The sheer volume of bullets whizzing around them was unexpected.

Extremely unexpected.

The latest intelligence reports had stated that the area was safe enough to cross, at least in the dead of night.

The reports were wrong.

Captain Lorenzo Santoro ran through the dense vegetation, his team close behind or running ahead of him. His status as prince of Valleria wouldn’t help him now; in fact, it might be what killed him in the end.

He was suffocating. Oppressive heat, even in the dark of night, surrounded him. The air was a thick and humid stew. His pack weighed over fifteen kilos – or a mere thirty-five pounds – and sweat ran in rivers down his body. He could barely hold on to his rifle, as it kept slipping from slickened hands.

His lieutenant colonel was yelling orders, but Lorenzo’s brain couldn’t make any sense of it. Safety. He had to get to safety, and he had to make sure the team got there, too.

As he wound his way through the dense jungle, he heard a female cry pierce the air.

Remy.

His eyes darted around frantically, searching for the fallen body, but the trees were too high, the moonlight too little, the air too dense.

“Come on, Captain!” Perez yelled as he came by, then grabbed Lorenzo’s arm and began tugging him along. Lorenzo broke free.

“Remy.”

Perez just shook his head. “I saw her. It’s too late.” A weight heavier than fifteen kilos pressed against Lorenzo’s chest. “Lieu called for an evac, and we’ve got to make it to the lift point or we’re screwed.”

“We can’t leave her goddamn body here for them.”

“Captain, it’s too late!” Perez yelled, but Lorenzo was already weaving back through the trees. He’d run barely a hundred yards when he saw her sprawled on the ground.

Her face was still twisted in pain, her body unmoving.

Remy.

He checked her pulse.

There was nothing but silence.

The silence of a pulse was the worst fucking sound in the world.

The next sound he heard wasn’t much better.

A nearby grenade blast pierced the air, shaking him from his thoughts.

No time.

There wasn’t any time.

He heaved her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, her weight plus the weight of her pack now also weighing him down. He didn’t feel it. Another surge of adrenaline, coursing through his system at breakneck speed, kept him from feeling anything anymore.

He raced to catch up with the rest of the team. It was several long minutes before he caught sight of them again. He heard the helicopters before he saw them. One landed in a clearing and half his team ran toward it, while the others laid down suppressive fire.

Close. So close to freedom. To safety.

Then it happened.

A long, low whistle preceded a blast, and threw the jungle into sharp relief from the orange and red flames of a spreading fire.

The explosion engulfed the helicopter…the one filled with most of his team.

God, was there anyone left? Was it just him now?

He glanced around and saw unmoving bodies. The rest of his team, either injured or dead from their proximity to the blast.

The heady moisture of the jungle was no match for the fire, and the oppressive heat became choking.

A voice squawked and he blinked.

Remy’s satellite phone.

Lorenzo’s phone had broken down sometime that night, but Remy’s was still working. He shifted Remy’s body and unclipped the phone from her waist.

His voice was hoarse and dry, but clear. “This is the captain. I’m near the evac point. Where’s the second helicopter? I need an extraction. Over.”

“Team status, Captain? Over.”

He caught the movement of a soldier crawling on the ground, another surviving member of his team. From his vantage point, he couldn’t make out who it was. His stomach clenched, the need to vomit overwhelming, but he swallowed it back, the bile piercing his throat. “I see only one man moving, but severely injured. Over.”

“Can you both make it to the backup extraction point? Over.”

He heard the enemy coming closer. Their feet, their cries, their guns. “We’ve got maybe a minute before they make it to the clearing. Over.”

“We can’t land in the fire area. Head a hundred yards east of the fire, and we’ll send down a rope. Get you and your man hitched to it, and we’ll get you out. Over and out.”

Shit!

He knew the men who were coming for them. They were an anomaly here in the dense African jungle. Unlike the kind villagers they’d met during their deployment, these men were not kind. They kidnapped young children, often young girls, for rape and amusement. They also mutilated bodies, even dead ones.

Especially dead female ones.

He did the only thing he could think of: he ran towards the fire.

His friends, his colleagues were all in flames. He put Remy on the ground and – for some reason he couldn’t fathom – he closed her eyes before he tossed her into the flames. Even their enemies would leave a flaming body alone.

To prevent their technology and any sensitive information he carried from falling into enemy hands, he threw his pack on the flames, then grabbed a fallen branch and lit it. He quickly checked the pulses of the bodies littered on the ground, but found none. He set fire around the remaining bodies and tossed the branch aside.

