Chapter Three

SHE LOOKED UTTERLY STUNNED. Not that he blamed her; he was still somewhat stunned himself. He had a son with this woman, a fact that had the power to punch him in the solar plexus and leave him gasping for breath every time he thought of it.

A son she’d kept secret from him. The electric current zapping through him as he pressed against her was most certainly rage, nothing more.

“You can’t be serious,” she finally squeaked out. Her green eyes were huge as she blinked at him in disbelief. The platinum color of her hair made her almost ethereal. Surely, this is what had attracted him to her in the first place. That and the fact she’d been blissfully unaware of his identity. The experience was so novel that he’d quite possibly been more attracted to her than he would have otherwise been. She’d treated him like an ordinary person and he’d found it refreshing.

“I am indeed serious, Liliana.” He’d gotten his answer in the moments before he’d left his quarters to attend the State dinner. His investigators worked remarkably fast, and what they’d turned up was evidence he could not ignore. She’d given birth almost nine months to the day from the night he’d made love to her. She could have found another lover right away, true, but the child’s resemblance to him was too strong to discount. He would of course take the official step of verifying the child’s parentage, but it was merely a formality at this point.

When he considered how he’d missed the first seventeen months of his boy’s life, how this woman had kept his son from him, he wanted to shake her and demand to know how she could do such a thing. He let her go before the urge overwhelmed him and took a step away.

He would marry her because his personal code of honor would permit nothing less. It was his duty. But he didn’t have to like it. Or her.

She spun around to face him. “B-but I’m not a princess, I don’t know how to be a prin—”

“You will learn,” he said harshly. She wasn’t the ideal bride for him, but she could be trained. She was attractive enough, and she’d already proven she had the moxie required to stand up beneath the pressure. When she was coiffed and dressed appropriately, she would no longer appear so common. She was not as beautiful as Antonella, but she was quite lovely in a natural way. Antonella didn’t affect him one way or the other. He could take or leave the Monteverdian princess.

But Lily—

Nico crossed to the bar and poured another cognac. This time he downed the liquid himself, welcomed the burn of fine Montebiancan brandy. Per Dio, it’d been a hell of a night thus far. And he wasn’t finished fighting with himself.

Part of him, a mad and primal part of him, was so completely aware of the woman across the room that he wanted to haul her to his bed and strip her slowly before burying himself inside her for the rest of the night.

Madness. Sheer madness. The urge filled him with both hunger and rage, and he worked to force it down deep and put a lid on it.

In the two months since Gaetano had died, he’d mostly ignored the sensual side of his nature as he’d worked to further Montebiancan interests and be the kind of heir to the throne that his people deserved. He was sorely regretting the lack at the moment. It made Lily Morgan seem far more irresistible to him than she should be.

“Surely we can work this out another way,” she said, her voice small and hesitant. “You can have visitation and—”

“Visitation,” he exclaimed, slicing her words off before she could finish. He shrugged out of the sash and tossed it aside, then worked the buttons of his uniform jacket with one hand, throwing it open with an angry gesture to let the air from the terrace door he’d left ajar cool his body. This night had thrown him so far out of balance that he half wondered if he would ever recover his equilibrium. “You are quite lucky this is no longer the Middle Ages, Liliana. As it is, you are getting far more from me than you deserve.”

If he thought she would be chastened by his words, he was in for a surprise. She lit up like a firecracker. Dio, she was lovely. And she’d just cost him five million dollars, a trade treaty with a neighboring kingdom, and every last shred of credibility he’d built since becoming the Crown Prince. Being illegitimate, and having the playboy reputation he’d had before his brother’s death, he’d had to work doubly hard to prove himself.

Now, all his effort lay in tatters around him. The thought fueled the anger roiling in his gut.

“More than I deserve?” she said, her voice not small any longer but large and strong. “How dare you! I’ve been on my own for these two years, enduring what you could not begin to imagine in your ivory tower, taking care of a baby and—”

“Silence!” There was no way on this earth he would listen to her berate him for what had been essentially her decision to keep him in the dark about their child. She would pay for what she’d done. He was far too angry, far too close to losing the last shred of his control. “If you are aware of what is good for you, cara, you will not speak of this any further tonight.”

