said—she would have done anything to save her baby. And when the princess royal had visited her in the hospital and offered the chance to do just that, there had been absolutely no doubt in her mind.

  She’d wondered about the other woman’s motives in offering to help. Elena Leandres had made it clear to Gabriella the first day she visited the hospital that she didn’t for one minute believe that Cameron was Sierra’s father, although she’d kept close tabs on her son and knew about the weekend he’d spent with Gabriella. And she’d warned Gabriella of the havoc she would wreak if she ever dared suggest otherwise.

  Gabriella knew it wasn’t an empty threat. She knew it didn’t matter that she hadn’t ever been with anyone but Cameron. The truth had no force compared to a royal decree and if the princess royal claimed that she’d slept with a dozen men, any of whom could be the father of her child, she’d no doubt find a parade of men who would support her claim.

  Gabriella resented the implication, but she didn’t argue. What was the point, anyway? Why should she insist on putting Cameron’s name on her baby’s birth certificate when he’d made it clear that he had no interest in her or the baby she carried? So she’d claimed the father was “unknown” and the princess royal had ensured that Gabriella had the money she needed to pay for Sierra’s surgery.

 
It was, she’d thought at the time, more than a fair trade. And if she’d had occasional twinges of doubt over the years, she’d only needed to look at her happy and healthy daughter to push those twinges aside.

  With Gabriella’s confession, all of the pieces fell into place in Cameron’s mind, like a jigsaw puzzle finally taking shape. Since coming face-to-face with his daughter that first day, he’d struggled to understand how Gabriella could keep their child a secret from him for so many years, why she would lie to him about Sierra’s paternity. But now he knew. And long after he’d left the party and begun to drive the familiar winding streets that led to his mother’s home, frustration and fury continued to burn inside of him.

  Elena had already settled into bed for the night, the butler advised him, and Cameron knew she would not be happy to be disturbed. He didn’t care. Nor did he wait in the parlor for her, as the butler suggested. He’d waited too damn long already.

  Elena was just shoving her arms into the sleeves of a robe when he pushed open the door of her suite. She glanced over, irritation evident in the furrow of her brow. “Honestly, Cameron, do you have any idea what hour it is?”

  “Just after midnight on the day of my daughter’s sixteenth birthday,” he noted.

  Her hands paused in the act of tying a knot at the front of her robe. “So you know.”

  He stared at her, incredulous. “That’s all you can say?”

  “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all,” she reminded him.

  “How could you not tell me? How could you have known that Gabriella had given birth to my child—your grandchild—and not tell me?”

  Elena sniffed disdainfully. “I only knew that you’d shown poor judgment in dating a commoner—a waitress, no less—who later had a baby. I had no way of knowing that the child was yours.”

  “And yet you went to visit Gabriella in the hospital, to see the baby.”

  “I was curious.”

  “Curious enough to have the baby’s DNA typed?”

  “I don’t need to explain my actions to you.”

  He shook his head. He’d known his mother was manipulative and self-centered and yet, throughout the drive to her home, he’d dared to let himself hope that there was some reasonable explanation for what she’d done.

  “You knew she was mine.”

  “All I knew was that you were careless and immature and irresponsible—no greater crimes than most young men are guilty of—and I didn’t want you to be stuck paying for those crimes for the rest of your life.”

  “But it was okay for Gabriella to pay?”

  “She wanted the child.”

  “How could you know I didn’t?”

  She laughed at that, though the sound was abrupt and without humor. “You were little more than a child yourself, neither ready nor willing to be responsible for anyone else.”

  “It wasn’t your decision to make.”

  “You’d already made your decision, by finally ending your relationship with the little slut.”

  He felt his hands curl into fists. He’d never wanted to hit another human being and the fact that he had to fight against the urge now—and that the human being in question was his mother—made his stomach churn. Deliberately, he blew out a long breath and unfurled his fingers. “She wasn’t a slut, she is the mother of my child, and you will speak of her with respect.”

  “I am your mother and you will speak to me with respect,” Elena said sharply.

  “I can’t speak to you at all right now,” Cameron told her. “Just thinking about what you did, your lies and manipulations, makes me ill.”

  “I did what was best for you and this family.”

  “My daughter is part of this family,” he shot back.

  Elena’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve worked hard to get where you are now,” she reminded him. “What do you think will happen to your image in the press and the future of your career if you try to claim that bastard child as your daughter?”

  “Do you think I care?”

  “If you don’t, you’re a bigger fool than I thought. And maybe that’s partly my fault,” she continued. “I let you be the spoiled prince for too long, trusting that you would find your purpose and direction when you were ready. And I thought you had found it when you joined Rowan’s cabinet. But this renewed fascination with Gabriella and your sudden determination to be some kind of father to her daughter prove you’re as unfocused as ever.”

