Prince's Dirty Little Secret (A Royal Secret Baby Romance)

by Riley Rollins

  He speeds the horse up to a gallop, and soon we're circling the field. I grin, feeling the air wash over me. Josh makes cooing noises, enjoying the ride. Nikolai moves one hand off my waist, and puts it on my hand. I squeeze back as we thunder through the afternoon, all riding together on Buick.

  WHEN WE FINISH UP, we go into the air conditioned stable. I unwrap the sling from my shoulder and hand Josh to Nikolai.

  "Here," I say, "Hold him while I wash up."

  I don't know if I've ever seen Nikolai's face beam so widely.

  I wash up in the bathroom, and when I come out, I crack the door to watch them. Nikolai is holding Josh in his strong hands, gently rocking him, looking down into his eyes lovingly.

  Yeah, I think to myself. That baby is safe in his arms.

  THE NIGHT after the horseback ride, I'm back in my quarters snoozing on my bed. Josh is laying on my chest, and he's finally fallen asleep. I do my best not to wake him. When you have a baby that young, any minute of peace and quiet is sacred, not to be interrupted.

  But we're both interrupted, rather forcefully, by Nikolai busting through the door. He enters unannounced just like he always does.

  Josh starts to cry, and I bolt upright.

  I soothe him, bouncing him up and down in my arms, glaring at Nikolai.

  "Why?" I say, annoyed.

  But the look on Nikolai's face tells me that something is very wrong. He's holding a folded up paper in his hands—a newspaper, but printed on much lower quality stock than what we have in the United States.

  He tosses it onto the bed in front of me, and it lands face up.

  I can't read the Molvanian script that the articles and headline are written in, but I don't need to. The headline picture says it all.

  It's the very same one that destroyed my career back in the United States. The one of me and Nikolai naked in the hammock on the roof of the palace.

  And this time, the story is being carried not by tabloids—those don't exist here—but by the one newspaper that does exist.

  The official fucking state newspaper.

  "Goddamnit!" I say, and Josh starts to bawl again on my lap. Exasperated, I hold him against my shoulder, patting him on the back, trying to calm him down. "Is there anything about the baby?"

  He shakes his head. "No. Thank god."

  "How the hell did this happen? This regime has an iron grip on the information crossing the borders."

  "It does," says Nikolai wearily. "And that's exactly the problem."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Think about it. It's in the paper because someone high up wanted it there. Who," he says, looking straight into my eyes, "would want that?"

  I instantly know what he's getting at.

  The King.

  "Fuck," I say. "He really wants me gone."

  Nikolai nods grimly. "I haven't spoken with my father in months. We've been at increasing odds. He seems hell-bent on destroying you and I. But this goes beyond us. I suspect he is lining up another successor to the throne. He does not trust me to carry on the legacy he has built."

  "And you're not going to, are you?"

  He shakes his head. "You have changed me. This baby has changed me. I could not stand to see him grow up in a country such as this. We must open our borders. Liberalize. Bring this country into the 21st century."

  I almost can't believe the words coming out of his mouth. "You realize that if you step down from power, you will cement your place in history as one of the greatest and wisest leaders. Dictators never give up their power."

  He winces at the word "dictators."

  "It was never my intention to rule with an iron fist. I was born into a royal bloodline and I make no apologies for that. But you have opened my eyes. The people of North Molvania deserve better than what the government gives them now."

  My trust in Nikolai is building rapidly. I'm amazed by the words coming out of his mouth. I spent four years studying world politics, and not once did I read of a monarch willingly ceding power.

  He's nothing like I thought before I met him.

  "How is this going to go down?" I ask.

  Nikolai sighs, running a hand through his thick dark hair. Then he uses the back of his hand to wipe beads of sweat off his forehead.

  "A parent's love is strong," he says, "and so is a son's." He looks at Josh, who's finally stopped crying in my arms.

  "Do you think he could ever turn against you one day?"

