Ex-employee, she corrected, stomach dropping. She’d turned down the only job she was qualified for. And having told him she was pregnant...
She set down her toast. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“A mistake in judgment. It won’t happen again.”
He’d said as much last night. She rubbed her hands up and down her thigh, wondering what to say next. “I feel like I owe you some kind of explanation.”
“Not really. You don’t owe me anything.”
Perhaps, but she knew he had to be curious. The question she had to answer was how much she wanted him to know. Lying awake, she realized the most delicate part was already exposed. What would telling him the rest matter? “Like I told you last night, the situation is complicated. I came to New York to sort everything through.”
Max nodded. Arianna knew that if she didn’t say another word, the subject would end then and there. For some reason, though, she was the one who couldn’t let the matter go. “Mano—the father—he doesn’t know.”
“I gathered as much,” Max replied. “I’m guessing you two aren’t together anymore.”
“Not for a couple months. I’m afraid when he finds out...”
“He’ll take the baby away?”
“What? No, not at all. If anything, he’ll insist we get married.”
“Ah.” The strangest shadow covered his profile. A darkness from within. “And you don’t want to get married.”
“I don’t know what I want to do.” Her mind was paralyzed when it came to making a decision.
Appetite gone and unable to sit still, she pushed away from the counter. “Manolo, he was a liar and a cheat. More interested in impressing my father than he ever was in loving me.”
“Is that what you meant by not trusting your instincts?”
“I tried to tell myself I was imagining things.”
The view from his living room was no less spectacular during the day. A thick carpet of clouds lay in front of her feet, with only the weather lights atop the tallest buildings truly visible. Hugging herself, she watched as the vapor moved slowly past, enveloping Max’s building along with all the others. That was how she felt. As though she was being overtaken by forces she couldn’t control.
“Do you love him?”
She started at the closeness of Max’s voice. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him standing a yard away, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. “I tried to,” she replied, “but no.”
“Then problem solved. You don’t marry him.”
If only it was that easy. “You don’t understand. The baby—”
“Lots of women raise children on their own.”
“I’m not most women,” she replied, turning her face back to the window. “For one thing, my father would expect me to marry.”
“Your father isn’t the one having the baby.”
“No, but he is the one with the power.”
“I don’t understand. Who died and made him king?”
Arianna choked back a laugh. Of all the phrases to use... If he only knew the irony. “My grandfather, for one.”
“What are you talking about?”
No sense backing away from the story at this point. “My father is His Majesty Carlos the Fourth, King of Corinthia.”
He blinked. “King who of where?”
“Corinthia. It is a small country near Italy. Most people have never heard of it.”
“Ri-ight.”
He didn’t believe her. He was looking at her like she was Mrs. Riderman. “Here. I’ll show you.” She walked over to the counter, where he’d left his phone. “This,” she said, pulling up an image of the Corinthian royal family and shoving the phone in his hand, “is me with my father and my brother, Armando.”
It took an eternity, but eventually, he looked up at her. “You look better as a blonde,” he said.
Her shoulders relaxed. “I was trying to make myself look as different as possible.”
“Yeah, that’s not as effective as you think.” With that, he stuffed the phone in his pocket and headed toward the kitchen. “I haven’t had enough coffee for this. You have any more surprises? Got a hired killer after you? Stole the crown jewels?”
“If I stole the jewels, I wouldn’t have needed the job.” When he failed to even smile at her joke, she shook her head. “No. That’s everything. But now you understand why I was so hesitant to say anything.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not sure I understand anything.” Grabbing the coffeepot from the burner, he filled his cup to the brim. “A few days ago, I hired a down-on-her-luck waitress. This morning I find out she’s a pregnant princess. You tell me how that’s supposed to make sense.”
When he said it like that, she didn’t suppose it did.
Her hunger from before had disappeared, the nausea once again taking up residence, although this time she wasn’t sure she could blame morning sickness alone. “Do you mind if I make myself some tea?”
“Be my guest. Or should I be serving you, Your Highness?”
“I can make my own, thank you.” Arianna turned on the burner. “I only told you because I thought you deserved a complete explanation. There is no need to treat me any differently than before.”
But he already had, backing away when she told him about the baby. How could things not change? She was no longer a down-on-her-luck waitress with whom he could flirt.
That was how it should be, shouldn’t it?
Suddenly, she couldn’t wait for the water to boil. She needed tea immediately. She looked around for the tea bags. “Where did you put the tea?” she asked.
“I put it back in the cupboard. Hold on.” The air behind her warmed as he moved closer. He reached above her, the starched cotton of his shirt making a soft crinkling sound as he stretched. The faint scent of his aftershave drifted toward her, reminding her all too clearly what it felt like to be in his arms. She closed her eyes and inhaled.
“Here you go. Teacup, too.” His arm came down, wrapping around her as he set tin and cup on the counter. “Anything else?” He lingered a little longer than necessary, as though to pull her close.