She opened her mouth, and he slapped the crystal on the table and moved toward her. When she scurried backward, her eyes widening, he checked his progress. He was on the edge of emotions he’d never felt before, torn between wanting to protect and destroy, and it made him reckless.

He snatched up the phone and pressed the button that would summon his housekeeper. When he put it down, Lily was chewing her lip, arms folded beneath her breasts as if to protect herself. Or to keep warm. The night was probably cooler than she was accustomed to in her native Louisiana. A tremor passed over her, confirming his observation. Beneath her shirt, her nipples peaked, small and tight, and goose bumps rose on her skin.

Nico swallowed, remembering how perfect her breasts had been when he’d first bared them to his sight. How responsive she’d been as she’d moaned and clutched his shoulders when he kissed the tight little points.

Dio, this was insane.

Nico shook the memories away and peeled off his jacket. “You are cold,” he said as he closed the distance between them. “Take this, cara.”

He placed the jacket on her shoulders and she clutched the material around her, thanking him softly. He turned his back on her and moved away.

He heard the intake of her breath, braced himself for what she might say next—but there was only silence.

Finally, she spoke. “Nico, I’m sorry that—”

The door opened and the housekeeper entered, interrupting whatever she’d been about to say. Nico didn’t look at her again.

“Please show our guest to her room,” he told the woman awaiting his instructions. “And send someone to clean up the broken glass.”

Signora Mazetti gave a short bow and waited for Lily to join her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily remove the jacket and place it carefully over the back of the settee closest to her. Then she followed the housekeeper without complaint.

Lily awoke to the sound of china and silverware delicately clinking together. She sat up, yawning, and blinked as she tried to take in her surroundings. Brocade curtains hung from a canopy and were drawn back to let light filter into the giant bed. For a moment, she thought she’d been upgraded to the best suite the hotel had—but then she remembered.

She was in the palace, in Prince Nico’s apartment. If you could call a wing of a royal palace an apartment. And she was as much a prisoner here as she’d been in the dungeon cell of the old fortress.

A woman in uniform stood off to one side, fussing with a tray. She turned and dropped a curtsy before coming forward and settling the tray laden with bone china and thick silverware across Lily’s lap.

“His Highness says you are to eat and dress, signorina. He wishes you to join him in precisely one hour.”

The woman curtsied again and slipped out the door, closing it behind her. Lily started to set the tray aside, but the scents of coffee and food wafted up to her, reminding her how hungry she was. She’d been unable to eat during the twenty-four hours she’d spent in prison. Last night, all she’d wanted was to shower and sleep—but now her stomach rumbled insistently.

She thought about tossing on her clothes and trying to find a phone—maybe she could call Carla and explain she was being held against her will. Or maybe she could call her boss and tell him she’d been kidnapped. She’d call the consulate herself except she couldn’t waste precious time looking for the phone number. Someone would help her, she was positive.

Her suitcase had arrived, but her laptop, cell phone and passport had not been returned, naturally. Nico had cut off not only her contact with the outside world, but also any chance of escape. But Lily Morgan did not give up so easily, damn him.

Her stomach growled so hard it hurt, and she had to acknowledge that if she didn’t eat something now she wouldn’t get very far. Lily wolfed down the fresh bread and thinly sliced meats and cheeses along with a soft-boiled egg and two cups of strong coffee with cream.

Half an hour later, after she’d showered again and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she tried the door. It was unlocked and she slipped into the corridor, looking right and left. Which direction had she come from last night? She couldn’t remember, so she started down the hall and tried doors. When she emerged into the living room where Nico had coldly informed her she would be his wife, she stumbled to a halt, a shocked “Oh” escaping her. With bright sunlight spearing through the windows and through the terrace doors, the room glittered with gold and colored glass mosaic.

She dragged her gaze from the opulence of the room and searched for a phone, finally finding it on an inlaid cherry-wood table beside one of the velvet couches. Lily snatched it from the cradle, not sure who she should call first.

“You have to go through the palace operator, I’m afraid.”

Lily jumped and slammed the phone back down. Nico stood across from her, a newspaper in one hand, a cup in the other. He was so tall and elegant. She didn’t usually think of men as elegant, but Nico was. Elegant, gorgeous and so masculine he shot her pulse through the stratosphere just looking at him.