  "Don't say that!" I exclaim.

  "Exactly. The King is a problem that must be dealt with. But whatever else he is, he is still my father."

  I nod, understanding what he's saying. Damn. What a position to be put in. Going up against your own father.

  "But I see no alternative. A coup is required."

  "A coup? You mean, seizing power from him?"

  "Yes. And my hope is that it can be a bloodless revolution."

  I nod. "So what do we do?"

  "That is the difficult part," he says. "My father, he has feelers and informants all throughout the government."

  "You do, too."

  He nods tentatively. "That is true, but not nearly to the extent he does. You must understand, he's had a lifetime to entrench his own power. He will not willingly give it up, nor will he be easily displaced."

  "So?" I say.

  "We need someone close to him. Someone who will cooperate with us. But I fear that the only option we have may prove impossible."

  "Who is it?"

  "We must enlist my mother, the Queen. If she can be made to see our point of view, and to turn on my father, only then do we have a prayer."

  I swallow hard.

  CHAPTER 8

  N ikolai comes to me in my quarters the next morning. I'm sitting on my bed reading and snacking on a plate that the servants brought: blueberries, raspberries, and a special purple berry that they tell me only grows in the meadows of North Molvania. The berries are small and sour, but very addicting. I've almost polished them off when Nikolai enters. He's holding another newspaper, and I know it can't be good news.

  "Look," he says angrily, flopping the paper down on the bed. On my lap, Josh coos and grabs at the paper.

  The front-page story has yet another photo of us together in the hammock. The King isn't backing down. Fucker. I sigh. "Sit down," I say, patting the edge of the bed. Nikolai sits, and I run a hand along his strong forearm, roped with muscle. I love how he feels.

  "Why does he care that I'm a commoner?" I say. "Isn't it normal for a prince to marry a commoner? What's the alternative? Marrying your own cousins?"

  Nikolai rolls his eyes. "I'm not from that kind of family."

  "Then what's the big deal?"

  "Since the 1700s, the royal bloodline has been kept pure through marriage to other aristocrats' sons and daughters."

  "You mean you're expected to marry a princess from another country's royal family?"

  He nods. "That's right. My father… is rather old-fashioned. Next to maintaining his own power, his greatest concern is maintaining the integrity of the bloodline. He'll do anything to prevent the blood of a commoner from entering the line of succession."

  "He didn't deport all the girls you used to date. I saw them all on the American news."

  "I didn't get them pregnant."

  I scowl. I don't want to think about Nikolai's dalliances right now.

  "Anyway, that's in the past," he adds quickly.

  I look at the paper. It makes me so angry that my personal business is getting smeared all over the state news services. And I know this is being picked up back in the States. Oh, god. I can hardly bear to think about what everybody in my office is saying about me.

  I almost ask what the paper has written about me, but then I decide I'd rather not know. I eye Nikolai, my hand still resting on his arm. I feel close to him right now. I want him to swoop in and save the day.

  "Have you figured out how to approach your mother?"

  He shakes his head no, and he looks
stressed. "The stakes are… high. I am closer to my mother than to my father, but surely you realize the gravity of what I will be asking her."

  I nod, cradling Josh in my arms. "It would be like this little boy coming to me one day, and asking me to betray you."

  Nikolai is silent, thoughtful. "I suppose it would be."

  I sit there deep in thought, absent-mindedly stroking Nikolai's arm, and I don't notice at first when he starts to brush the back of his hand against Josh's forehead. When I do notice, it's such a tender moment that I feel tears welling up in my eyes.

  Jesus. I've become such a mom.

  I wonder if this is all worth it. What if I'd never come here in the first place? Turned down the offer to come to North Molvania, and just kept working in the United States? Never had this baby, and never met this man?

  Would it all have turned out better?

  No, I think to myself. No, it wouldn't have. Although this may all be crazy, these are the two boys in my life now. And each of them, in their own ways, have made me feel emotions a hundred times stronger than anything I felt in my old life.

