CHAPTER SIX

Z IA WAS SMUG . That self-satisfied smiled landed in his gut with a twist of fury and want, a dangerous and unfortunate combination. Because he could indulge in neither feeling that plagued him.

Twins. Two babies. It really didn’t matter the number, he supposed, but it felt like a blow all the same. She wanted it to feel like a blow if that smile of hers was anything to go by.

So he would not react to her words. He would try not to react to her words.

“I will show you to your rooms.” He sounded stiff even to his own ears, and this would not do. He could not let her know when her barbs landed. He could not show any weakness. This was too delicate. “You are no doubt exhausted. You certainly look it.”

She chuckled, as if this was not an insult. “No doubt,” she agreed readily. “Hungry as well.”

“I will have the cook make you up a tray.”

“Excellent.” He led her to the stairs. Maybe the staircase was ornate. Maybe the large, uniquely shaped windows, the soaring apses, the intricate corbels and arcading gave the illusion of great elegance, but the building was a bit squat, all in all. Much of the royal accoutrements had been taken down and away before the cottage had come into his possession.

He kept it and liked it because it was off the beaten path. No relatives tried to “drop in” to this cottage far north of their kingdom like they did some of his other estates, usually in some effort to stir up some gossip or hard feelings. No, this was one of the few things passed down from his mother that felt like his .

So he would not be irritated that she insisted it had a turret, or that she wanted to keep pushing the point he was royal. It did not matter what she thought.

And what of King Rendall?

That was thornier, certainly, and he hadn’t worked it all out yet, but he would. Once he got his more... emotional responses under control.

Twins. Not just one child, but two. It didn’t really change the situation, and yet he felt changed. Like he had been able to pretend her pregnancy was simply a problem to be solved when it was just one, and now that he knew two children grew inside her they seemed more...real.

He led her up the stairs and to the first set of bedrooms he’d instructed his staff to ready. His rooms were much deeper in the castle—the cottage . Far, far away from her. He opened the door to her small guest suite.

“The rooms are readied, but my staff here is minimal, and with the snow as it is, we may be stuck that way for a time. You will have to get used to doing things on your own.”

She aimed a haughty look at him. One that made him wonder how he hadn’t seen princess written all over that elegant point of a chin. “I have been taking care of myself in a cabin on a polar island for months now, Cristhian. I am quite certain I can handle it.”

“You are a princess. A few runaway attempts do not make you well-versed in roughing it, Princesa.”

“I quite agree. I’m not sure spending the next few days in an understaffed castle will be the hardship you’re making it out to be, but your point is taken. Though living on my own, under the detection of my father these past few months, has taught me much, I have had many cushions in this life. But with every cushion comes a condition, and sometimes those conditions are...” She trailed off, clearly struggling with a suitable word.

He could think of a few himself, but he kept his mouth resolutely closed. It would not do to relate to her. Whether it be from his own experience or his mother’s.

Perhaps they would have to come to work as partners in some way to be parents to their children, but until he decided how that would work, they were adversaries. Until he set up everything exactly as he wanted it.

She never finished her sentence. He led her into the suite—a prettily appointed sitting room. The doors to the bedroom and en suite bathroom were open so she could explore. He could see her bags neatly situated along the wall.

Zia moved around the room, and he knew he should excuse himself. Inform the cook she would need some food. He should leave her, so that he could begin to enact his plans.

But the strangest thing was happening to him. No matter what forward steps he took, he couldn’t decide how he wanted to proceed past tonight.

He did not know what to do.

When he was a man who always knew the next step to take. Who made quick, correct decisions in all things. He had learned it was the only way to survive with himself intact. Indecision was poison.

And currently infecting every step he took. Because he did not know what to do about this . About her .

So he hesitated, when he never hesitated. He didn’t leave the room, because if he left he would have to face himself and the fact that he had no idea what his next move should be.

“What were your plans then?”

She turned to study him. “What do you mean?”

“Your plans. For you. For the babies.”

Her study never stopped, but after a time she gave a little nod as if deciding to give him the truth. “In the close future, I was making the decision of where to go into labor. The island does not have the facilities for that, so you have to go to the mainland. I had some contenders. How I handled what came next would depend on how well labor went, and if I had been found out.”

It was well thought out, but it was hardly the kind of thing someone could do on their own. “You must have had help.”

She shrugged. And said nothing.

He had no right to be irritated by her lack of details. This was not important. What was important was what came next. “I will leave you to rest. Someone will bring some food up soon.”

“And what will you be off doing?”

“Making arrangements.”

“Without me?”

“It seems you have had ample time to make arrangements without me . Perhaps it is my turn.”

She shook her head. “I am the one carrying them. I will be the one bringing them into the world. You will not shut me out of any decisions made. I will do whatever is in my power, even if it requires involving my father, to ensure that.”

He was relieved that she was showing a little temper. That she was putting up a fight. He could always find his way in a fight.

“I would be careful how you threaten me with your king , Your Highness.”

“It is not a threat,” she replied, not the least bit concerned or chagrined. “It is simply explaining myself. They are my top priority. I will do whatever it takes to protect them. I am their mother.”