He moved to the writhing figure in the grass. “Perez? Can you run?”

Perez shook his head, his teeth clenched tight. “My legs won’t move. Leave me.”

“We’re the only two fucking people left. I’m not leaving you.”

He didn’t have a choice. He would have to risk injuring Perez more by carrying him to safety.

He ignored Perez’s sharp cry of pain as he cradled him against his chest, and ran like hell.

Then he felt the sharp sting of a bullet in his arm, and he stumbled.

When the next bullet lodged in his thigh, he screamed.

* * *

Lorenzo shoved the bedcovers away, his feet pushing them down and kicking them off the bed. He sat up, gasping for air as if he were still in the jungle, the scream still hoarse in his throat, his body drenched in sweat.

He swung his legs off the side of the bed, set his elbows on his knees, and buried his head in his hands. He took a few, long deep breaths and reminded himself it was just a dream.

It wasn’t just a dream, though. It was a memory, a nightmare he’d lived and survived.

He was one of the two who had.

He heaved himself from the bed and strode into his bathroom nude, which was how he slept. He turned the water in his massive shower to ice cold, and stepped in to let the water sluice over his olive-hued skin. The chill washed away the heat of the memory. He rested his palms flat against the tile, and bent his head of black and silver-slivered hair.

His body was still lean and toned; his military training had been too ingrained for him to give it up. Even after recovering from his physical injuries over five-years ago, he’d continued with the brutal pace.

It’s what he would do now.

He flicked off the spray and stepped out, running a towel carelessly over his body before heading for closet. He slipped on a pair of running shorts, then grabbed his running shoes and carried them out to his terrace.

When he stepped onto the cool stone, he let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since the dream.

Freedom.

He inhaled the cool, salty tang of Mediterranean air, and tossed his shoes on the floor. Then he walked to the stone railing and took in the view. Wide, open sea, and the dark night was inching towards dawn.

The Royal Castle was located in Masillia, the largest of Valleria’s seaside cities, and had been designed to seem as though it was floating on water. For him it was perfect.

No suffocating jungle air here.

He never even bothered closing his doors or windows. A security risk his older brothers pestered him about, but one he wouldn’t bow to. Once they’d realized that, they’d assigned him more Royal Protection agents, and one approached him now.

“Going for a run, Sir?”

Lorenzo nodded. “Who’s free?”

“Bash is lacing up, Sir.”

Lorenzo blinked. Edward ‘Bash’ Bashiera was his sister Catharine’s fiancé and, last he’d heard, had been three hours away with his sister where they resided in the Vallerian village of Chames. Though Eddie had once been a Royal Protection agent, he’d resigned since becoming engaged and now ran his own security firm. His former colleagues called him Bash, while most of their family called him Eddie. “What’s Eddie doing here?”

“He, along with Princes Marcello and Nathaniel, arrived just a few hours ago.”

What the fuck? “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“You were already asleep, Sir. We felt it best not to disturb you, as it wasn’t an emergency.”

The agents knew all too well how little sleep Lorenzo got. Sometimes he woke screaming, other times just a cold sweat. “Did I scream in my sleep?”

“Yes, Sir. It, er, woke the others.”

Damn.

Since he didn’t want Eddie to follow him, he ordered, “Prep an agent; I want them to follow us when we set off.” The agent nodded and left.

Lorenzo checked his phone as he slipped on his shoes and socks. Three messages he’d slept through: his eldest brother and heir to the throne, Alexander’s, as well as Marcello’s, and Lily’s.

His heart clenched at the sight of her name, and he quickly scanned the string of messages they’d sent back and forth, trying to find a time to meet. When they’d met again at Alex’s wedding three months ago, she promised to message him her details so that they could finally have their five-year-overdue discussion as to why she left him. Though she’d sent it right away, his family and royal obligations had made it difficult to find a time to meet. He’d already decided to finalize a time this week to settle it once and for all.

His thumb hovered over her phone number for several seconds before he shook his head and turned to his other messages. As much as he’d been eagerly anticipating seeing her again, he couldn’t think about her, not yet. Not until he knew what his family was up to.

He’d just finished reading his brothers’ messages when the knock came at the door, and Marcello entered wearing a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms, followed by Eddie who was dressed for a run like Lorenzo, with the addition of a shirt. Lorenzo preferred running shirtless, no matter what the weather.

Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck are you here?”

Marcello quirked a dark blond brow. “Hello to you, too.”

