"Sir, your sister has called again. Your father can delay his trip no longer. He's leaving this evening and desires your return." Luca spoke to him softly, like he was wheedling a lion into a cage, and though the tone was not to Antone’s liking, he couldn't say that he blamed the man.

For the past two days--ever since Tess Strickland had stalked into his hotel room and turned his life upside down--Antone had said little more than two syllables to anyone. He was too busy crafting his strategy. Laying in wait and deciding his next move.

Every morning he sent his staff out for every copy of the paper and he checked the Google Alerts on his name frequently, but there had been nothing save for mentions of his appearance in the States and the success of the gala from weeks past.

Not that that proved anything. If Tess was going to go public with her pregnancy, she might simply be waiting too. Holding her cards close to her vest so she could get a sense of his movements, of his motive. She knew how to hold her cards.

He just had to call her bluff.

"Sir, I must insist--" Luca started again, but Antone held up a hand to silence the other man.

"Which of my darling sisters are you speaking with?" Antone asked.

"Princess Ellaria."

Antone rolled his eyes. She would be the one to call. As next in line to the throne after him, the job of ruling the kingdom would fall to her in the case of both his father's and his own absence. Heaven forbid she have to feel the weight of such a responsibility.

"And Regina?" He inquired after his younger sister. Sweeter than the middle child, he knew she'd likely have his back if he chose to stay another few days. After all, a few more days was all he'd need to coax Tess Strickland out of her hidey hole and--

"Princess Regina is in Bali for the next several months, your highness."

Antone gritted his teeth.

"What shall I tell Princess Ellaria?"

"Tell her I'll be home tomorrow morning." Antone folded his arms over his chest, then added, "And tell her to ready the guest wing."

"Sir--"

"That is all." He silenced Luca with a single glance, and then the other man was out of the room, the sound of his call muffled by the closed door. So, his hand was forced. That was fine.

There were other ways to win.

Two hours later, Antone's town car pulled up outside a nondescript brownstone in the middle of Brooklyn. On a quick glance, he noted the tiny dots of light edging the frame of the living room window and he wrinkled his nose.

It wasn't Christmas. Why on Earth would she have lights like that in her window? And why was there a young man in a large puffy jacket sitting on her stoop in the middle of October?

Pushing the query aside, he motioned to his guards and stepped from the vehicle. He pulled his coat tighter around him, rehearsing in his mind exactly what it was he wanted to say. He'd no doubt that in the days since he last seen her, she’d formulated even more arguments against him, but this time he wouldn't allow her to slip away.

This time he was in charge.

And with that in mind, he knocked on her door with three decisive raps. Quickly, he glanced behind him to ensure that Luca and his other security guards were still in tow, and then he turned to the door again waiting to hear the sound of her soft footfalls approaching.

Instead, he heard a gentle scratching on the other side of the door at the very bottom. Like an animal trying to burrow their way out, one meticulous paw at a time. Taking another deep breath, he rapped again, this time more forcefully. Before long he heard her.

He wasn't sure why, but something inside his chest tightened. Even in all of his international meetings he never once felt this way. Like he was in the face of imminent danger and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. But he was trapped.

Still, there was something about this that excited him. Whether it was the thrill of negotiation, the chance of actually having air, or even seeing Tess again he couldn't say. All he knew was this thrill that holed up in his chest and made his shoulders rise.

Then, the door opened and there she was.

Or at least he thought it was her. This wasn't the elegant woman from the night at the Gala, all decked out in her white silk. Nor was it the bohemian chic woman who'd practically knocked down his door to days before. No, this woman had a mass of brown hair that was piled messily on top of her head, her heart shaped face obscured by a pair of too big coke bottle glasses. Her hourglass frame swallowed whole by a floral, purple mumu.

On her feet were a pair of fuzzy orange socks and curled up at her ankles was a matching orange cat. He glanced from the mewling feline to Tess' resolutely indignant expression, her too-big glasses magnifying the way her eyes narrowed as she looked him over.

"Your Highness." She frowned.

"Miss Strickland." He nodded, waiting for her to invite him in. When no such courtesy was extended, he glanced toward Luca and gave him a slight nod.

She crossed her arms over her chest and let out a deep sigh through her nose. "What can I do for you? I'd thought our business together was finished."

"May I please come in?" He craned around to see the dark interior of her house, but the cat at her feet hissed and he settled back.

"I don't see why I would want you in my home," she countered.

"Because I may be the father of your child."

"May be?" She scowled and the knot of brown hair on top of her hair wobbled.

"Tess--"

"Nope." She shook her head and the knot of hair on top of her head wobbled. "No. You do not get to call me that."

"What? Your name?"

"I'm Miss. Strickland to you if I'm anything at all."

Anyone sucked in his cheeks. She wanted to play hardball? Fine, they'd play hardball.

"Tess." He tried again and her eyes blazed with fire. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but paternity technology has come a long way in the past several years. I've come with a drug store test. It's noninvasive and if you'll just--"

Suddenly, the heat in Tess' eyes blazed again and she practically snarled as she said, "Are you kidding me? You came here unannounced to my house in order to get me to take a paternity test? You must be out of your--"

Antone held up a hand. "This, I'm afraid, is the easy way. If you truly are carrying my child, I will stop at nothing to know the truth. And I will be ruthless in discovering it, do you understand?"

She blinked, color rising in her cheeks, but without another word she stepped aside and nodded for him to come in.

He followed her into the dark little foyer, but when his men moved to join him she held out her hand to bar them from the entrance.

"My security--" Antone started, but she shook her head.

"Are not welcome in my home. You want to know if you are the father of this child? That's fine, but the matter will stay between us. I'm not inviting your media circus into my life."

