by Leanne Banks
“Then why in the world would you invite him to your party?”
Bridget sighed as they entered the ballroom. “Because he brings business to Chantaine. Plus he supports many of our local causes.”
“Wow, real monster,” Eve said, still not understanding.
Bridget lowered her voice. “His great-great-uncle killed a Devereaux, and his father seduced the woman who was originally supposed to marry my father.”
Eve digested the information. “Okay, I can see how that could keep them off the Devereaux’s BFF list. But if you dislike the Lafittes that much, why would you invite them?”
“We’re taking the civilized approach,” Bridget said. “Oh, look. Agnes and Stefan are talking. He’s nodding. Now, smiling.” Bridget gave a mini-applause, then frowned. “What is Countess Laticia doing with Senior Adviser Tomas?”
Eve watched, feeling her stomach sink to her knees. Both women were incredibly beautiful.
“He’s matchmaking,” Bridget said, indignant. “How is Agnes going to get any time with Stefan if Tomas is pushing a countess at him? Well, I’m fixing this,” she muttered, and then took off.
Moments later, it appeared that Agnes would be sitting on one side of Stefan and the young countess on the other. Bridget returned with a triumphant expression on her face. “Much better now,” she said. “Agnes deserves a fair fight, wouldn’t you say? The games begin.”
Eve wished she could be more blasé about the fact that Stefan was surrounded by two women who would do just about anything for his attention, but she felt more miserable with each course of the dinner, and it had nothing to do with the food. She was pretty sure Stefan wasn’t even aware of her presence. Why should he be, when he was wedged between a model and a countess?
Bridget chatted with the rest of the table and murmured an observation about Agnes and Stefan every now and then. By the time the waiters were serving dessert, Eve thought she would scream. “I think I need a little air,” she said to Bridget. “Please excuse me.” She rose from the table and headed straight for the balcony doors. Stepping outside, she gulped in several breaths of fresh air. “Thank God,” she whispered.
“That bad?” a male voice said from the shadows. Nic Lafitte stepped forward.
She took another breath and stepped closer to the marble rail. “It’s not exactly the backyard barbecue I’m used to,” she said.
“Texas,” he said triumphantly. “The drawl. I knew you were American and from the South, but I couldn’t quite place it. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” she said, wishing she could be alone to collect herself before she thanked Bridget and left for the evening.
“Would you like me to get you a cocktail? You look upset,” he said.
“I’m not,” she lied. “Just out of my element. I think I’ll call it a night.”
“Shame,” he said, then pulled out a card. “I’m in town every now and then. Give me a call.”
She put up her hand. “I don’t think so,” she said.
“Ah, Bridget ratted on my family,” he said. “I’m not all that bad. I’m even part Texan. I own a ranch there.”
“So you can play cowboy when the mood strikes?” she asked. She’d heard about men like Nic, who flitted into their ranches from international destinations.
“Can’t deny the appeal after spending too much time in meetings,” he said. “Bet you even miss it a little.”
She did, especially tonight. “I’m going to go now.”
“I’ll walk you inside,” he said, walking with her.
“Thank you, but you don’t need to do that,” she said.
“I don’t have anything else to do,” he said, then opened the door.
It was only steps from the balcony into the ballroom. Eve stopped short when she saw Stefan standing a few yards directly in front of her.
“What timing. The prince is making his rounds. He always personally thanks everyone for attending,” Nic said.
“He can skip me,” she said, stepping backward.
At that moment, Stefan looked up and caught sight of her. And Nic Lafitte. His jaw hardened for a second, and Eve was hoping he would just ignore her. She didn’t want to talk to him in this setting. It was surreal and disturbing to her.
Stefan clearly had other ideas as he made a quick comment to his aide and stepped toward her. Eve felt her palms grow damp.
“Ms. Jackson, I wasn’t aware you were attending,” Stefan said, extending his hand.
She accepted it and gave a little dip that she hoped resembled a curtsy. “Your Highness, Princess Bridget invited me.”
“I haven’t seen you all evening,” he said.
“You’ve been busy taking care of your—guests,” she said, forcing a smile.
He lifted an eyebrow, then turned at Nic. “Thank you for your contributions to Chantaine,” he said.
“I consider it my honor and responsibility, Your Highness. After all, my family has a history with Chantaine. A lovely event tonight, made even lovelier by the presence of Ms. Jackson.”
Eve looked at Nic like he was a wack job. Lovely. She glanced back at Stefan and noticed that he was clenching his jaw. Interesting, she thought.
“I’m glad you enjoyed the evening. I’ll be in touch later,” he said to Eve and held her gaze for three seconds before he turned away.
Eve felt as if she’d been scorched and couldn’t move.
“Are you sure you’re just the stable master?” Nic asked.
“Of course I’m the stable master,” she said, praying her face wasn’t as red with heat as she thought it was. “Do I look like I could be anything else?”
Nic looked at her for a moment. “You look as if you could be a queen.”
“Now I know you’re full of it,” she said. “I’m going to bed. Have a nice night.”
“Are you sure I can’t join you?”
“Not in a million years,” she said.