He wore a dark gray suit that was clearly worth more money than she’d ever made in six months of work. The fabric looked beyond expensive, perfectly tailored. He also wore a crisp white shirt with no tie, and black loafers. A ruby signet ring glittered on his right hand.

“I want my phone back.”

“You will have a new phone, Lily. And many other things besides.” His gaze raked her from head to toe and she bit the inside of her lip. No doubt he saw a poor ragamuffin, a woman unfit to be a princess, and was disappointed. Well, by God, she was unfit to be a princess. Nor did she want to be one. She would never, ever fit in here. It was preposterous.

Lily thrust her chin in the air. “I’ve reconsidered your offer,” she said. “You can visit Danny whenever you like, and I will bring him to Montebianco often, but it’s impossible for me to marry you. We’ll just have to manage another way.”

“Manage?” He set the cup and paper down and came over to where she stood, looming above her. He seemed surprised—or maybe he was amused—but quickly masked it with his trademark arrogance. “You have misunderstood once again, Liliana. There was no offer. There is simply what will be.”

“You can’t possibly want to marry me,” she said softly, staring up at him with her heart thudding into her throat. Did he have to be so darn breathtaking?

“What I want is of no consequence.”

“It’s not what I want.”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that two years ago.”

Lily blew out a breath. “I don’t think either of us was thinking much that night, were we?”

A muscle in Nico’s jaw ticked as he watched her. “Clearly not. But what about after, Lily? What about when you learned you were pregnant?”

She studied her clasped hands, suddenly unable to look at him. “I didn’t know who you really were.”

“But you found out. Why did you not contact me then?” His voice was controlled, as if he were struggling with his temper.

Lily put distance between them, instinctively wrapping her arms around herself. How could she tell him she’d been afraid? Afraid he would take her baby away and paradoxically afraid he’d be the kind of father she’d had growing up? Instead, she focused on the one truth that was easily explainable. “Assuming I could have figured out how to get past the layers between you and the public, would you have believed me?”

“Eventually.”

Lily bit back a bitter laugh. “Oh yes, how lovely that would have been.”

Nico sliced a hand through the air, as if cutting through their conversation. “None of this is important now. What is important is that you still had no plan to inform me. Had you not found yourself detained here, I would never know of our son’s existence, would I?”

“No,” Lily said quietly, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

Nico’s eyes hardened. “Trust me, cara, if there were another way, I would send you far from Montebianco and never see your deceitful face again. As it is, I think we shall have to make do with the situation, si?”

“I’m deceitful?” she said, her voice rising. “Me? What about you? Not only did you fail to tell me you were really a prince, but you also seem to have forgotten you were supposed to meet me in front of the cathedral—”

“I was called back to Montebianco unexpectedly,” he cut in, his voice rising to match hers. “I sent someone to inform you.”

“I didn’t get the message.”

His expression didn’t change. “You have only yourself to blame. When my man was unable to find you, I sent out inquiries. Had I known your real name was Margaret, I might have been able to contact you.”

Lily bit down on her bottom lip, surprised at how quickly she found herself on the verge of angry tears. She would not allow this man to affect her so strongly. Not now. It was too late to discuss what-ifs.

“I’ve always gone by my middle name. Why would I have told you my legal name as if you were a prospective employer or something? It simply didn’t occur to me.”

She shook her head. Wasn’t it just the story of her life to have something so vital hinge on something as simple as a legal name? “I don’t want to be unhappy. I don’t think you want to be unhappy, either. And if you force me to marry you, we will both be miserable. You have to see this is true, right?”

“It is too late for that,” he said harshly.

Lily tried to sound reasonable. “Why? You could still marry your princess and have children with her. And how can Danny be in line for the throne anyway? Don’t princes have to be born legitimate?”

Nico’s face was a stone mask. “In Montebianco, royal is royal.”

“I don’t want this for my child,” Lily insisted. “I want him to grow up normal.” The wealth frightened her. And not only Nico’s wealth, but the atmosphere he lived in. How could Danny be anything but spoiled rotten if he grew up here? How could he become a decent young man, and not a womanizing lothario like the prince standing before her? It terrified her, the thought her boy would be lost to her once he arrived. And that he would become the kind of man she despised most.

