Page 12 of His Hidden Royal Heirs

“Yes, sir. But we must take off as soon as possible. Weather is coming in. They’re anticipating they’ll have to lock everything down before the hour is out.”

Cristhian nodded. Then followed as his assistant led them through a maze of hallways and out onto the tarmac. As they approached his plane, he handed the bags to his assistant, who would stow them away in the back of the plane.

With reluctance yet again, Cristhian offered his hand so he could help Zia up the stairs into the plane.

But she hesitated. “This plane is very small.”

“An excellent quality for a plane that will land on my private airstrip.”

She gave him a look, the same look she’d leveled him with inside the cabin when she’d said, “Tell me again you’re not royalty, Cristhian.”

But he was not. Perhaps he had an official title in Hisla, but he never used it, and the current queen—his mother’s older sister—had no use for him. Nor he for her, so it worked out. Perhaps some of his estates came as an inheritance from his mother, but most of the inherited money that he’d turned into his own fortune had been from his father’s movie earnings.

He thought for a moment of his grandparents in the States. His mother’s family had kept them out of his childhood as best they could, but as an adult he’d forged a relationship with them. They were elderly now, his grandmother frail, his grandfather stubborn. But they would welcome news of a child.

It almost warmed him.

But there were too many complications to wade through first. Like how he had managed to make his one and only adult mistake with aprincess.

He helped her up the stairs and gestured her to a seat. “Take your pick and make yourself comfortable. The flight will be a few hours.”

She began to follow instructions, then looked back at him as he began to duck into the cockpit.

“You’re flying?” she demanded, her voice going up an octave.

He looked over his shoulder at her, eyebrow raised. “A pilot wasn’t in the budget.”

She scoffed. “I can only imagine what you charge for your finding services. I imagine yourbudgetcan include whatever you wish.”

He lifted a shoulder and didn’t bother to answer. “I would buckle up, Princesa. It looks like we’ll be flying around some weather.”

The he pushed her existence out of his mind and focused on flying.

The flight had not been smooth. Zia’s nerves were shot by the time they, what felt like, skidded to a landing. She had to pry her fingers off the armrests as they were stiff from gripping so hard.

It was not Cristhian who helped her down the stairs of the plane this time, but the man he’d met at the airport. Who offered her a kind, encouraging smile, which certainly was a change of events.

She was led to another car while snow fell at heavier and heavier rates. She had no idea what country they were in, where Cristhian was taking her, and she knew she should be more concerned about that than she was, but what was there to do? Hewasthe father. He had a right to some say in this.

She just had to figure out how to make sure he did not somehow haveallthe say. She had to maintain some amount of power and agency here, and she did not know how to do that just yet. She’d never had a chance to learn. Running away had always been the only answer.

She couldn’t run from this, any more than she could run from the pregnancy or the fact that Cristhian was the father of her children.

Children.The most important part of all this. She would do anything for them, fight whatever powerful men she had to fight. She would have a say because she would protect them in all things. She would put their needs above all else.

The way her own mother had never stepped in and protected her or Beau. The way her father had never put anyone’s needs above his country’s.

She smoothed her hands over her belly, gave her children an internal promise she’d do whatever it took. To keep them safe. To keep them happy. She’d find a way.

Cristhian took the wheel of the car, his assistant not getting in with them. Zia felt a little deflated at the loss of the one person who’d offered a glimmer of kindness, but exhaustion was creeping up on her. She’d eaten on the plane, but she had not been able to sleep.

Cristhian drove them over twisting and rolling roads, the snow nearly blinding the whole way. Zia gripped the car door just as tightly as she’d held on to her seat on the airplane. Cristhian drove through it at a slow pace, and still it seemed impossible he knew where the roads were.

The snow began to ease a little. Big flakes still fell, but not at quite the alarming rate. Cristhian slowed at a gate that after a few moments began to slowly open. He drove through it once there was enough space, then over a winding drive that led toward a...

“Cristhian.”

“What?”

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