“Princess Bridget scared you off,” he said.
“It’s not that,” she said.
“Hmm,” he said as if he knew too much.
“Find another girl. I’m sure you won’t have a problem. Good night,” she said and headed toward Bridget.
She found the princess standing next to Agnes, a physical example of feminine perfection. Bridget turned to her and beamed. “Eve, meet Agnes. Agnes, this is Eve. She’s Stefan’s new stable master, and we all adore her.”
Agnes smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth that matched every other perfect part of her. “Good evening. You like horses?”
“Yes, thank you, Agnes. Nice to meet you. Your Highness,” she said to Bridget, “I’m headed home. Thank you for inviting me.”
Bridget pouted. “So soon.” She bussed Eve with a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow or the next day. Ciao, Eve.”
“Ciao,” Eve murmured, and then headed for the door. She picked up the hem of her dress and ran down the hall toward the foyer. Opening the front door, she stepped outside and debated pulling off her shoes.
The chauffeur pulled up to the curb. “Ms. Jackson, would you like a ride to your quarters?”
“Thank you,” she said. “That would be wonderful.”
The chauffeur stepped outside and helped her into the car. “Did you have a good evening?” he asked.
“Hmm,” she said in a noncommittal tone. “I can’t wait to get back to my room.” She climbed into the car and sank her head against the seat, closing her eyes. What a mistake. She should have never gone tonight. There had been so many times when she hadn’t felt as if she’d fit in, and this evening was just one more.
It seemed like only seconds passed and the chauffeur pulled to a stop. “I’ll escort you to the door, ma’am,” he said.
Eve pulled herself together and stepped from the vehicle. “Thank you,” she said and went upstairs to her second-story apartment. Walking inside, she kicked off her shoes and sank onto the sofa. Images of Agnes, the countess and Stefan flashed through her min
d like a slide show. She groaned, willing her disturbing thoughts aside. “Never again,” she told herself, pushing herself to stand. Maybe a shower would wash the night from her head so she could sleep in peace.
A knock sounded on her door and she frowned. Who? At this time of night? The knock sounded again. Scurrying to the door, she stared out the peephole and saw Stefan standing impatiently.
She immediately flung open the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Good evening to you, too,” he said, walking inside and closing the door behind him. “Did you enjoy your time with Lafitte?”
“Not particularly,” she said “I mean, he was nice enough and he definitely has an interesting backstory.”
“Eve,” he said, and she noticed he was clenching his jaw.
“And he wasn’t surrounded by two beautiful women vying for his attention and willing to do anything to marry him.”
“I didn’t invite either of those women,” he said.
“Either would be perfect for the job,” she said, crossing her arms over chest.
“I’m not marrying either of those women,” he said.
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I will make the ultimate decision and I refuse to give up my relationship with you for a wife I don’t love.”
Eve blinked. She hadn’t expected that. “This thing between us is crazy,” she said. “Pure crazy.”
He pulled her into his arms. “I can’t disagree, but I just found you and I’m not giving you up.”
His words made her heart turn over at the same time that she knew she couldn’t be what he ultimately needed. “You have duties. I can’t be your princess.”
“Shut up,” he said. “Just for tonight,” he asked more than ordered. “Shut up and let me make love to you.”
Eve did, and Stefan took her to the top of the world, but when she awakened, she was alone. She tried not to overthink her relationship with him, but there was a part of her that hated the fact that they had to do everything in secret. They couldn’t even eat a meal together because a photog would take pictures and draw conclusions. In this case, the conclusion would be correct.
She wondered if Stefan should be choosing a wife, a woman who could meet his needs as a friend, lover and a representative of Chantaine. She worried if such a combination of a woman existed. In quiet moments, she feared that woman did and would steal Stefan’s heart. But how could his heart be stolen if it didn’t truly belong to her?
Shut up, she told herself. Just for this short time, let yourself love him….
Three mornings later, she awakened to the sight of him pacing in front of her. He had persuaded her to stay the night in his quarters.
“Repeat that,” he said, then stopped dead just in front of his bed. “It’s not possible,” he said after several moments. “It’s not possible.”
He began to pace again, dressed in pajama bottoms and nothing else. “I always used protection.” Eve blinked. Whoa. Protection?
“I demand a DNA test,” Stefan said and then listened for another moment. “What do you mean there’s already been a DNA test? How is that possible? I want a second one, and I want it done by the best labs in existence. We’ll talk later,” he said and then turned off his phone, staring blankly at the wall.
Moments later, he turned and met her gaze. “I assume you heard the conversation,” he said.
“I heard the words protection and DNA test,” she said, pulling the sheet over her as she sat up in bed. “Kinda an explosive combination,” she said with a giggle bubbling from her throat.
He glared at her in astonishment.
“Sorry,” she said, but another giggle escaped. She slapped her hand over her mouth, ripped the sheet loose and got out of bed. “I really am sorry. I’m nervous. That’s why I’m reacting this way. Who is the child? Who is the mother?”
