Prince's Son of Scandal

Xavier fetched his own drink and offered to tap glasses, experiencing envy as he thought of Kasim sharing the moment of discovery and every single day of the pregnancy, along with the birth. Feeling robbed was not a new sensation for him. He got over it quickly, but he wondered if Kasim realized how lucky he was, able to go through this process as many times as his wife was up for.

He could, too, he supposed, with Patrizia.

His brandy tasted like snake venom. He abandoned it.

“I’d like you to consider something,” Kasim said, sounding like someone unused to requesting favors. “Closer to the birth, I’d like Trella to come to Zhamair.”

A strange void opened in Xavier. “We won’t be married any longer.” It took enormous effort to state that with equanimity. “Trella may go where she pleases.” The knowledge knotted his gut.

Kasim’s smile tightened. “I expect she’ll want to bring Tyrol. I know Angelique will want to see him by then.”

Which would require Xavier’s permission. He instantly rejected the idea. He had sent Trella to Spain while he’d traveled Australia before he’d realized how unbearable it would be. The King of Zhamair was not plotting to steal his son, he was sure, but at least if Tyrol stayed in Elazar, he knew Trella would come back.

He looked away, disturbed by the dependence that train of thought suggested.

“It was very hard on Angelique to be apart from Trella when Tyrol was born.” Kasim took a healthy sip of brandy, like he needed it, and hissed out his breath. “She fainted when Trella flatlined. Then your text came through and I realized why. She was hysterical until Trella was revived.”

So was I, Xavier could have said, but they were already sharing far past his usual level. He loathed thinking about those long terrifying minutes. It put him in a cold sweat.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said woodenly, mostly to end the discussion. Doing a favor for one of the most powerful men in the Middle East was a smart move, he reasoned, but was repelled by the idea of using his son for political gain.

Duty. It wasn’t a double-edged sword. It was two branding irons pressing him front and back, pinning him in place, allowing no escape and only sinking deeper into his flesh when he tried.

Much later, when the couple had left, he was still thinking about where the line was drawn. Would his grandmother say Tyrol was doing his duty by going to Zhamair, cultivating warm relations with a foreign entity?

The poor boy didn’t even know what he was in for. He lay unswaddled in Trella’s lap, gaze wandering the ceiling, arms flailing and fingers catching in the curtains of her loose hair as she looked over him.

“Who gets another cousin?” she asked the boy with soft excitement.

Xavier sat with his feet propped on the ottoman. Her top afforded him a lovely view down her cleavage and her gentle laughter was as erotic as her tickling hair might feel, sweeping across his skin. It was sheer torture to sit here, wanting without having, but far too soon he wouldn’t even have this much so he savored the pain.

“Did you know she was pregnant? Before she told you? Kasim made it sound like you have a supernatural link.” He was skeptical, but Angelique had called her that time in the car, seeming to know Trella’s panic attack was upon her.

“Was he worried I spied on them while they were making that baby?” She lifted her head, so stunning, with amusement curving her lips, that his heart lurched. “No, it’s nothing like that. More an emotional thing.” Her smile faded. “I should have realized how happy she was, but I’ve been distracted.”

Pensive because of him. Upset. At least she was talking to him again.

“Do you feel it with your brothers?”

“They’re too pigheaded, especially Ramon. Isn’t he?” she said to Tyrol. “Tío Ramon is a toro.” A bull.

“But you still love them.” Xavier was beginning to see how love wasn’t just a romantic notion, or even a desire, for her. It was as vital to her as oxygen. It drove the very blood in her veins.

“I love them very much,” she agreed, sober and ultra-gentle as she kissed Tyrol’s bare feet. “They got me through my darkest times. I hung on because of them. Pushed through for them. Now I have Tyrol.” She dipped to nuzzle his tummy, making his little arms jerk.

You have me, Xavier thought, but thorns had invaded his windpipe. He was starkly aware he couldn’t pledge anything more than the pittance he’d already offered.

“You never wished for brothers or sisters?” Her head came up. “Your mother didn’t have more children?”

“My father has a daughter. Maybe three or four years old by now? My mother has two boys. Teenagers, I think.”