The Prince's Secret Baby (6 page)

“What do you mean? It is, or it isn’t.”

“Sydney, I admire my mother for any number of reasons. And I revere her as the ruler of my country.”

She was sure she must have misunderstood him. “Excuse me? Your mother rules your country?”

“My mother is Adrienne II, Sovereign Princess of Montedoro. And my father is His Serene Highness Evan, Prince Consort of Montedoro.”

“Okay. You’ll have to say that again. I’m sure I misunderstood. Sovereign Princess, you said?”

“Yes. My mother holds the throne. My father is Prince Consort and my brother Maximilian is the heir apparent. Before Max had his son and daughter, I was second in line to the throne.”

Chapter Four

S
ydney gaped up at him. “A prince. You’re telling me that you’re a prince? And not just as in, ‘a prince of a guy,’ but a
real
prince? A…royal prince?”

He chuckled. “My darling, yes. That is, more or less, what I’m telling you.”

“Um. More or less?”

“The truth is that Montedoro is ruled by a prince, not a king. And, in terms of his or her title, a ruling prince is said to have a throne, but not a crown. And only those who are the children or grandchildren of ruling kings or queens, or are the spouses of royalty, are given the honorific of royal. However, in the sense that ‘royal’ means ‘ruling,’ yes. I am of the royal family of Montedoro, or more correctly, the princely family. And even though we are not addressed as royal, both our family coat of arms and our individual monograms contain the image of a crown.”

She was still gaping. “I don’t think I understood a word you just said.”

He frowned. “I see your point. Perhaps that was more information than you require at the moment.”

A prince. A prince of Montedoro. Should she have known this? “Wait. Evan Bravo. I remember now. Your dad was in the movies, right?”

He nodded. “It was a big story in all the newspapers and tabloids of the day. My mother married a film actor and he returned with her to Montedoro, where they had many children and lived happily ever after.” He gave a wry smile. “Sydney, you look pale. Would you like to sit down?”

“No. No, really. I’m fine. Just fine.”

“Perhaps you would like to see my diplomatic passport… .”

“Ohmigod. No. Really. I believe you. I do.” Still, she couldn’t help looking around nervously, half expecting Ashton Kutcher and the
Punk’d
camera crew to be making their appearance any second now. She turned her gaze up to him again and tried to look stern. “You should have told me.”

“I know.” He did seem honestly contrite. “But the moment never seemed right. I wanted you to know me, at least a little, before we got into all of that.”

“Last night. At the Mansion. The nervous host…”

“Yes. I’m staying there. He knows who I am.” He took her chin, tipped it up to him. “But none of that matters.”

“Rule. Of course it matters.”

“Only if you let it. To me, what matters most of all, more than anything, is this…” And he lowered his dark head and claimed her lips.

And by the time that kiss was through, she was inclined to agree with him. “Oh, Rule…” She clung to him, feeling light-headed and slightly weak in the knees.

“I’ll leave you now,” he said ruefully, stroking her hair, his eyes full of tenderness and understanding. She thought how crazy she was for him—and how she would look him up on Google the minute he was out the door. One side of his mouth curled up in the gorgeous half smile that totally enchanted her. He said, “You’ll have time to look me up on the internet before I come to collect you for the evening.”

She shook her head. “You know me too well. How is that possible? We only met yesterday.”

“Forgive me. For taking so long to tell you…”

“I’ll consider forgiving you as soon as my head stops spinning.”

“One last kiss…”

She gave it. She simply could not resist him—and beyond that, she didn’t
want
to resist him.

When he lifted his head that time, he released her. She opened the door and watched him jog down the front walk to his waiting limousine.

As soon as the long, black car disappeared from sight, she shut the front door and went upstairs to get with Lani about her plans for the evening.

She found her friend on her knees filling the tub. Trev sat on the bathroom floor in his training pants, putting a new face on his Mr. Potato Head.

“Lani…”

“Hmm?” Lani tested the water, turned the hot water tap up a little.