“The mother is Maja, the model I dated a couple years ago. Days after we broke off our relationship, she hooked up with that French billionaire. According to the press, he was the father of her child.” He paused a took a half breath. “A daughter named Stephenia. She’s not quite two.”
Eve’s heart twisted in sympathy. “Oh, she’s just a baby. Why are they calling you now?”
“Maja and her husband died in a speed-boating accident,” he said. “Maja didn’t leave a proper guardian in her will. She left only a confidential note that I was the baby’s father. Maja’s husband never put the baby in his will.”
“Oh, no,” Eve said, shaking her head. “That poor child. You must bring her here immediately.”
Stefan stared at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know if she’s truly my child. I need to hear the DNA confirmation—”
“But it sounds like they’ve already done a DNA test,” Eve said.
“One,” Stefan said. “For something this important, I insist on a confirmation. Plus, I need to consider what’s best for the child and the royal family. In the past, the advisers have always insisted that an illegitimate child be raised away from the palace.”
Eve dropped her jaw. “You must be joking. You’re going to have a toddler raised by a nanny in Timbuktu so she doesn’t tarnish the Devereaux name?”
“You have no right to accuse or criticize. There’s been no decision made,” he said.
“This isn’t about accusing or criticizing. This is about doing what’s right. Figure it out yourself, Your Royal Highly Fatherness.” She dropped her sheet and went to pull on her clothes.
“Eve,” he said as she buttoned her shirt.
She met his gaze and saw a world of torment in his eyes.
“I’m not prepared to be a father,” he said.
“Most men aren’t,” she said. “The difference is you have a whole crew of advisers and you can hire a couple nannies.”
“And you?”
She frowned at him in confusion. “How would this change my feelings for you?”
“I don’t know. You tell me,” he said.
“The only way this would change my feelings is if you neglected or abandoned your child. And I don’t think you’re capable of either of those.”
“This will be a PR nightmare. The high-ranking officials who have lobbied against me will be cheering,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair.
“Or not,” she said.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“A few pics of you with the new little princess and anyone who criticizes you will be regarded as a bully,” she said. “Just a warning, though. The pics will be easy. Being a father is going to be the tough part.” Taking in the shocked expression on his face, she moved closer and touched his hand. “I think you have the right stuff,” she said.
He gave a short laugh without humor. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You know the kind of father you don’t want to be. Maybe that will point you in the direction of the father you do want to be.”
Chapter Nine
Stefan checked his watch for the tenth time in five minutes. The plane carrying his daughter had landed, and she would arrive shortly. The plan was for Stephenia to be brought to his quarters. He glanced at the time again and paced his office.
A moment later, his phone vibrated with a text message. The limo carrying his daughter was approaching the palace. Unable to wait a moment longer, he swept out of the office and descended two flights of stairs. Nodding absently to the staff he saw along the way, he came to a stop in the lobby.
Taking a deep breath, he waited for what felt like an eternity. The front door opened and one of his security staff escorted in a very young woman holding a tiny girl with a head full of dark ringlets and her thumb securely fastened into her mouth. Her eyes were wide as she cautiously surveyed her surroundings.
“Your Highness,” the guard said with a bow.
“Thank you,” Stefan said and moved closer.
“This is Hilda. She has been Stephenia’s caretaker for the last two months,” the guard said.
“Hello, Hilda,�
�� Stefan said to the young woman.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” she said, and then she jostled Stephenia. “Stephie,” she whispered. “This is your daddy. Say hello.”
Stephenia looked at him then buried her head in Hilda’s shoulder.
“She’s a little shy and tired,” Hilda said, giving Stephenia another nudge. “Come on, baby. This is your daddy,” she said, then moved as if she planned to place Stephenia into Stefan’s arms.
Stefan froze.
Stephenia let out a blood-curdling yell of terror.
Stefan lifted his hand. “Perhaps she’d like something to eat and a nap. One of the staff can take you both to the nursery.”
As the child continued to scream down the hallway, Stefan wondered what in hell he’d been thinking. This baby knew nothing of him. When she looked at him, she was frightened, and rightfully so. He didn’t know what to do with a two-year-old little girl. When he’d first seen her, she’d looked so innocent, so angelic. She looked like she’d needed to be protected and he’d been determined to protect her.
When she’d opened her mouth, however, he’d wondered if she was an alien. Part of him still wondered. How could anything so small produce such a loud, horrendous noise?
He shook his head. Now he understood why his father and predecessors had kept their illegitimate children off-site. Hell, if all children shrieked like that, it was a wonder his parents had allowed any children to grow up in the palace. Of course, he’d had a slew of nannies to take care of him before he’d been shipped off to boarding school.
Eve had painted a lovely visual of possibilities of Stefan with his new daughter, but as her screams vibrated off the marble floors, he wondered why his daughter would be willing to let him hold her, let alone take a picture with her. At this point, Stefan suspected it would be years before that happened.
“She’s a screamer,” Stefan announced to Eve. “My daughter is a screamer.”
Eve bit her lip to keep from laughing. Stefan was perplexed. He also clearly had little experience with toddlers. “Most toddlers scream,” she said, rubbing his back in a soothing motion.
