CHAPTER FOUR
"Well, I certainly didn't expect it to go like this," Philip mused, looking down at the mess of paint that covered the newspaper.
"It usually doesn't go in any way that you might expect," said Marnie, who had an unaccountably adorable splotch of green paint high on her cheek. "The nice thing is that all of this washes out quite nicely."
Saturday had arrived cold and rainy, with Marnie tired from her publishing work and Victoria cranky from school. Instead of stepping out to see a museum as they had planned, they had opted for a day indoors instead, and of course the art supplies had come out.
If Philip were asked he would have said that there was a limited amount of mess that three people could make with just a few pots of paint and butcher paper. However, logic apparently had nothing on a determined five-year-old who was entirely preoccupied with the idea of involving her mother in every single mark and stroke.
It was a soothing thing to watch, but he hadn't realized that he was only watching until Victoria turned to him.
"You aren't drawing anything at all," she said accusingly.
He looked down at the relatively unmarked paper in front of him. "I suppose I'm not a very good artist," he began, but Victoria only looked stubborn.
"My mama and Cassie say that anyone can be artistic," she said with a pout. "You just need to try. Then you'll do the art that only you can make!"
Philip wasn't sure about that, but the look on Marnie's face was frankly mischievous.
"Oh, well, maybe Philip hasn't had the advantages that you've had, honey …"
Victoria frowned at that as Marnie continued.
"It looks to me like he needs someone to help him," she continued. "Why don't you go help him?"
Victoria brightened at that, and before Philip could figure out what was going on, she had crawled over to lean against his side. To his surprise, Victoria folded her small hand over his, smearing paint on it as she did so.
"Victoria, what are you—?"
He only stared in shock as she took his hand and led it decisively to one of the small pots of paint. He was simply too shocked to do anything but sit there as she dragged his now paint-covered fingers down to the paper in front of him.
"Look, see, now you can do it yourself," she said with all the gravitas of a master painter to a hapless student. "Now you shouldn't worry too much about whether you are good enough!"
"I suppose not," Philip mused. "Marnie, these paints wash out in water, don't they?"
"Sure, I wouldn't get anything for Victoria that was going to stain …"
The words were no sooner out of her mouth before Philip reached over and pressed his palm over her shoulder, leaving a thick blue hand print over the fabric there. As she squawked in outrage, he laughed.
"I call it mixed media," he said to Victoria gravely. "That's what you call it when you use lots of different materials. You see here, I used paint, the fabric from your mother's shirt, and of course, your mother."
Victoria crowed with laughter, and then Philip had to fend off two attacks. On one side was Victoria, gleefully smearing him with the watery paint. On the other side was Marnie, who was largely doing the same thing with an increasingly better degree of success.
As the rain pounded down outside, the three of them stayed warm and dry in the apartment, though certainly by the end, they would have been no more dirty if they had ended up going outside to splash in rain puddles.
When he got up to go get paper towels for cleanup, he paused to look himself in the mirror. He looked a wreck, covered in red, green, yellow, and blue stains. He looked like some kind of modern art project gone very, very wrong.
And he realized then that he had never been happier. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw a man who was exceedingly content to while away his Saturday with a woman and a little girl that he was coming to care for immensely.
Philip knew that he could get a dozen people together to view all of the New York parties, and if America couldn't throw an excellent party, he was prepared to go to the UAE and Navarra to find if they could do one better.
He shook his head, drying his hands. Philip didn't know what the future would bring, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was going to look back on this time and smile, no matter what came after it. Outside of the bathroom, he could hear Marnie and Victoria laughing quietly. It didn't occur to him to think that they sounded quite clear until it was far too late.
The door swung open, and revealed behind it were two grins, four hands full of paint, and a laughter that he thought that he would cherish forever.
As they bore him gently to the floor, he started to laugh, and it was one of the most healing moments of his life.
***
For a moment, Marnie wondered if they had gone too far. It was only belatedly that she remembered how very much money Philip's clothes cost, and how attached he was to them. Of course, she thought that right before her cannonball of a daughter struck Philip full force, her small hands pattering all over him to transfer as much color to Philip as she could.