Oh God, how could she be tied to a playboy prince for life? Because no matter that she was the only woman he’d ever gotten pregnant—and it must be true considering the lengths he was going to in order to keep her here—he was still the worst sort of Casanova. Would she become just like her mother, desperate for one man’s affections and willing to put up with whatever he dished out just to be with him?

Worse, would Nico be a fair-weather father?

“He is our child, Lily. You have already tried to deprive him of his birthright with your selfishness.”

She blinked. Selfish? Was she? Was it possible?

“That’s not true,” she said. She sounded defensive to her own ears. And perhaps a bit guilty. In protecting her baby, had she really been trying to keep him all to herself? Had she really been afraid Nico would take him away? Or had her motives been purely because she’d believed he was not the kind of man who could be a good father?

“You will do so no longer,” Nico continued. “Daniele is my son and I will be his father in truth from this moment forward. If you expect to remain in his life, then you will stand before the authorities and agree to be my wife. That is your choice, Lily.”

“That’s not a choice,” she said, her throat aching with the effort to speak normally. “It’s a command.”

Nico’s gaze was unreadable. “Then perhaps we finally understand one another.”

When Nico had said she needed a suitable wardrobe, Lily hadn’t realized he’d meant to fly her to Paris to visit couture shops that very afternoon. While they were winging their way to France, he’d finally let her call her boss and explain that she wouldn’t be back at work tomorrow as planned.

Hell, she wouldn’t be back at all it appeared, though she didn’t say that. Darrell was curious, but Lily had no words to explain what had happened. She assured him she was safe, said she would e-mail him her impressions of Montebianco along with the photos she’d taken, and ended the call.

Then she looked over at Nico. He was typing something on his laptop. “I need to use a computer,” she said firmly. “I have a job to finish.”

“All in good time, Lily.” He didn’t look up.

She tried to keep her cool as she explained. “The paper paid my way here and they expect me to finish the job. I can’t leave them high and dry.”

This time, he did look at her. “Of course. But it can wait until we return to Montebianco, yes?”

“I’d prefer to work on it now.”

He closed the lid of his laptop. “Did you not keep notes on your computer?”

“Of course I did. But the police confiscated it.”

“It was turned over to me. You may have it back when we are in Montebianco. And then you may access your notes. Does this work for you?”

A current of frustration zapped through her. “Does it work for me? What you really mean is that I don’t have a choice. Why not say so?”

He smiled, though it held no humor. “Your choice, cara, is to wait until we return to Montebianco or to use this laptop.” He looked at his watch, glanced out the window. “However, you will need to work fast, as we will be landing very shortly.”

Lily crossed her arms and looked away. She knew she’d been snappish, but she couldn’t apologize. Not after all he’d put her through the last few hours. When she didn’t say anything, he stowed the laptop; twenty minutes later, they were on the ground and exiting the plane.

Once they entered Paris, her black mood lifted a little. Seeing the Eiffel Tower as they drove through the streets was exciting. She wanted to see everything, to spend hours exploring the sights she’d only read about, but Nico informed her they did not have time for touring.

Instead, she was ushered in and out of Prada, Versace, Louboutin, Dior and Hermès—and those were only the names she remembered. She’d never seen such an array of expensive clothes and handbags in her life. Nor had she ever thought she’d own a single piece of clothing from any of them, never mind an entire wardrobe. It was overwhelming to see the bags and boxes piling up.

“Nico, this is ridiculous,” she finally said as they drove to the next shop on his list. “No one needs this much stuff.”

“Principessas do.” He looked up from his paper, half-bored, and gazed at her coolly.

“No one does,” she shot back. Why did he make her feel as if she was six years old?

He dropped the paper onto the leather seat of the Rolls-Royce with a sigh. “Principessa Liliana Cavelli must be as chic and polished as it is possible for any woman to be. She will be the envy of some, the bane of others, and always—” he held up a finger when she would have spoken “—always she must be elegant and beautiful and a proper representative for Montebianco. She will dine with kings and queens, ambassadors, heads of state, and yes, perhaps even her own American president.”

Lily felt her eyes widen.

