Z walked into Georgetown Hospital the next morning feeling more confused than ever. He’d gone for a run early that morning to clear his head and prepare for the day. While he’d been jogging through the picturesque, peaceful streets of the area, with lush trees lining the cobblestone sidewalks and the historic buildings and taverns, he’d gotten an unexpected call from another SEAL buddy of his, Justin. Justin had phoned to share the exciting news that he and his long-time girlfriend were having a kid. Seemed everyone and their brother was having babies, including him—or trying to anyway. The guy had been so thrilled that Z couldn’t bring himself to rain on his buddy’s parade. The road to conception with Es wasn’t what he’d expected at all. The sex? Sure, that was great—even better than he’d expected. The rest of it—the closeness, the connection, the conflicting feelings of accomplishment and apprehension—all mingled together had him in a bad way.

Of course, he’d not mentioned that. Both because of the agreement he had with Es and also because their situation was different from Justin’s. It was a transaction, a business deal, no matter how incredible the sex was. It was all for show, all to reach the goal.

So why, then, were his doubts about it all growing exponentially each day?

As he strode through the brightly lit hospital lobby and over to the bank of elevators, Z barked orders to his team into his Bluetooth headset. He was being unusually short today, he knew, but insomnia did that to a guy. He hadn’t slept well since he and Es had started this whole baby-making process.

The elevator to his left dinged and he stepped onboard, holding the doors for an elderly couple who followed him inside, then pushed the button for their floor as well as the one for the private area of the hospital that was housing the king.

The damndest thing had happened in the wee hours. After days in a coma, the king had awakened. According to the hospital staff, he’d had a burst of energy. Was talking and laughing and even working, making and receiving phone calls from his trusted advisors and staff back in Prylea. Es had been cautiously optimistic when he’d left her at her stylist’s salon again this morning, with a full security entourage in tow.

Normally, he would have stayed himself to guard her, but the king had requested his presence at the hospital—alone. Swallowing hard around the gathering lump of dread in his throat, Z forced a smile and held the doors open for the elderly couple again once the elevator stopped on their floor and the doors swished open.

Alone with his stress, he rode the rest of the way up to the king’s area. He had no idea what the man wanted to speak with him about, only that it was extremely important—according to the aide who’d called him during his run.

He’d sprinted back to the townhouse and hurried through a quick shower before pulling on his usual black suit and tie, then rushed up here. From the somber tone of the aide’s voice, it didn’t sound good, whatever it was.

Now, as the elevator jerked to a stop and the doors slid open, Z felt like a naughty schoolboy on the way to the principal’s office. Which was ridiculous. He’d done nothing wrong. The king probably wanted to talk about how security was going here in Washington. Maybe the upcoming state dinner. Still, Z couldn’t seem to shake the weird feeling that everything was about to change.

The aide who’d called him earlier was waiting by the elevators to walk Z to the king’s rooms.

“His majesty’s awake now, huh? That’s a good sign.” Z knew the guy’s cancer was terminal, but with all the money he had to spend, maybe one of the radical experimental treatments could extend his time. Z hoped so, for Es’s sake anyway.

“Yes and no,” the aide said, staring straight ahead down the corridor. She was maybe fifty, and about as bland as the plain white walls on either side of them. “His prognosis is not good, Mr. Raybourn. Nothing has changed there. The doctors fear this might be a last burst of energy, a final hurrah, as it were, before the end. Apparently, that’s not uncommon for patients in their final stages of a terminal disease. No one knows how long it may last, but we can only do our best to keep him comfortable and see to his wishes while he is here with us.”

Z gave the woman a sideways glance. “Why did he want to see me?”

“You’ll have to ask his majesty that, Mr. Raybourn.” The aide stopped outside the king’s door then gestured for him to go in by himself. “He’s waiting for you.”

Walking into the private suite, the first thing Z noticed was how much Es looked like her father. Same dark hair, even though the king was in his late sixties, same intelligent hazel eyes. Where Es’s complexion was creamy and pink with healthy, the king’s had a decided yellowish tinge to it, most likely because the cancer had metastasized to his liver. Otherwise, the king seemed his usual jovial self. Z had never really spent much time one-on-one with the king or his personal advisors, but in general, the palace in Prylea had been very welcoming toward him when he’d taken the security assignment. He knew the king was the one responsible for that warm environment.

“Ah, Mr. Raybourn, please have a seat.” The king gestured toward the chair beside his hospital bed, then gave a quick head tilt toward the two other people in the room to clear the area, leaving Z alone with the king. “A matter has been brought to my attention we need to discuss.”