To Marnie's relief, however, Philip only shouted with delight, falling back onto the ground and allowing Victoria to climb all over him.
Marnie wondered all over again what it was her daughter saw in this man. Perhaps she was picking up on the fact that he was someone who was kind and trustworthy, but Marnie didn't think that was it. Sometimes, late at night, she wondered if Victoria suspected that Philip was her father. There was no way that Victoria could know that at all.
Finally, when Victoria had been peeled off of Philip and sent back to her paper and paints, Marnie pulled Philip aside.
"I'm sorry about that," she said, and he only grinned, if a little ruefully.
"Well, about the only thing I'm sorry about is that I couldn't see such an obvious attack coming," he said. "Next time, maybe you'll be the one with red paint all over your shirt."
"Not likely," Marnie said with a smirk, but she continued. "Really though. It didn't even occur to me …"
"To treat me like an outsider?" Philip asked gently.
Marnie looked at him, startled. "What do you mean?"
He sighed, glancing down the hallway to where Victoria was still playing without a care in the world, before turning back to her.
"I love spending time with you and Victoria, I really do. Sometimes … sometimes it feels as if you are keeping me at arm’s length. You treat me as if I'm some kind of foreign dignitary …"
"Which, in all fairness you are," she pointed out, and Philip grinned a little, nodding.
"All right, you treat me as if I'm someone who's going to come and disapprove of everything that you do. From what I've seen? There's nothing to disapprove of. All that's here is a happy family that loves each other."
He paused for a moment, and when he spoke next, his words came out in a great rush, as if he was intent on getting it out all at once. "This is a family that I want to be a part of."
She stared at him, her mouth suddenly dry. "What do you mean?" she managed to get out.
He shrugged, and she didn't think that he had ever looked more helpless or more frustrated. "I don't know. All I know is that I care about you and that I care about Victoria. I want you both to have the best, and I want to be the one to give that to you."
"We're not lovers anymore," she said softly. "That's gone."
The look he gave her was suddenly full of fire. "No, it's not," he countered. "I don't believe that."
"It's been six years since I saw you last, more than that," she said. "I understand that you care about Victoria, but I think that you are letting your feelings about her get mixed up—"
Suddenly, she found herself pinned to the hallway wall, her mouth taken in a deep kiss that threatened to pull her heart from its moorings. She forgot about the fact that her daughter was playing not far away. She forgot about the fact that this man was one with whom she had a conflicted history. She forgot about everything except for the feel of his lips on hers.
Philip was the one who pulled away first. "Don't do that," he whispered, his voice tickling her ear.
She shivered at the sensation before she responded. "What? What shouldn't I do?"
"Don't tell me that my feelings are conflicted or confused. Don't tell me that I am not feeling what I know I am feeling." He paused. "You can always tell me what you're feeling. Tell me that you can't cope with how intense I am, or that I'm not a good influence on Victoria. Tell me that you don't want me or you don't even like me. I'm an adult, and I can take that. Never be afraid to tell me those things. But, Marnie, never tell me what I feel. I know what I feel for you, and it is real. Believe me."
She could have said any number of things here. She might have told him that a man who hadn't been in her life for six years couldn't tell her what to feel, or that he had known of his daughter for less than a month, and that feelings could change. Instead, when Marnie looked within her, she realized that she knew this man. She knew him better than she knew anyone else, and right now, she knew that he was telling her the truth.
"All right," she said softly. "I believe you."
She was rewarded by a wide smile that felt like the sun coming out after a cloudy day.
"Thank you," he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
She didn't know what to say just then. Instead, she only pulled back a little. "We should … go see what the little monster is up to," she said. "She's been quiet for too long, I don't trust her …"
Philip smiled. "All right," he said, and impulsively, she squeezed his hand as they walked down the hall.
This is what it's like to have a partner, she thought. Someone who can share the good times with you as well as the bad ones.
She glanced at Philip, who had gone to sit with Victoria again, this time cautioning her to keep her hands to herself.
But does this partner want to stay?
