I clutched the edges of the marble sink in Xander’s bathroom trying to slow my racing heart.

Could I do it? Play this role for the rest of my life? The woman who loved him with one hundred percent of her heart but wasn’t allowed to show it? A dirty little secret? Could I watch him with Charlotte? Know that he was sleeping with her on the nights he didn’t sleep with me?

Splashing cold water on my face, I sank onto the closed toilet seat, my head in my hands. I’d already been here…what six weeks? And there were more blissful moments than bad. For him, maybe I could stay in a quiet house, secretly penning my books while waiting for the King to visit. I could pretend that the whispers of my presence didn’t bother me. Could pretend like not being accepted as the love of his life was no big deal. I could forget that I would be shunned, just for being who I was, loving him like I did. I could be a hermit here just as easily as I was in New York.

The thought swirled in my stomach, a wave of nausea rolling over my insides like an ocean current. I whirled around, flipping the toilet lid up and dry heaving until I had nothing left.

Rinsing my mouth out, I held my stomach with one hand, smoothing my fingers over the surface as if that would help soothe the waves. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d thrown up, unless you counted that time in Vegas with Laura four years ago, which I didn’t. That was Vegas, and this was…

I’ve been here six weeks.

My knees wobbled, and I sank onto the edge of the elaborate tub, clutching it like I’d faint at any moment.

No. Not possible.

I glanced down, suddenly aware of my hand, still protectively laid over my tummy…like a fucking instinct.

Nope. Birth control. No way.

Another crashing roar churned, and my knees hit the floor as I heaved again.

Xander had left to give me space. Time to clear my head. Now I wished he was here, to talk about the possibility…to send someone to get a test.

But, no. I couldn’t do that. Then they’d know. They’d make a spectacle of it. They’d label my unborn child—if there was one in there at all—a bastard. An illegitimate heir to the throne.

Fuck. That.

Maybe my writer’s imagination was running away with me. Maybe I’d miscounted my last period.

Yeah, and maybe you got it while here and just forgot that week.

Shit.

We could never have a child. It would blur the line of succession. It’s one thing to have a love affair, and another to bring a child into the world who wouldn't understand why she was a secret, or why he couldn’t claim his father’s name. Xander’s words echoed in my head.

We could never have a child. But what if we already did?

I needed to know for certain, but there was nowhere here I could go that was safe. Nowhere I could go without someone watching—a guard, a paparazzi, a royal family member, hell, maybe even the damned Prime Minister.

I packed in a frantic flurry of movements that I was now all too aware of. I’d never had a pregnancy scare before, but this…this was a mixture of terror and hope and grief. Grief at the solidity in my bones, the certainty in my heart…if I was pregnant with Xander’s child, he or she would never be accepted. It would be worse than being me…it would be…

No. I slung my bag over my shoulder, my heart shattering just a few more degrees. Maybe, if I was wrong, I could come back here and explore our options. We’d be more careful. My love for the man was that strong. And while I could condemn myself, I wouldn’t let an innocent baby suffer their entire life for a choice their father and I had made.

I grasped the door handle for a moment before I found the courage to turn it.

But I did.

“I need to go,” I said, conjuring all the authority I could into my voice as I opened the door and looked at Oliver.

“Where would you like to go?” He asked despite eyeing my bag and the tears in my eyes.

“The airport.”

“I can’t do that without discussing it with—”

Xander would stop me. He might not be able to keep me in the way he wanted, but one look in those eyes and I’d stay.

“If you don’t take me now, I’ll leave. You can’t stop me.” He arched his brows, challenging, but I kept my spine straight. “Fine,” I said, pushing past him. “If something happens to me while I cab it to the airport, good luck handling Xander—”

Oliver’s gentle grasp stopped my quick steps. “Damn it.” He cleared his throat, releasing me. “Apologies.”

“Just get me out of here.”

“This will destroy him,” he whispered.

“I’m already killing his reign and he hasn’t even taken the throne. I’m doing this with or without you.”

He gave me one, almost solemn, nod.

Three hours later I was on a flight.

Nine hours—and two gallons of tears later—Laura greeted me with open arms from the doorway of her beach house.

The pale blue home had always acted as a refuge to me when I needed to escape the real world and shut myself away and write it out. Well, I wouldn’t be writing, but I was escaping. No one would look for me here. Not even Xander knew where Laura lived, and the house was an off-the-grid place her great uncle had left her a few years ago. It was still in his name. I would be impossible to find, and that’s exactly what I needed right now.

“Everything you asked for is in there,” she said, releasing me from a hug and motioning to the guest room. She jerked her thumb toward the living room, a litter of papers, an iPad, and a laptop scattered across the ottoman in front of her couch. “I’ll be in here. Come find me when you need me.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice raspy from crying so much and the dry air on the plane.

