by Katie Knight
The aide who’d called him earlier was waiting by the elevators to walk Z to the king’s rooms.
“His majesty’s awake now, huh? That’s a good sign.” Z knew the guy’s cancer was terminal, but with all the money he had to spend, maybe one of the radical experimental treatments could extend his time. Z hoped so, for Es’s sake anyway.
“Yes and no,” the aide said, staring straight ahead down the corridor. She was maybe fifty, and about as bland as the plain white walls on either side of them. “His prognosis is not good, Mr. Raybourn. Nothing has changed there. The doctors fear this might be a last burst of energy, a final hurrah, as it were, before the end. Apparently, that’s not uncommon for patients in their final stages of a terminal disease. No one knows how long it may last, but we can only do our best to keep him comfortable and see to his wishes while he is here with us.”
Z gave the woman a sideways glance. “Why did he want to see me?”
“You’ll have to ask his majesty that, Mr. Raybourn.” The aide stopped outside the king’s door then gestured for him to go in by himself. “He’s waiting for you.”
Walking into the private suite, the first thing Z noticed was how much Es looked like her father. Same dark hair, even though the king was in his late sixties, same intelligent hazel eyes. Where Es’s complexion was creamy and pink with healthy, the king’s had a decided yellowish tinge to it, most likely because the cancer had metastasized to his liver. Otherwise, the king seemed his usual jovial self. Z had never really spent much time one-on-one with the king or his personal advisors, but in general, the palace in Prylea had been very welcoming toward him when he’d taken the security assignment. He knew the king was the one responsible for that warm environment.
“Ah, Mr. Raybourn, please have a seat.” The king gestured toward the chair beside his hospital bed, then gave a quick head tilt toward the two other people in the room to clear the area, leaving Z alone with the king. “A matter has been brought to my attention we need to discuss.”
Z’s heart lodged somewhere in his esophagus. The deal with Es aside, he really couldn’t afford to lose this job. He had been sent to Prylea officially as a symbol of the friendship and support of the American military. How would it look to his commanding officer if he was sent back? His mind raced, trying to think of where and when he might have screwed something up during this trip to Washington, DC, but nothing surfaced.
“I know you’re sleeping with my daughter.” The king’s gravelly voice, likely due to the various tubes he’d had shoved done his throat for the past week, echoed in the otherwise quiet room, the words hanging between them like an executioner’s ax.
Z opened his mouth to answer, then realized he had no clue how to navigate this minefield. “Sir, I, uh…”
How could he have found out? They’d been careful.
As if reading his thoughts, the king said, “A member of my trusted staff back home told me about the contract. Felt I should know what my only child has been up to while I was in a coma.”
Chest squeezed tight with adrenaline, Z battled the urge to escape the room and run as far and fast as he could and instead stood his ground. He was a soldier, a trained warfare expert, a SEAL. He didn’t back down from a fight. He strategized, he conquered, he won. “Your highness, I believe—”
The king gave a dismissive wave. “Save it. And please, call me Renault, or Ren, for short. The time is long passed for formalities. Besides, if my daughter’s little scheme works, I may be calling you son before you know it, eh?”
Z blinked at him, stunned. “Uh, listen, your high—” he cleared his throat to cover his gaff. “Ren. This isn’t what you think. Es came up with this idea after a lot of thought and research.”
“Yes. I’m sure she did.” The king coughed and Z rushed to pour him some water. Ren took a few sips then leaned back against his pillows once more. “My daughter is an overthinker, just like me. Her mother was always the one to act. I’m praying she got more than a little of my queen’s chutzpah as well. Her decision to take you to bed gives me hope.”
Speechless now, Z sat back and shook his head.
