The Irresistible Royal Page 14

  Folding her arms across her chest, she said, ‘Give it up, Marco. It’s not happening.’

  ‘This baby will need round-the-clock protection. I know already from the CNN report that you’ve had death threats and are under police protection.’

  ‘Actually, as of...’ she glanced at her watch, ‘forty minutes ago, I’m no longer under protection. The police arrested the man responsible for the threats.’

  ‘Good.’ He nodded. ‘Still, there could be a risk when it’s known you’re carrying a royal baby.’

  ‘Which is why your identity as the father will not be made public knowledge.’ Hell. She sat forward in alarm. ‘There are several journalists still in town interviewing some of the plaintiffs. I hope nobody noted your arrival.’

  ‘I already have a security team deployed to protect you and the baby.’

  ‘What?’ Her eyes widened. ‘You did that without discussing it with me first?’

  ‘You’re having my child. Of course I’ll see to your protection.’

  Shock rolled over her like a giant wall of water from a deadly tsunami as the impact of his words and all the ramifications of having a royal baby started to sink in. She let her chin fall to her chest and closed her eyes as she bemoaned the fact that Marco was a prince.

  On the positive, at least he isn’t disputing the baby’s paternity.

  She was unaware he’d moved around the desk until the heat from his hands warmed her shoulders. ‘Like it or not, our child will live at least some of its life in the public eye.’ One hand left her shoulder to settle under her chin, encouraging her to look at him. She felt herself soften beneath the contact, wanting to lean into it—into him. ‘You’ll also have a very public lifestyle as my wife.’

  That wasn’t what she wanted. Despite her desire to banish Marco from her thoughts when she’d returned home, and regardless of her exhaustion during the Wycosta trial, Chloe had found herself checking the internet some evenings. More often than not, Marco had made the news either because of a statement he’d made in banking circles, or because he’d been discussed in the social pages. Chloe didn’t want to endure a high level of public attention. Being in the media spotlight during the trial had been bad enough.

  ‘Listen, Marco, you’re a very attractive guy,’ particularly when you keep your mouth shut and you’re not trying to dominate me, ‘and I’m sure many women would jump at the chance to be your wife.’

  ‘But you’re the only woman I’m asking. You’re the only woman who’s carrying my child.’

  Did he really need to outline that her pregnancy was the only reason for his proposal?

  She covered her face with her hands for a moment to pull herself together against the irrational pain slicing through her like the blade of a rapier. Wasn’t it better he didn’t censor his words and spoke the truth? After all, she’d seen pictures of him out at the theatre with Cynthia Drysden the very night she’d last seen him in London. Of course he was only here proposing marriage because of the baby.

  She wasn’t going to trade insults. Instead, she sought for a diplomatic way to express herself as she looked up at him. ‘I don’t mean to be offensive, but you’re not the type of guy I could ever picture as my husband.’ Any more than I’m the type of woman you would’ve pictured as your wife.

  His jaw firmed, and he looked as though he gritted his teeth together before he finally spoke through those teeth. ‘What type of guy do you picture?’

  Where did she start without sounding like a schoolgirl? How did she tell him the guy she pictured needed to be a gallant knight in armour, not in Armani? She wanted someone kind, considerate, loving and normal. ‘I want a stable, quiet, secure life.’

  One hand flicked in a gesture of dismissal. ‘Hardly what you’ve got now when you’re interviewed on CNN, making international headlines and have been in need of police protection.’

  ‘The news of the case will blow over then it’ll be back to a peaceful existence.’

  ‘You mean a boring existence where you settle for pleasant sex.’

  Blasted man. How dare he stand there, throw her words back at her and make her think about the sex they’d shared.

  Fighting against the heat blazing like a wildfire across her chest, up her neck and into her cheeks as she recalled some of the sensations she’d known as his lover, she said firmly, ‘I know what I want and what I don’t want. I don’t want a life of glamour and I definitely don’t want to be part of a European royal family where my every move is followed by photographers.’

  ‘That’s too bad, because you and our child will be part of the royal family and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to alter it.’

  She rolled her chair back away from him and jumped up to face him. She had to fight him—had to make him see his proposal wasn’t acceptable to her. ‘No.’

  He threw his hands up in the air and cursed in Italian. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this.’

  ‘I realise it must be a shock when you’re so used to women racing after you and valuing your wealth and your status, but that’s not who I am. I want a solid, dependable man—’

  ‘I’m dependable.’

  ‘—who’s prepared to live in suburbia with me in Wild Horse Valley, close to my dad’s vineyard and to all the people I love most in the world.’ Now she’d started, she may as well paint the whole picture of why he was so unsuitable. ‘I want a man who’s prepared to take our kids to Little League on the weekend and attend a monthly school PTA meeting. I want a husband who’ll have friends over on summer weekends and barbecue the meat while I make the salads—one who’ll come home from work, help me bath and put the kids to bed, then find time to sit out on a swing seat on the porch with a glass of wine or a bottle of Bud and talk about the day.’ She shrugged nonchalantly even while her chest constricted and she wondered whether her dream was out of her reach now she was having Marco’s child. Swallowing hard, she looked at him and launched her most crucial argument. ‘I want to be married to a man who loves me and who I love in return.’