  And if Nikolai and I can actually pull off this coup, then I'll have been part of something much bigger than myself. Much bigger than anything I'd have been able to accomplish at EDGE. Much more important, and much more impactful.

  "Can you kiss me?" I ask Nikolai.

  Still sitting on the edge of the bed, he twists his body toward me, his shoulders all the way down to his waist forming a dynamic, powerful "V." I really never have seen a more attractive man in my life.

  He takes my lower lip between his, running his teeth gently over its surface, teasing me.

  We sit there locking lips like two high school kids making out in their parents' basement. But this is the furthest thing from a basement, and he's the furthest thing from a high school boy.

  Sometimes life works in crazy ways.

  Nikolai breaks our kiss before I'm ready for it to be over, and I look into his eyes, protesting.

  "My little pet," he says, "I must be alone tonight. I must think deeply. Prepare for the next move. We can afford no mistakes."

  "Okay," I say wistfully. I just want to meld with him, to become one and stay that way all night. I want him to ravage me until I can think of nothing else but him. I want to call out his name over and over until we're both utterly exhausted.

  But none of that's possible right now. I'm in a foreign country, the King wants me and my baby gone—or worse—and I'm about to assist a royal coup and a democratic transition.

  And to top it all off, I think I'm falling in love with a prince.

  THAT NIGHT, I'm in my quarters alone with Josh. I don't want to be apart from Nikolai, but I know he needs time. Time to plan, to think deeply, to figure out how to manipulate the politicians and aristocrats. To decide how to manipulate the political power dynamics of North Molvania and expel the King.

  With my life and Josh's life on the line, I'm going to give Nikolai as much time as he needs.

  During my time at the palace, my main source of entertainment has been English-language books from the palace library. But with all my downtime, I've already managed to polish off its entire selection of novels. Fortunately, one of the friendlier guards managed to dig up a collection of old, bootleg DVDs of American TV shows. Stuff like The Outer Limits, the Twilight Zone, and the Fresh Prince. The quality is bad, and it's not exactly a thrilling way to spend my time, but it sure beats twiddling my thumbs.

  I know I need to keep my mind off of what's ahead. If I think about it too much, I'll start to worry, and if I start to worry, I'll start to doubt everything.

  I hope it'll all be over soon. Then I can get on with my new life with my baby… and maybe, just maybe, with Nikolai.

  Josh is getting stronger by the day. He's crawling around on the bed, his little hands and knees sinking deep down into the thick velvet and plush fabrics.

  I've gotta say, I've never slept the way I sleep in this bed. It's like it's perfectly firm and soft at the same time, and every time I lay my head down, I'm out before I know it.

  Of course, it also helps that I no longer have a cell phone to stare at and keep me up before bed. Living under the country's authoritarian laws with no Internet has sure been an interesting experience. I'd almost call it liberating, except, of course, the total lack of freedom in the country is anything but liberating. Quite the opposite.

  "Okay, kid," I say to Josh. He makes eye contact with me, and for the first time, I notice that one of his eyes is a different color. They were both blue when he was born, but now one is changing to green.

  Just like his father.

  "One more episode of The Outer Limits, and then it's time for us to hit the sack."

  "Saa," he says.

  "That's right, kid. Hope they don't carry our heads outta here in a sack."

  "Saa."

  I'm about to hit play on the portable DVD player they've given me, when there's a soft knock at the door. I've gotten used to lots of interruptions and visitors, so I gather up Josh in one arm and answer the door without a second thought.

  "Hello?" I say, cracking the door.

  I look through the crack and gasp. It's a figure in a dark black shroud. It's covered in flowing black robes, and its face is completely obscured by a black mask wrapped around its head.

  As if in slow-motion, a long, sharp blade slides out of the figure's sleeve and into its gloved hand.

  I shriek, trying to slam the door with one hand while I hold Josh in the other. But I'm too slow. The figure raises the blade and stabs it toward me through the cracked door, preventing the door from latching shut.