“You’ve been put in an awkward position here,” the king said, narrowing his gaze on Z. “I completely understand why my daughter chose this route. In fact, I one-hundred percent support it. A baby, an heir, will keep that buffoon Silvester off my throne and help preserve all the work I’ve done to bring the country of Prylea into the twenty-first century.” He looked Z up and down. “Yes, you two will make fine-looking, healthy offspring. But I want to make sure that you’re okay with all of this, son.” He coughed again, but held up a hand when Z went to pour him more water. “Damned cancer’s spread everywhere now. Lungs, brain, bones, even my voice box. No amount of liquid will help that.” He took a deep breath. “I do hope you don’t mind me calling you ‘son.’ Figured you’d grant me some latitude since I won’t be around much longer.”
“Sir. Ren. The fact you’re awake now is a good sign.” Z sat forward, doing his best to shine a positive light on the situation. He actually didn’t mind the king calling him son at all. It was kind of nice, truth be told, with his own parents being gone. Felt good to be part of a family again even if it was only temporary. “Don’t count yourself out too soon.”
“You either,” the king said, turning Z’s words back on him. “What I mean is, let all this settle in for a bit. Making a baby isn’t easy, especially under your circumstances. And my Esme can be a handful, just like her mother was. Strong, smart, opinionated, and fiercely loyal. I’m glad she’ll have a strong young man such as yourself by her side at the end of all this.” He waved a hand over his prone form. “She’ll need all the support she can get when she gets back to Prylea.”
The king gave him a rueful little smile. “I called you here, son, to let you know that if you need to talk—about anything—I’m here for you. This was never common knowledge, but the queen and I struggled for years to have Esme. With the stress of running a country and other health issues, it took us a long time. I know how hard those trials and tensions can be. It can help to save a supportive friend in your corner to bolster your spirits.”
“Oh, well, thank you, sir.” Z was touched by the offer. He’d come here, scared he’d get fired—or worse, get the “if you hurt my daughter in any way, I’ll kill you” speech. He’d never expected warmth and support and acceptance. Honestly, he could really use some advice right about now. “If you don’t mind my asking, sir, I do have some questions about—”
His question was severed by the hospital door opening and Es running over to hug her father, looking as lovely and luscious as Z remembered from the night before. His heart ached at the sight of her hugging her father, their close relationship obvious.
“Uh, I’m just going to step outside for a minute and give you two some privacy.” Z stood and made his way over to the door, but he might as well have been invisible for all the attention Es and her father paid him. It was just as well. Given the chaos raging inside him after the conversation he’d just had with the king, he could use all the space he could get to recalibrate.
Chapter Eleven
“Papa,” Esme said, bending down to kiss her father’s cheek once Z had left. Happy as she was to see him awake and alert again, she kept reminding herself that this was only temporary. The doctors had sat her down after she’d first arrived this morning and told her the cold, hard facts. Her father’s renewed energy today wasn’t a sign of recovery or good health. It was a final burst of life before the inevitable end. Which made her deal with Z that much more imperative to fulfill. The idea of going back to Prylea without her father was unthinkable, let alone the thought that he might not last until Christmas, only a few short months away. Still, she wanted to spend what little time left with her father in joy, not sorrow. She cupped his flushed cheeks and rested her forehead against his. “How are you feeling?”
“Very well, my darling girl. Very well, indeed.” He kissed her forehead and pulled her
in for another awkward embrace, given their positions, then released her. “You look beautiful as always. The spitting image of your dear mother. God rest her soul.”
“God rest her soul,” Esme repeated, taking a seat in the chair near his beside. The leather was still warm from Z’s body and she savored that heat for a moment before placing her bag on the floor and pulling her knitting out for later. She planned to stay here for the long haul and get as much quality time in with her father as possible. “I’ve been busy during our stay here, Papa.”
She went over all the meetings and luncheons and galas she’d attended in his place, carefully avoiding any mention of the mess awaiting them back home because of her cousin Silvester. She also avoided any mention of her plans with Z. No need to worry her father unnecessarily in his weakened condition.
Turned out, she needn’t have been concerned. He already knew. About everything.
