by Maya Blake
‘You are not reckless enough to attempt to trick me so I’m going to take you at your word,’ he rasped through flattened lips.
How she managed to locate her vocal cords to respond would remain a mystery to her. ‘I won’t thank you for that because I’m sure there’s an insult in there somewhere. Facts are facts, though.’
His nostrils flared as his gaze dropped down to her belly, drawing her attention to that telling gesture that had once again taken her by surprise. This time her hand stayed, splayed over her stomach in a protective gesture. When his eyes rose to hers, Violet could tell he’d fully acknowledged it.
A moment later he pivoted away, reached into his pocket and extracted his phone.
He spoke too fast in Montegovan for her to decipher even the word or two she understood of the language she should’ve mastered a long time ago if only her mother hadn’t pandered more to her English side. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked when he hung up.
‘You know my family’s history so you know I have a half-brother who was sprung on us the day of my father’s funeral.’
She frowned. ‘Yes. That isn’t news, is it?’ she replied, wondering where he was going with this. ‘What does that have to do with—?’
‘Very few people will ever know the depth of the chaos Jules’s unexpected arrival caused in our lives. Like you, her mother chose a significant occasion to deliver her news.’
She gasped. ‘Surely you don’t think—’
He cut across her once more, his tone icier than ever. ‘Believe me when I say that I’m not going to sit back and watch it all happen all over again.’
Her heart lurched at the intensity and determination in his voice. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You will,’ he replied.
Heading for the door, he summoned one of the guards and returned to where she stood. ‘You will watch her. Make sure she doesn’t leave this room. Is that understood?’
The guard snapped to attention. ‘Yes, of course, Your Highness.’
Violet rushed forward. ‘Wait, what do you think you’re—?’
He turned towards her, his face a mask of determination as his eyes speared into hers. ‘Who else knows?’ he demanded.
‘I... No one.’
‘For your sake I hope that’s the truth.’
‘I’m not a liar, Zak!’
Without acknowledging her response, he turned and started walking towards the door.
‘Zak, if you think I’m going to be left here cooling my heels whilst you waltz off and do...whatever, know that it’s not going to happen.’
He stopped, pivoted towards her without approaching. ‘Tell me, Violet, was your intention in coming here to have a discussion with me?’
She slanted a glance at the guard, who stared into the middle distance, effectively mimicking a seen-but-not-heard stance most likely drummed into him as part of royal protocol training. Her gaze returned to Zak’s. ‘Yes.’
‘My duties are mostly finished but I cannot carve out the time for this without first going back to make my excuses. You will wait here for me to return.’
‘But—’
‘Unless you’ve changed your mind about the supposed urgency of this situation?’
For the life of her, Violet couldn’t see the web he was spinning even though silky threads whispered over her skin. She would’ve loved to flounce off after delivering the news, but she couldn’t sustain any more shocks. Couldn’t live in limbo as she tried to decrypt his full and eventual reaction to her pregnancy. She had to stay, see this through in order to better inform her next steps.
‘But we don’t have to do this right this minute, do we?’
‘And when do you propose we do it? That we get together at another state occasion, perhaps?’
‘That wasn’t my fault. If you had bothered to answer my emails—’
He waved that away with a flick of his wrist. ‘The past is past. I know what you have come to tell me now. And I am going to do something about it.’
She opened her mouth, but again he halted her speech with a slash of his hand. ‘I’m willing to bet my mother has noticed my absence and is already sending someone to look for me as we speak. Do you wish me to handle this and come back to you or not?’
What could she say to that except, ‘Yes. Okay.’
With an abrupt nod he walked out the door, leaving her with an icy dread she couldn’t quite explain. A wave of dizziness rushed over her, and Violet stumbled over to the nearest set of sumptuous matching sofas and sank into the nearest seat. Scenarios raced through her mind as an hour ticked by without Zak returning. She had the absurd thought that he’d abandoned her, was circulating the ballroom, secretly laughing at the absurd news she’d delivered.
The doors opened and a second guard entered. Violet watched, a little bemused, as the two guards exchange a low-voiced conversation before advancing towards her.
‘Would you come with me please, miss?’ one said.
‘Where are we going?’ she demanded suspiciously.
‘His Highness has requested that you meet him at a different location.’
Frowning, she glanced towards the double doors that led back to the wedding reception. ‘But...my mother...’
Her words were met with a blank stare.
Aware that returning to the ballroom now would attract questions, Violet concluded it was wisest to get this meeting with Zak out of the way. Rising, she smoothed at her hand down her thighs and nodded at the guards. ‘Lead the way.’
They led her away from where the reception was still in full swing, traversing a series of hallways until they emerged into an enclosed courtyard where a gleaming black unoccupied limousine stood idling. The back door was open with the driver poised at attention beside it.