“It’s early. The sun’s not up. Why are you bothering me?”

Marcello shrugged. “You’re up and going for a run. Can’t be that early.”

Eddie shut the door and crossed his arms over his lean chest. “We came to help.”

Irritation scratched at Lorenzo’s skin. “I told you I had things under control when we talked yesterday.”

“Of course you do,” Marcello said easily. “But a dock workers strike impacts the whole country. Not to mention, with all the shit the Royal Council’s pulled recently, we need to be on our guard.” Marcello was Valleria’s Minister of Security and Defense, and knew all too well that certain members of the Council hated the monarchy.

“I can still handle it.”

“Of course you can.” The way Marcello said that, however, sounded as though he didn’t even believe that himself. “Alex is coming down tomorrow, too.”

Irritation was bubbling steadily into anger. “I’ve handled shit like this before. I don’t need your help.”

Marcello shrugged again. “You’re getting it anyway. Deal with it.”

Lorenzo couldn’t deal, not with this. If he’d had more time to recover from the nightmare, if he’d been able to have just a fucking hour to himself, he could have faked his way through the conversation, and been the Lorenzo they approved of, the Lorenzo they trusted. Since the army, he hadn’t been trusted very much.

Without sparing either his elder brother or his almost-brother-in-law a second look, he turned towards his balcony, then ran down his stairs and as far away from them as he could.

He heard the pounding of feet following him soon after, and he knew that Eddie was behind him.

“Go back,” he called, without bothering to look.

“No way in hell you’re running alone,” Eddie called back.

He stopped abruptly, and watched as Eddie ran past him before he, too, stopped. “There’s an agent with me.” He jerked his head toward the man that followed them.

“You’d rather have an agent over a member of your own family?”

“You’re not my family. Not yet, anyway.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. “I am. Just because it’s not legal yet, doesn’t mean it’s not official.”

“We’ll see,” Lorenzo muttered.

“Damn it, Lorenzo. You–”

“We’ll meet later this morning to discuss the strike.”

“Lor–”

He didn’t bother responding further, deciding instead to take off running again, and heard Eddie cursing but didn’t hear his feet following.

Progress.

He preferred the relative anonymity of an agent over the keen gaze of his family members. The agents knew the score: a hard hour’s run – sometimes two or three hours, if the memories had a firmer grip – and he’d settle again. He’d never be whole, not after the army, but he could fake it.

What he couldn’t do was fake it and recover from the memories with his family watching. They knew he was half the man he’d once been. They were always pestering him, interfering in his business. Now, practically all his nosy brothers were descending on him once again.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the sea air once again. He focused on the hard pounding of his shoes on the asphalt, then the soft thump of them against the sandy Masillian shore. The water lapped gently and rippled as the thick, black night gave way to a brilliant fall sunrise. The refreshing sting of cool wind was marred by a current of heat; the wind still clung to summer, though the fall was quickly biting at its heels.

The water now, in November, would be too cool for most. Sometimes, he skipped the shower and chose instead to dive head first into the sea. He ignored its pull today.

The gentle horns of ferries warred with the foghorns of cargo ships and freighters. The ferries – which ran fewer in the fall – transported people to the small string of islands off the shore. He – not the royal family, but he – had a small chateau on one of them. He escaped there on the anniversary of the incident. He called it a ‘vacation’.

His family understood. Sometimes he wished they didn’t. Other times, he wished they understood even more.

When he reached Rocky Point, one of the city’s seaside tourist spots about three kilometers from the castle, he stopped. He bent at the waist, gasping lungfuls of air, his hands on his knees. Eventually he squatted, then laid down on the sand.

“Are you all right, Sir?”

He’d only been running a half hour, if that, and had barely broken a sweat. “I’m fine, Jones. Give me a few minutes.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Feeling exhausted, he settled into the soft sand, one arm on his chest, one thrown out beside him, his legs bent with knees facing the sky.

He watched the sky lighten more and more for several minutes before he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, this time taking in the scents and sounds of his city slowly waking. Soon, the sound of children heading off to school, and the steady pace of the morning rush hour would fill the air. He could already smell the cafés and bakeries readying for business, and the air was tinged with the sweet smell of yeast and life-affirming scent of espresso.

His city.

Steadier now, he took some more time and let the sounds nearby filter into his consciousness. When he heard a small girl’s laughter, he blinked.

The sky was only half-light. No child should be out right now on their own. He leaned up on his elbows, and peered around.

And his body locked when he saw her.

Lily.

