As the driver descended the long gravel drive, the entrance to the estate came into focus. On either side of the gates were a handful of reporters with their cameras hanging around their necks, just waiting like vultures to scoop up a tidbit of dirt on their playboy prince. A sick feeling came over her as the car passed through the gates and cameras flashed her way.
How could Marcus live like this? She could never get used to being hounded by the media. If she chose to let Marcus be a part of her and her child’s life, would they have to deal with this, too? Was that something she could subject her baby to?
So many questions bounced through her mind. She watched as Ava nodded off to sleep, wishing she could summon the peace she’d felt just hours before as she’d lain in Marcus’s arms.
Even if Marcus could fit into her life, she wasn’t sure there was space big enough for his notoriety. She glanced into the rearview mirror, deflating as both the countryside and her fairy tale disappeared in the distance.
Marcus turned the radio up as loud as he could handle, hoping that the music would block out his thoughts, but even his heavy metal playlist couldn’t take his mind off of what had happened with the photographers at the estate. He pressed his foot into the gas pedal, pushing the speed limit and beating himself up over exposing Kyra to the paparazzi like that. He winced as he imagined how the press would react if they discovered she was carrying his baby. He could just imagine the headline.
Playboy Prince’s New American Fling—KNOCKED UP.
He closed his eyes briefly at the horrific thought. Maybe his child would be better off far away from Sovalon, sheltered from him and his bad rep. Everywhere he went, he drew the wrong kind of attention, and he didn’t want that for his son or daughter. An innocent child didn’t deserve to have to carry around the weight of his or her father’s mistakes.
He sighed miserably, wishing he could go back and change some of the decisions he’d made. Just then, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. He glanced at the number. It was his father.
“How was your visit to the estate?” his father asked. No hello or how are you, son. King Hanson got right to the point.
Marcus took a deep breath. “The estate is in perfect condition, Father. It’s a great location for the shelter,” he said. “All in all, I’d say the visit went really well.”
“So, I’ve heard,” Marcus detected something snide in his father’s voice, and before he could ask, King Hanson continued. “Word is that you and your fellow board member from America became quite cozy during your stay.”
Marcus ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Of course his father had found out as soon as the paps got involved.
He cleared his throat and tried not to reveal the eye roll in his voice. “I don’t know what you mean by cozy, Father, but yes, Kyra and I have a connection. I like and respect her very much.”
“You respect her?”
“I do,” Marcus said. “She’s unlike any other woman I’ve ever met. She’s—”
“Pregnant,” the king said, interrupting him before he could finish his sentence.
“What?” Marcus went cold.
“The American,” his father repeated. “She’s pregnant.”
“But how did you—”
“A staff member found the test in the trash can, Marcus,” King Hanson said. “At least she had the sense to come to us to see if we would make it worth her while not to go to the tabloids with it.”
Marcus found himself stuttering for a moment, trying to get his thoughts together.
“Well, this wasn’t exactly how I wanted you to find out, Father. Does Mother know?”
“It doesn’t matter, Marcus,” his father said coldly. “Your little American will take this problem back to the US with her when she goes. No one is to know about this. I want it to disappear.”
A chill ran down Marcus’s arms. How could his father be so callous about Kyra’s pregnancy? It was his grandchild.
“Kyra’s not looking for money or status if that’s what you think,” Marcus said. “She’s a good person. We had a nice time together, and this just happened.”
“You hardly know the woman, Marcus. How can you judge her character?” he asked. “Regardless, I don’t need illegitimate heirs running around out there.”
Marcus felt bile rise in his throat, his anger threatening to spill out of him in a host of words he would later regret. He took a deep breath through flared nostrils and blew it out his lips.
“As the youngest son, any children I might have would hardly be heirs to the crown,” he said. He was fuming but trying his best to be logical. “Honestly, Father, this is my situation to handle how I see fit. I’m not asking for your help or permission here.”
“Marcus, please. What do you foresee here? That the two of you will live happily ever after? Get real, son. You know you’ll find a way to mess this up like you do everything else in your life.”
The acid in his father’s voice sliced into him, rendering him silent.
“It’ll only be a matter of time before your American comes looking for a payday after you screw up and cheat on her.”
The words were a punch to Marcus’s gut.
But, he thought, they weren’t undeserved. Marcus was no stranger to screwing up.
“Marcus, I’ve got another call coming in,” his father said sternly. “I’ll speak with you soon.”
The line went dead, leaving Marcus wondering if maybe his father’s presumptions were true. He had known the king wouldn’t react well to the discovery of Kyra’s pregnancy, but he hadn’t expected this. He couldn’t believe his father wanted Kyra and the baby to just disappear. Could he ask this of Marcus?
Then again, maybe Kyra leaving for good would be for the best.
Not for Marcus, of course, but for her and their child.
Maybe a playboy prince like himself didn’t deserve a chance to get it right after all.
10
Kyra stood at the bathroom sink in her hotel suite back in Sovalon, washing the day from her face. She’d unpacked hers and Ava’s bags and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. She was so comfortably tired she felt like she could drift off to sleep any minute. Every muscle in her body was loose and just a little bit sore from last night with Marcus, but she couldn’t complain. It was a good type of fatigue, the kind that lets you crawl under the sheets and drift right to sleep without tossing and turning or overthinking a thing. She yawned and heard the hotel door room click.
“I’m baaack,” Maggie called, and Kyra’s mood immediately went from relaxed to annoyed. She walked into the sitting room where Ava was curled up watching television.
“Mommy!” Ava cried and raced to hug Maggie.
“Hi, baby,” Maggie said and planted a kiss on Ava’s forehead. “I sure missed you!” Kyra saw her sister notice Ava’s bright pink cast. Her expression darkened. “What happened?”
Ava made a fake pouty face. “I broke my ankle,” she said.
Maggie looked up at Kyra with a questioning look on her face.
“I would have told you, but I didn’t see the point, considering you were a few countries away.” The tone in Kyra’s voice was meant to be accusing. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow at her sister. “There wasn’t much you could do for her from Barcelona, Mags.”