  Turning, he paced away from her and muttered something under his breath that she didn’t catch. ‘This isn’t about what you or I want,’ he vented as he swung back to face her. ‘We need to put the needs of our child first.’

  ‘I am. You’re saying marriage is the best option for the baby but the baby isn’t the one who’d be getting married.’ She held up a hand to stop him as he tried to refute her claim. ‘There are other options.’

  ‘None that are satisfactory to me.’

  ‘Well, that’s tough. When I marry it’s going to be to someone I can love for the rest of my life. I’m nothing like my mother, and I refuse to collect husbands like frequent flyer points.’

  ‘Make no mistake, Chloe. Our marriage will be for the rest of our lives. This isn’t some proposal to cohabit until our child comes of age.’

  Her heart thudded in her ears. ‘Marco—’

  ‘Look at me and tell me you don’t wish in your heart that you’d been raised by a mother and father.’

  The challenge left her feeling winded. His words resurrected so much hurt. She’d cried herself to sleep every night for weeks after her mother left them, certain she was to blame for her mother’s desertion—certain it must’ve been something she did or said that caused Lidia to walk away. She’d overheard one mother commenting about, ‘poor little Chloe Salvatore whose mother left her,’ and for years, even seeing Mother’s Day advertisements had tied her stomach in knots.

  Something special for Mom this Mother’s Day.

  Send Mom flowers and tell her how much you love her.

  Over time, the anguish had turned to bitterness.

  ‘All my childhood I wished Lidia hadn’t walked out on Dad and me, but I can see now it was a blessing she did. Dad raised me in a secure, loving environment and gave me every opportunity to be happy and to reach my potential. I’m going to do exactly the same for this child.’

  ‘We’re going to do it for our child.’


  ‘Not by being married, we’re not.’ She made an emphatic gesture of refusal. ‘I’ve told you I’m not going to deny you visitation rights, but now I’m an adult, I understand that a single parent family was a much better way to be brought up than if my mother had stayed and I’d been raised in an unhappy household.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Chloe.’ He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Marriage is the best option.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re even suggesting it.’

  ‘How did you expect me to react when I knew for sure you were expecting my child?’

  ‘Honestly?’ Her lips twisted, knowing a truthful response was the only way to go. ‘I didn’t think you’d believe me. I guess I thought I’d be able to deliver the news then get on with it by myself. I didn’t think you’d ever want anything to do with me or the baby.’ It might sound horrible but it was the truth.

  Silence stretched before he admitted, ‘Then we’re both equally guilty of thinking the worst of the other.’

  ‘I certainly didn’t imagine in my wildest dreams you’d expect to condemn us both to a marriage from hell.’

  His chin jutted forward a fraction. He was so used to being in command and she guessed he’d expected her to jump at his proposal and she’d surprised him. ‘You’re assuming we’d be unhappy together.’

  ‘Of course we would. We’d be miserable. There’s no happiness in a relationship where there’s no trust. Our child would sense it and suffer because of it.’

  He was evidently determined to bring her around to his way of thinking. ‘I’m trusting you now. I don’t even want a paternity test.’

  He didn’t understand. How could he relate to what their future would be like—what it would be like for their child if they married? After she’d met him at Lidia’s, Chloe had researched Marco and the Ralvinian royal family. From all internet reports, he’d grown up in a very close, loving family. Quite possibly he’d never had any firsthand dealings with dysfunctional families.

  ‘I won’t accept occasional visiting rights,’ he told her baldly.

  ‘Then move to the Napa Valley, buy a place close by and we can do what normal estranged parents do—have custody every second weekend.’ She crossed her arms in front of her chest, determined not to budge an inch. She knew her demand was impractical. How could he possibly uproot his life and move to California when he held such an important position in Europe—when his whole life was there?

  But she wasn’t prepared to leave her life behind either and she was certain she’d be able to raise their child in a loving environment and look after its wellbeing without him featuring on a daily basis.

  As he clamped his jaw tight, a small muscle twitched in his cheek. His frustration was stamped across his face and the impasse between them seemed to make the very air in the office crackle with electric current. ‘If we opted for a situation where we shared custody, you’d be prepared to be separated from our child every second weekend and a few nights during the week?’

  What? He couldn’t be seriously entertaining her suggestion. Surely it would be impossible for him to move to California. He had to be calling her bluff.

  ‘You’d be able to wave while he or she jetted over to Ralvinia or to London every second school holidays?’ he added.

  ‘It would be difficult, but I agree to be fair,’ she said, while assuring herself it would never come to that. Strange how quickly she knew in her heart that any separation from this little life growing inside her would tear her in two, and wouldn’t be ideal for their child.

  ‘You might think you’re being fair to me, but you have to also be fair to our child.’ His hand moved in a short, sharp gestures punctuating his words as he said, ‘You’re denying our child the right to live in a nuclear family.’

  ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, the nuclear family isn’t the norm these days.’

  ‘It may not be the norm, but I believe it’s the ideal. As a baby our son or daughter won’t care about royalty, but as an adolescent or adult, he or she may resent you for the rights you’re saying you’re prepared to withhold,’ he hammered.