Cecilia ‘Lily’ Brionne. The woman he’d once loved. Lily was wrapped inside a blanket with a little girl.

A dark headed little girl.

Shit. Did Lily have a child? Whose child was it? And why did the thought of her having another man’s child fill him with such a possessive jealousy?

When they’d met at Alex’s wedding, it had been the first time that he’d seen or spoken to her since she’d walked out five years ago. Back then, he’d told himself that his mental state was better off if he kept her in the past and didn’t try to find her, or didn’t try to convince her that she was wrong. Seeing her at the wedding had exposed that as a lie. Now, however, he may never get the chance to try again with her, not if she had a child with someone else.

He hefted himself up, then walked over. Closer now, he saw the little girl must be a few years old. She had a long, sleek nose, and an adorable pouting mouth – all her mother’s.

When he saw her other features, he stopped walking and breathing for several seconds. Then he gasped.

The girl also had long, wavy black hair floating around a square face, dark brown eyes, and a small cleft in her chin – all features he saw in the mirror every morning when he bothered to look.

Was she…was the little girl…his child?

When Lily’s easy smile slid into a gaping mouth, and a shadow of fear crossed her eyes, he knew.

Goddamn it, he knew.

Fucking hell.

His body locked, his heart clenched tight, and his eyes drifted to the girl.

“Hi, mister,” the little girl said, her baby-toothed smile wide and her little girl hand waving at him. He noticed she had on some sparkling pink nail polish and fleetingly wondered if she was too young to be wearing such things.

His word was wrenched from him, full of pain and loss and agony and amazement. “Lily.”

“That’s me!” the little girl yelled and her hand shot up as though she were in class and the teacher was taking attendance.

His eyes shot to Lily, who was biting her lip, her brows furrowed and her arms tight around her girl.

“How you know my name?” little Lily asked.

He took a shuddering breath, then crouched down in front of them. “Your name’s Lily?”

She nodded, her dark hair twitching. “Lil-ana. But Mama calls me Lily.”

“Lil-ana?”

“Liliana,” Lily said, her voice barely a whisper. “She can’t say it properly yet, though.”

Ho. Ly. Shit. She’d given her daughter the nickname he’d given her.

“What’s your name, mister?”

He cleared his throat, but it was still thick with emotion and hoarse. “My name’s–”

“He’s a prince, honey,” Lily said quickly.

Her little girl mouth dropped open. “For real? A real-life prince?”

He narrowed his eyes at Lily. Why didn’t she want the little girl to know his name? “Yes, I’m a real-life prince. Would you like to see my castle?”

She broke free of her mother’s hold and jumped up. “Yes!” Her little girl arms shot straight up in the air. “Mama, let’s go!”

“Maybe later, honey,” Lily said quietly.

Lorenzo arched a brow and stood. He crossed his arms over his chest and peered down at her, daring her to run away again, daring her to keep the little girl away from him.

Lily pursed her lips at his stance, then sighed. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

His lip twitched in triumph, but he managed to hold back a full-fledged grin. He looked down at little Lily. “Liliana, would you mind helping me with something?”

Her eyes went wide. “I can help! I can help. Ask Mama. I’m a good helper.”

He didn’t bother holding back the grin this time. “I need you to find me the prettiest seashells you can find on the beach. Okay?”

She nodded enthusiastically and ran down towards the shore.

His body tensed and he called out to her. “Don’t go too far, Liliana, and don’t get too close to the water.” She waved back and slowed down, still nearby.

He glanced at Jones, who was standing several feet away. He jerked his head toward Liliana; Jones nodded and wandered a little closer to her.

Lorenzo was sure Jones hadn’t missed the resemblance, either.

When he glanced back at Lily, she was standing and holding the plaid blanket to her like a shield. Her dark brown hair tumbled around her face, shifting gently with the wind. The skin around her almond-shaped eyes was crinkled with worry, her olive-hued skin was pale.

“She’s mine, isn’t she?”

Lily bit her lip, then slowly nodded.

“Say it. I need to hear you say the words.”

She swallowed. “She’s your daughter.”

He let out a breath as his entire world seemed to explode around him. A few words had changed his life forever.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was angrier than he’d intended, but it couldn’t be helped. “Why?”

His gut clenched and his mind raced back five years. His mental and emotional state had been in tatters when they’d first met. He’d been mentally exhausted, and faced bursts of anger he’d barely controlled. It had taken him time to recover, more time for them to fall in love with each other, and even more time to feel worthy of her.