“And I am their father.”

She sighed, something in her expression softening. “I am glad you know that,” she said after a moment. Then she crossed to him. Stood in front of him with wide, serious green eyes. “For all the ways we’ll no doubt disagree, I am glad you know that.”

He didn’t want to believe her. He wanted to convince himself that she was simply an adept liar. He didn’t know very much about her at all. She could be the most deceitful woman on the planet.

But no amount of wanting could make falsehoods a reality. Zia would no doubt lie to him at some point, but this was not a lie.

Perhaps it was a common ground to work from. Perhaps he should be glad of it, for his children’s sakes. Perhaps this was some kind of hope to hold on to.

But he knew too well what hoping got a person. Where believing someone might have an interest other than their own at heart might land a person. He had learned that lesson the hard way with his mother’s family. First, believing that they’d taken him from his paternal grandparents because they’d cared . Then, growing up knowing they didn’t, being foolish enough to believe one of his cousins had befriended him out of kindness and honesty.

Instead, all Antonio had ever been doing was keeping tabs on him, all so his mother—who’d been the newly minted queen at the time—could decide how to best use him and his story for her own gain.

So Cristhian knew better than to trust. Than to believe. Than to hope .

Something tried to expand within him, with her standing too close. Memories knocking at the door of his mind. The way that one night had wrapped around him, held him against his will.

Even now. When he should be thinking of anything but the way her body might feel under his hands. The way she would taste again, here in his own world—not that fictional one they’d built that night. No, this would be real.

And unacceptable.

But she was looking up at him now as if there was something real to be salvaged, and that was her weapon. One she would no doubt wield against him if he didn’t make himself clear. Right here. Right now.

“I could have you in my bed in under five minutes,” he said, making certain she would feel his breath dance along her neck. “And you would do whatever I said, whatever I liked.”

He saw the tremor move through her, the heat they couldn’t ever share again leap into her green eyes. His own body hardened in reaction, but he would not be so easily distracted. No matter how much the potency of whatever arced between them still knocked him off his usually perfectly kept axis.

“But we are here to decide the future, Princesa. Nothing else.”

And now it was his turn to be smug as he turned on a heel and walked out of her room.

Zia had slept well in spite of the unusual and unfortunate circumstances. She was getting more and more physically uncomfortable as the days went, but the exhaustion of lugging around two growing babies inside her always took a toll at night.

So after he’d left, no matter how frustrated and confused and worked up she’d been, hungry, too, she’d crawled into the huge, comfortable bed and fallen straight to sleep.

Unfortunately, her dreams had been...vivid. And had been less dreams and more flashes of memory. Dancing with him, the hard, hot wall he’d made. The reckless ride back to his hotel room. The sound he’d made when he’d been over her, inside her. Those dark eyes holding her gaze through it all...and how they’d been the same exact eyes to tell her he could have her in his bed in under five minutes.

So while she awoke feeling better rested, she did not feel settled. Because even awake his words kept replaying in her head like some kind of spell.

I could have you in my bed in under five minutes. And you would do whatever I said, whatever I liked.

In spite of herself, she knew it was true, and she couldn’t help but wonder just what he “liked” that might be different than that first night when they’d been strangers and under some kind of spell of their own.

But he’d only said it to put her in her place, she knew. She knew men , powerful men. Everything had to be their way. Everything had to be under their, what they considered, clever control. She had watched her father lash out at anyone and everyone with as many cutting remarks as he could hurl when things did not go precisely as he wanted.

So she knew Cristhian’s parting shot had been launched because he did not feel in control. And that at least gave her some satisfaction.

He didn’t know what to do with her, with this, and it was gratifying because she hadn’t known what to do at first, either.

But right now she was too hungry to consider her next steps beyond food. She changed her clothes quickly and then stopped short in the sitting room. A platter with an array of baked goods sat on one of the little tables.

She settled herself in the chair and polished off two before she’d taken more than a breath or two. Immediately, she felt better. She considered a third, and then thought better of it. She drank a glass of water—it was cold as though it had been ice water a time ago, but the ice had melted.

She had no idea what time it was. She couldn’t find a clock in these rooms, and her phone had died sometime in the night. She plugged it in, waited for it to boot up, then sent Beau a little text message that she had left the island, that she was fine, and more information would be forthcoming.

Beau wouldn’t love that, but it was the best Zia could offer until she knew what the next steps were going to be. Certainly not be carted back to Lille by Cristhian, but if Cristhian’s alternatives involved something she didn’t think was best for the children, she might be forced to go back to her father and ask for his help.

Her stomach sank, hard and painful at the thought. That eventuality would not be protecting her children, because whatever her father could do for her, for them, it would only be in service to Lille.

Which meant, likely, a marriage to Cristhian either way. Some kind of insulting agreement with his mother’s family. No choice. Her children treated like little dolls or robots, unable to have their own feelings or flaws.

Just the thought filled her with the kind of anxiety that could not be good for her children. These were all ifs and worst-case scenarios. She shouldn’t get too far ahead of herself. She had to deal with this step by practical step. Just like she had been since she’d finally made that choice to disappear.