***
Something about that rainy day painting session had changed things. She didn't know quite what had altered things, whether it was their talk in the hallway, or Victoria growing more relaxed around Philip or even perhaps some magical quality about the paint itself, but they seemed to grow closer together.
Previously, she had been the one deciding what they were doing, and Philip had come along happily. Now he was proposing things just as often as she was, and more often than not, he paid their way and took care of everything. For a single mother who had always had to juggle her career and a baby, and then a toddler on her hip, having someone take over once in a while was an exotic, wonderful thing.
Philip stepped into the space they made for him with ease, and though she still called him Philip, Marnie could feel her intelligent daughter gearing up for the conversation of what Philip was to them. When that happened, Marnie was still unsure what she was going to say.
Her own feelings for Philip were as wild and untamed as they had been when she was still almost a girl. She couldn't think of him or look at him without wanting him. Sometimes, when he touched the small of her back or her shoulder, she felt a tingle, as if he had shocked her mildly. After what he had said in the hallway, he seemed content to leave the ball in her court. All she knew was that this beautiful man was driving her to distraction, and she didn't know how much longer she could take it.
Marnie still felt as if she had somehow slipped into another dimension. It had been just her and Victoria for so long that the image of Philip, carrying her little daughter into the small apartment, felt like something that was completely beyond her.
No matter how unbelievable it felt though, he was doing it. After his initial nervousness, he now carried Victoria as if he had done so every night of her life. The little girl was exhausted, her face pressed against his shoulder, her soft hand still somehow holding on to the little sloth stuffed animal that she had wanted at the zoo.
She murmured a sleepy protest as Philip put her down. She blinked around sleepily as if startled at how she had gotten home, and Marnie laughed.
"All right. Brush your teeth and pajamas, it's time for bed."
Victoria put up only a token protest, which Marnie considered a victory. She watched as her daughter dutifully brushed her teeth, and then got into her favorite yellow nightgown. It made her feel like a princess, she whispered, making Philip grin. When she lay down in bed, she kissed her mother good night, but then bit her lip.
"What is it, honey?" Marnie asked.
"Um, I want a kiss from Philip too …"
"Well that's up to Philip …" Marnie said, but Philip stepped up.
"Of course. Anything for a princess."
She giggled as he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, and then Marnie stood up.
"All right, sweetie, it's time to sleep."
Victoria muttered something that might have been a denial, but her eyes were already drifting closed. With a smile, Marnie herded Philip back out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
"Well that was a busy day," she said, and Philip nodded in agreement.
"How in the hell did you do this when you were by yourself?"
Marnie shrugged. Those had been dark days sometimes, when she had been striving to keep herself and her daughter fed on an office worker's salary, before her book had sold and she started getting more cash coming in.
"Well, I'll be honest, there was a lot of crying and a lot of making every dollar count," she admitted. "But it wasn't all bad. I had lots of friends who wanted to help. They passed on clothing and supplies, lots of good advice, and lots of babysitting."
A dark look passed over Philip's face, and she could imagine why. His childhood had been one of privilege; one where going without had never even been a real concern, let alone a worry. She braced herself for an attack, but he only nodded.
"You're doing an amazing job, Marnie," he said.
"Of course that doesn't mean that I'm without my vices. Come on. That hot dog at the zoo just wasn't that filling. Let me introduce you to the guilty pleasure of a late night quesadilla."
She didn't tell him that she had made quesadillas for her and Victoria because it was the cheapest thing that they both loved. Still, heating up the tortilla and melting the cheese made for a delicious snack, and when she plated one and handed it to Philip, she could see that he appreciated its charms as well.
"Mmm. As far as guilty pleasures go, there are worse ones."
"As a matter of fact, I have a lot of guilty pleasures," she said with a soft laugh.
"Oh really? Tell me."
There was something vaguely challenging about his gaze, and Marnie realized with a tingle of pleasure that he was standing quite close to her. His black eyes were fixed on her, as if all of the answers in the world could be found on her face, and she remembered what that meant. What that could lead to.
She took a deep breath, aware that her heart was beating faster than it had been, that her lips were dry.
