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Without a female in his bed for the past three months he was growing intensely bored and incredibly bad tempered.
But no one appealed to him. None at all. None save…
Suddenly, a flash of red hair caught his attention and he gave his full focus to the TV, where a woman was sitting in a private-looking room, pale legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded in her lap. She was dressed incredibly demurely. Her red hair was pinned into an elegant bun, her butter-yellow skirt falling below her knees, her high heels sensible and sedate.
She looked so very like the woman—his woman—from three months ago, and yet like a different creature entirely.
She was regal in her posture, her every movement elegant, each slight turn of her head intentional.
“Sir,” Carlo said.
“Shut up,” Mauro said, grabbing the remote and turning the TV up.
She was speaking, but it was in a different language, something like Norwegian, but slightly different, and he didn’t speak it either way. They were not putting up subtitles on the screen, but the news commentators were going over the top in his native Italian.
“Queen Astrid von Bjornland issued a statement today to her people, that she is about to embark on an unusual path for a woman in her position. The queen is pregnant, it seems, and is determined to raise the child alone. Invoking an old rule native to the country, the queen is able to claim herself as the sole parent of the heir to the throne.”
The camera panned away from the woman, shrinking the video down to a small square, where two news anchors were sitting at a desk now, a man and a woman.
“And only women can do this?” the man asked, looking somewhat incredulous.
“Yes.” The female news anchor nodded gravely. “An old, protective law that ensured a queen would not be bound to one of the country’s invaders, should she be forced against her will.”
Against her will? She had…
That lying bitch.
She was pregnant with his child.
More than that, she was denying him his right as a father.
It took him back in an instant. To what it had been like to be a boy. Knowing his father was there in the city, an omnipresent being in his mind who had been potentially around any corner. Who had, to him, been possibly any well-dressed man walking by.
He’d known his father was a rich man. A powerful man.
A man who didn’t want him.
And he had done his best to be careful—with every woman except this one—but he’d always known that with sex there was a chance birth control would fail. And he’d always known that should that ever happen he would not be like the man who’d fathered him.
He would never let a child of his wonder like that. Would never leave him abandoned, unanchored to what he was.
Would never deny him anything he had.
Yes, Astrid von Bjornland had money, had a title. But their child was more than her. That child deserved all, not half.
And yet there she was. Claiming his child as hers and solely hers, when both of them knew he was well involved.
He remembered the way she had looked up at him, the way she had trembled just before he’d entered her body.
“It’s fine,” she had whispered.
It had bloody well not been fine. He hadn’t realized he’d stood up until he looked over and saw Carlo’s shocked expression.
“Sir?”
“Ready my plane,” Mauro said, his tone hard. “I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going?”
“Bjornland. I hear it’s lovely in summer, and a bit harsh in winter. However, I hear their queen is a lying snake all year round. And that is something that needs addressing.”
“Mr. Bianchi…”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to make an international incident. Provided she falls in line.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“WHAT THE HELL were you thinking?”
The voice boomed.
“Excellent,” Latika said, her tone dripping with disdain. “His Majesty King Gunnar has arrived. Oh, wait. But he is not king, is he?”
“I still outrank you,” Astrid’s brother said, sweeping into the room, each one of his thirty-three years evident on his face thanks to years of hard living. “And lest you become confused, darling Latika, I don’t covet my sister’s position. In fact, I would rather die. However, I do have some opinions on how she might conduct her business.”
“That’s very fascinating,” Astrid said. “Except it is not.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his tone turning fierce, and she felt momentarily bad for her anger. Momentarily.
“Because. Telling you defeats the purpose. This is no one’s business but mine. And that’s the entire point of it. My heir. No one else’s.”
“Except, there is someone, isn’t there?” Gunnar asked. “I know how these things work.”
“Science is a wonderful thing,” Astrid said drily. “Perhaps that was the method I employed to find myself with child.”
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me,” Gunnar said.
“No,” she responded. “But you didn’t have to return to Bjornland on my account.”
“I fear very much that I did. You have created an incident.”
“You create incidents nightly, brother dear.”
“I am not the heir, Astrid. And I am a man. You know that unfair as it is… It is different.”
“There is no incident,” Astrid insisted. “I am well within my rights to do this. I have done all of the research required to discern that.”
“Father’s council will oppose you. That is their function. To keep control and power, to keep traditions. To curb your power, because father believed that men were best left in charge and not women at all.”