She wished she could talk to Beau, but they had deemed phone conversations too dangerous. Too easily tracked and found. She would have to work this out on her own, with just the occasional text message from an unmarked number.

She blew out a breath. She could do it. She’d been doing it all these months. But first she needed something more than a pastry. She left her room, followed the hallway to the grand staircase Cristhian had led her up last night. Downstairs, she poked around in empty rooms until she found what appeared to be a dining room. Narrow, but long, a table mimicking the room in the center...

With Cristhian sitting at the head of it. A plate of food in front of him at one side, a laptop at the other. His dark hair was a little damp, like he’d just emerged from a shower not that long ago, and he was dressed casually in a sweater and soft-looking pants.

Her heart felt as though it tripped over itself in her chest. She did not know how one man could be so handsome. She might keep pointing out that he was royalty no matter how little he liked it, but he didn’t look it. He was so tall and broad, muscular as though he did a lot of labor. He must have taken after his American father.

No doubt another sore subject. Because she’d remembered belatedly that his parents had died in a very famous car accident. She had been too young to remember the actual event, but it had still been discussed as she’d been growing up. One of those tragedies people whispered about, hoping if they expressed enough dismay at lives cut too short, it wouldn’t happen to them.

It was so strange how all the facets of him were unfurling in the here and now after she’d convinced herself he was just a phantom in her life, never to return. But she hadn’t let herself think much about the reality of the babies she would one day hold. She was struck with the thought now. Who would they look like? Would they have his dark eyes, or some mix of her green?

She had wanted to be surprised about the sex, because the truth was it was too much to think about the babies as people when he hadn’t been in her life.

And now he was...sort of. She had no idea how it would play out, but it made everything feel all the more real.

“Good morning,” he said, somewhat absently, without lifting his gaze. As if he’d known she was standing there taking stock all along. “We are well and truly snowed in. We do not anticipate being able to dig out for at least forty-eight hours. I suggest you make yourself comfortable in whatever ways you can, and certainly let the staff know if you require anything.” He made a broad gesture. “Sit. Ramon will bring you out a plate.”

She wanted to eat, but the need to be contrary was too deep-seated to ignore. “I ate some of the food left for me upstairs.”

He nodded. “And now you will sit and eat some protein.”

A man with a plate appeared as if on cue. He placed it at the seat next to Cristhian, who gave the man a sharp look that the man ignored.

Zia raised an eyebrow, surprised to read how little Cristhian wanted her to sit next to him written all over his face.

Well, that was enough to get her feet moving and to settle herself into the seat next to him. She flashed a smile at the retreating man, and then her breakfast companion.

He did not react in any way, except to look at his laptop.

Her plate was full of a large omelet, which looked delicious. She’d cut out coffee for the duration of her pregnancy, so she was grateful for the large glasses of juice and water at her plate. Though she wouldn’t mind a warm beverage later. The room was warm, but she could practically feel the cold from outside pressing against the walls of the castle .

She took a few bites of her breakfast, then studied the man seated next to her. “Have you informed my father you’ve found me?” She genuinely didn’t know what he would have done last night. On the one hand, he seemed fully...himself. The kind of man who would take orders from no one and would do exactly as he pleased.

On the other hand, he took these jobs of finding people, so he must have some deference to the people paying him.

There was a slight hesitation from Cristhian. Nothing in his expression changed. He didn’t move. But she sensed just the hint of...something. Not discomfort, because the man seemed endlessly comfortable in every situation. But something akin to it.

“I will make my decisions about how to proceed before I report to your father,” he said at length. His posture and his delivery stiff.

Interesting. She took another bite of the delicious omelet and watched Cristhian. “And you have yet to make those decisions?”

His expression changed. Hardened ever so slightly.

It was no mystery why she’d allowed herself a nameless night with this man. He was too handsome for anyone’s own good. It didn’t matter if it was that sly smile and easy flirtations of their first meeting, or that hard, angry demeanor. It all did something to her.

Something she was going to have to learn how to control. She had always been a bit...spiteful. Not her best quality, but she didn’t like to be told what to do—a problem as a princess who was constantly being told what to do. She hid her contradictory nature better than Beau, but it was still a struggle. When someone told her something she should , it automatically made her want to not.

She supposed that was why her father had learned the only way to get through to her was to threaten Beau’s future. Spite never held up in the face of protecting her sister from the possibilities her father used like a bludgeon. Private asylums. Medical interventions she certainly didn’t need. Anything that made it seem like Beau’s hardships were something she should be ashamed of.

Zia wouldn’t allow it. Beau claimed she had everything under control at the moment, and Zia had to believe her, but there was still the possibility that how Cristhian handled this with the king would reflect back on what Father did to Beau.

So Zia should not want to sleep with Cristhian ever again. She shouldn’t be the least bit interested in his bed or what he would want to do in it. His arrogant little quip last night should have cured her of all her lust.

But it decidedly had not.

Until he spoke his next words. “Once my doctor is able to make the trip, we will do a paternity test.”