Soldier Prince's Secret Baby Gift

by Kate Hardy

  ‘I will,’ she promised.

  Instead of leaving the hotel, Tia took the lift up to the penthouse suite. A man in a very ordinary suit leaned casually against the wall opposite the lifts as the doors opened, but Tia wasn’t fooled; it was obvious that he was the Prince’s security officer.

  ‘Ms Phillips.’ It was a statement, not a question. He clearly knew who she was and was expecting her. ‘Would you like to come with me?’

  It was a polite enough question, but she knew there wasn’t a real choice. It was accompany him or go straight back down in the lift.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  He ushered her over to the door of the penthouse suite, and knocked. ‘Your guest has arrived, sir.’

  Not ‘Your Royal Highness’? Or maybe he was from the Casavallian military.

  ‘Thank you, Giacomo,’ Antonio said as he opened the door. ‘Please come in, Ms Phillips.’

  The carpet was the sort that you sank into when you walked on it. One wall of the sitting room was pure glass, looking out over the Thames; it was late enough that the lights from the bridge and the buildings on the other bank were reflected on the dark water of the river.

  ‘Thank you for coming. May I offer you a drink? Champagne?’

  This was her cue to refuse politely and ask him to just get on with it and see what he had to say. But since he had offered refreshment and she’d been on her feet all day and all evening...

  ‘Actually, Your Royal Highness, I could really do with a cup of tea.’

  ‘Of course.’ He smiled then. ‘You’re very like your brother. At the end of the day, most of the team would relax with a cold beer. But Nathan said nothing could refresh you like a cup of tea.’

  She could almost hear her brother’s voice saying the words, and it put a lump in her throat.

  ‘Strong enough to stand a spoon up in. One sugar. A dash of milk. And in a mug, not a cup,’ he added.

  That was when she knew for sure that he really had been close to Nathan. Because it was exactly what her brother would’ve said. And all of a sudden she felt a bit less wary of him.

  ‘I remember,’ she said, her breath catching.

  ‘Do you take yours the same way?’ he asked.

  Normally she was just grateful if her tea was hot. ‘Yes. Thank you, Your Royal Highness.’

  And he actually made the mug of tea for her himself. No calling room service, no pretensions. Were princes supposed to be like this?

  And, she noticed, he joined her in drinking tea. He didn’t take sugar in his, though.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said, lifting his mug in a toast. ‘To Nathan.’

  She lifted her own mug. ‘To Nathan.’

  ‘You must miss him terribly. As do I.’ He looked at her. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch, Miss Phillips. Life is a little bit complicated at the moment.’

  ‘Complicated?’

  He shrugged. ‘My father died not long after Nathan was killed. Obviously my older brother will be the one to succeed him, but there’s a lot of political stuff to sort out.’

  She’d had no idea that he’d lost his father, too. ‘My condolences on the loss of your father, Your Royal Highness,’ she said formally.

  ‘Thank you. I know you’ve been in that situation.’

  ‘Except I was ten when Dad died,’ she said. ‘He was killed in action, too.’

  ‘That’s tough for you,’ he said. ‘Losing your father and your brother the same way.’

  ‘It’s one of the reasons why I worked here tonight,’ she said. ‘I wanted to do my bit to help the charity.’ To support children who’d been bereaved the way she had, because she knew what it felt like.

  ‘You were a volunteer tonight?’ He sounded surprised.

  ‘Yes. Though, actually, my day job’s in a café.’ A proper Italian café, run by a middle-aged couple from Naples who’d taken her to their hearts and who always sent her home after her shift with treats for her mum.

  ‘It’s good of you to help. Thank you.’ He paused. ‘How is your mother?’

  ‘Fine.’ It wasn’t strictly true, although thankfully this week Grace was having a good patch where she was fully mobile and not quite as exhausted. Chronic fatigue syndrome was the kind of illness that had peaks and troughs, and Tia knew that a good week like this would be balanced out by one where her mother could barely get out of bed and would need a lot more help with day-to-day things.

  ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve kept in touch.’

  ‘Or come to his funeral.’ The rebuke tumbled out before she could stop it.

  He inclined his head. ‘My apologies. I intended to be there. But I was called away on a mission, and it wasn’t one that I could delegate to someone else.’

  That hadn’t occurred to her. It was a valid excuse, she supposed, though she still thought he could’ve sent her mother a personal note.

  As if he’d guessed at what she was thinking, he said, ‘I did write a letter to apologise for my absence.’

  ‘Mum didn’t get any letter from you.’

  He frowned. ‘I’m sorry it didn’t arrive. I promise you, I did write.’

  ‘It must’ve got lost in the post. That’s not your fault.’ Though he hadn’t followed up on his note after his mission. Surely he could’ve found the time to at least call her mother?

  He took a deep breath. ‘What can I do to help?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said immediately. They didn’t need to lean on anyone. She and Grace were doing just fine on their own. They had their routines and they had good friends to support them. They didn’t need a prince throwing money at them to salve his conscience.