He frowned and glanced from Luca to Tess and back again. It couldn't hurt to give her one concession, could it? After all, if the child was his...

He couldn't think about that. Not before he knew for sure.

With a nod, he motioned for Luca to wait outside and then he held out his hand for the test. Reluctantly, Luca handed it over and Tess unceremoniously clicked the door closed in his face.

"I expect they've earned a little break from you anyway," she added.

Despite himself, he smiled. "That's probably true."

With one hand, she reached for the test and he passed it off to her. "You'll find my swabs already inside the packaging. The test is painless and--"

"Right." She nodded, not bothering to look at him. "I'll read the instructions."

Wordlessly, she turned on her heel and stalked toward the little door beneath the stairs. Then, after opening the door, she stepped in and disappeared inside.

For a moment, he stared at the door, unsure of what to think or expect. For the past few days, he'd weighed his options, thought about every possible outcome in the most logical way possible. But now, seeing her again...

He might be a father. This woman might be carrying his child. A piece of himself.

Unbidden, a powerful sense of longing swelled in his chest and for the first time since Tess Strickland had stormed his hotel room, he thought of what it might be like to have a child. To hold his infant in his arms. To know that his country would have an heir.

But then, if the baby was his, Tess would have to be his as well. She would be his queen.

This woman who hung Christmas lights from her window in August.

He stepped into the living room and glanced around, eyeing the second-hand furniture and the large metal-worked hangings on the walls. Elephants of all different shapes, sizes, and colors breathed life into the white-walled space and blankets of all different colors and patterns were slung over the neutral-colored couch.

On a nearby armchair, the ginger cat dozed on a bright red throw pillow and Antone approached him carefully, trying not to wake him. Still, the cat looked up and, apparently unimpressed with what he found, jumped from the seat and stalked into the adjoining kitchen.

Antone was on the cusp of following the beast when he heard a door creak open in the next room.

He rounded the archway to find Tess staring back at him, her face lined with sullen determination.

"So?" he asked.

"So. We wait. It's over-the-counter, but it's not magic."

"Wait? For how long?" How had he not thought of that?

"Ten minutes. Didn't you read the box?"

He shrugged. In truth, Luca had handled the whole situation. Antone had been too overcome to bother with the details of the operation. He'd only known that it needed to be done. And fast.

"What do we do for ten minutes?" he asked.

Tess shouldered past him, then plopped onto her sofa with a sigh. "We wait."

"Right." He glanced at the space beside her on the couch, but then opted for the armchair her cat had so recently abandoned.

"So, when you find out I'm telling the truth, do I get an apology? Or does your royal position keep you from accepting that you've made mistakes?" Tess arched an eyebrow.

"On the contrary, my position forces me to confess that I am capable of making many, many mistakes."

"Maybe you could save yourself some time and just apologize now, then." She surveyed him for a long moment, and he opened his mouth before snapping it closed again.

He weighed his words, trying to decipher what she'd most like to hear from what he most needed to say. Finally, he landed on: "What might save us the most time is if you began to pack."

"Pack?" she asked.

"You are certain this child is mine. That means you will be returning to Napoline with me."

She guffawed. "I think not."

"But you will. If you are carrying my child--"

"It doesn't negate the fact that I have a job and a life here. I can't just drop everything and leave."

"And what is this job that is so important to you?"

"My job doesn't--"

"Tell me."

"I'm...a waitress." She squared her shoulders, then continued with an air of importance. "At the cafe down the street. They count on me."

He choked back a laugh. "Ah yes, such a job is clearly too important to leave behind. You're right."

"Listen Your Highness.Just because I'm not running a country from on high doesn't mean my job isn't important."

Antone rubbed his chin, silently wondering whether ten minutes had ever passed so slowly before in his life. "Fine. Do not pack. You will need a new wardrobe as it is, I'm sure of it."

"To be your royal incubator? I don't think so. This baby--whether it's yours or not--is staying right here in New York. He or she is going to yell at taxi drivers and take the subway just like everyone else."

"I do not think you understand. This is not a request. If you are carrying a royal child, the baby will need to be legitimized before the story comes out. We will need to be wed and--"

"Wed? What are you--" She glanced out the window, then met his gaze with wild desperation. "If you think I'm marrying you after knowing you for one night then you really have lost your marbles." Tess jumped from her chair, and stalked into the foyer.

He followed, hot on her heels until he was mere inches from her. Grabbing her bicep, he spun her around to face him. "Tess, we have no choice. You do not and I do not."

"I'm not going with you." She stared up at him and for a moment he was reminded of the fiery uniqueness that had drawn him to her that first night. Even now, even in her ridiculous outfit, tension and determination rolled off her in waves.

"If you do not go by choice, my men will bring you by force. Your customs are not mine. If you are carrying my child, I will ensure that child is being cared for in the best way possible."

"I...I..." She blinked up at him, then a jangling little tune sounded from the pocket of her frock and she glanced down to pull out her cell phone.

"Time's up," she murmured.

Before she had the chance to head him off, he made his way into the bathroom and collected the testing strips.

He blinked.

"It appears I owe you an apology," he said, hardly hearing his own words.

His ears were stuffed with cotton and the room was spinning. This woman, this stranger, was carrying his child. Now, undeniably, the future heir to his throne.

He looked up at her with new eyes.

"You're damn right you do," she shot back.

"Again it appears I must give you bad news, Tess," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I've given you enough time to come to the proper conclusions and I've finished arguing with you."

"I--"

Without waiting to hear her response, he crossed the foyer in a few bounds and swung her door wide. With a nod, he motioned for his guards to seize his future wife, and then he made his way down the stairs and back into his waiting car.