“She is the wife of the next king, and the mother to the king after him. She must look the part and she must never, ever bring shame to the Cavelli name—or to her son—by refusing to do so. It is about more than her own desires, after all. It is about duty and honor, and centuries’ old tradition.”

“But it seems so extravagant,” she said defensively.

“It may appear so now, but you will witness the truth for yourself soon enough. And you would not thank me if I allowed you to be unprepared for the role.”

Lily turned away. Damn him for making her feel petty—and over what? Hundreds of thousands of dollars in clothing, shoes, handbags, luggage, belts, scarves, coats and lacy underwear. How did he manage it?

She thought of Danny, of his adorable baby smile and the way his eyes lit up when she came home at the end of each day, and her heart filled with love. Because of this crazy turn of events, her baby would never go hungry, would never do without medicine or a roof over his head or the warmest clothes in winter. He was her entire world; for him, she would wear sackcloth and ashes—or Prada and Gucci.

She despised the idea of accepting so much from Nico—and yet she realized she had no choice. Lily vowed she would teach Danny that money did not make the man. He would not grow up as spoiled and selfish as his father. Somehow, she would make sure he understood.

They didn’t speak again and he went back to reading his paper. Soon, she found herself seated in a posh salon with a team of women hovering over her and one of Nico’s hulking security guards standing by in the corner—yet another reminder her life had changed drastically. Was she really at risk in a salon? Quite possibly, she supposed. What kind of life would this be, always looking over her shoulder and wondering if danger lurked close by?

A question to which there could be no answer.

Nico stated that he had business elsewhere and would return for her in a couple of hours.

In the salon, at least, she absolutely refused to allow anything to be done that she did not feel comfortable with. Clothes were one thing; they were impermanent, changeable. But her hair and makeup were another thing all together. Hair grew back, but she wasn’t accepting a cut that wasn’t her. Fortunately, the women were under no orders to transform her into something of Nico’s design.

Once her hair had been washed and trimmed, it was wrapped in some sort of healing hair mask—or perhaps that was masque since she was in France—while two women gave her a pedicure and manicure. A trip to the nail salon had been a little indulgence of hers before she’d had Danny. Since he’d been born, she’d not been able to spare any money, and she’d forgotten how much she missed it.

When the women were finished and she sat with her hands under a portable dryer, her attention was caught by a woman entering the salon. She had an entourage, and she was easily the most elegant, coolly beautiful woman that Lily had ever seen. She carried a tiny Pomeranian dog in one arm. Sable hair hung halfway down her back, rippling like silk when she turned. Beneath her jacket, she wore a thin sweater that rested midthigh with skinny black jeans and vibrant red stilettos. Huge sunglasses looked chic on her, though they would certainly make Lily look like a bug.

That was the kind of woman Nico needed. The kind he wanted her to be. The thought was a little depressing.

The women in the salon flocked to the newcomer, made her comfortable, brought her a café and spoke to her in hushed whispers. A moment later, she was on her feet, striding purposefully toward Lily’s chair.

She whipped off the dark glasses, her reddened eyes spearing Lily with a glare. “You are Liliana Morgan?”

“Uh, yes,” Lily replied, too shocked to correct her name. And too horrified. She’d only seen a couple of pictures, but she recognized the woman standing over her so angrily.

“I,” she said imperiously, “am Princess Antonella Romanelli. I believe you have stolen my fiancé.”

Lily swallowed. Oh. Dear. God.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Truly I am.” Did she explain everything to this woman? Keep her mouth shut and hope she would go away? What did one do when confronted by an angry princess?

Antonella propped a bejeweled hand on one lean hip. “Of all the places, yes? Here I am, running from Montebianco to soothe my wounded pride, and you appear. Could the world be any crueler?”

Surprisingly, her eyes filled with tears; Lily found herself reaching for the princess’s arm almost without thought. But what could she say that would help?

Antonella shifted out of reach before Lily touched her. “I have a habit of chasing away prospective grooms.”

She grabbed a tissue from a box on the table and dabbed at her nose. Her gaze moved over Lily, not rudely, but assessing. “How has he chosen you? What have you done to him? Dio, I do not see it,” she said. “Surely a child is not enough to make a difference.”