  ‘Nathan said you were proud and independent,’ Antonio said gently. ‘Which is a good thing. But your brother was part of my team. My friend. And, despite what you must think, my team are like family to me. If I can help to make life easier, Miss Phillips, please let me know. Nathan wouldn’t have wanted you to struggle.’

  He was offering her a financial handout? She kept her temper with difficulty and said politely, ‘Thank you, Your Royal Highness, but we’re managing just fine as we are.’

  ‘I didn’t intend to offend you,’ he said. ‘Just...’ For a moment, he looked racked with guilt. ‘I couldn’t do anything to save your brother.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault that he was killed. And Nathan knew the risks of the job before he signed up for it.’ She knew her brother had wanted to follow in their father’s footsteps.

  ‘I know. But it doesn’t stop me missing him.’

  Then he looked shocked, as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  And again that bleakness was back in his eyes for a moment before he managed to hide it again.

  Prince Antonio, despite his privileged upbringing, seemed lonely, deep inside. Right now she’d been given a glimpse of the man behind the cool, collected mask. And she could almost hear her brother’s voice echoing in her head: He could do with a hug.

  Which would be way outside official protocol. Then again, some things were more important than protocol. So Tia put her mug on the coffee table, walked over to Prince Antonio, put his mug on the coffee table next to hers, and wrapped her arms around him.

  For a long, long time, he just stood there, unmoving; but then, just as she was about to apologise and take a step backwards, he wrapped his arms around her and held her back, warm and comforting.

  She really, really had intended it as comfort. Just comfort. Sharing their grief.

  But one of them—she wasn’t sure which of them—moved, and his cheek was pressed against hers. Her skin tingled where it touched his. Another tiny movement—hers? His?—and the corners of their mouths were touching.

  The tingle spread.

  Another infinitesimally small shift, and then his mouth was brushing against hers.

  She shouldn�
��t be doing this.

  He was a prince and she was a waitress. Their lives were so far apart, it was untrue. Neither of them was in a position to start any kind of relationship. He had official duties and she was busy working and looking after her mother. Nothing could possibly come of this.

  But the temptation to take comfort from him and to comfort him in turn was so strong.

  Maybe this was something they both needed. Just for one night. No strings.

  Because, just as Antonio had shown no emotion when he’d come to tell them the news about Nathan, Tia had locked her own tears away because she’d needed to be strong for her mother.

  When he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, she could see the tears glittering there, the emotion he was trying so hard to repress.

  Maybe tonight they could cry together. Find a release together. Comfort each other. Heal each other.

  Just for tonight.

  ‘Stay with me, Tia?’ he whispered.

  Common sense said that she should leave. She was due at work tomorrow morning. And there was her mother to think about.

  But Becky was only next door if she was needed. Tia could drink coffee tomorrow rather than tea to get her through her shift. Right now, Antonio needed her—and she needed him.

  She laid her palm against his cheek. ‘Yes.’

  He kissed her again, scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed.

  CHAPTER ONE

  November

  THERE WAS NO other way round it, Tia thought, curving a protective hand around her bump.

  Miles Montague, the palace secretary, had been perfectly polite to her just now. But, just as he’d done with every single one of her previous calls, he’d rebuffed her, refusing to put her through to Antonio. She’d begged him to pass on a message, asking Antonio to call her. She’d told Miles that she knew the Prince, and it was really important that she speak to him.

  But Miles had left her with the impression that, as an eligible bachelor, Prince Antonio had hundreds of women calling, claiming they ‘knew’ him because they had shaken his hand once or attended an event where he was on the guest list. The palace secretary clearly thought she was just another in a long line of unwanted callers, and he wasn’t going to put her through.

  Miles had been kind enough. He’d asked her if he could help. He’d asked her to tell him what the problem was.

  But how could she let news like this go through a third party, no matter how discreet he seemed or how well he knew Antonio? This was something she needed to tell the Prince herself. That their one night together, the night that was supposed to give them both comfort and never be referred to again, had had consequences.

  She’d tried to explain that Antonio knew her brother; but Miles had asked in that kind but immovable way exactly how Antonio knew her brother, and she’d ended up in tears of frustration.

  How could the palace secretary not even know the names of the people who were on Antonio’s team in the international alliance? Surely he’d know information like that?

  Frustrated and miserable, she’d ended the call.

  She’d tried a dozen times now to talk to Antonio, to tell him about the baby.

  And failed a dozen times, too.

  She didn’t have his email address, and even if she did she suspected that someone else—probably Miles Montague, or one of his team—would check through the messages before they reached Antonio, weeding out the ones they judged unimportant or inappropriate, which would definitely include hers. The same would go for letters. Any message she left would be blocked just as effectively as her phone calls had been blocked.

  It left her with no other alternative. She’d have to go to Casavalle herself to tell him about the baby. Face to face.

  If she sat on Antonio’s doorstep and refused to budge, they’d have to let her talk to him. And she could tell him the news—well, as she was six months pregnant, he’d be able to see that quite well enough for himself, she thought wryly—and then leave.

