by Nikki Ash
Aria squeals. “Yes! You totally can. And Gio and I will be here for you every step of the way. And since you’re not that far behind me, we’ll have our babies close in age.” She clasps her hands together and stands, and my nerves instantly calm.
“Let’s go look for a place nearby.” She grabs my hand and guides me out of the bathroom and into the living room where her husband and three-year-old daughter, Bea, are sitting on the floor playing with Barbie Legos.
“Momma,” Bea says, “Look at my Barbie house!” She lifts the Lego house and toddles over to her mom.
“Wow!” Aria gushes, carefully taking it from her and setting it on the table. “It’s so pretty.”
“I want my house like this. All pink,” Bea tells her, making Giovanni laugh.
He jumps to his feet and walks over to me. “Congratulations,” he says, kissing my cheek, obviously having overheard Aria and me talking. “If you need anything…”
“Thank you.”
“I need to go to the restaurant,” he says. “I’ll only be gone a little while. Want me to bring home dinner?” He owns his own restaurant downtown and from what Aria’s told me, it’s become a popular place and was even featured in several different foodie magazines. I’m proud of him… of them. The odds were against them, and life pulled them in opposite directions, but they still found their way back to each other. Giovanni was born and raised in the mob, but he got out and started a new life here with Aria, and from what I’ve seen since I arrived, they’re happy. Really happy.
“Yes, please,” she tells him.
“Yes, please,” Bea mimics her mom, only her please comes out sounding like peez. My heartstrings tug in my chest. In less than seven months I’ll have my own little one… and Liam won’t be here to see him or her grow up.
After Giovanni’s kissed them both goodbye, Aria brings up the father of my baby. When I tell her he was kind of a client, she insists we call Nico. Of course, because it was a favor from his father, and it was only a one-time thing, they weren’t required to complete the proper paperwork—only show proof they were clean—so he has no contact information.
We hang up and Aria wraps her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Natalie. I’m here for you and so is Gio, but I know it’s not the same thing.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, wiping the tears from my eyes. “It sucks, but maybe it’s for the best. He chose to leave early and without saying goodbye. I’ll always remember the time we spent together and maybe this is how it was supposed to work out. I learned a lot about myself that weekend. That I’m worthy of love and deserve to live my best life. I learned how sweet and caring men can be. If I hadn’t met him, I would still be working at La Stella’s instead of traveling, doing what I’ve always dreamed of doing.”
I drop my hands to my belly. It’s still flat, but I know what’s in there. A baby. A tiny, innocent baby who will one day call me Mom. It will be my job to love and protect him, encourage him and cheer him on. My mom wasn’t the best mom, but she taught me one thing. I don’t need a Prince Charming. I’m strong and capable of getting through those magical, evil woods on my own, and that’s exactly what I did. I came out on the other side, and the only difference is, instead of my Prince Charming waiting for me, my son or daughter is there. I might not have Liam by my side, but he gave me this little miracle and I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving this baby enough for the both of us.
Chapter Eight
Natalie
Six Years Later
“Wow! Do you think a real king and queen live here?” Jasmine, my five-year-old daughter, asks, her blue eyes locked on the beautiful castle we’re standing in front of. She asks this same question about every castle we visit. Ever since I read her my childhood fairy-tale book, she’s become obsessed with royalty. Since she was old enough to walk, we’ve been traveling all over the globe. We visit different cities, monuments, castles, parks, museums, learning about the different cultures, the history. I started my blog shortly after she was born—my first post being my first trip—to Napa Valley—and take photos of everywhere we visit, writing, not only about what I see, but what my daughter sees.
“Yep,” I tell her. “Unfortunately, the queen has recently stepped down and has given the throne to her son…” I glance at the tour guide. “William Arnold Thomas Lewis Christiansen the Fourth. So, for now, until he meets his queen, it’s only a king.”
Jasmine sighs. “It’s so pretty. One day I want to live in a pretty castle like this one.”
I laugh at her comment. She always says the same thing every time we see a castle. When we were in the UK a few months ago and visited the Windsor Castle, she begged me to meet a king and marry him so she could become a princess and live in a pretty castle. When we got home, Aria, Giovanni, and I took the girls to see Santa and she actually asked him if he could bring me a king so she could live in a castle.
“I know you love the pretty castles, but remember—”
“I know,” she says, cutting me off. “It’s not about the size of the castle, but the hearts that fill it.” She playfully rolls her eyes, having heard this too many times over the years.
I scoop her up, peppering kisses all over her face. “That’s right. Our home might not be as big as this castle, but it’s filled with love.”
“Maybe this castle is filled with love too,” she says, when I set her back down. “Maybe they get a big castle and love.” Her eyes go wide at the thought, and I chuckle at how smart and adorable she is.
“Maybe. You ready to go check it out?”
“Yep!” She takes my hand in hers and we head to the gate where several security officers are standing guard. After being searched and having our passports and tickets scanned, we go inside to the main room to wait for the tour to begin. Every tour is the same thing: they walk you through roped off areas of the castle that the residing family doesn’t use, tell you all about the castle and the history, and at the end, you go through a gift shop where you can buy a souvenir. Jasmine insists we buy a magnet from each place we visit, and at home, we have a huge magnetic blackboard filled with mementos from our travels.