  “Actually, I think I may have finally found my focus,” he told her.

  “Walk away from her,” Elena said. “If you don’t, you’re going to lose everything.”

  Cameron walked away from his mother instead. Because he’d finally realized that Gabriella and Sierra were everything that mattered, and he wasn’t going to give up on them and the future he hoped they could build together. Not again.

  After Cameron had gone, Elena sat at the antique desk in her upstairs office waiting for the supervisor of her security detail. As she was considering the most appropriate course of action, her gaze fell on the silver tri-fold frame—a gift from her late husband that contained photos of each of their three children.

  She’d been blessed with two sons, and she’d had dreams and ambitions for each of them. Unfortunately, her disappointment had been as great as her plans when first Michael and then Cameron had chosen to pursue his own path. Though she’d been frustrated, she couldn’t pretend not to understand where the defiance came from. She herself had defied her father’s wishes to make a good match for her when she’d run away to marry a farmer.

  It had seemed so romantic at the time. And she truly had loved Gaetan, at least in the beginning. When he’d died, just a few months after his forty-seventh birthday, she’d grieved—and she’d felt released. The idealistic life she’d envisioned had been painted over by the reality of trying to build a life with a man who wanted different things than she did—and who made no secret of the fact that he disapproved of her plans for their sons.

  But he’d been gone a lot of years before she’d approached Michael about making a play for the throne. Her eldest son had refused to even consider her proposition. She’d tried to make him see that he’d been meant for greater things than his little advertising company, but he’d been adamant that his career and his wife were all he wanted.

  He didn’t even plan to have children, a decision which Elena viewed not just as a disappointment but a betrayal. As the oldest son, he had a duty to provide an heir. He needed a son of his own to extend the royal line and carry the family name. But while Michael remained steadfast, Samantha was eventually persuaded. Unfortunately, when she finally did give birth it was to a girl, and then she’d died only a few hours later, leaving Michael alone with the burden of an infant daughter.

  He’d taken his wife’s sudden and unexpected death hard, and Elena allowed herself a moment to wonder if Michael had yet adjusted to the loss before she focused her thoughts on her second-born son. Cameron had always been more malleable, more eager to please. In his youth, he’d been occasionally irresponsible and frequently reckless, but for the most part, he’d fallen in line with her expectations. Aside from that brief rebellious period in college when he’d been sneaking around with Gabriella, of course, but she’d nipped that in the bud. She’d helped him see the error of his ways and convinced him that he was destined for bigger things.

  She didn’t regret keeping the existence of his child a secret sixteen years ago. She only regretted that he’d found out now. But far worse than his knowledge was his intention to publicly claim the child as his own—as if he couldn’t see that such an announcement would be an unmitigated disaster. He’d skirted the edge of scandal too many times already, and it was quite possible that the revelation of his youthful indiscretion would be the final nail in the coffin of his political career.

  It wasn’t that Elena had a problem with Cameron being a father, although she’d naturally been disappointed by the child’s gender. If she didn’t k
now better, she might have thought that both of her sons had fathered daughters on purpose just to spite her. But at least Michael had been married to the mother of his child, and while Elena and Samantha had never been close, her son’s wife had come from a good family, she’d been well-educated and she’d been both understanding and respectful of Michael’s background.

  Gabriella Vasquez was a completely different story. She’d been nothing more than a starry-eyed waitress who saw the young prince as her ticket to the easy life. The quickness with which she’d snatched at Elena’s offer of money in exchange for her silence about the baby was proof enough of that fact. And now, sixteen years later, she thought she could renege on that agreement without consequence?

  No way in hell.

  Chapter Nine

  Gabriella was usually up with the sun, but the day after Sierra’s birthday party, she slept late. So late, in fact, that she only awakened when there was a knock on her bedroom door. She lifted a groggy head from her pillow when her mother poked her head in the room.

  “What time is it?” Gabriella asked, squinting to focus on her clock.

  “Almost time for me to be leaving for mass,” Katarina said, stepping into the room. “But I didn’t want to go without checking on you first.”

  Gabriella pushed herself up in bed. “I’m okay. I guess I was just more tired out from yesterday than I realized.”

  “It was a busy day,” her mother agreed. “And an emotional one.”

  She just nodded.

  “I overstepped,” Katarina said. “With your prince.”

  “He’s not mine,” Gabriella told her. “And I understand why you feel the way that you do.”

  “I was so angry with you, when you refused to tell me the name of your baby’s father.”

  “I couldn’t. I didn’t dare. It was all too easy to imagine you storming the gates of his family’s estate, demanding that he marry me and give his name to my baby.”

  “He should have married you,” Katarina insisted.