The Princess and the Player

The damage was far more widespread than he’d hoped. “Why did you leave before I could explain about Maisey?”

“Maisey? Is that your girlfriend’s name?” Her eyes widened and she huffed out a little noise of disgust. “Surely you didn’t expect me to sit around and wait for you to give me the boot.”

“Maisey is my daughter,” he countered quietly. “Chelsea is her mother. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you about this myself. I’m very unhappy with my father for interfering.”

“Well, that couldn’t have happened if you’d just told me from the beginning.” He could tell by her narrowed gaze that she’d already tried and convicted him. “Why couldn’t you be honest with me?”

“I was going to tell you. But you left first.” With no clue as to where she was going. Was that her way of saying a lover with a kid was no bueno? Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades as he scrambled for the right thing to say. “Why didn’t you wait for me to call like we discussed?”

“Wait for you to—are you mad at me? You’re the one who should be on your knees begging my forgiveness. And you know what else? I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

She stormed to the elevator and he followed her, only just squeezing through the doors before they closed.

Obviously that hadn’t been the right thing to say. And she was far more furious than he’d have ever dreamed. Yeah, he’d messed up by giving his father an opportunity to get between them, but hadn’t he just flown thousands of miles to fix it? Shouldn’t he at least get two minutes to make his case?

Or was it too late and was he just wasting his time?

“Actually,” he countered as anxiety seized his lungs. “An explanation would be smashing. Because I don’t understand why you don’t want to hear what I have to say. I thought we were a couple who dealt with things together.”

And now he was shouting back at her. Good thing the elevator was empty.

He’d thought they were headed for something permanent. He had little experience with that sort of thing, but he didn’t think jetting off to another continent without so much as a conversation about the potential complexities was how you did it.

He’d wanted to talk to her about Maisey. To share his fears and ask her opinion. To feel less alone with this huge life-altering role change that had been dropped on him. Even the simple logistics of flying to New York hadn’t been so simple, not the way it used to be. It had required him to sweet-talk Catalina, one of the Rowling maids, into babysitting Maisey—totally not her job, but Cat was the only person James trusted implicitly since they’d grown up together. As soon as he got back, finding a nanny for his daughter was priority number one.

She wheeled on him, staring down her nose at him, which was an impressive feat since he was a head taller. “A couple? Really? Do you tell Chelsea the same thing? I saw you two together. You must have had a good laugh at my expense.”

“You saw me and Chelsea together? When?”

“The day I left Alma. Don’t shake your head at me. I saw you. You were very cozy in that gazebo.”

Gazebo? He’d never set foot in any gazebo.

“That would be a little difficult when Chelsea and I were in my lawyer’s office signing paperwork to give me sole custody of Maisey.” They’d obtained the results of the fastest paternity test available and then James had spent a good deal more cash greasing the works so he could be rid of Chelsea as soon as possible. “And then she immediately left to go back to England.”

He’d been relieved to have it done. The meeting with his lawyers had taken far longer than he’d expected but he had to deal with that for his daughter’s sake before he could untangle himself to go talk to Bella. Unfortunately, those few hours had given his father the perfect window of opportunity to drive a wedge between James and Bella.

“She...what?” For the first time since he’d entered the elevator, Bella’s furious expression wavered.

“Yeah. I came to tell you everything but you’d apparently just left. Gabriel gave me some lame explanation, so I texted you, remember?”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened but Bella didn’t move, her expression shell-shocked. Gently, he guided her out of the elevator and she led him to the door of one of the apartments down the hall.

Once they were alone in the condo, James raised his brows in silent question.

“I remember your text message. Clearly,” Bella allowed. “If Chelsea left, who were you kissing in the gazebo?”

“Kissing? You thought I was kissing someone?” His temper rose again. “Thanks for the lack of trust, Bella. That’s why you took off? Because you thought I was two-timing you?”