Z’s heart lodged somewhere in his esophagus. The deal with Es aside, he really couldn’t afford to lose this job. He had been sent to Prylea officially as a symbol of the friendship and support of the American military. How would it look to his commanding officer if he was sent back? His mind raced, trying to think of where and when he might have screwed something up during this trip to Washington, DC, but nothing surfaced.

“I know you’re sleeping with my daughter.” The king’s gravelly voice, likely due to the various tubes he’d had shoved done his throat for the past week, echoed in the otherwise quiet room, the words hanging between them like an executioner’s ax.

Z opened his mouth to answer, then realized he had no clue how to navigate this minefield. “Sir, I, uh…”

How could he have found out? They’d been careful.

As if reading his thoughts, the king said, “A member of my trusted staff back home told me about the contract. Felt I should know what my only child has been up to while I was in a coma.”

Chest squeezed tight with adrenaline, Z battled the urge to escape the room and run as far and fast as he could and instead stood his ground. He was a soldier, a trained warfare expert, a SEAL. He didn’t back down from a fight. He strategized, he conquered, he won. “Your highness, I believe—”

The king gave a dismissive wave. “Save it. And please, call me Renault, or Ren, for short. The time is long passed for formalities. Besides, if my daughter’s little scheme works, I may be calling you son before you know it, eh?”

Z blinked at him, stunned. “Uh, listen, your high—” he cleared his throat to cover his gaff. “Ren. This isn’t what you think. Es came up with this idea after a lot of thought and research.”

“Yes. I’m sure she did.” The king coughed and Z rushed to pour him some water. Ren took a few sips then leaned back against his pillows once more. “My daughter is an overthinker, just like me. Her mother was always the one to act. I’m praying she got more than a little of my queen’s chutzpah as well. Her decision to take you to bed gives me hope.”

Speechless now, Z sat back and shook his head.

“You’ve been put in an awkward position here,” the king said, narrowing his gaze on Z. “I completely understand why my daughter chose this route. In fact, I one-hundred percent support it. A baby, an heir, will keep that buffoon Silvester off my throne and help preserve all the work I’ve done to bring the country of Prylea into the twenty-first century.” He looked Z up and down. “Yes, you two will make fine-looking, healthy offspring. But I want to make sure that you’re okay with all of this, son.” He coughed again, but held up a hand when Z went to pour him more water. “Damned cancer’s spread everywhere now. Lungs, brain, bones, even my voice box. No amount of liquid will help that.” He took a deep breath. “I do hope you don’t mind me calling you ‘son.’ Figured you’d grant me some latitude since I won’t be around much longer.”

“Sir. Ren. The fact you’re awake now is a good sign.” Z sat forward, doing his best to shine a positive light on the situation. He actually didn’t mind the king calling him son at all. It was kind of nice, truth be told, with his own parents being gone. Felt good to be part of a family again even if it was only temporary. “Don’t count yourself out too soon.”

“You either,” the king said, turning Z’s words back on him. “What I mean is, let all this settle in for a bit. Making a baby isn’t easy, especially under your circumstances. And my Esme can be a handful, just like her mother was. Strong, smart, opinionated, and fiercely loyal. I’m glad she’ll have a strong young man such as yourself by her side at the end of all this.” He waved a hand over his prone form. “She’ll need all the support she can get when she gets back to Prylea.”

The king gave him a rueful little smile. “I called you here, son, to let you know that if you need to talk—about anything—I’m here for you. This was never common knowledge, but the queen and I struggled for years to have Esme. With the stress of running a country and other health issues, it took us a long time. I know how hard those trials and tensions can be. It can help to save a supportive friend in your corner to bolster your spirits.”

“Oh, well, thank you, sir.” Z was touched by the offer. He’d come here, scared he’d get fired—or worse, get the “if you hurt my daughter in any way, I’ll kill you” speech. He’d never expected warmth and support and acceptance. Honestly, he could really use some advice right about now. “If you don’t mind my asking, sir, I do have some questions about—”

His question was severed by the hospital door opening and Es running over to hug her father, looking as lovely and luscious as Z remembered from the night before. His heart ached at the sight of her hugging her father, their close relationship obvious.

“Uh, I’m just going to step outside for a minute and give you two some privacy.” Z stood and made his way over to the door, but he might as well have been invisible for all the attention Es and her father paid him. It was just as well. Given the chaos raging inside him after the conversation he’d just had with the king, he could use all the space he could get to recalibrate.