  Damn him. The suggestion instantly ate at her and she felt her brow furrow. She hadn’t thought about it like that. Hell. She hadn’t thought about the whole royalty aspect at all before he arrived here and rammed it down her throat, because that sort of pomp simply wasn’t important to her. ‘This is all so complicated.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be. I’m offering you the world on a plate. As my wife you’d have access to a lifestyle most women can only dream about.’

  Her arms uncrossed rapidly and she had to contain herself from strangling him. ‘I can’t believe you said that. You insult me by suggesting I’ll be tempted by your money? When are you going to understand? I’m not most women. I’ll never be defined by who I marry and I’m not tying myself to a man who thinks I could possibly value material things over elements like love and trust, which I believe are paramount in any marriage.’

  ‘Forgive me.’ Instant remorse crossed his features. ‘You’re right. That was grossly insulting and extremely unfair. It was also a statement that speaks more of my desperation to convince you to marry me rather than a reflection upon you.’

  His instant apology mollified her.

  Holding out his hands, palms up he tried again to sway her. ‘I believe you’re not interested in my money or my title, but please understand that our child will have a lot more opportunities because of his or her title and because of my wealth and connections.’

  ‘It’s not as if I’m in the poorhouse. While I don’t have your fortune, I can still afford to raise this baby in a comfortable lifestyle, and my dad will also be involved for moral support and guidance. I’m not going to be doing this alone.’

  His hands dropped to his sides. ‘You won’t be alone, because I’ll be there for our child and for you, and I’m not merely talking about financial support.’

  ‘A miserable marriage wouldn’t be in the best interests of any child.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I’d be miserable in a loveless marriage, and despite what you originally thought of me, I have no desire to live the way you do.’

  ‘You don’t know how I live.’

  ‘I do.’ She could never be his wife and lover and fit into his world, and she didn’t want to because she was very comfortable in her own world. ‘Your glamorous lifestyle is vastly different to the one I want. I could never be happy teetering around in high heels, weighed down by jewels and schmoozing with the rich and famous over endless glasses of champagne.’

  His mouth firmed and she saw anger flare in his eyes that she’d drawn such a superficial comparison. ‘That’s not how I live my life.’

  ‘I enjoy my life here. It’s more real—more connected to everyday life.’

  ‘How do you know what you want when the image of the swing seat on the porch is obviously all you’ve ever visualised—all you’ve probably ever allowed yourself to visualise—and the only life you’ve ever lived? You have no idea of the circles in which I move or of what your life could be like as my wife.’

  ‘Of course I do. I was at Lidia’s weekend party, remember? It is so not my scene.’

  ‘It isn’t my scene either.’

  ‘Right.’ The word dripped sarcasm. ‘You don’t normally dress up in a tuxedo and spend your nights going to gala charity functions, opening nights at the theatre or at royal balls rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous?’ She knew he did. She’d seen pictures of him on the internet at all those types of events—often with glamorous women on his arm.

  ‘You don’t enjoy going to the theatre or to a party?’

  She ignored his question and tried again to highlight the differences between them. ‘I looked you up on the internet and found out you live in London’s most elite suburb. You’re a prince, for God’s sake, and I’m an ordinary person.’

  ‘You’re far from ordinary,’ he said with a disbelieving shake of his head. ‘You just helped a lot of people achieve j
ustice. While I haven’t done anything like that, I, too, help where I can. Those charitable functions, at which you scoff, help raise a lot of money for people in need. My presence helps boost the profile of the events and attracts those who have deep pockets and are likely to contribute financially to the causes,’ he lectured. ‘Even while I strive to keep my bank profitable, I ensure we’re not ripping people off with exorbitant interest rates—that the ordinary person can still have access to funds to finance their dreams.’ He paused, and when she remained silent he argued, ‘My friendship group is relatively small but every one of my friends is very down-to-earth.’

  ‘Really?’ She arched an eyebrow in scepticism. ‘I read only a couple of days ago that you’re about to be in the wedding party for the King of Santaliana.’

  ‘Your point?’

  ‘I don’t imagine the king is down-to-earth.’

  ‘Then you misjudge him.’

  ‘I’ll bet he’s not the only one of your friends who has a castle or more wealth than the average GDP of some nations.’ But even as she spoke the words, she realised her swipes were unfair. He could hardly help how privileged his friends were when he’d been born a prince.

  His eyes widened and an expression of illumination crossed his features. ‘I can’t believe I was so wrong when I feared the worst about you. You’re so far from a gold-digger you’re at the other end of the spectrum. You’re an inverted snob.’

  ‘I’m nothing of the sort,’ she denied indignantly and tried to convince herself he was wrong. ‘I simply know that the world my mother lives in is not one I’d ever willingly occupy.’

  ‘Ah. There we have it.’ He pointed a finger at her in accusation. ‘Listen to what you said, Chloe. This is all about your mother, but she isn’t part of my world and nobody I’m close to socialises with her. She’s a fake—a social climber who has nothing in common with my family or friends.’

  Letting out a pent-up breath, she wondered how to respond.