“Just wondering if you were going out tonight?”

“Nope, I’m staying in. And yes, I’d be happy to watch Trev.”

“Wonderful.” So that was settled.

“Mama, see?” Trev held up Mr. Potato Head, whose big, red lips were now above his moustache and who had only one eye in the middle of his forehead. She bent down and kissed him. He asked, “Mama read a story?”

“After your bath, I promise.”

“O-
kay!
” He removed Mr. Potato Head’s red hat and reached for a blue plastic ear.

Sydney kissed him again and then ran back downstairs to her office off the foyer. She kept a PC in there and she figured she had maybe twenty minutes before Trev finished his bath and would come looking for her.

Sydney was good at research, and she knew how to get a lot of information quickly. By the time Trev came bouncing down the stairs and demanded her attention again, she intended to know a whole lot more about Rule.

She found pages and pages of references to the courtship and marriage of Rule’s father and mother.

Evan Bravo was born in San Antonio, second of seven sons, to James and Elizabeth Bravo. Several sources cited early estrangement from his overbearing father. Determined to make his mark in Hollywood, Evan Bravo moved West at the age of eighteen. Talent and luck were on his side. He was never a big star, but at twenty-five, he won a Golden Globe and a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his portrayal of a charming but crooked L.A. detective in a big-budget box office hit called
L.A. Undercover.
Then he met Princess Adrienne of Montedoro. There ensued a whirlwind courtship, a fabulous palace wedding—and celebrating in the streets of the whole of Montedoro when their first child, Maximilian, was born. Princess Adrienne, as the last of her line, was expected to provide her country with an heir and a spare and then some. She did exactly that, bearing eight more children in the succeeding eleven years.

Sydney read the story of the tragic death of Maximilian’s wife, Sophia—drowning while water-skiing, just as Rule had already told her. Also, she learned that third-born Alexander had been captured by terrorists in Afghanistan and held prisoner for four years, until somehow engineering a miraculous and daring escape only a few months ago.

Prince Rule, she learned, had obtained his degree in America, from Princeton. He was the businessman of the family, the glamorous bachelor, big in international trade, and was known to champion and generously contribute to several worthy causes. Over the years, his name had been linked with any number of gorgeous models and actresses, but those relationships had never seemed to last very long. Some sources claimed that he was “expected” to marry his longtime friend from childhood, HRH Liliana, aka Princess Lili, heir presumptive to the throne of the island state of Alagonia. However, no actual announcement of an engagement had so far been made.

Sydney went looking for images of the princess in question and found several. Liliana of Alagonia was blonde, blue-eyed and as beautiful as a princess in a fairy tale.

Sudden apprehension had Sydney catching her lower lip between her teeth and shifting in her swivel chair. Princess Lili, huh? Rule had never mentioned this supposed “childhood friend.” Tonight, she would definitely have a few questions for him.

“Mama, read me books!”

Sydney looked up from the computer to find her little boy and Lani standing in the open doorway to the front hall.

Lani said, “Sorry to interrupt, but he hasn’t forgotten that you said you would read to him.”

“And I will, absolutely.”

Trev, all pink and sweet from his bath, wearing his Captain America pajamas, marched over and tugged on her arm. “Come
on,
Mama.”

Further research on Princess Liliana would have to wait. Sydney swung him into her arms and carried him upstairs where he’d already picked out the books he wanted her to read to him.

Later, after he was in bed, as she hurried to get ready for the evening, she told Lani that Rule was a Montedoran prince.

“Whoa. And I didn’t even curtsy when you introduced me to him.”

“It’s a little late to worry about protocol.” Sydney leaned close to the mirror as she put on her makeup. “Which is fine with me.”

“What would it be like to marry a prince?” Lani wondered out loud.

“Did I mention marriage? We’ve only just met.”

“But it’s already serious between you two, I can tell. Isn’t it?”

Sydney set down her powder brush and turned to her friend. “Yeah. I think it is—and I may be late coming home tonight.” Unless Rule confessed that he intended to marry the lovely Princess Lili. In that case, she would be coming home early, crying on Lani’s shoulder and swearing off men for the next decade, at least.

