The Prince's Secret Baby Read online

  She’d dropped the news about Howard. And, without naming him, the newer news about Sandro. She could console herself with the fact that at least she’d kept the news about the baby to herself.

  Back in her room she opened her laptop with trembling fingers and checked her latest video. She’d done a quick vlog while putting on her makeup this morning, and it didn’t take long to see that the comments section had exploded with comments like #dumpmrright you go gurrrl.

  A handful of her most devoted followers commented on literally every video she made, and one or two of them seemed truly shocked about Howard and hurt that they’d learned the news by watching television. Chicago was a big city, and who knew how many of her followers lived here and watched that show before work.

  Serena cringed at how she’d handled the situation. Keep moving forward. Do your signing. She changed into more casual clothing and headed out for the bookstore in a busy shopping district, again by cab. She arrived there about thirty minutes early and, suddenly starving, decided to look around for a café to grab a quick bite before she had to be there. Snowflakes were beginning to swirl in the air, so she tightened her scarf around her neck. She had just glimpsed a Starbucks and started toward it when the front of a newspaper displayed on a newsstand caught her eye.

  Princess Maya? On the front page of a local Chicago newspaper was a picture of Maya Dunham and Sandro gazing into each others’ eyes.

  She stopped in her tracks, causing someone behind her to bump into her. What? He’d told her—last night—that he broke up with Maya?

  Maybe it was an old picture. She fumbled in her purse for change to buy the paper, then shoved it under her arm and set off, almost running, for the Starbucks. In line, she whipped it open and stared at the image again. It wasn’t the main story, but it was a good-sized sidebar.

  She drew in a shaky breath and read the very short article beneath it. “Chicago native Maya Dunham stepped out in fine style last night with Prince Sandro of Altaleone at the premiere for Angelina Jolie’s latest production. The handsome prince appeared very attentive to our local princess—perhaps wedding bells are in their future?”

  Serena glanced at the date on the paper—today. While she’d been eating a flavorless burger in her hotel room in Chicago, sighing over Sandro’s romantic texts, he’d been out on the town with Maya Dunham.

  He’d lied to her.

  He’d come to her apartment, lied to her and had sex with her—in her own bed—under false pretenses.

  She was so mad she wanted to scream. “Uh, a venti latte please,” she stammered, realizing that it was her turn to order. When they asked her name she said, “Mary.” Right now she wanted to be anyone but herself.

  #dumpmrright

  #sexwithmrwrong

  She folded the paper and shoved it into her purse, wondering how on earth she was going to smile and make conversation during an hour-long book signing. And what if they wanted her to read from the book? Which passage could she read aloud without feeling like a total and utter fraud? And what if people asked probing questions about her breakup with Howard, or, worse yet, about her new relationship with the mystery Mr. Right who’d just chewed her up and spat her out?

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was a very long afternoon. On the one hand she was thrilled to meet her followers, most of whom were really sweet. On the other, she had to hide her sadness about Sandro’s betrayal, which was terrible when people asked her probing questions about her new, mystery man. She couldn’t wait to get back to New York and curl up in a ball in the relative privacy of her apartment, with the deadbolt and chain latch firmly in place.

  The snow thickened and swirled outside, and Serena kept checking her phone to see if her plane back to New York was still on time. The bad weather grew into a major winter storm, and by four P.M. all planes out of O’Hare were grounded and her flight was canceled. She settled in for another night in her hotel room, knowing she should vlog something but also knowing she didn’t have the strength or self-confidence to pull it off right now.

  How’s your day going, gorgeous? Sandro. What nerve! She half wanted to just delete him from her phone, but he didn’t deserve to have it that easy. Not when she was carrying his baby.

  Were you out with Maya Dunham last night? That was all she really needed to know.

  Yes, she needed an escort to a premiere. We’re not together. I broke up with her just as I told you.

  Could have fooled me—and everyone else in America—tutted Serena. Why didn’t you tell me?

  He must be wondering how she knew. Maybe it wasn’t news in New York. He likely hadn’t expected her to find out.

  I didn’t think it was important. It doesn’t mean anything.

  It does to me. I saw a picture of the two of you on the front page of the paper this morning. They suggested you might get married. Are you going to tell them you broke up with her?

  Her phone started ringing. Sandro. But she didn’t want to talk to him. Once he started in on her with that gruff, sexy voice and all his practiced charm she was defenseless against him.

  She sent the call straight to voice mail.

  Ignore the press. I don’t respond to their made-up stories as that just fuels the fire. I swear to you, I’m not with her anymore. The only women I want in my life is you.

  Ugh, already the charm was working.

  I’m exhausted, and my plane was canceled. I’m going to bed. It was curt and to the point, but she wasn’t rude enough to totally ignore him. Not that he didn’t deserve it after what she’d suffered today. Did he really think it was okay to go to a movie with your ex-girlfriend after you’d broken up with her?

  Even a prince couldn’t have that much hubris.

  I understand. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

  Or will you?

