Lynn Harris - Cavelli's Lost Heir

“I am indeed serious, Liliana.” He’d gotten his answer in the moments before he’d left his quarters to attend the State dinner. His investigators worked remarkably fast, and what they’d turned up was evidence he could not ignore. She’d given birth almost nine months to the day from the night he’d made love to her. She could have found another lover right away, true, but the child’s resemblance to him was too strong to discount. He would of course take the official step of verifying the child’s parentage, but it was merely a formality at this point.

When he considered how he’d missed the first seventeen months of his boy’s life, how this woman had kept his son from him, he wanted to shake her and demand to know how she could do such a thing. He let her go before the urge overwhelmed him and took a step away.

He would marry her because his personal code of honor would permit nothing less. It was his duty. But he didn’t have to like it. Or her.

She spun around to face him. “B-but I’m not a princess, I don’t know how to be a prin—”

“You will learn,” he said harshly. She wasn’t the ideal bride for him, but she could be trained. She was attractive enough, and she’d already proven she had the moxie required to stand up beneath the pressure. When she was coiffed and dressed appropriately, she would no longer appear so common. She was not as beautiful as Antonella, but she was quite lovely in a natural way. Antonella didn’t affect him one way or the other. He could take or leave the Monteverdian princess.

But Lily—

Nico crossed to the bar and poured another cognac. This time he downed the liquid himself, welcomed the burn of fine Montebiancan brandy. Per Dio, it’d been a hell of a night thus far. And he wasn’t finished fighting with himself.

Part of him, a mad and primal part of him, was so completely aware of the woman across the room that he wanted to haul her to his bed and strip her slowly before burying himself inside her for the rest of the night.

Madness. Sheer madness. The urge filled him with both hunger and rage, and he worked to force it down deep and put a lid on it.

In the two months since Gaetano had died, he’d mostly ignored the sensual side of his nature as he’d worked to further Montebiancan interests and be the kind of heir to the throne that his people deserved. He was sorely regretting the lack at the moment. It made Lily Morgan seem far more irresistible to him than she should be.

“Surely we can work this out another way,” she said, her voice small and hesitant. “You can have visitation and—”

“Visitation,” he exclaimed, slicing her words off before she could finish. He shrugged out of the sash and tossed it aside, then worked the buttons of his uniform jacket with one hand, throwing it open with an angry gesture to let the air from the terrace door he’d left ajar cool his body. This night had thrown him so far out of balance that he half wondered if he would ever recover his equilibrium. “You are quite lucky this is no longer the Middle Ages, Liliana. As it is, you are getting far more from me than you deserve.”

If he thought she would be chastened by his words, he was in for a surprise. She lit up like a firecracker. Dio, she was lovely. And she’d just cost him five million dollars, a trade treaty with a neighboring kingdom, and every last shred of credibility he’d built since becoming the Crown Prince. Being illegitimate, and having the playboy reputation he’d had before his brother’s death, he’d had to work doubly hard to prove himself.

Now, all his effort lay in tatters around him. The thought fueled the anger roiling in his gut.

“More than I deserve?” she said, her voice not small any longer but large and strong. “How dare you! I’ve been on my own for these two years, enduring what you could not begin to imagine in your ivory tower, taking care of a baby and—”

“Silence!” There was no way on this earth he would listen to her berate him for what had been essentially her decision to keep him in the dark about their child. She would pay for what she’d done. He was far too angry, far too close to losing the last shred of his control. “If you are aware of what is good for you, cara, you will not speak of this any further tonight.”

She opened her mouth, and he slapped the crystal on the table and moved toward her. When she scurried backward, her eyes widening, he checked his progress. He was on the edge of emotions he’d never felt before, torn between wanting to protect and destroy, and it made him reckless.

He snatched up the phone and pressed the button that would summon his housekeeper. When he put it down, Lily was chewing her lip, arms folded beneath her breasts as if to protect herself. Or to keep warm. The night was probably cooler than she was accustomed to in her native Louisiana. A tremor passed over her, confirming his observation. Beneath her shirt, her nipples peaked, small and tight, and goose bumps rose on her skin.

Nico swallowed, remembering how perfect her breasts had been when he’d first bared them to his sight. How responsive she’d been as she’d moaned and clutched his shoulders when he kissed the tight little points.

Dio, this was insane.

Nico shook the memories away and peeled off his jacket. “You are cold,” he said as he closed the distance between them. “Take this, cara. ”

He placed the jacket on her shoulders and she clutched the material around her, thanking him softly. He turned his back on her and moved away.

He heard the intake of her breath, braced himself for what she might say next—but there was only silence.

Finally, she spoke. “Nico, I’m sorry that—”

The door opened and the housekeeper entered, interrupting whatever she’d been about to say. Nico didn’t look at her again.

“Please show our guest to her room,” he told the woman awaiting his instructions. “And send someone to clean up the broken glass.”

Signora Mazetti gave a short bow and waited for Lily to join her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily remove the jacket and place it carefully over the back of the settee closest to her. Then she followed the housekeeper without complaint.

Lily awoke to the sound of china and silverware delicately clinking together. She sat up, yawning, and blinked as she tried to take in her surroundings. Brocade curtains hung from a canopy and were drawn back to let light filter into the giant bed. For a moment, she thought she’d been upgraded to the best suite the hotel had—but then she remembered.

She was in the palace, in Prince Nico’s apartment. If you could call a wing of a royal palace an apartment. And she was as much a prisoner here as she’d been in the dungeon cell of the old fortress.

A woman in uniform stood off to one side, fussing with a tray. She turned and dropped a curtsy before coming forward and settling the tray laden with bone china and thick silverware across Lily’s lap.

“His Highness says you are to eat and dress, signorina. He wishes you to join him in precisely one hour.”

The woman curtsied again and slipped out the door, closing it behind her. Lily started to set the tray aside, but the scents of coffee and food wafted up to her, reminding her how hungry she was. She’d been unable to eat during the twenty-four hours she’d spent in prison. Last night, all she’d wanted was to shower and sleep—but now her stomach rumbled insistently.

She thought about tossing on her clothes and trying to find a phone—maybe she could call Carla and explain she was being held against her will. Or maybe she could call her boss and tell him she’d been kidnapped. She’d call the consulate herself except she couldn’t waste precious time looking for the phone number. Someone would help her, she was positive.