The teakettle whistled. “No,” she replied. “I’m fine.” Fine, except for the shiver that passed through her when he moved away.
“So who is this Prince Charming? The one your father would want you to marry?”
“His name is Manolo Tutuola. His family’s leather goods company is the largest employer in the country. Father adores him.” She frowned. “Why do you want to know?”
“Just trying to make sense of everything,” he said with a shrug. “Like why you felt the need to dye your hair and hide in a ratty hotel. Seems a little excessive.”
“You’ve never been a princess.”
“Last time I looked, no.”
From his point of view, her behavior probably did seem extreme. “I wanted to be alone to think. Really alone,” she added, before he could say anything. “When you’re royalty, that’s impossible. Besides the paparazzi, there are guards, assistants, traveling companions. Any trip I took would involve itineraries and schedules. Solitude is not as easy as you would think.
“Then there’s my father. If I insisted on being alone, he would want to know why.” And coward that she was, she didn’t want to have to face him.
In her teacup, the tea seeped from its bag like green smoke. “I’ve never been able to lie to him,” she said, watching as the tendrils dissipated. “And the truth...”
“So to avoid disappointing him, you ran away?”
Childish, she knew, but hadn’t that been a theme lately? “I left a note saying I needed a few weeks on my own, and that I would be home soon. This...” She gestured around the kitchen, “Joining the Fox Club. They were never part of the plan.”
S
he told him about the pickpocket in Times Square. “I was planning to call home when Darius mentioned the job opening.”
“And now here you are.”
“Here I am.”
* * *
Letting out a loud breath, Max left her by the counter and paced his way back to the living room. Talk about a story. Most men, upon hearing all that, would usher her out the door as fast as they could, before the craziness got any worse. Only, she was telling the truth. There was no mistaking that had been her in the photograph she showed him.
Hadn’t he known from the start that she was different from other women?
What kind of idiot was this Manolo guy? A pretty big one from the way she frowned when talking about him. “What did he do? Your boyfriend?” he asked, looking out the windows rather than at her. If he looked at her, he’d be too tempted to stand close. “You said your boyfriend was a liar and a cheat. What did he do?”
“I found a pair of women’s panties in his sheets. Another woman’s panties.”
Definitely an idiot. You don’t waste your time playing with rocks when you’ve got a damned diamond in front of you. Arianna was right to kick him to the curb.
Only she hadn’t kicked him completely; she was debating marrying the creep. Turning to look at her, he said, “Surely, your father wouldn’t make you marry him. Considering.”
He wouldn’t be the first father to insist a man step up, a voice in his head argued.
The look she gave him was just as doubtful. “Corinthian tradition is very old and very conservative. There are rules...and expectations regarding my behavior. Prior to marriage.”
Prior to marriage? “You mean...?” Arianna nodded. She was expected to be a virgin. “Isn’t that pretty archaic?”
“Perhaps, but it is tradition. Normally people wouldn’t care, but for me to have a child out of wedlock would cause an incredible scandal. My father would be crushed, and he’s already suffered enough sadness these past few years between Mama getting sick, and then losing my sister-in-law. I promised myself I’d never add to that.”
“Instead you’ll raise a child in a loveless home.” Such a wonderful solution. He didn’t bother asking whether Manolo would agree to a wedding. Marrying royalty was a terrific business move; didn’t take a liar and a cheat to know that.
“I told you, the decision isn’t that easy. It’s...”
“Complicated, I know.”
“It is,” she said, coming around the island to join him. “I have a duty to uphold Corinthian tradition.”
Maybe, but part of her clearly didn’t want to or else why run away to think?
“I also have a duty to do right by my child,” she said, reading his mind. “Whatever I decide affects his future.”
“No kidding.”
“I mean more than psychologically. If I do not marry Manolo, then this child will forever be the king’s illegitimate grandchild.”
He was missing something. The way she emphasized illegitimate?
“Illegitimate children cannot inherit the throne. What right do I have to make that decision for him? For my country?” She looked at him, blue eyes shiny with moisture. “So you see, I have to decide which choice is the lesser of two evils.”
Sounded like she’d already made her choice; she simply hadn’t accepted her fate. Max’s insides ached for her. If the situation was different—if she wasn’t out of his reach—he’d close the distance between them and hold her as tightly as possible.
But he couldn’t. She either belonged to another man, or if by some miracle she did decide to go against tradition, she was having a child. That involved way too much commitment for a man like him.
Ignoring the tightness in his chest, he took a long sip of coffee. “Well, one thing’s for certain,” he said when he finished. “There’s no way we can let you go back to the Dunphy. Or any other rat hotel for that matter. Not in your condition.” All it would take is one push by a careless drunk.
“Does that mean you’re going to help me?”
