Nina Milne - Claiming His Secret Royal Heir

What would he feel when he saw Amil?

The fear tasted ashen—what if he felt nothing?

What if he was like his mother and there was no instinctive love, merely an indifference that bordered on dislike? Or like his father, who had treated his sons as possessions, chess pieces in his petty power games?

If so, then he’d fake it—no matter what he did or didn’t feel, he’d fake love until it became real.

He hauled in a deep breath and focused on Sunita’s face. ‘I’ll leave as soon as you let them in. Ask your grandmother to look after Amil tonight. Then I’ll come back and we can finish this discussion.’

Sunita nodded agreement and stepped forward.

His heart threatened to leave his ribcage and moisture sheened his neck as she pulled the door open.

A fleeting impression registered, of a tall, slender woman with silver hair pulled back in a bun, clad in a shimmering green and red sari, and then his gaze snagged on the little boy in her arms. Raven curls, chubby legs, a goofy smile for his mother.

Mine. My son.

Emotion slammed into him—so hard he almost recoiled and had to concentrate to stay steady. Fight or flight kicked in—half of him wanted to turn and run in sheer terror, the other half wanted to step forward and take his son, shield him from all and any harm.

‘Nanni, this is an old friend of mine who’s dropped in.’

‘Good to meet you.’ Somehow Frederick kept his voice even, forced himself to meet the older woman’s alert gaze. He saw the small frown start to form on her brow and turned back to Sunita. ‘It was great to see you again, Sunita. ’Til later.’

A last glance at his son—his son—and he walked away.

* * *

Sunita scooped Amil up and buried herself in his warmth and his scent. She held him so close that he wriggled in protest, so she lowered him to the ground and he crawled towards his play mat.

‘Thank you for looking after him.’

‘I enjoyed it immensely. And thank you, Sunita, for allowing me to be part of Amil’s life. And yours.’

‘Stop! I have told you—you don’t need to thank me.’

Yet every time she did.

‘Yes, I do. I was neither a good mother nor a good grandmother. You have given me a chance of redemption, and I appreciate that with all my heart.’

‘We’ve been through this, Nanni; the past is the past and we’re only looking forward.’

Her grandmother’s marriage had been deeply unhappy—her husband had been an autocrat who had controlled every aspect of his family’s life with an iron hand. When Sunita’s mother had fallen pregnant by a British man who’d had no intent of standing by her, her father had insisted she be disowned.

Sunita could almost hear her mother’s voice now: ‘Suni, sweetheart, never, ever marry a man who can control you.’

It was advice Sunita intended to take one step further—she had no plans to marry anyone, ever. Her father’s marriage had been a misery of incompatibility, bitterness and blame—an imbroglio she’d been pitchforked into to live a Cinderella-like existence full of thoughtless, uncaring relations.

‘Please, Nanni. You are a wonderful grandmother and great-grandmother and Amil adores you. Now, I have a favour to ask. Would you mind looking after Amil for the rest of the evening?’

‘So you can see your friend again?’

‘Yes.’

‘The friend you didn’t introduce?’

Sunita opened her mouth and closed it again.

Her grandmother shook her head. ‘You don’t have to tell me.’

‘I will tell you, Nanni—but after dinner, if that’s OK.’

‘You will tell me whenever you are ready. Whatever it is, this time I will be there for you.’

An hour later, with Amil fed and his bag packed, Sunita gave her grandmother a hug. She watched as the driver she’d insisted on providing manoeuvred the car into the stream of traffic, waved, and then made her way back upstairs... To find the now familiar breadth of Frederick on the doorstep, a jacket hooked over his shoulder.

‘Come in. Let’s talk.’

He followed her inside and closed the door, draping his dark grey jacket over the back of a chair. ‘Actually, I thought we could talk somewhere else. I’ve booked a table at Zeus.’

Located in one of Mumbai’s most luxurious hotels, Zeus was the city’s hottest restaurant, graced by celebrities and anyone who wanted to see and be seen.

Foreboding crept along her skin, every instinct on full alert. ‘Why on earth would you do that?’

‘Because I am taking the mother of my child out for dinner so we can discuss the future.’

Sunita stared at him as the surreal situation deepened into impossibility. ‘If you and I go out for dinner it will galvanise a whole load of press interest.’

‘That is the point. We are going public. I will not keep Amil a secret, or make him unofficial business.’

She blinked as her brain crashed and tried to change gear. ‘But we haven’t discussed this at all.’

This was going way too fast, and events were threatening to spiral out of control. Her control.

‘I don’t think we should go public until we’ve worked out the practical implications—until we have a plan.’

‘Not possible. People are already wondering where I am. Especially my chief advisor. People may have spotted us at the café, and April Fotherington will be wondering if my presence in Mumbai is connected to you. I want the truth to come out on my terms, not hers, or those of whichever reporter makes it their business to “expose” the story. I want this to break in a positive way.’

Sunita eyed him, part of her impressed by the sheer strength and absolute assurance he projected, another part wary of the fact he seemed to have taken control of the situation without so much as a by-your-leave.

‘I’m not sure that’s possible. Think about the scandal—your people won’t like this.’ And they wouldn’t like her, a supermodel with a dubious past. ‘Are you sure this is the best way to introduce Amil’s existence to your people?’

‘I don’t know. But I believe it’s the right way to show my people that this is good news, that Amil is not a secret. That I am being honest.’

An unpleasant twinge of guilt pinched her nerves—she had kept Amil secret, she had been dishonest. She had made a decision that no longer felt anywhere near as right as it had this morning.

‘So what do you say?’ he asked. ‘Will you have dinner with me?’

The idea gave her a sudden little thrill, brought back a sea of memories of the dinners they had shared two years before—dinners when banter and serious talk had flown back and forth, when each word, each gesture, had been a movement in the ancient dance of courtship. A courtship she had never meant to consummate...

But this meal would be on a whole new level and courtship would not be on the table. Wherever they held this discussion tonight, the only topic of conversation would be Amil and the future.

And if Frederick believed this strategy was the best way forward then she owed him her co-operation.

‘Let’s get this show on the road.’ An unexpected fizz of excitement buzzed through her. She could do this; she’d always relished a fight and once upon a time she’d revelled in a show. ‘But I need to change.’

‘You look fine to me.’

His voice was deep and molten, and just like that the atmosphere changed. Awareness hummed and vibrated, shimmering around them, and she had to force herself to remain still, to keep her feet rooted to the cool tiles of the floor. The hazel of his eyes had darkened in a way she remembered all too well, and now it was exhilaration of a different sort that heated her veins.

Stop.

All that mattered here was Amil and his future. Two years ago she had tried and failed to resist the magnetic pull that Frederick exerted on her—a pull she had distrusted, and this time would not permit. Whatever her treacherous hormones seemed to think.