“I just had a conversation with the young man you’ve chosen to mate with,” he said without any preamble. Esme stared at her father, open-mouthed and speechless. How exactly did one respond to that? She had no idea. There weren’t any etiquette classes for dealing with the scenario she and Z found themselves in, that was for sure. Her father, though, seemed to take in stride the news that his only daughter was sleeping with her bodyguard to try and produce an heir. If anything, he showed outright approval. He held up a hand to stop her from speaking. “It’s fine, my darling. More than fine. My only regret is that you have to handle this yourself. I should have done more to get the laws of Prylea changed when I had the chance. But there never seemed to be a right time, then your mother was ill and my concentration was elsewhere, then I lost the control I once had over parliament and—”
Esme reached out and covered her father’s hand with hers. “It’s fine, Papa. Really. I think it will all turn out for the best. Z is a good man and we’re ready to sign all the contracts, so it’s all legally binding and aboveboard.”
He watched her for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “Yes. He is a good man. I had him checked out myself after the staff told me what was afoot.” At her shocked look, he chuckled. “They were my staff before they were yours, my darling. And they only have your best interests at heart. Don’t judge them too harshly, eh? Listen, before we get into that, I’ve received word that Silvester has held a meeting with the arms committee in the Prylean parliament. My guess is he’s trying to consolidate power and put some kind of transition plan in place. If things go his way and we lose the goodwill and guardianship of the US military, he’ll need contingencies.” He sighed. “My hope was to fight this battle myself, but with the doctors prescribing hospice care for me from here on out, I’m not sure that will be possible.”
“I know, Papa.” Her heart ached at the thought of what was to come, of losing her last surviving parent, but she had to be strong for her country, for the child that would hopefully be conceived soon through her efforts with Z. “I’m prepared to handle Silvester. Don’t worry.”
“You’re such a treasure, my darling. So smart, so kind, so generous with your time and love.” He stroked her hair. “Your Zachary is lucky to have you.”
“Oh, Papa,” she said, kissing his palm before sitting back in her seat. “It’s not like that and you know it. This is a business deal. Nothing more.”
“Hmm.” Her father adjusted his blankets, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced now as fatigue set in. The doctors had said his stamina would lessen as the cancer overcame him. “We’ll see. He’s a good man. Tragic background, but that builds character, I believe.”
Intrigued, she sat forward again. The most she’d been able to find out about his past was that his parents were deceased and that he’d been removed from his SEAL unit due to “insubordination,” but there’d been no other explanation of either incident. Perhaps her father, with his power and influence, had been able to uncover more about Z’s mysterious past. “Tell me.”
Her father gave her a small, knowing smile. “Your Zachary’s father worked for the World Health Organization, traveling all over the world to prevent future outbreaks of deadly diseases. He’d taken his wife and young son with him on a trip to Egypt. While there, a street bomber killed his mother and father. Your Zachary was only six at the time and went into foster care after that. No extended family to speak of. Perhaps that’s why he’s a bit of a loner now.”
Esme stared down at the floor, her thoughts swirling. That would certainly explain some of his odd mannerisms she’s noticed. Like how he always stood with his back against a wall whenever possible, most likely because he felt protected that way. Also, his reticence to discuss anything personal about himself. It also explained why he was so keen to return to his SEAL team. They were probably a replacement for the family he’d lost. Finding out about all this from her father felt a bit like an invasion of Z’s well-guarded privacy, but she needed to know. Especially if they were having a child together. She planned to ask Z herself about these things later when the opportunity arose.
“Why was he pulled from his SEAL team?” she asked, her voice quiet amidst the hum and beep of the monitors in the room. “He rarely talks about himself and avoids my questions. I’m assuming it wasn’t anything too awful or he wouldn’t have been allowed to work on my security team in the palace.”
