Page 36 of Crowned for His Son

Utterly self-conscious, she leaned close, parted her lips and let him feed her.

The last platter contained half a dozen exquisitely hand-rolled bites of sushi. Racking her brain, she couldn’t recall sampling those at any other point in her life. She’d grown up poor, in a dilapidated suburb of Las Vegas, eating a depressingly bland and monotonous regimen of cereal for breakfast, toast for lunch and ramen for dinner. On the odd occasion when whatever man her mother was dating had felt generous, they’d been treated to fast-food takeout.

Until she’d realised the toll of accepting even such small gifts on her mother’s self-esteem and begun to refuse them.

Recalling the rows with her mother over dating men who were even more deplorable copies of her father—chameleons who started out seemingly decent, only to be revealed as cruel misogynists—shredded her heart. The worst of those fights had brought the seemingly inevitable ‘You ruined my life’, snarled by her drunken mother. But there had been a harsh kernel of truth ringing in it, sending Eden fleeing to Hollywood in a wild bid to salvage an unsalvageable family.

It had turned out to be the worst decision of her life.

A dart of pain stabbed at her temple, and her hand was shaking as she reached for her glass.

Azar’s gaze zeroed in on it and frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ The pain had dissipated as fast as it had arrived. ‘I’m fine.’

He watched her for a few more seconds, then served her another roll of sea bass. ‘Did you ever make it to Joshua Tree?’ he asked.

The piercing pain flashed again. ‘No. By the time I woke from the coma and left the hospital my mom had moved on.’

After spending a three-week stint in jail for not honouring the bail bond—something else that had somehow been labelled Eden’s fault.

His gaze probed but she kept her eyes on her plate, the ceaseless guilt that underpinned her relationship with her mother dredging through her.

‘Does she know about Max?’

She took a breath. ‘Yes. I told her when I was six months pregnant.’

‘Eden?’ The pulse of her name from his lips jerked her gaze up. ‘Is inviting your mother and father to our wedding going to be a problem for you?’

Her eyes widened at the unexpected question. Through the relentless cascade of events she hadn’t thought about what part her parents would be expected to play.

‘My father has never been part of my life. As for my mother, I…’

‘Not inviting her will prompt more questions, but the situation can be managed if that is what you want.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

It was purely a placeholder answer, both to buy herself time to brace herself for contact with her parent and because a tiny bloom of warmth at his consideration was baffling her emotions.

‘Speaking of mothers, am I to meet yours?’

His eyes shadowed, a familiar chilled expression passing over his features.

So they both had Mommy issues…

Thinking about it, that odd toast she’d heard from Teo during Azar’s party made sense now.

‘Eventually,’ he bit out.

She let it go, because her headache had gone from intermittent pangs to a dull throb. ‘Is this enough for your publicity stunt?’ she asked.

A current of tension returned to the able. He sprawled back in his chair and contemplated his wine glass before he answered. ‘Not quite. Breakfast tomorrow, with a walk along the Seine, and then a few more events this weekend, once we’re in Cartana, and then we’ll make the announcement next week.’

The thought of being bombarded further with his overwhelming presence made her insides swoop and dance, even as her head pounded. Easing a hand up, she surreptitiously rubbed at her temple.

‘What’s wrong?’ he repeated tersely.

She thought of downplaying it—then gave up. ‘I have a headache.’

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