Page 19 of Crowned for His Son

She didn’t care if she looked weak. She needed to get through the next few minutes, collect herself and plan her next move.

Because what Azar had suggested—that she and Max would never be going back home—was preposterous.

Wasn’t it?

‘Hasta luego, hermanos,’Azar repeated pointedly.

Valenti was the first to move, pausing to slide Max a half smiling look before clasping his brother’s shoulder briefly. Then Teo repeated the gesture.

Seconds later, they were gone. And Azar was moving towards her.

Max reached for her, and Azar reluctantly handed him over. She’d hoped having him in her arms would focus her attention, but the compulsion she couldn’t seem to fight dragged her gaze to Azar’s again.

‘You’ll have to make a list of what he needs and I’ll make sure—’ He stopped when a knock came at the door, his nostrils flaring with displeasure. ‘Yes?’

A man slightly older than Azar entered, his steps slowing when he saw them. ‘Your Highness, I’ve made the alterations to your schedule, as requested. Do you need anything else?’

The Crown Prince hesitated for a second before he beckoned him in. ‘Eden, this is Gaspar—my private secretary. He’ll ensure the transition runs smoothly.’

Unlike the Prince’s brothers’, Gaspar’s face remained carefully neutral as he nodded to her. He was probably used to the eclectic demands of royalty.

‘I need you to draft a press statement to be released by the palace after I speak to my father and the royal council.’

‘Right away, Your Highness.’ The man’s gaze darted briefly to her, then to Max, before returning to his prince. ‘And the subject matter?’

Azar’s lips flattened for a moment. ‘I have recently discovered that I’ve fathered a son. He was born…?’ He raised his eyebrow at her.

Rebellion, and the stomach-hollowing reality that she was losing control of the situation, urged her to withhold the information. But she knew his clever minions would unearth it within the hour. In clipped tones she supplied it, then listened as he gave succinct instructions about the wording of his statement.

It was neither flowery nor stark. But it didn’t hide the naked truth despite withholding specific details. It merely stated that at some point three years ago he’d fathered a son, whose existence he hadn’t discovered before today. It left little doubt that Azar Domene intended to claim his son and proudly insert him into the dramatic fabric of his life, groom him to take the Cartana throne one day.

The raw facts shook her to the foundation of her soul, made the blood roar in her ears until it blocked everything else out.

‘You have objections?’

She looked up and realised that Gaspar had left. That she could freely express her deep reservations. ‘Of course I do. This is madness. You’re moving too fast.’

‘Let me guess: you’re still hellbent on insisting you have unbreakable ties to that apartment? Or to your mother, perhaps?’

Her insides chilled. ‘What do you know about her?’

He shrugged. ‘I would prefer you tell me. I don’t wish to harm your recovery by supplying information that might unduly distress you.’

A tiny, bewildering knot unwound inside her. This small display of consideration, so unlike any she’d known before, was certainly not something her father would’ve granted her mother under similar circumstances. But it meant nothing. It could very well be a lure to achieve his ends. She couldn’t risk lowering her guard around this man whose determination to wrest her son from her was anything but quiet and understated.

‘The last I heard from her two years ago, she was in a commune near Joshua Tree.’

She saw a layer of tension ease off him. ‘That ties in with what you told me about her being in California,’ he said.

Her eyes widened. ‘I told you that three years ago?’

He stared at her for moment, then nodded. ‘Now we’ve established she isn’t a mainstay in your life, what other hurdles do we need to overcome?’ he asked archly.

Irritation replaced bewilderment. ‘Please don’t belittle my concerns.’

‘Tell me you truly want to stay in this city, in that apartment, with my son, working menial jobs while an old woman who can barely stand up straight looks after him, and I’ll endeavour to take your concerns seriously.’

The accurate assessment of everything she’d yearned to better in her circumstances brought a guilty flush. But she wasn’t ready to give in. Not by a long shot.

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