She resisted the urge to ask the guards where the driver was taking her, suspecting that she’d be stonewalled. Sucking in a breath that did nothing to sustain or restore her equilibrium, Violet slid into the car and fought back a shiver as it was shut softly but precisely behind her.
The car rolled forward. Through tinted windows, she saw the palace grounds whizz past. Mourned the beautiful architecture and stunning city of Playagova she’d been too preoccupied to fully appreciate.
Within minutes they were pulling up to a building that looked suspiciously like an aircraft hangar. Her suspicions were confirmed when the car glided to a smooth stop next to a gleaming jet a size smaller than the one in which they’d flown to Tanzania.
Its tail fin bore the same royal logo. The driver opened the door, courteously holding out his hand. For a moment, Violet hesitated. Sensing she would get no answers from the driver either, she alighted, then watched in surprise as he rounded the bonnet, slid behind the wheel and drove off.
‘Hey, where are you—?’ Realising she was alone in the cavernous space, and that she was speaking to thin air, she turned and eyed the steps that led into the plane.
Apprehension eating at her, she climbed the stairs and entered another sumptuous, custom-designed interior. Aged cherry wood complemented gold-veined marble in a masterful display of opulence that would have completely bowled her over had the sight of Zak, lounging in a large club chair at the far end of the plane, not absorbed every ounce of her attention. She approached him only because she didn’t want to conduct this meeting by shouting the length of the plane, her feet moving soundlessly over the thick carpet. She stopped within ten feet, close enough to talk but not enough to be overwhelmed by his presence. Much.
‘What is this, Zak? What am I doing here?’
He didn’t immediately reply, instead looked past her and nodded.
Glancing sharply over a shoulder, Violet saw the pilot acknowledge Zak’s silent command and retreat into the cockpit.
Only then did Zak address her. ‘Sit down, Violet.’
She eyed the
doorway, swallowing with relief to see it was still open. ‘No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.’
‘I thought we could speak privately about your...news.’
‘You can’t say the words, can you?’
His gaze dropped again to her belly, a look slashing across his face but disappearing far too quickly for her to decipher. ‘That you’re pregnant? That you claim to be carrying my child?’
‘Claim? I thought you said I’d be too reckless to pull the wool over your eyes with such a claim?’
‘We’ll get to the details of that in a moment. First, I really wish you would sit down.’
Two things pierced her consciousness simultaneously.
The first was that the engines of the plane had started up, the stairs electronically retracting until the door shut with a soft whoosh.
The second, as icy foreboding raced down her spine, was the sight of the weekend bag that should’ve been in her hotel room sitting against an interior door of the plane.
The enormity of what was happening weakened her knees. Before she could collapse and disgrace herself, she sank into the nearest chair, which happened to be the one directly opposite him. He rose with lithe, efficient movements, secured her seat belt, then stayed put, crouched before her as if he expected her to jerk upright and sprint for the door. As she wildly wanted to do.
But already the jet was rolling forward, slowly gathering speed once it had left the hangar.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Her voice was nowhere as firm as she wanted it to be. Because she suspected she knew what was happening. Knew but refused to acknowledge it.
‘You’ve been demanding my attention, mia bella. So I’m giving you what you want.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
ZAK STARED DOWN at the sleeping form of the woman who claimed to be carrying his child. He wanted to be amused at the hours of silent treatment she’d punished him with following his announcement, right before she’d just as silently taken him up on his offer of the master suite to rest.
He couldn’t dredge up an ounce of humour.
He’d instructed his personal security chief to dig into every second of Violet’s movements since their night in Tanzania. Preliminary reports indicated that besides work and being in her apartment in New York, she’d done little else.
No secret lover hovered in the wings, aiding her plot to deliver this bombshell into his life. Even communication with her own mother had been kept to a minimum, fuelling his impression from what he’d spotted of the strain between the two women during Remi’s wedding reception that Violet was avoiding her own mother.
That notion had been confirmed when Margot Barringhall had, under the guise of congratulating the new royal couple, cornered Zak to demand if he knew what was up with her daughter.
If even her own mother didn’t know...
He shook his head, knowing he was avoiding the main subject that need to be addressed. His feelings towards her news.
He was going to be a father.
Simultaneous waves of ice-cold shock and a red-hot need to claim thundered through him, as had been happening ever since Violet had made the life-changing announcement.
A child.
His heir.
He didn’t regret the steps he was taking to ensure that no whiff of scandal accompanied this news. His mother’s announcement that she was stepping down from the throne with immediate effect, together with his brother’s imminent coronation, would be fodder for those who sought to take advantage of the changes going through the kingdom to further their own nefarious ends.
But kidnap? Really?
Si, he affirmed to himself. His actions were justified. As he had learned to his cost when his father had died, delaying in taking action could prove detrimental.
While she may have lapsed into mutinous silence following his announcement that he was in effect kidnapping her, he wasn’t in any doubt that this was merely the calm before the storm.