After she’d left him, he’d sunk into a severe depression. He’d taken that as a sign he wasn’t ready for a relationship, that he couldn’t give her what she needed. He’d wondered why she’d left him so suddenly. He’d wondered it over and over again over the past five years. Now, perhaps, it was clear: she considered him a good enough boyfriend, but too unstable to be a husband and father.

If that was the case, she would’ve been fucking wrong to believe it. “Why?” he asked again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t, you mean.”

Her body went stiff and she started shaking her head. “No. When we talked at the wedding, this was what I wanted to tell you.” Her voice was anguished. “I couldn’t tell you sooner. I-I can’t tell you anything else, only that I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out I was pregnant, but that decision was stolen from me.”

“By who?”

Her head turned away and down, her falling hair hiding her from his view. “Does it matter?”

“Fuck yes, it matters.” He heard a throat clear behind him, and his head whipped around to Jones, who gestured down the beach.

They weren’t alone anymore, and his voice had clearly been too loud as the others on the beach were looking right at them. Liliana, thankfully, was oblivious to his outburst and was digging in the sand.

“We can’t have this conversation here. Where do you live? I’ll come by tonight.”

Her eyes met his again. “Lily will be there.”

“I know. I think when we tell her I’m her father and that she’s a princess, she may want familiar and comforting surroundings.”

She sucked in a breath. “Lorenzo–”

His hand sliced through the air. “No. It ends today. She finds out today. She’ll have plenty of time to get used to me at the castle once you both move in.” He hadn’t realized he’d made that decision until the words flew from his mouth, but they were true. He had to keep her close, keep them both close.

She took a step back and his eyes narrowed. “We can’t–”

“You can. And you will.”

“The public, the press–”

“Will find out that their playboy prince has had an illegitimate child. You can’t hide shit like this for long. In the castle, she’ll be protected, and so will you. Speaking of, you’ll have an agent following you both, effective immediately.”

“Stop. You can’t.”

“I can’t what? I can’t protect my daughter? I can’t protect you?”

She gripped the blanket tighter. “Please, just listen to me.”

“You’ve had years to explain things to me. Now, you can wait until tonight, when I’m cooled down enough to hear it. What is your address?”

She reluctantly told him; it was only a few kilometers from where they stood, and from his castle.

She’d been so close. They’d both been so close.

He was never letting them go again.

She looked at Liliana, then back to him. “I don’t get home from work until about six-thirty. Could you come around seven? That’ll give me time to settle her and give her a bath.”

“Work? Do you mean your volunteer work?”

She shook her head. “No, I have a job. I’m the event planner at a nearby hotel.”

His eyes widened as his anger dissipated. When he’d known her, her parents – who were of the high society Rome-based Brionnes – would never have allowed their daughter to earn her living. “I’ll be there at seven. We tell her together, do you understand me?”

She nodded, her face still troubled. “Lorenzo–”

“And that’s another thing. Why didn’t you let me tell her my name?”

“She knows.”

“Knows what?”

“She knows her father’s name is Lorenzo.”

He sucked in a breath. “She knows about me?”

“A little. I told her you had to go away for a long while, but that you loved her and missed her.” She looked away. “I didn’t tell her you were a prince. I didn’t show her pictures, because you and your family are in the press so much and she might have seen them and made the connection. I didn’t want–”

He couldn’t take anymore. “We’ll talk about it tonight.” He took a step towards her and she stepped back again.

His anger trickled back. “Don’t run away from me,” he murmured and she stood stock still. “Don’t fucking run away from me. You know I’d never hurt you or my daughter. You fucking know it.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I was just–”

Jones cleared his throat more urgently.

“We’re not alone here, it’s not safe.” He turned his head down the beach. “Liliana? Come here, princess.”

Lily gasped – likely at his use of Liliana’s title – but he ignored it.

His little girl came running towards him, her hair flying and her smile infectious. She hadn’t learned to slow down yet, as she ran right into his legs and, if he hadn’t braced, would have likely fallen over.

His girl had strength.

His girl.

Holy shit. This was his little girl. He was her father. Her Papa. His heart clenched tight again.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand over her soft hair. “Did you find me a pretty shell?”

She held up her palm and showed him two small shells, one with colors that faded from white into a soft, pastel pink, and the other faded from white into a brilliant orange.

“They’re beautiful, princess.”

She beamed and her little girl light shined brighter than the rising sun.

He couldn’t help but smile back. “May I keep these? I’d like to keep one and give the other to a friend of mine.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“I think so. My friend is very sad, and I know your shell will make him feel happy. Which one should I give him?”