“That, my darling, you’ll have to ask him yourself. All I was able to find out was that he was on a black-ops mission and things went south. He was injured rescuing a fellow SEAL team member and put on administrative leave pending an investigation into the matter.” Her father yawned then snuggled down in his bed. “Now, forgive me, my darling, but I need to sleep for a bit.”
With that, he closed his eyes. She sat there for several long moments, considering the new information she’d learned. The minutes stretched, and she picked up her knitting, working on finishing another small blanket for the NICU here at the hospital. Knitting always relaxed her and helped clear her mind and organize her thoughts, which was good since her life felt chaotic right now. Soon, she lost herself in her work, the sound of her needles clacking filling the air.
By the time her father stirred again, Esme glanced over at the clock on the wall to find two hours had passed. Her butt was numb from sitting so long in one spot. She shifted her weight and glanced out into the hallway to see the guards still posted there and Z walking by. He looked in and caught her eye, raising a hand in greeting as he passed. She nodded then turned her attention back to her ailing father.
“You’re awake,” she said, carefully removing the pretty, pastel-green blanket, now complete, from her needles then folding it and setting it aside to give to the nurses later. “Can I get you anything? Water? Food?”
Her father rubbed his eyes then pushed himself up into a seated position on his bed. “How about telling me where you are in your plans with this Zachary fellow.”
Heat prickled her cheeks, but she glossed over the more torrid sections of their tryst, instead focusing on the more political aspects. “I’m researching the exact rules of succession and terms needed for a regency. It’s been slow going and difficult, doing it all in secret and on my own, given the sensitive nature of what we’re planning. Plus, being an ocean away from home and the ancient documents I need to see doesn’t help, either. I really need to get together with our University of Prylea and the museums when I get home to make sure they update their online library databases and archives.”
“My staff will provide you with anything you need, my darling. You know that, right? You can trust them. The advisors, however, I would steer clear of until this is all settled. They can be more easily swayed by the promise of power and position and Silvester will use any means necessary to get what he wants.”
“I know, Papa. And I haven’t told anyone about this, but you and…” She shrugged. “The staffers who had the contracts for Z drawn up for me. Obviously, they leaked the information to you, though.”
Her father gave a rueful snort. “Being king has some per
ks, daughter.”
“True.” She smiled.
“Do you like this Zachary?” he asked, far too perceptive for her comfort.
“He’s very nice. And he’s suitable for my purposes.” And gorgeous and great in bed and tender and… She cut off the images of them entwined together before her face ignited from embarrassment. Her father did not need to know about that. “Suffice it to say that the contract between us is in full effect.”
“Yes, I can see that.” He reached out a trembling hand to her and she took it. “But are you happy, my darling?”
She exhaled slow and realized she was happy—as happy as she could be under the circumstance. She nodded. “Yes, Papa.”
“Good. That’s all I really care about.” His hazel eyes sparkled with a bit of their old fire. “And if you and this Zachary make a good team, in and out of bed, then I say go for it. Make it a real deal. Monarchies have been made on much less. And you will be a much better leader for the people of Prylea than I ever was, daughter.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. “I never had your tenacity or foresight.”
Es snorted and shook her head. “I don’t know about that, Papa. All of this with Z is strictly a Hail Mary pass. We’ve only been together a few days. Besides, I doubt Z would chose to stay married to me over returning to his SEAL team at the end of all this.”
Her father gave her a cryptic smile before yawning again, his words drifting off as his eyes closed again. “Wait and see, my darling. Just wait and see. Life has a way of giving you what you need exactly when you need it.”
Chapter Twelve
“Wow. I’m amazed at all the things you’re not allowed to do while you’re pregnant,” Esme said later that night. She was dutifully lying with her hips raised on a plump pillow beneath the covers after another round of baby-making sex with Z. Surprisingly, he hadn’t bailed right afterward this time. Instead, he was kicking back in his boxer briefs in one of the chairs in the small sitting area adjacent to the bed.