"Well, I love chocolate, especially the sea-salt stuff, because it makes the chocolate taste even sweeter. And I'm a sucker for documentaries, especially ones that talk about alien conspiracies."
Philip snorted, coming a little closer to her. There was always a kind of magnetism between them, but right now, it was so intense that she could almost feel it.
"Not very impressive, Marnie. Come on, another one."
"Ridiculously sugary coffee drinks. Jelly beans. Those premade lunch meals that are supposed to be for kids but that I stash in my bag for a quick pick-me-up when I'm on the go."
There was less than a foot of space separating them now. Marnie knew intimately that if she pushed him away, that Philip would back away. She knew that he wouldn't come any closer unless she wanted him to.
There were so many reasons not to let him get closer. There were so many reasons to be wary of the man who had left six years ago and now appeared again, as handsome as ever and twice as charming.
"What else?" he asked, his voice low and soft.
Marnie swallowed. "Summer nights on the beach. Lollipops. Princes who should know better."
"Well, I can help you with one of those …"
Before she could respond, his mouth came down on hers, his hands landing on the counter behind her so his arms bracketed her, boxing her in. For a moment, she simply relished the feel of his mouth, how hot and warm his lips were, and how long it had been since she had felt the kind of passion that was licking up at her body. It had been so long, and Philip had always felt so very, very good.
When she wrapped her arms around his body, drawing him even closer, he pulled back with a grin. "What do you want, beautiful girl?" he whispered. "Tell me what you want, and let me give it to you."
She pulled in her breath, trembling on the precipice. She knew that if she was thinking clearly, if she was being as careful as she had always sworn she would be, she would have taken the kiss and pulled away. One kiss, that was an acceptable lapse, a guilty pleasure. More than that … more than that would be courting disaster.
She started to tell him that that was enough, that they couldn't do this, but then he reached up to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear. The gentle touch of his fingers along the sensitive skin of her ear made her shiver, and then, she simply couldn't stand to be apart from him.
"You," she said, her voice deep and husky. "You. You're what I want …"
Philip's laugh was soft and deep, but there was nothing mocking about it. Instead, there was relief there and a need and a hunger that was just as deep and lasting as hers.
"Beautiful Marnie," he sighed, pulling her into a deep embrace.
This time, he let her feel the raw need he had for her, the way he shook slightly as he kissed her. It had been so long that she felt nearly drunk on him, as if she couldn't get enough of how his skin felt. When he pushed her shirt up to reveal her belly and her breasts, she hesitated for a moment. Her body had changed since he had touched her last like this, and from what the gossip magazines said, he was a man well used to supermodels and actresses. How would a single mother's body compare?
She needn't have worried. He touched her with the same reverence and passion that she remembered from six years ago, and just as before, the fire that always lay banked between them roared to life.
She couldn't get enough of her mouth on his, or of the way his skilled hand slid along her skin, setting it on fire. He was and wasn't the boy she remembered. There was something more certain about him now, something far more assured.
He only stopped kissing her when their mouths were red and slightly raw, pulling back with a grin. "I'm going to make you feel so damned good, Marnie …"
Before she could reply to that, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up on the counter. Now she was looking down at him, and she had never believed that you could drown in someone else's eyes before, but looking into his black gaze, she did believe it now.
He bunched her skirt up around her waist, giving himself all the space he needed to touch her soft bare thighs. For a moment, he simply caressed her legs, making her squirm with need and with desire. He stepped between her legs, making her spread them a little wider as his fingers found her softest flesh. For a few moments, he simply stroked her through the flimsy layer of her panties. The sensation, muffled by cloth, only made her need more. When he pressed the thin layer of fabric aside to touch her flesh directly, she whimpered with need, clinging to his shoulders.
"Say you want me," he whispered huskily. "Tell me that you want this as much as I do."
"I do," she groaned. "I've wanted you … wanted you so much, every night …"
He shivered at her words, but his fingers pressed against her flesh, bold and true to the rhythm set by their bodies. Instinctively, she found her legs locked around his waist, pulling him closer. She thought she would die if she couldn't get closer to him.