  Originally, she hadn’t intended to tell him at all. She hadn’t realised for a couple of months that she was pregnant; then, when she’d finally realised her period was a lot later than usual and did a test, she’d seen the centre spread in the celebrity magazine she’d bought for her mum as a treat. A story about Prince Antonio of Casavalle, speculating which of the four women who’d graced his arm that month might be his future bride.

  How ironic. Tia had thought she’d had a glimpse of the real Prince, the man her brother had been friends with—but maybe he was exactly what the media said he was. He hadn’t really needed her to comfort him, that night, because he had strings of women ready to comfort him. And she’d been so angry at herself for being a fool that it had taken her mum another month to talk her round into telling Antonio about her pregnancy.

  Six weeks later, she still hadn’t told him—though not for the want of trying.

  She grimaced. She didn’t expect anything from him, either for herself or for the baby, and she certainly wasn’t looking for a cash handout or anything like that. Antonio had been her brother’s friend, and she owed it to him to tell him that the baby existed. And that was the limit of their obligations to each other, because their lives were too different for anything else to happen.

  She flicked into the Internet. The cheapest flight to Casavalle would get her in at about half-past eight tomorrow evening. She had no idea how far it was from the airport to the palace, but even though she wouldn’t have to wait to collect her luggage she would still have to go through airport security and customs. Maybe she’d get to the palace at ten p.m.—which was way too late for anyone to be admitted to the palace offices.

  To get there for the early afternoon... She scanned the flight schedules. She’d have to leave London really early in the morning and change planes at Rome, and she’d have a two-hour layover in between. Plus the flight was a lot more expensive. It was money she could really do with elsewhere in her budget; but if she got the cheaper flight and stayed at a hotel overnight, it would cost even more, and she couldn’t waste money that she needed to spend on the baby.

  She stroked her bump. ‘Hopefully we’ll find somewhere quiet to sit at the airport, and we’ll get a taxi from the airport to the palace.’ She’d ask to speak to Miles Montague. And as soon as he saw her he’d realise exactly why it was so important for her to talk to Antonio. Then she could deliver her message—and go home.

  * * *

  Wednesday. ‘Hump day’, they called it in civilian jobs. The middle of the week.

  Except you didn’t get a day off from being a prince, Antonio thought.

  And you particularly didn’t get a day off when you had a long-lost older sister who was very probably going to be the one taking their father’s place as the ruler of the kingdom, and an older brother whose fiancée had told him on the eve of their wedding that she was pregnant with her true love’s baby, resulting in the royal wedding that the whole country had been looking forward to being cancelled at the last minute. The Asturias family were just as keen as the Valentis to minimise the scandal, so they’d issued a joint statement to the media that the wedding had been cancelled due to ‘irreconcilable differences’ between the bride and groom.

  Luca, wanting to get away from the palace, had gone to meet their long-lost half-sister Gabriella in Canada; which meant that, instead of their original plan of Antonio being the one to go over and meet Gabriella, he was stuck here.

  In charge of the country.

  Something he’d never really expected to happen, despite being third in line to the throne. He’d thought his father would go on for ever, and then Luca would take over, and then Luca and Princess Meribel would have children who would be next in line.

  But, this last year, their lives had been turned upside down. Everything he’d thought he knew turned out not to be true.

  Life at the palace
was turning out to be much more stressful than taking part in dangerous missions in the army. At least as a soldier Antonio had known what he was doing. He’d had a strategy. He’d had a team he could rely on. They were all working on the same side; his team listened to him, as their leader, and he’d had a brilliant second-in-command in Nathan. In Casavalle, things were nowhere near as clear cut. It was so easy to misinterpret words and put the wrong spin on things; the most innocent comment could swiftly turn into a political nightmare.

  Just one day, he thought wistfully. He’d love to have just one single day where he could have the time to gather his thoughts instead of constantly firefighting and dealing with political situations. Had it been like that for their father? Was that why King Vincenzo had always been so remote and distant, even from his sons, because he’d simply been worn out from watching every single word or expression or gesture?

  At the rap on his open door, Antonio looked up to see the palace secretary standing there.

  ‘Good afternoon, Miles. What can I do for you?’ he asked, forcing a smile and hoping that whatever the secretary wanted from him wasn’t going to mean yet more politics and media attention.

  ‘Sir,’ Miles began.

  The palace secretary was usually unflappable. Right now he looked distinctly nervous and Antonio’s heart sank. Was the palace about to be hit with yet another scandal? They said things came in threes, and a long-lost princess and a broken engagement because the bride was pregnant by someone else definitely counted as two...

  This felt like living in a television soap opera. And Antonio wasn’t enjoying the drama one little bit. Yet again, he wished he was back in the army. Back in the job he was really good at.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘I have someone asking to see you.’

  Why would Miles be worried about that? ‘Who?’ he asked, narrowing his eyes.

  ‘A young lady. Tia Phillips. She said she knows you.’

  Tia was here?

  Antonio shook himself mentally and damped down that little frisson of desire. Their one night together wasn’t going to be repeated. They’d both made it clear that it was for comfort, it was for one night only, and neither of them had any expectations of the other. And Miles didn’t need to know anything about that. He just needed to know that Tia was telling the truth. ‘Yes, she knows me. I served with her brother.’