  The next day the snowstorm had stopped, but Serena’s flight still wasn’t rescheduled due to a huge backlog of flights to destinations all over the country and the world. Trucks were still clearing almost two feet of snow from the airport.

  She trudged out in the snow to buy a coffee and a muffin—she’d made the mistake of buying them at the hotel the day before—and was just heading back through the lobby when she heard something that nearly made her spill her coffee.

  “Serena.”

  A familiar deep voice stopped her in her tracks, and she spun around to see Sandro rising from a deep sofa on one side of the lobby. He looked tall, commanding and elegant as usual, in a long dark coat and a checkered scarf. She stood silent, brain working a mile a minute, as he crossed the lobby toward her, a warm smile on his face. “How are you?”

  He acted as if they’d planned to meet there that morning. Which really irked her. And once again he’d caught her unprepared and underdressed and wearing no protective armor or makeup.

  “What are you doing here?” She asked as quietly as possible and tried not to look as shocked as she felt. At least he didn’t have to nerve to try to kiss her hello.

  Had she told him what hotel should be at? No. She was sure she hadn’t told him. How did he find out?

  “An old college friend is a booker for the show, so she told me where you were staying. I knew you were stuck here so I thought I would surprise you.”

  “You certainly surprised me. I might need a stiff drink to recover. And I can’t drink.” A thought struck her. “Wait. If you knew the booker, did you tell her I broke up with Howard? The host of the show knew! She asked me about it and I had to confess on live television.”

  Sandro blinked. “I didn’t say anything. I suppose it’s possible that she might have guessed.” Again, that sheepish expression.

  She narrowed her eyes and peered at him. “Did she ask you about whether we were a thing?”

  “She might have.” His expression contained a hint of mischief.

  Which annoyed her. This was her career on the line, here. “And you said?”

  “I told her that my lips were sealed.” He made a gesture of zipping his mouth
shut.

  She shook her head and blew out a long, slow breath. His eyes twinkled. Damn but it was impossible to be mad at him for long. She should be furious that he’d revealed her secret—even inadvertently—but that would do no more good than being mad at the bull in the proverbial china shop.

  And part of her was relieved that her guilty secret was finally out.

  Sandro glanced down at her belly. Which—awkwardly—sent a flash of heat to her nether regions. “I want to congratulate you. I saw that you hit the best-seller lists.”

  His warm smile lit a tiny fire in her belly. “Thanks.”

  “And since your book tour is over for now I was hoping that you’d accompany me to Altaleone for a short vacation. I flew here in my private plane. The runway at that airport is clear and we can take off at your leisure.”

  She stared at him, not sure which of his outrageous statements to tackle first. “You have a private plane? I thought you prided yourself on being just an ordinary guy.”

  “It’s a hobby of mine. I learned to fly when I was a teenager.”

  “You’re the pilot? Then I’m definitely not coming with you.”

  “Why would you assume that I am a terrible pilot?” Amusement sparkled in his eyes. “I have more than 500 hours of flying experience. I fly to Europe and back quite often and have landed in all kinds of difficult conditions.”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You just took me by surprise. As usual.” She couldn’t help a tiny smile sneaking across her mouth. Was there anything this guy couldn’t do? “It must be pretty cool to fly anywhere you’d like to go.”

  “Where would you like to go?”

  “Isn’t that the eternal question?” This was an awkward situation. She wanted to confront him about going out with Maya, but they were in public—and really, what was the point? She’d done that already. Damn. Was his infuriating charm working on her already?

  She was headed up to her room. Did she have to invite him up there? No doubt he expected her to. She tried to remember how much of a mess she had left.

  She kept walking toward the elevator. Sandro followed along confidently, which was hardly surprising.

  “You should see Altaleone. Then you can decide for yourself if it’s the most beautiful country in the world.”

  “I’ve barely been anywhere, so I won’t have much to compare it to. I went to Mexico once on vacation, but otherwise I have never left the United States.” It was hard to be mad at him now that she was in his presence.

  “You’ve never been to Europe? We must fix that immediately.” They stepped into the elevator. Being in the enclosed space with him ramped up the uncomfortable attraction she always felt for him. He was too tall, too handsome. Just standing next to him rattled her nerves and heated her blood.

  The elevator arrived at her floor. She still hadn’t invited him in, but apparently he was coming anyway. She walked down the hallway, conscious of his eyes on her from behind—and the effect his gaze had on her insides.

  “My plane is being serviced and refueled. We can head to Altaleone this afternoon.”

  “What?” She reached the door and fumbled for her key card. Being around Sandro made her feel self-conscious, clumsy. “There’s no way I could do that. For one thing, I don’t have any clean clothes with me. And Lucky is staying with my neighbor. I miss him.”

  “We could stop off in New York so you could pick up a few things from your apartment and get Lucky. There’s plenty of room on the plane for him.”

  She blinked. “I could seriously bring Lucky with me to your country?” There was something very appealing about getting far, far away from everyone who knew her and the #dumpmrright nonsense that would take at least a few days to die down.

  “Of course.”

  She stepped into her hotel room. Luckily it had been cleaned and looked pretty neat.