“Oh, Syd…” Lani grabbed her and gave her a hug. And then she took Sydney by the shoulders and held her away. “You look wonderful. I love that dress. It brings out the color of your eyes.” Lani sighed. “Enjoy every moment.”

“I will.” Sydney smoothed her hair and tried to banish any thought of pretty Princess Lili from her mind.

* * *

Rule arrived in his limousine at eight.

Once on the inside of the tinted-glass windows, Sidney saw there were two men in the front seat: the driver in his dark livery and chauffeur’s cap and also a thick-necked military-looking guy with a crew cut, who had a Bluetooth device in his ear and wore sunglasses even though it was nearly dark.

Sydney leaned close to Rule, drawn to his strength and his warmth and the fine, subtle scent of the aftershave he wore. She whispered, “Don’t tell me. You keep the Secret Service on retainer.”

He gave a shrug. “Effective security is something of a necessity. It’s a sad fact of life in this modern age.”

They went to another really wonderful restaurant, where they were once again ushered into a private room.

She waited until they were served the main course before she brought up the subject that had been bothering her. “So tell me about Princess Liliana of Alagonia.”

He sent her a wry sort of smile. “I see you’ve been checking up on me.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I absolutely knew that you would.”

She told him exactly what she’d learned. “Rumor has it that you and the princess are ‘expected’ to marry.”

He held her gaze. “You should know better than to put your faith in rumors.”

“You’re hedging, Rule.” She sat back in her chair and took a drink from her water goblet.

“Lili’s eight years younger than I am. She’s like one of my little sisters.”

“But she’s
not
your sister—little or otherwise.”

“All right, enough.” He said it flatly. “I am not going to marry Liliana, Sydney. We are not affianced. I have never proposed marriage to her.”

She took a wild guess. “But
she
wants to marry
you.
It’s
assumed
that you will marry her.”

He didn’t look away. But his eyes were definitely guarded now. “She…looks up to me.”

Did he imagine she would wimp out and leave it at that? Hah. “Just say it. She
does
want to marry you.”

He sat back in his chair, too. And he looked at her so strangely, so distantly. When he spoke, his voice was cold. “I would not presume to speak for Liliana. She’s a sweet and lovely person. And yes, if I married Lili, it would be considered a brilliant match, one that would strengthen the bonds between our two countries.”

She said sharply, “So, then you
should
marry her.”

“Not only that.” His eyes were so dark right then, dark and full of secrets, it seemed to her. Suddenly, she was thinking that she didn’t know him at all, that this brief, magical time she’d shared with him had truly been just that: magic, not reality. Nothing more than a beautiful, impossible fantasy. That the truth was coming out now and the fantasy was over.

So soon. Way too soon…

He spoke again. “Do you recall how I told you I had to marry by my thirty-third birthday?”

“Yes.”

“Did you think I was only teasing you?”

“Well, I thought you meant that there was pressure in your family, as there is in a lot of families, for you to settle down, start providing your parents with grandchildren, all that.”

“It’s considerably more than just pressure. It’s the law.”

She looked at him sideways. “Now you really are kidding.”

“On the contrary, I’m completely serious. My country was once a French protectorate. And France…casts a long shadow, as they say. We have signed any number of treaties with France, treaties wherein the French promise to guarantee Montedoro’s sovereignty.”

As a lawyer, she knew what he was getting at. “And the simple fact that another country is in a position to guarantee your sovereignty is…problematic?”

“Precisely. Although my family is officially in charge of succession, the French government must approve the next ruling prince or princess. There is even a stipulation that, should the throne go vacant, Montedoro will revert to a French protectorate. That is why we have a law designed to ensure that no prince will shirk his—or her—obligation to produce potential heirs to the throne. Montedoran princes and princesses are required to marry before their thirty-third birthday or be stripped of all titles and income. I will be thirty-three on June twenty-fourth.”