Prince's Son of Scandal

“But picture your grandmother’s face if we did.”

He choked out a laugh, turning his face away, shoulders shaking. “You’re funny when you’re high, I’ll say that much.”

“You should laugh more.”

He looked back at her with an expression she couldn’t decipher. Regret maybe, but something like appreciation?

She closed her eyes against his sorcery.

“Did you know, bella? Is that why you said those things before you went in?”

“I don’t get into trouble on purpose,” she grumbled, ignoring the number of times Ramon had accused her of doing exactly that. “And I don’t apologize when I do. It makes people feel good when they help me. My whole medical team is feeling super heroic right now.”

He let out another incredulous laugh. “That is some seriously backward logic. Exactly how ripped are you?”

“Admit it. This morning you were ambivalent about having a son. Now you’re grateful. You’re welcome for the clarity.”

Stunned comprehension seemed to blank his face, but she didn’t gloat.

“I want to see him.” She weakly squeezed the hand that gripped hers. “Is he beautiful? Does he look like you?”

“He looks mad.” His voice wasn’t quite steady. More emotion shifted across his profile, things she couldn’t interpret. Concern? “He wants you.”

It’s the drugs, she warned herself, even as her heart turned over with sweetness that he might feel something on their son’s behalf. Don’t start seeing things that aren’t there.

She didn’t doubt he’d been worried on some level when he thought she would die. He wasn’t a monster, but he had made it abundantly clear that his heart was beyond reach. He was capable of kindness, but that was the limit.

His phone buzzed. “That’s your family. I’ll let them know you’re awake. Smile.” He held up his phone to take her photo.

She stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes. “Tell them we named him Sadiq.”

“That’s the friend whose wedding you attended earlier this year, isn’t it? His wife would object, wouldn’t she?” He tapped the screen.

“She would stab me in the eye. That’s why it’s funny.”

“I’ll tell them his name is Tyrol.” He leaned down to press a kiss between her brows. “I like your eyes the way they are.”

“Xavier?” She touched the side of his head, keeping him from straightening. “It’s really confusing when you’re nice to me.”

His thumb traced near the corner of her mouth. “I never said I didn’t like you, bella. You do make things hard. All of this is hard. But I am grateful for our son.”

And me?

His eyes were an endless blue that only grew more intense the further she fell into them, but even in her muddy-minded state, she knew better than to ask.

And he didn’t say.

CHAPTER NINE

XAVIER LEFT FOR Australia ten days later.

Trella and Tyrol were released from the hospital and went directly to her family’s compound in southern Spain. Her brother was in residence with his four-month-old twin girls. Her mother was there, along with a team of nannies and servants and guards. Xavier could not have arranged better, safer care for either of them.

Trella had bounced back from near-death with startling cheer, pouring such tenderness and joy over their son Xavier almost thought it was fake; it was so far removed from anything he had ever experienced himself. Her words from pre-op kept echoing in his head. Our child needs to know what love is.

Did he? Because the limited feelings Xavier had allowed himself to feel toward her had amplified his fear when her surgery had gone sideways. This level of concern for someone wasn’t comfortable. Was he a bad parent for setting up his son to love and possibly to lose?

He needed distance as a buffer against becoming more deeply invested in both of them so he went to Australia as scheduled. He hated every single one of the thirty days he was gone, which only underscored why the separation was necessary, he supposed.

It didn’t help that things went exactly as he had warned his grandmother they would. He answered the same question so many times he muddled his lines at one point.

“The plan was tripped last year.”

The blond newscaster tittered.

“The trip was planned,” he corrected, yanking his mind back from Spain to Adelaide and the trade talks he’d been in. “The early birth made it possible for me to travel as scheduled. I was on the brink of canceling, which would have been a shame.”

Several handshake deals were already moving toward more formal agreements. His adherence to duty was producing much-needed results.