  Sandro swept in after her. “You deserve a break, and I think you need one. Let me help you pack.”

  “That’s okay.” A flare of panic stirred inside her. Did he really expect her to get on the plane with him?

  And why did it seem so impossible?

  “Let me call the publicist and see what she has planned for me.” She dialed Anita, who assured her that she didn’t have anything else on deck for this week and that her editors were thrilled with her success so far. No mention of any trending hashtags. She hung up, not sure whether to be relieved or anxious. “I’m a free woman.”

  “Excellent. Let’s head to the airport.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Not at all. I have a house in the mountains. It’s tucked away in a valley, and we’ll be in perfect seclusion. You won’t even have to meet any of my family.”

  Suddenly that made the whole prospect much more appealing. The idea of meeting his royal family scared her, even if he promised to pretend they were just friends. Sooner or later they’d be bound to find out about the pregnancy, and then things would be weird.

  But if she and Sandro would be alone to get to know each other better, then maybe this could be a welcome interlude from real life. At least they’d be far away from the press and from Maya Dunham.

  “So we won’t have to see anyone at all?”

  “Not a soul. I don’t have a single servant, just a cleaner who comes twice a week and a gardener who comes twice a month.”

  She laughed. “I like your idea of that being no servants.”

  “You should see how some of my family lives. The big eighteenth-century palace where my mom and dad lived has a staff of nearly thirty at all times.”

  “I don’t think I could handle the lack of privacy.”

  “It’s odd you should say that when you make aspects of your life so public.”

  “I suppose I only invite people in to see the areas of my life that I want them to see. And they’re very carefully curated. I don’t show people videos of me waking up in the morning or cleaning my bathroom.”

  “They might enjoy some videos of your stay in Altaleone. My house is an old Roman villa I renovated. It has a courtyard and fountain.”

  “That does sound pretty fabulous.”

  “And there’s an old forest of timber trees—it’s full of birds and wildlife, and there are winding trails through it.”

  “This keeps getting more and more tempting.”

  “Did I mention the lake? It’s large enough to take a small sailboat out on.”

  Goodness. This did sound like it could make for some amazing videos. She could distract her followers from her recent drama with dramatic vistas from Altaleone.

  But not show them Sandro. Since the relationship—such as it was—was likely to end in tears, she’d have to keep that under wraps. The Princess Maya episode had sandblasted the gloss off her fantasies of her own royal wedding.

  And she wouldn’t mention the baby.

  “I do like the idea of shooting some videos there. Would you mind if I pretended that you’re just my friend?”

  “No pretending required.” His eyes flashed something that unnerved her slightly. Was it good cheer or something more mischievous? “I promise not to kiss you on camera—unless you ask me to.” His white teeth gleamed in his magnificent smile. “Would you like me to help you pack?”

  She shook her head, while tucking her things neatly back into her bag. How weird to have to pack her underwear and beauty products in front of him. This felt way too intimate. She hadn’t canceled her plane flight, which was bound to be rescheduled sooner or later. Was she really going to give up her ticket and get in a plane flown by an amateur?

  “You promise that you’re a good pilot?”

  He held a hand over his heart. “On my honor as a prince of Altaleone.”

  Dammit. She was going to give up her ticket and get in a plane flown by an amateur. Butterflies stirred in her stomach, but she told them to be quiet and zipped up her bag. “Let’s go before I come to my senses.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Serena held her brea
th as they taxied down the well-cleared runway of the small regional airport, on their way to New York. The skies were clear and blue. She sat next to Sandro—in the copilot seat—which was scary because she could see how many buttons and levers were involved in getting this thing into the air.

  His big hands moved the throttle with confidence and a glance at his broad chest showed his breathing to be slow and steady. She wished she could say the same for hers. She couldn’t help a distinct feeling that she was jumping out of the frying pan into the fire.

  “You haven’t told anyone about the baby, have you?” She realized her hand sat protectively on her stomach.

  “Of course not.”

  “I want to tell my family first.”

  “I understand completely.” He shot her a warm smile. Which made her want to snap at him to get his eyes back on the windshield. But she managed not to. They climbed above the snowy Chicago suburbs, and she could barely see the ground from this angle. “Though don’t forget that my family will be excited to hear about the baby too.”

  Serena froze for a second. For some reason she’d almost forgotten about that. If this baby was half his, then it also belonged to Sandro’s family. She was asking a lot of him to keep her pregnancy under wraps. “I’m sorry about being so secretive. It’s all so unexpected.” She steeled herself. “Uh, your family, might they have an issue with me being black?”

  “Oh, no. They’re all very sensible and kind people.”

  “That’s good.” She wasn’t sure she believed him. He might be surprised to find out that they were less accepting and tolerant than he expected.

  “Well, except my Aunt Liesel. She’s my mother’s sister, but luckily she lives in Germany most of the time. Don’t take it personally, though. She’s an equal opportunity hater.” He smiled.

  She cringed inwardly. Would she have to be nice to his Aunt Liesel even if she was rude or mean to her?