“They can try,” Astrid said. “But they won’t succeed. They will not, and they cannot. Don’t you think, Gunnar, that I made absolutely sure I could not legally fail in this before committing?”
Gunnar shook his head. “You underestimate the power of old men who feel their traditions are being threatened.”
“This is a very old law,” Astrid said, looking square at her brother. They could not be more opposite in temperament. Gunnar was a risk taker. The rebel prince who spent his life skydiving out of planes, serving in the military and piloting helicopters. Who would have been perfectly at home at a club party like the one Astrid had attended only three months ago. When she had turned her world upside down, and made a choice to wrest control of her life away from the hands of those men he was talking about now.
He was like a Viking. His eyes the color of ice, his hair blond. His beard a darker gold that gave him a roguish appearance the press waxed poetic about.
The Viking Prince.
He was also her very best friend in the entire world, in spite of the fact that he was a massive pain. Latika saw him only as a pain, that much was clear. The feeling, it often seemed, was mutual.
“I have not underestimated anything. And I’m prepared for a fight. But there is a reason that I could let no one know before I made my announcement public. I also made sure that every media outlet was aware of the law in Bjornland. The one that protects the queen should she need to claim an heir as solely hers. Well, Latika ensured that made its way out to everyone.”
“Did you?” Gunnar asked. “Just how involved with all of this were you?”
“Latika does what I ask her to,” Astrid said.
Latika held up a hand and arched her dark brow. “It’s all right. I don’t need you to protect me from him. I have done my duty by my queen. And by this country. I may not be a citizen by birth, but I swear my allegiance, and you well know it.”
“For now. Until you go back to America. And then, all of these problems will be ours and ours alone.”
“Problems that I willingly took on,” she said, her tone firm. “I am a queen, I am not a child.”
“Your Majesty.” One of her guards rushed into the room, his expression harried. “It seems that we have an uninvited guest at the palace, and while we had thought to shoot him on sight, he is quite famous.”
Astrid blinked. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“A man has walked into the palace without permission,” the guard clarified.
“Then why didn’t you shoot him?” Gunnar asked.
“The fame,” the other man said. “We would be liable to create an international incident.”
“Who is it?” Astrid asked.
“Mauro Bianchi.”
Astrid’s stomach clenched, the blood in her veins turning to ice. There was no way. No possible way that he could know. She just didn’t give him that much credit. That he would recognize her. That he would care.
“What does he want?”
“He wishes to see you.”
“Now I really don’t like this,” Gunnar said. “Please tell me that this man was not involved in the creation of your child.”
“Define involved,” Astrid said.
“You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play coy, particularly if you don’t want to be treated like a child.”
“The child is mine,” Astrid repeated. “And mine alone.”
“Please speak to him?”
“Yes,” Astrid said. “I will speak to him.”
“And I shall accompany you,” Gunnar said.
“No,” Astrid said. “I will speak to him alone.”
“You’re not my queen,” Gunnar pointed out.
“I was unaware that you had become an expat of our beloved country, my dear brother.”
“You are my sister,” he said. “And that takes precedence over any title.”
“Then as my brother I ask you to respect my wishes. The fact that men would not respect my wishes is the reason this is happening.”
“I understand,” he said. “I understand full well why you feel you had to do this, Astrid. But you’re not alone. You have my support, and you will have my protection.”
“I don’t need it,” Astrid said. “I possess the power to command that he be shot on sight. Frankly, I could ask the same of you.”
“Were you… Issuing an order?” her guard asked.
“Not yet.” Astrid flicked a glance between her brother and Latika. “Will you please keep an eye on him?”
“I don’t get paid to babysit,” Latika pointed out.
“And I receive no compensation for spending time in the company of a snarling American,” Gunnar bit out. “But here we are.”
Astrid left, muttering about how she wouldn’t have to have him shot on sight, as he and Latika were just as likely to kill each other during her absence.
She made her way out into the antechamber of the Royal Palace, her heels clicking on the marble floor. When she saw him, her stomach dropped. His impact had not been diminished by their time apart. Not in the least. In fact, if anything, her response to him was even deeper. More visceral. Possibly because she knew exactly what he could make her feel now.
“May I help you?” she asked.
He stopped and reached into his jacket, and all of the guards in the room put their hands on their weapons.
“Stand down,” Astrid said. “He isn’t going to shoot me.”