Zak shoved his hands into pockets, refusing to acknowledge the act was to stop him from tracing his fingers down her smooth cheek, then running them through silky hair loosened by sleep. Long eyelashes curled against her paler than normal cheeks, her make-up having failed at its job of disguising the shadows under her eyes or the weariness turning down her sensual lips.
He’d spotted the signs of strain long before he’d approached her at the reception. Had spent far too long wondering if he’d overworked her.
He frowned, belatedly realising he hadn’t asked after her health. How was she coping with the baby? Was his child the reason she looked so pale?
His child...
He exhaled long and hard, registering that with the passage of time the icy dread was receding, and in its place was an even greater clamour. One that demanded immediate and definitive resolution to her claim with a claiming of his own.
As if she could intuit his thoughts, she shifted in her sleep, angling her body away from him and cradling her belly with her right hand.
Another hard smile curled his lips.
Whether she knew and expected it or not, she’d sealed her fate by informing him that she carried his child. No Montegovan child born of the royal family had ever gone unclaimed. When his father’s indiscretions had come home to roost, they’d been forced to accept his half-brother, despite Jules’s existence creating chaos within the royal household.
Even the very thought of a small part of history repeating itself made him grit his teeth. He turned and strode to the nearest window. They were still hours away from landing at their final destination. He needed to return to his seat, ensure his plan was firmly in place.
But even as the thought rippled through his mind, he was looking over his shoulder at Violet as she tossed again in bed. For a moment he entertained the notion of joining her there.
Almost immediately he rejected the idea.
Temptation was what had led them here in the first place. Temptation was what had driven him to Australia for the last two months, pursuing his trust’s interests on the other side of the world secure in the knowledge that she was on her way out of his life.
Except she hadn’t been. And she couldn’t have found a more permanent solution if she’d tried.
Bitterness twisted inside him. She’d well and truly pulled the wool over his eyes.
But no more.
If the child she carried was his—and he was still of the opinion that she wouldn’t dare to attempt to foist another man’s baby on him—Violet would be left in no doubt that he fully intended to claim what was his.
That thought settled deep within him, finally erasing any doubt or apprehension about the course of action he was taking.
Slowly retracing his steps back to her, he paused long enough to pull the light coverlet over her body before he exited the master suite. Passing the sitting area, he made his way to the conference table on the lower deck of the plane. Within the hour, he had temporarily relocated the hub of his trust, prioritised the most urgent matters, and effectively rearranged his immediate future in anticipation of what was to come.
By the time the plane touched down on his private runway, Zak was ready and armed with every weapon he needed to ensure the outcome he wanted.
The thought that ripped through him, the one that boldly hinted that claiming his child was no guarantee that he would be a better father than his own had been, he pushed away, and rose when the plane slowed to a stop.
First he would claim his child. Then he would attempt to do what his father hadn’t been able to do. Not irreparably shatter his child’s life with lies and callous betrayal.
Even more determined, he headed for the master suite to wake Violet.
It was time to face this thing head on.
‘Where are we?’ Violet asked, blinking at the blinding sunshine pouring through the aircraft windows.
She hadn’t expected to sleep for this long. Was sure she looked a sight.
The strain of delivering the news of her pregnancy and what had come afterwards had been too much to withstand. And once she’d realised there had been no way to escape Zak, she’d barely been able to contain her composure, seeking solace in silence as a way to counteract the wild hysteria simmering just beneath the surface.
When Zak had offered the master suite, it’d been all she could do not to race from his presence and lock herself in the room as quickly as possible. Expecting to stay awake from her churning thoughts, she’d fallen into a deep sleep, the most restful she’d had since discovering she was pregnant.
Now she was awake, the enormity of the situation was even more overwhelming, not less. Aware he hadn’t answered, she sucked in a breath and glanced his way.
He was waiting for her, incisive gaze devouring her as he answered, ‘We’re at my private island in the Caribbean.’
Of course they were.
He would hardly kidnap her and take her to a bustling metropolis where she could scream her head off and attract attention at the first opportunity, now, would he?
She shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself, fearing the worst. But how else could she explain what he done? ‘You kidnapped me,’ she accused, while hoping he would deny it.
He merely shrugged. ‘Let’s not place labels on actions just yet, shall we?’
‘Of course not. Because what could be more damning than a royal prince intent on protecting his pristine image?’
His eyes narrowed on her face. ‘You look better rested,’ he said, smoothly changing the subject.
‘In time for the interrogation you have in store for me, I’m sure.’
His sensual lips pursed and he advanced towards her, holding out his hand. ‘It doesn’t have to be an interrogation.’
‘Oh? What do you call this, then, spiriting me thousands of miles away just to have a discussion with me? Did you even think to ask me or are my wishes completely irrelevant to you?’