“I’m sorry for your pain, Your Highness,” Lily said, smarting from the remark and feeling her temper rising in spite of the princess’s obvious distress, “but not everyone is as privileged or as beautiful as you. And my son is none of your concern.”

Antonella laughed, a sweet sound that had no humor in it. “Oh my dear girl, forgive me for insulting you, but you cannot know what you’ve cost me. You cannot know.”

Before Lily could reply, the princess was striding across the room, snapping her fingers and speaking in rapid Italian. She took her dog from an assistant as her entourage regrouped and scrambled to follow her out the door.

Lily numbly watched her progress, a horrifying realization striking her—Princess Antonella was in love with Nico. Did that mean that Nico was in love with her, too?

By the time Lily was finished in the salon, she barely recognized herself. Once the treatment had been washed from her hair, it had been blown out into a sleek mass of shiny, silky platinum before being pulled back into an elegant ponytail. Though Lily was no stranger to cosmetics, with a baby to look after she didn’t usually have the time or the money for more than a tube of lip gloss and mascara. Now, she’d been shown how to apply a hint of blush and eyeshadow to accent her natural features. Her lips were a pale pink, and her lashes were long and lush.

She’d been shown to a dressing room where a selection of clothing from today’s excursion waited for her. She changed into the slim pencil skirt and white top with tiny pearl buttons down the front. A wide black belt, silk trench coat and sky-high patent pumps finished the ensemble. She rolled up her jeans and sweatshirt and shoved them into the oversize Fendi bag that sat on the cream damask chaise, then studied herself in the mirror.

Did she look like a princess? Maybe. She certainly looked more elegant than she ever had in her life.

But she still felt like Lily Morgan from the wrong side of town, the girl with a chain-smoking, hard-drinking mother and an absentee father. She thought of Princess Antonella, of her beauty and sadness, and felt like the worst kind of human being. She’d come between two people who were right for each other—worse, she was almost glad for it. When she thought of Nico holding his princess, kissing her…

Well, she just couldn’t think of it, that’s all.

Lily left the salon with the guard at her elbow, guiding her toward the idling Rolls under the awning a few feet away. They were almost to the car when a bright light flashed in her face. And then another and another.

The guard shielded her with his body, moving her forward the entire time as voices called to her in French and flashbulbs lit up the surrounding area like lightning. A second later, the car door opened and she was thrust inside. Her pulse was unsteady as she craned her neck to watch the scene disappear behind her.

“Put this on,” a smooth voice said.

Lily spun around, her heart in her throat, to face Nico. She hadn’t even known he was in the car. His gaze flicked over her. Was that approval she saw? Oddly enough, she wanted his approval. The thought was not a welcome one, and she dropped her head to look at her clasped hands, her heart refusing to beat normally.

“Lily,” he said, and she realized he held out a box. After a moment’s hesitation, she accepted it. She didn’t bother to ask what it was; she simply opened the lid—and felt the blood draining from her head as she contemplated the sparkling ring.

“It’s very big,” she said. “A very pretty sapphire.”

Nico grasped the box and tugged the ring free. “It is a diamond.” He took her hand and slipped it onto her finger before she could protest. The ring was too big and twisted beneath the weight of the diamond. Nico frowned. “We will have it sized in Montebianco.”

“I can’t wear this,” she said, horrified at the size and weight of the hunk of metal and rocks on her hand. A blue diamond? So blue it looked like a sapphire? How much did something like that cost? She didn’t even want to think about it.

“This is your engagement ring. You will wear it.”

Hurt and confusion cascaded through her as she searched his face. Was he thinking of Antonella? But his expression was emotionless.

Her gaze dropped to her hand and the strange weight on her finger. She’d envisioned shopping for rings someday with a man she loved, going from store to store and trying them on, searching for the perfect one. It would be a joyful thing they shared, not a chore or a duty. Or a command.

This ring was nothing like what she’d imagined her engagement ring would one day be.

“I don’t like it,” she said, then regretted it the instant their eyes met. His expression was bored, irritated. He did not care. If he’d told her it was a family heirloom, and he was expected to give it to his bride, at least she would have known this meant something to him. But no, he’d walked into a jeweler’s—or sent someone, more like—and told them to bring him a rare, expensive ring. This was about status, not tradition, not their child, and certainly not about love.