“No, I’m going to kick you out on the street.” Her eyes lit up like Christmas lights when he spoke. “Of course I’m going to help you.”
“But the restaurant. I thought you didn’t want me...”
“We’ll work something out.” Seeing how he’d nearly dragged her to bed last night, the phrase didn’t want me wasn’t the best choice of words. “In the meantime, we’ll stop by the Dunphy to get your belongings and you can unpack them later tonight.”
“Unpack? You want me to stay here?”
“Where else would you stay? By now I’m sure your father has figured out where you’ve gone, and has people checking every hotel in the city.” If Max was her father, that’s what he would do. “You’re not going to get any thinking done if you’re looking over your shoulder.”
“I can’t.”
Her fingers brushed her lips. He wasn’t supposed to notice, but he did. The same thought was going through his mind. “Look, if it’s about last night, you have my word I’ll be on my best behavior. For real,” he added, trying to catch her eye.
To his relief, she smiled. “It was nice sleeping in a decent bed,” she admitted.
“You have my guarantee there will be no police raids in the middle of the night, either. You’ll have all the privacy and solitude you want. What do you say?”
“All right. I’ll stay.”
“Great.” He ignored the way his pulse picked up at the news. After all, she would be there only for a couple of weeks. And then she would leave.
Because that’s how things worked.
* * *
Darius was on the phone taking a reservation when they arrived at the Fox Club later that morning. The first thing he did was drop his attention to the suitcase Max had in his hand.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, once he’d finished the call.
“There was a problem at the Dunphy,” Max replied. “Arianna decided to stay somewhere else.”
“What a surprise. About the Dunphy, that is.” Grabbing the coffeepot from the burner behind the bar, he poured a cup and slid it across the bar in Max’s direction. “If you want hot water, you’ll have to get it in the kitchen,” he said to Arianna.
“Or, you could go to the kitchen for her,” Max replied.
The bartender shot him a look. “Why should I?” he asked, lines forming along his dark brow. “Everyone else helps themselves.”
“Because I’m asking you to.” Normally, he’d let his friend’s attitude roll off his back; Darius treated all new hires with the same disrespect. Knowing Arianna’s true identity, however, he no longer felt right. Arianna cut off any reply he might have made.
“No need to argue,” she told them. “I don’t want any tea right now anyway. When I do, I will gladly get it myself. What I would really like to do is get to work, if you don’t mind.”
“Work? Who you going to play for? The place is empty.”
“Arianna is going to help me with the menus for the upcoming holiday parties,” he told Darius. Before they’d left his penthouse, they argued over her wanting to earn her keep. Max thought about insisting that her company was compensation enough, but that sounded as though there was more to their arrangement than him providing shelter. Plus, she would have rejected the comment immediately. This was the only compromise he could think of.
“Menus?” Darius’s frown grew more pronounced, and with good reason since it was usually his job.
“I’ve got to have her do something since she can’t wait tables,” Max replied.
“I thought she was taking Shirley’s old job?”
“She doesn’t want to.”
“Doesn’t want—what does that mean? She sucks at everything else, you finally find something she’s good at, and you give her a choice? What�
�s going on?”
“You two do realize the lady is standing right here,” Arianna interrupted. “There is no need to talk about me in the third person.”
“Fine.” Darius turned and looked her in the eye. “Why don’t you want to play piano?”
“It’s complicated.” Her eyes darted to Max, wariness darkening the blue. “I am not in a position to be onstage at the moment.”
“Oh.” It took less than a second for understanding to make its way to Darius’s face, as Max knew it would. After all, the bartender had been around the block enough times to connect the dots. He just forgot himself when he got annoyed. Or, in this case, felt disrespected.
“Oh,” Max repeated. He took a drink of coffee. At the rate he was consuming the stuff today, he’d burn a hole in his stomach by dinner. Which, thinking about it, might not be a bad idea. It would give him something to focus on besides the woman next to him.
Who smelled and tasted way too delectable for her own good.
Meanwhile, just because he understood why Arianna wasn’t playing the piano didn’t mean all was settled with Darius. Max still owed him an apology for yanking the rug out from under him.
“Why don’t you go ahead and get settled in my office,” he said to Arianna, “and I’ll join you in a couple minutes. Darius and I have a few things to go over first.”
“Are you sure I shouldn’t stay?” She looked back and forth between them. “In case...”
“It won’t take long,” he assured her. “I just want to talk to him about some supply orders.”
“Supply orders,” she repeated. She didn’t seem sure if she believed him. There was doubt lacing each word.
“Yeah, supply orders. I promise. It won’t take long.” Hopefully she understood what he was really promising, that her secret would remain safe with him. What he wanted to do was take her hands and really reassure her, but that wouldn’t be appropriate seeing how he’d promised to keep his distance. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“So that’s how it is now,” Darius said, once she was out of earshot. “She’s your new right hand?”
Christmas Baby for the Princess Page 7