Marnie could feel her body tense as the pleasure started to grow more and more intense. It was as if they had spent no time apart at all, and that they had always known each other's bodies so well. Philip was relentless, forcing the heat in her higher and higher until she thought that she was going to burst into flames. Instead, the pleasure raced through her more and more intense until it exploded through her body.
At the last moment, she remembered that Victoria was sleeping just a few thin walls away. She buried her face in Philip's shoulder, muffling her cries in his shirt. Somehow, her orgasm was even more intense when she had to stay quiet. She clung to Philip with all the strength in her limbs, and when she finally pulled back, she grinned at him.
"I must look a real mess," she murmured, her voice as horse as it would be if she had been shouting.
He brushed her hair back out of her face, smiling at her. "No," he said. "You're beautiful. You always are."
"And for a line as sweet as that one, you should be rewarded," she purred.
Philip's breath caught as her hand slid down between them, cupping his cock gently through his trousers. He let out his breath with a soft laugh.
"Hmm, I was, ah, content to leave things as they are, but … but I'll admit that I've been thinking about you doing just that for a while now …"
With a sly grin, Marnie hopped off the counter, letting her clothes fall back into order.
"Come to bed, Philip," she said softly.
His gaze sharpened as she led him to her bedroom, closing and locking the door securely after her. She reached for her clothes, but Philip stopped her.
"Here, let me …"
She stood still, biting her lip slightly as he pulled her clothes away. She remembered when they were together that they could never wait to get their clothing off. There was something kind here that she hadn't even realized was missing when they were young, something that shone like a diamond.
When she stood naked in front of him, he leaned in and kissed her deeply.
"You are so lovely …"
There was a shining regard there that was hard for her to look at. Instead, she looked away and tugged at his clothing.
"Take these off. I think you've had them on for far too long …"
He stripped, more economically and quickly than he had removed her clothing, but she was still entranced. The body he revealed was athletic perfection, lean and muscled with a thoroughbred grace. Just as she had matured, so had he, and she wasn't sure she had ever seen a man who was so attractive.
"Come here," she whispered, her voice aching with desire, and they fell together onto the bed.
When she was in his arms, it felt like no time at all had passed. She remembered how to kiss him, how to hold him, how to touch him, and his groans told her that she had remembered right.
"Condoms on the nightstand," she said, breathing harder.
When he reached for them, he shot her an amused look at the brand new, unopened box. "Did you have expectations for tonight?" he teased, and she laughed at him.
"A gentleman might not want to presume, but a lady should always act in her own best interests," she said loftily.
Soon enough, Marnie rolled over on her back, pulling him on top of her. The weight of his body felt like heaven on her, and when she felt the blunt tip of his cock at her entrance, she whimpered with need.
He eased into her slowly with a series of slow thrusts, each one entering her a little deeper. She thought that he was going to drive her crazy with desire.
"Please, please, give me more than that," she whispered. "I need you, please …"
Philip's voice was harsh with desire, roughened by effort. "I don't want to hurt you," he said. "That's the last thing I want …"
"You won't hurt me," she said with utter certainty. "You can't. You won't. I know you."
It was as if her words had freed him. He sunk into her to the hilt before pulling halfway back and thrusting into her again. She whimpered with need, throwing her legs around his to try to bring him closer to her.
He set a hard and punishing rhythm, one that sang to her. It called to the primal part of her that she had so long forgotten, the woman she had been who had once been content to make love all day and sleep it off afterward.
When Philip's rhythm grew more erratic and even more forceful, she knew he was close. She tightened her legs around his waist, needing to be as close to him as she could. When he finally shuddered to a stop, his face buried in her neck and his powerful body shivering with his release, Marnie could have cried at how good it felt.
"Perfect, you're perfect," he whispered in her ear, and in that moment, she felt as perfect as he said she was.
She never wanted the moment to end, but finally, he had to pull away. She watched through pleasure-filled eyes as he rose up, slipping into his boxers to make his way to the bathroom. When he returned, he discarded them again, slipping into bed with her before looking suddenly concerned.
"What is it?" Marnie asked, alarmed. Had he decided that he regretted what they had done? Had he simply found her unappealing and only now noticed?