“Can I take a picture?” she asks, pulling her digital camera out of her small backpack.
I glance around and don’t see anywhere stating photography isn’t allowed. “Yeah, go ahead, but stay close, please.”
She’s already running to the front of the room, her camera in hand. She takes several pictures of the fireplace and furniture, commenting on what’s pretty and what they should replace.
The tour guide begins speaking, explaining where she’ll be taking us, and we start walking from the first room into the second.
“We have a special treat for you today,” she says. “King William is here and has agreed to take pictures and answer a few of your questions.”
“Mom! Did you hear that?” Jasmine shrieks. “We’re going to get to meet a real king!”
“I heard.”
Everyone crowds around the front of the room as the tour guide makes a show of welcoming the king and thanking him for stopping by. Because we’re in the back, we can’t see him. Jasmine tries to stand on her tiptoes, but it doesn’t do anything.
“I can’t see.” She pouts.
“Patience,” I tell her. “I’m sure the line will move soon and everyone will get a chance to meet him.”
She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest like the impatient five-year-old she is, and I stifle my laugh.
I’m checking out the photos I’ve taken on my camera and not paying attention, so when the line moves and we reach the front, I don’t notice, until Jasmine tugs at my arm. “It’s our turn, Mom!”
I glance up and my eyes land on the most gorgeous man. His brown hair is flopping partly over his eyes and his face is sporting a little bit of scruff. He’s dressed impeccably in a suit that’s obviously tailor-made to fit him. But none of that is what has my attention. Not his strong nose or his chiseled jaw. Or the way he’s smiling do
wn at my daughter. No, it’s his striking blue eyes. The same ones my daughter has. She’s all mine: same olive skin, same chestnut hair, but her eyes, they belong to her father.
“Hello there,” he says, bending slightly. “I’m William, and you are?”
He extends his hand and she meets him halfway, her tiny hand being swallowed up by his big one. “I’m Jasmine. You have a pretty castle. Are you looking for a queen? My mommy will make a good queen and I’ll make a good princess. I think your castle needs more pink, though. I love pink…”
He chuckles, amused, as she continues to ramble on, and I would be embarrassed, except I’m too in shock by what I’m looking at. Over the years, I imagined running into him. I knew he was from a small country in Central Europe, but Central Europe has almost two hundred million people, so I never thought it would actually happen. Still, when I was alone at night, I would close my eyes and pretend. We were at a café, waiting in line, or riding the tube. I imagined him seeing Jasmine, and me finally getting to tell him she’s his daughter. But not in a single one of those fake scenarios, did I imagine he was the king of Lexenburg and we were getting a tour of his castle… Holy shit, this is his home. He’s the king!
“…Mommy. Her name is Natalie.”
My fog-covered thoughts are cut through with her words. Her attention swings over to me and his gaze follows. Our eyes lock and Liam’s smile disappears as he recognizes me. It’s been six years, but based on the shocked expression, he remembers me.
His eyes bounce from me to her and his eyes widen, telling me he’s putting the pieces together. It’s not every day you see a Hispanic girl with bright blue eyes.
“Is she…” His words trail off, but I know what he’s asking, so I simply nod.
“Mommy,” Jasmine says, completely oblivious to the thick tension. “Can you take a picture of me and King… What’s your name again?”
Dad, I want to say. To you, he’s Dad.
Chapter Nine
Liam
Six years. It’s been six damn years since I’ve seen Natalie and she still looks as gorgeous as she did back then. Actually, I take that back. She looks even more beautiful. Aside from her current expression of shock from running into me, she looks radiant and carefree…happy. And I have a feeling that the reason for that is standing next to her handing her a digital camera so she can take a picture with me—the King of Lexenburg.
Robotically, Natalie takes the camera from her daughter and nods. Jasmine, as she called herself, steps toward me and turns around for the picture, and it hits me that I’m about to take a picture with my daughter. My own flesh and blood, who I had no idea about. Suddenly a bitter taste infiltrates my mouth.
This woman kept my child from me.
I had no idea about her.
I’ve missed everything in her life.
After Natalie snaps the photo and Jasmine takes the camera from her to check it out, I call my assistant over, who’s waiting for me. I only make an appearance a couple times a year and one of those days is on my dad’s birthday. He loved this country and the people, and to honor him I spend the day meeting them and taking photos with them.
“Your Majesty,” Stephanie says, slightly bowing in respect. We’ve been friends for years, our families close, and when I’m not working, she addresses me informally. But in front of everyone, we keep things formal, by the book.
“The woman in the cream-colored top and her daughter…”
“Yes?”
“I need you to escort them over to the Garden Estate.”
Her brows scrunch up in confusion. The Garden Estate is where my home is located. Nobody but family goes there, especially not tourists.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she says after a moment.
“Good morning.” She greets Natalie and Jasmine. “Can you two please come with me?”
Natalie’s gaze volleys over to me and I nod slightly, asking her to do as she’s being asked. The last thing I need is for a scene to be caused. Thankfully, they were the last tourists and everyone has begun to move on to the next room.