What would he have chosen for Antonella?

No. She couldn’t go there, she simply couldn’t. Lily closed her eyes, breathed deeply.

“It’s too late,” he said. “No doubt someone has already rung the press to inform them I bought this ring. It cannot be taken back.”

Lily stared at the diamond, its glittering mass like a huge neon sign of ownership. Everything between them would be very public, she realized. Every look, every gesture, every word. Everything he did was for the cameras. In the space of a day, her life had turned into a reality show. The paparazzi were already swarming, if the incident a few moments ago was any indication. Would she ever know a moment’s happiness, aside from the time she spent with Danny?

“How did New Orleans happen?” she said softly, realizing how uncharacteristic it must have been for him. He moved in his own circles, not in hers. It was an anomaly that they’d even met.

Nico studied her. She thought she saw a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. But it was gone quickly and she decided she’d imagined it.

“My life was different then.”

“So why me?” She wanted to know, especially now that she knew firsthand the world he came from. Had seen the kind of women he was linked with in the pages of magazines the world over. Women unlike her. Glamorous women, gorgeous women.

Women like Princess Antonella.

“Because you did not know my identity. I found it novel.”

The truth was raw, like an open cut, and he’d just poured salt onto it. Of course she hadn’t known him. She was from a small town in Louisiana, not a glamorous metropolis. Oh what a cliché she’d been. The country mouse in the big bad city. Everything about New Orleans was grand, and different than she was accustomed to. Clearly, it had affected her judgment. She’d allowed herself to be swept away by his attention and charm, and by the wild abandon of Mardi Gras.

“If not for Danny, I could wish we’d never met,” she replied.

He shoved a hand through his hair, the gesture full of frustration and regret. “Si, I wish this, too. But it is too late now. You are the mother of my child. Nothing can change that.”

No, nothing could. How he must hate her for forever dividing him from the woman he had chosen to marry. He’d as good as told her that he regretted everything about his brief relationship with her. He was marrying her for Danny, nothing more.

Lily turned her head, the landscape blurring as the Rolls glided toward the airport. This was not at all the way she’d imagined her life would turn out.

But for her son, she would endure. He deserved a father, and Nico seemed determined to be one. It was more than her own father had ever done for her. Jack Morgan had never fought to be in her life. He’d seen her more as an inconvenience when he’d been there. If she were truthful with herself, she’d often believed that each time he left, it was because of her. Because she’d been bad or unlovable.

She dashed her tears away before Nico noticed. She was a woman now; she knew it was never the child’s fault when a parent left, and yet the memory still had the power to sadden her and make her feel inadequate. She would not ever allow Danny to suffer the same way she had.

The car snaked through heavy airport traffic, finally turning and making its way over the tarmac toward the Boeing 737 that sat with engines idling. The red carpet leading up to the stairs still had the power to surprise her. It was so opulent, so unlike her ordinary world. If not for the red path leading to the stairs pushed against the plane, she might think it simply another passenger jet. There were no markings to indicate who the owner was—deliberately, Nico had informed her—because it provided a certain anonymity.

They exited the Rolls and hurried up the carpet as a group of reporters clamored from behind a line a couple hundred feet away. Nico sent her before him, catching her around the waist when she stumbled on the stairs and righting her.

“Careful, cara,” he said in her ear as her heart thudded from his nearness and the sizzling touch of his fingers through her clothes. She made it the rest of the way without incident, greeting the flight attendant at the door with a quick smile.

Two men sat at one of the polished mahogany tables, rising when she and Nico entered the plush black and gold interior. They both bowed, and one motioned to a folder on the table.

“The documents are ready, Your Highness,” he said. “We can perform the ceremony as soon as you wish.”

Lily whirled to Nico. “Ceremony?”

Nico took her hand in his, squeezed, his eyes flashing a warning. “Why wait, cara mia?”

“Wait?” she repeated, her brain having trouble catching up to what, in her heart, she knew he was telling her.

“We are ready,” he told the men, anchoring her to his side with an arm wrapped around her. He looked straight into her eyes as he said the next part, “You may marry us now.”