“Not at all,” he responded. Instead, when he pulled his hand out, he was holding a shoe. Her shoe.
“I had thought that you might possess its partner.”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“Is that so? Alice.”
She stiffened, straightening her shoulders. “I am Queen Astrid von Bjornland. And I do not know anyone by that name. You are mistaken, sir.”
“And I am not blind. Your hair down, a bit more makeup and a bit more skin is hardly a convincing disguise, my Queen. If you wished to truly fool me you will have to try much harder than that.”
Irritation crept up her spine, irritation that he was not minding what he said in front of her guards. Irritation that he was here at all.
“Leave us,” she said, gesturing toward the guards.
The room cleared, every man leaving at her behest. At least she commanded authority over her own guards. There was that.
“Does every man in your life defer to you in such a manner?”
She met him full on, making her expression as imperious as possible. “Not just the men.”
“I am no one’s puppet,” he said.
“I did not need you to be a puppet.”
There was no point in lying to him. He wasn’t stupid. It was entirely too clear that they had met before. And there was something… Something between them, an electricity that arced across the space. There was no pretending anymore. She simply had to find out what he wanted and provide him with that, and try to end this encounter as quickly as possible.
“I need my freedom,” she said. “I am queen, and there are a great many people who don’t respect my position. I did what had to be done.”
“You tricked me into getting you pregnant.”
“I seduced you. I didn’t trick you. You went along with everything happily.”
“You said everything was all right. You said it was fine to have sex without a condom.”
“I said it was fine. And for my purposes it was. I sincerely hope that you don’t treat every hookup in such a casual manner when it comes to protection.”
“I don’t,” he said, the words gritted out through his teeth.
“Just with me, then. But still. I did not trick you. The fact that you assumed fine meant what you wanted it to mean and went along with it speaks to how foolish men are where sex is concerned.”
As if she would have been capable of making a more rational decision in the moment.
“I want my child,” he said.
“It’s my child.” Hers. Her child to love and to raise as she saw fit. To support and protect. And give all the things her parents never had. “By law. I can declare my child fatherless, and I have done so.”
“That might be a law, Queen Astrid, but it is not reality. I am the father of your child whether you speak it or not. And I am not one of your citizens.”
“No. But you are in my country. Which is where my child will be born. And my child is one of my citizens.”
“You underestimate me. You are so arrogant because of your position. You have no idea who you are dealing with. You feel that you face opposition? Do you truly understand what opposition is? It is not a disgruntled cough during a meeting that makes you feel as if someone might be challenging you. No. I will give you so much more than that. If you would like to learn about opposition, I will give you a study in it.”
“You should know that I don’t respond well to threats,” she said, her tone like ice. “Indeed, I don’t respond to them at all.”
“You don’t respond to empty threats. Because that is all the red-faced, posturing men that you’ve dealt with in the past have ever issued. But I will tell you, my Queen, my threats are never idle. They are very real. I might be a bastard of ignoble birth, but the power that I possess is very real indeed. What will the public think if I were to claim my child?”
“Why?” she asked. “It is my understanding that a man in your position will want nothing to do with the child. And that is one reason I selected you, lest you think that I meant you any harm or wanted anything from you.”
“You assumed you knew what manner of man I was based on the press and what they had written about me, and that was your first mistake. Tell me, Astrid, what does the press say about you? How true is it?”
“The press has never had occasion to write about a scandal of mine. And I knew full well going into this that I was inviting that. You cannot scare me.”
“You have imagined the wrong sorts of headlines, I think. I doubt what you want is a long-term custody battle looming over your head. The problem here is that you imagined me as a prop. A means to an end, but what you failed to see as you read all of those headlines, as you examine all those photos of me in the articles and imagine me touching you. Imagine me claiming that body of yours, and we both know you imagined it. That you got wet thinking of it late at night in your bed. You forgot what I am.”
Astrid drew back, her heart thundering. Because he was so close to the truth, it cut her close to the heart. He wasn’t wrong. She had imagined him as a chess piece. Capable of strategy, certainly, but she had also imagined that she could see ahead to every move he might make. That she understood what sort of man he was, and what he might want. But his standing here had proved already that he was not anything like she had anticipated.
She had thought of him as a barbarian, as a conqueror so many times. But in a vague, fantastical sense. In a sexual one. She had not thought in concrete terms about what it would mean to go up against this man.
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