“Mommy, where are we going?” Jasmine asks, as Stephanie guides them away from everyone else.
Once I see they’re in the clear, I approach my guards. “There’s been a change of plans. I need to go to the Garden Estate. I can go on my own. Thank you.”
The three men nod, even though I’m sure they’re confused. Stephanie keeps my schedule organized and I almost never cancel my engagements. I pride myself on being reliable and punctual. It’s the way my dad and mom both were as king and queen… My heart tightens in my chest.
My mom. She has a granddaughter. One she doesn’t know about. One who was born out of wedlock. I groan on the inside, imagining the lecture I’m going to get. I push it aside quickly, though. I have a daughter. And right now that’s all I care about.
When I get to the Garden Estate, I find Natalie, Stephanie, and Jasmine in the sitting room. Jasmine is talking a mile a minute about the room and Natalie is smiling tightly at her, trying to remain interested, but no doubt freaking the hell out on the inside.
“Stephanie.” The three women swivel around to face me. “Can you take Jasmine to the kitchen for a few minutes?” Stephanie’s eyes bug out.
I step over to Jasmine and bend slightly in front of her. “Chef Sandra makes the best pastries and desserts. How would you like to have a piece of cake while I speak to your mom?”
Jasmine’s blue eyes—the ones identical to my own—light up, but then she looks at her mom for approval, and my stomach knots at the fact I’m a stranger to my daughter, a man she knows as nothing more than the King of Lexenburg. She needs her mom’s approval because she’s her parent.
“Someone will stay with her?” Natalie confirms.
“Stephanie won’t leave her side.”
Stephanie’s eyes form small slits. She’s a smart woman and is no doubt putting the pieces together. She might not know Jasmine is my daughter, but that’s only because she hasn’t looked into her eyes yet. I’m the only one in my family left with those blue eyes. My dad had them and his dad did as well. Everyone else has brown eyes, a few green. But not blue.
“Go ahead,” she tells her daughter—our daughter. “I’ll meet you in there in a few minutes.” She winks and Jasmine grins. It’s so big a tiny dimple pops out of her left cheek—just like mine.
“Okay,” Jasmine tells her. Then she leans in close to her mom, as if she has an important secret to tell her. “I’ll try to save you a piece,” she whisper-yells, making me chuckle. She’s so young and innocent… and mine.
Fuck, she’s mine.
Stephanie takes her by her hand and escorts her out of the room, closing the door behind them. I walk over to the bar and make myself a scotch, neat. Then, remembering my manners, I hold up my glass. “Want one?” She shakes her head and I down the drink in one swallow.
“You left,” she says before I can gather my thoughts to speak.
Her words bounce around in my head, and once they land, I sit in front of her and look her dead in the eyes. The same mesmerizing brown eyes I’ve thought about so many times over the years.
“You left.”
She scoffs. “Excuse me?” She crosses her arms over her chest and my eyes descend to her ample cleavage, my mind—and dick—remembering the way her pretty pink nipples would peak at my touch. I slam the door on that thought. Now is not the time.
“At the hotel in Las Vegas… when I came back in from speaking with Harold, you were gone. The bed was empty and your clothes and camera were gone.”
“I only left because you left,” she argues. “I woke up and the room was barren of all your stuff. You were nowhere to be found.”
I think back to that day, everything that happened, and it hits me… “You thought I left you.”
“You did leave me.”
Six Years Ago
The incessant buzzing won’t stop, so I grab my phone off the bedside table and look to see who’s calling this
early in the morning. Then I remember it’s only early here. Where I live, it’s several hours later. The name on my screen flashes Mom. She wouldn’t call unless it’s important.
Glancing at Natalie, who’s fast sleep, I climb out of bed and head out onto the balcony to return her call.
“Oh, William,” my mom breathes, her voice cracking. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you and your brother all morning.” Without having to ask, I know something is terribly wrong. My mom is the most relaxed woman I know. She handles any situation that’s thrown at her with patience. She’s the calm to my dad’s storm.
“What’s the matter, Mom?”
“It’s your dad,” she says through a soft sob. “He’s had a heart attack.”
My world tilts on its axis at her words. We knew he was sick, but I never thought something would happen during our week away. “Is he…” I can’t finish my sentence.
“He’s in critical condition. You need to come home now.” In other words, he may not make it.
“We’re on our way. I love you.”
“Love you too, Son.”
We hang up and I go on autopilot, packing my luggage, getting dressed, and getting Harold up to speed. I call the pilot and he tells me because of the storm it will be a few hours before we can take off.
I glance over at Natalie, who’s still blissfully asleep. I need to wake her up and tell her my trip is being cut short. But then I think about how hard it’s going to be to say goodbye. We don’t have any hope of a future. Her life is here and mine is thousands of miles away, across the pond, in Lexenburg.
I lean over her and place a soft kiss on her forehead, inhaling her sweet scent, and for a brief moment I wonder if maybe we could somehow make it work. I don’t know how, but I don’t think I can let her go. I’ve only known her for a short time, but in that time, she’s managed to crawl under my skin and bury herself in the cavity of my chest.