She tilted her head to the side, then straightened. “Pink! Pink is happy.”

It was hard to argue with that. “Pink it is. Since you helped me so much today, how about I come visit you tonight and tell you about my castle? That way you’ll know all about it before you come to visit. Would you like that?”

She jumped up and down. “Yes!”

“Good, princess,” he said softly. He ran one more hand over her head, memorizing as much of her gorgeous, miraculous face as he could, then turned to Lily. “Seven.”

Lily nodded. “Seven.”

“Bye, princess.”

“Bye!” she said as he walked away. Every cell in his body rebelled against leaving her, but he didn’t have a choice. If any of the people on the beach recognized him and took a picture, none of them would be safe from the tabloids or the wrath of the press that would follow.

He ran back towards the castle alongside Jones, and made security plans for both of his Lilys.

Now, he just had to keep his family from finding out what he was up to. He would tell them, but not until after his daughter was told. Until then, he had to keep his mouth shut, which would be extremely difficult since he wanted to shout the news from the fucking rooftops.

He could wait. He would wait. Then they’d see.

* * *

Lily watched Lorenzo run down the beach, the muscles in his back shifting, his shoulders rolling, his calves and thighs – what she could see of them – leaner than she’d expected. He’d always been fit, but he seemed a little too lean from what she’d remembered of him, and she remembered a lot. Probably too much.

Her heart was still racing a mile a minute and, even though it was chilly, her palms were sweaty as they clutched the blanket.

“Mama, Mama!”

Her daughter’s soft and strong body bumped into her, and little arms wrapped around her legs. “I got you a pretty shell, too.”

The fear of meeting Lorenzo faded as she took in her daughter. Liliana was the light of her life. Despite all the black and dark that shadowed her past – including the past she shared with Lorenzo – her little Lily beat it all back with just a smile.

“Did you, honey?” She crouched down and took the shell – its color a pale blue – and cuddled her baby close. “It’s beautiful. It will go perfect with all the others.”

“Can I look for more?”

Lily’s eyes tipped to the brightening sky then, because she couldn’t help herself, she glanced down the beach but Lorenzo was long gone. “Not right now, honey.” She lifted Liliana into her arms. “Mama’s got to get ready for work, and you need to get ready for pre-school with Miss Jane.”

“I like beach mornings.”

She kissed Liliana’s temple as she walked slowly towards the sidewalk. “I do, too. But you know what I like more?”

“What?”

“Tickling you!” Her fingers started tickling Liliana’s stomach as peals of little girl laughter filled the air.

“Mama!”

A bright smile on her face, Lily snuggled her baby close again. She took in the soft scent of children’s shampoo mixed with baby lotion, and felt the warmth of her little body and the ripple of her laughter.

Her smile faded as she thought of Lorenzo. Besides just the physical difference, he’d seemed a different man than the one she’d known.

He’d been angry a few minutes ago, and rightfully so. He’d been angry back then, too, but he’d still been healing. Other than a rare raised voice, he had never hurt her. Not physically, not emotionally. She knew he never could, either.

She’d been the one who had hurt him, who’d hurt their relationship and destroyed their future. She didn’t have a choice back then. To protect her family, she’d done what she needed to do. She’d never felt worthy of him back then, anyhow. Even a high society darling like her, or like she’d once been, had never thought she could make a prince fall in love with her.

Would she be able to tell him that the same person who’d forced them apart years ago, had realized their mistake and were pushing them back together now? That person had been the one to secure her invitation to the royal wedding where they saw each other again. She’d never be able to reveal who they were, not without disastrous consequences to Lorenzo’s family.

The royal family of her adopted country.

However, she could make him see, make him understand without knowing everything. He’d have to accept her word; he was different now, so he might accept it for her or Liliana’s sake.

Her mind reeled with their short conversation, all while Lily chattered on, oblivious to the change in her circumstances. He wanted them to move into the castle. No discussion, no choice, just his decision and his alone. She understood it, even while it angered and frustrated her. Too many of her choices had not been her own in the past, and it seemed Lorenzo was making decisions for her as well. He wasn’t the same person he was all those years ago.

Yet, hadn’t she been a different woman back then, too? Five years of struggle and loneliness had changed her, too. Becoming a mother had changed her most of all. She’d already proved, without a shadow of a fucking doubt, that she would do whatever it took to protect her baby girl.

That was also one thing she was going to make sure Lorenzo knew.