  I scream, expecting the guards outside my door to rush inside. But they don't.

  Reeling, I stumble backwards, almost falling flat on my back. The door flies open, smashing against the wall, shaking the entire room.

  Not this again, I think, my mind racing. I'm not safe anywhere I go.

  I think of Nikolai as the figure steps inside the room, calmly latching the door behind it. The only sound I hear is the intro music from The Outer Limits playing on the DVD player.

  Surely someone heard the commotion and will rush in any moment to save me.

  But with each passing second, my hope fades further and further away.

  I guess screams don't travel well through the dark black marble belly of the palace. It tells no secrets, because it swallows them all.

  "The baby," says the figure. It's a woman's voice, and the sound of it shocks me. That's not what I expected.

  She holds her blade in one hand, its long, razor edge gleaming in the dull light of the bedroom. She reaches out with her other hand, palm up.

  Nikolai, I need you right now, I think to myself.

  "The baby," she says again.

  I shake my head, clutching Josh tight against my chest. "Never," I say, my voice wavering but defiant. "I'll die before you touch this baby."

  She shrugs. "Your life means little to me, and I will take it from you if you object again. Now, the baby."

  I shake my head again and glance behind me, stepping backwards. But I'm up against the bed now, and there's nowhere else to go.

  She steps forward, brandishing her blade at me.

  "Very well," she says, her voice dark. "You have chosen poorly."

  I scream again. Not for anyone in particular, but just for bloody murder. Because that's what's about to happen to me.

  I step to the side of the bed, and as she approaches, I scramble over it to the other side. But it's a losing battle. I can run, but I can't hide.

  She laughs softly. "You won't get away. You can't."

  My eyes dart around the room, scanning it for any kind of weapon I can use. Anything I can grab to ward off her blade.

  Suddenly, and as a miracle, my prayers are answered. There's a banging on the door and the handle rattles.

  "Jenna!" booms a voice through the door. "Jenna! Are you in there?" It's the unmistakable sound of Nikolai's voi
ce.

  "Yes," I scream, and the sound of my voice nearly pierces my own eardrums.

  The would-be assassin is temporarily distracted as she whirls around to face the door.

  The door handle rattles one more time. Then, Nikolai bellows from the other side, "Stand back."

  A huge, gleaming silver sword, the same color as the one the assassin wields, comes stabbing through the door. Wood fibers and splinters explode into the room, the door cut apart by Nikolai's sword. The blade withdraws from the door, and then comes crashing through again, this time blasting the handle and the lock completely off the door. The door frame splinters, and then the door flies off its hinges.

  There stands Nikolai, boot up, having just kicked in the door.

  Josh starts bawling in my arms, and the assassin whirls back toward me. I see her eyes through a slit in the fabric, and they're full of hatred. It's a moment of choice for her—she can either come at me, or she can whirl around and defend herself against Nikolai.

  She looks back and forth in a split second. Then, she raises her blade and charges toward me.

  I REMEMBER a time when I was a freshman in high school. It was a Saturday, and I was at the mall with my mom. All the Christmas decorations were up, including a huge fake tree that reached all the way up to the second story. We'd just spent the afternoon buying last-minute gifts, and we were getting dinner at the food court. We were at one of those Asian joints where they lure you in with free samples on toothpicks. So we sat down to eat, and there was a mother with her young daughter sitting next to us. The kid was maybe five or six years old, and had a big plate of fried rice in front of her. The kid's picking around at the food, and then all of the sudden, just smashes her face down in the huge container of fried rice. She sits back up and starts giggling. Fried rice is falling all over the place, and the mother looks like she's about to lose her shit. I remember turning to my mom, and saying, "I'll never have kids. I'm too selfish."

  And that's ironic. Because while I'm standing here, this crazed woman about to bring her sword crashing down on me, I think only of my son and not of myself.