I shut the door behind me, not wasting any more breaths waiting.

Laura had three stacks of boxes on the counter in the guest bathroom. One was cheerily pink, the other baby blue, and the third was high-tech digital. My agent was not only a mama bulldog, she was insanely thorough. I snatched up the high-tech one with the digital read out, not wanting to have an ounce more of doubt.

Four minutes later, I still hadn’t found the courage to look at the results. I groaned, chewing on my lip. “Laura!”

The door flew open as if she’d been standing on the other side of it. If I hadn’t been in knots, I might’ve laughed.

“Yes?” She asked, feigning ignorance.

“I’m a coward.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a fierce bitch. Always have been.” She smiled, her concern clear in her eyes. “What can I do?”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Is this like when Random House sent me the Crocodile Cole proposal, and you needed me to read it out loud over the phone because you couldn’t open the email yourself?”

I nodded rapidly, hugging my arms around myself.

She blew out a breath and approached the bathroom counter like it might explode at any moment.

“Wait,” I said, and she froze with her hand an inch from the test. “Laura…”

“It’ll be all right. Whatever happens. Just like Random House. You either have an additional…important project or not.”

I chuckled, tears glittering in my eyes. “Okay, okay. Do it.” I clenched my eyes shut.

“Well, fuck me,” she said, and I snapped my eyes to hers, the breath stalling in my lungs.

The test was pinched between her fingers, her face unreadable.

“What?” I whispered, the word squeezed from me.

“I’m picturing a tiny prince with rainbow colored hair running around with a toy typewriter.”

I dropped to my knees, Laura followed me, still holding the test. I could read it now as she hugged me.

Pregnant.

No lines. No questions.

I was crying into her shoulder, and holding my stomach at the same time.

After a few minutes, she forced my face into her hands. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.” She hefted me to my feet.

I hugged her again, clinging to her like I would my own mother. I’d have to call her in a couple weeks when her and dad got back from their cruise.

“Thank you,” I said, and meant it from the bottom of my soul. She’d been such a force in my life, taking my career to the next level, being a friend who understood my habits without question, and now…she’d read the word I couldn’t.

Pregnant.

With Xander’s baby.

I ate, unable to stop the tears that randomly rolled down my cheeks every time I thought about the life inside me. It was equal parts him and me. And yet, I was alone. And the baby…I’d never let anyone ever call it an illegitimate heir.

Xander deserved to know, but what could he do? Maybe it would be better for him, for his quality of life, if I simply faded in his memory as one wild romp before he became King.

I glanced down at my stomach but somehow looked internally at the same time. I didn’t have the answers. I didn’t know what to do...but I knew one thing.

I love you. I’ll take care of you.

It was powerful, the rush of certainty and primal protection I felt for this being in my belly. I’d do anything to protect it…even if that meant breaking my own heart in the process.

* * *

Five weeks, six bags of fun-sized snickers, thirty bags of mini M&M’s, sixty-thousand words in a new prince-themed erotica novel, and too many sleepless nights and naps to count. It was safe to say I looked like a walk-on extra in The Walking Dead. I knew what I wanted, knew what I needed to bring me back to life…

Xander. I wanted to talk this out with him, even knowing I couldn’t have him. I wanted to tell him about his baby. Tell him about how I could already picture a little boy, much like Laura had painted but minus the colored hair. I wanted him to hold me and make things right, but again, I knew that was a fantasy. And absolutely selfish. He couldn’t change who he was, who he was born to be. This wasn’t his fault. I’d known what I was getting into.

Of course, I hadn’t known my birth control would fail after one tiny minor case of jet-lag that resulted in me forgetting to take it on time. Not that I regretted it, now.

I shifted on Laura’s couch, cradling my still flat tummy, hyper-aware of every motion I made. Every sensation in my body, now more clear than ever. It was some kind of cosmic force I could do nothing but contend with, and though I was in shambles over losing Xander, I felt true love washing over my heart every single day.

The doorbell rang, and Laura came out of her office, looking as much like a vampire as I’d ever seen her. The woman never slept.

“If you ordered pizza, I’ll love you more than the moon!” The thought was enough to perk me up to a full sitting position.

“Um…” Laura came around the corner, her eyes popping out of her head.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Your prince.”

My heart stopped and restarted as I bolted off the couch. I jerked to a halt as the man came around the corner, looking as devastatingly handsome as he ever had.

A sigh left me in one fast rush, my shoulders drooping.

“Ouch,” he hissed. “Usually it’s the panties that drop, not the attitudes.”

Laura balked.

“That’s not my prince,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “That’s Jameson.”