"Nothing, I hope," he said. "Marnie, is it going to be a problem for me to sleep here? I'll be honest, I want nothing more than to stay. We can get up whenever we like, grab some breakfast, maybe walk down to the park again … but would it be strange for Victoria to see me?"
Marnie bit her lip. A part of her could have cursed the idea of needing to kick her lover out of bed, but the greater part, the part of her that was Victoria's mommy and always would be, wondered at whether her daughter should find Philip there when she woke. She bit her lip, but finally she made her decision.
"I think you should stay," she said firmly. "Victoria knows how important you are to me, and she's already had a sleepover at a friend's house. She knows that sleepovers are reserved for friends that you care about very, very much."
"Oh, am I a friend that you care about very, very much?" Philip teased, and she hit him lightly with a pillow.
"You know you are."
The question hung between them. Her words, while true, could not paint the entire picture. There was something between them that could not be defined as friendship alone, but Marnie still remembered what it had been like to discover who he really was. He had told her years ago that there was nothing in the future for a nameless little American and the Prince of Navarra, and she knew that nothing had changed.
She turned off the light, and they settled in the dark, his arm draped over her hip, and her head snuggled under his jaw.
Sooner than Marnie would have thought possible she had drifted off to sleep, and when she dreamed, she dreamed of a large house that she had never been in before, and Philip and Victoria there to make her happy.
***
Long after Marnie fell asleep, Philip found that he lay awake. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He had just had overwhelmingly passionate sex with the mother of his child, the woman that fascinated him and compelled him like no other. Now she slept in his arms as if the past six years were nothing more than a dark dream without her.
Still …
She had called him a friend, one that she cared about very much, but still just a friend. He wondered what would happen to that friend when she got busy. When she wanted go out, when she met someone who could be more than a friend to her.
He flinched at the thought. Philip knew that Marnie was a passionate, beautiful woman, one who drew the eye no matter where she was and who had always made a room more lively simply by walking into it.
If he was honest with himself, he was also part of the problem. His situation had not changed since they broke up. He was still the Prince of Navarra. He couldn't offer her the marriage she deserved, not even with Victoria in the picture.
Philip had always been a man of action. When he saw something that he wanted, he took it, but in this case, what he wanted wasn't there for the taking.
Almost as if in response to his distracted thoughts, his phone chimed. When he glanced at it, he realized it was his mother. To his surprise, there was a picture attached to her message. He squinted to see it in the dark, but when he opened it up, his eyes widened.
Someone had apparently recognized him at the zoo. The picture showed him and Marnie and Victoria, all wearing the clothes that they had worn today. Marnie had her hand threaded through his arm while Victoria had hopped up on his back to get a better view of the sloths. Just seeing the picture made him smile, but then he remembered what it represented.
What are you doing? Who is this woman and her child? The journalist who sent us this picture wanted to give us first crack at it before he sold it to the tabloids. If he has caught you, someone else will as well. Philip, this is no laughing matter. What have you done?
As frustrating and infuriating as his parents sometimes were, in this matter, his mother was correct. She was right, that it would only be a matter of time before someone broke the news, and then Marnie and Victoria's lives would be put under a microscope. If they didn't have the protection that he did, they would be simply overwhelmed. He thought of Marnie shouting down a paparazzo, which gave him a quick smile, but he thought of Victoria, quiet Victoria, who might never have another quiet walk to school.
The plan came together quickly. He was a man of means, and right now, he was willing to let his money work for him. He went out into the living room, making a few calls, soothing a few egos, and taking care of things the best way he knew how.
When he climbed into bed forty minutes later, Marnie murmured a soft question about where he had been.
"Making plans," he murmured, dropping a kiss on her head. "Go back to sleep, there's going to be a surprise for you in the morning, one that I think you will adore."
Marnie, who had never really been awake in the first place, murmured something that sounded like assent, turning over to go back to sleep.
Philip knew that he had done all he could, but still sleep eluded him. He would do anything he could to keep Marnie and Victoria by his side. They were a family. They were his family. He finally drifted off to sleep sometime around dawn, his thoughts full of impossible dreams.