Page 33
Story: Crowned for His Son
She hid a flinch. ‘I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or feel angry that you’re lumping me in with everyone else.’
His eyes flared in surprise. Perhaps because she appeared to be pitying the man soon to ascend to an honest-to-goodness throne of a European empire—the kind of prince historians would write reams about—as if he was just a common man who deserved her kindness.
‘Save your sympathies, Eden. I learned to expertly navigate the dangerous pools of avarice and duplicity before I was out of adolescence.’
She lifted her chin, despite feeling her chest continuing to squeeze at the realisation that most of the things she’d heard about the vagaries of being royal might be true. That the grass truly wasn’t greener on the other side.
‘In that case, I guess my most important question is who’s going to take care of our son while we put on this…show?’
He had an efficient answer to that, of course.
It turned out that while they’d been flying to Paris from the West Coast of the USA, Azar had been flying nannies from the palace at Cartana.
Her mind continued to boggle at just how involved he’d become in the role of fatherhood even as her gut churned at this continued usurping of her control.
CHAPTER SIX
TWO THINGS STOPPEDher protesting.
The first was the young nanny, Nadia, who was delightfully cheerful and whom Max adored immediately.
The second was that she could hardly protest at leaving him for a couple of hours when she’d so often left him with Mrs Tolson for hours to go to work.
Still, she delivered extra kisses to his chubby cheek, her heart twinging as she watched him toddle off to bed, his hand clutched in Nadia’s.
‘He’ll be fine—or else someone will need to have serious answers for us,’ Azar threatened, with that chillingly even tone that made her double-take, because she could never tell whether he was truly ruffled or not.
His resolute gaze stated that he was deadly serious.
Which, again, shouldn’t have elevated her temperature or eased that tightness. But there she was, her steps much lighter, as she walked beside him to the private lift.
Bodyguards flanked them as they exited the hotel and moved towards the stretch limo awaiting them. The first she knew of the paparazzi’s presence was when a flash erupted on her left. Then another from her right bounced off the gold crystal-covered bustier and velvet skirt she wore.
Sabeen had returned to finish her wardrobe consultation, and Eden was glad for the confidence boost the exquisite House of Domene outfit, matching heels and clutch purse gave her.
Her hair had been pinned back off her face and left to fall in newly washed and styled waves down her back. She’d baulked at the priceless jewellery offered, her nerves way too frayed to add taking care of what she suspected was a nose-bleedingly expensive collection to her worries.
To his credit, if Azar had feelings about her lack of jewellery he’d chosen to remain silent on the matter, and his heated gaze raking over her told her that at least he didn’t find her too lacking.
‘Ignore them,’ Azar rasped, his hand in the small of her back guiding her to the open back door of the limo, heating her up in ways she didn’t want to dwell on.
Her senses were still erratic when they arrived at their location ten minutes later, and Eden stared up at the matte black and silver edifice of Le Cramoisie, wondering why her senses tingled so fiercely.
Stepping out of the car, once Ramon had given the driver the nod, she walked with Azar into the restaurant—and drew to a stop.
Low ambient lights illuminated a solitary impressively laid table, its two chairs set at perpendicular angles to each other. All the other tables and chairs had been lined up on the sides like silent soldiers, and not a single other soul graced the Michelin-starred establishment.
‘We’re the only ones here?’
‘I booked the place for the evening, so we won’t be disturbed,’ Azar replied.
She’d seen it in movies, read about it in glossy, unrealistic magazines. But despite having served some of the world’s wealthiest men at the Vegas casinos, and rejected the advances of several, Eden had never imagined such a thing would happen to her. And, yes, while it was OTT in the extreme, she couldn’t stop the waves of excitement that rolled through her.
‘If that’s okay with you, of course?’ he tagged on.
She curbed the fizz of fireworks exploding in her belly with the timely reminder that there was always a price to pay. It quickly soured her excitement.
‘And if I said it wasn’t?’
His eyes flared in surprise. Perhaps because she appeared to be pitying the man soon to ascend to an honest-to-goodness throne of a European empire—the kind of prince historians would write reams about—as if he was just a common man who deserved her kindness.
‘Save your sympathies, Eden. I learned to expertly navigate the dangerous pools of avarice and duplicity before I was out of adolescence.’
She lifted her chin, despite feeling her chest continuing to squeeze at the realisation that most of the things she’d heard about the vagaries of being royal might be true. That the grass truly wasn’t greener on the other side.
‘In that case, I guess my most important question is who’s going to take care of our son while we put on this…show?’
He had an efficient answer to that, of course.
It turned out that while they’d been flying to Paris from the West Coast of the USA, Azar had been flying nannies from the palace at Cartana.
Her mind continued to boggle at just how involved he’d become in the role of fatherhood even as her gut churned at this continued usurping of her control.
CHAPTER SIX
TWO THINGS STOPPEDher protesting.
The first was the young nanny, Nadia, who was delightfully cheerful and whom Max adored immediately.
The second was that she could hardly protest at leaving him for a couple of hours when she’d so often left him with Mrs Tolson for hours to go to work.
Still, she delivered extra kisses to his chubby cheek, her heart twinging as she watched him toddle off to bed, his hand clutched in Nadia’s.
‘He’ll be fine—or else someone will need to have serious answers for us,’ Azar threatened, with that chillingly even tone that made her double-take, because she could never tell whether he was truly ruffled or not.
His resolute gaze stated that he was deadly serious.
Which, again, shouldn’t have elevated her temperature or eased that tightness. But there she was, her steps much lighter, as she walked beside him to the private lift.
Bodyguards flanked them as they exited the hotel and moved towards the stretch limo awaiting them. The first she knew of the paparazzi’s presence was when a flash erupted on her left. Then another from her right bounced off the gold crystal-covered bustier and velvet skirt she wore.
Sabeen had returned to finish her wardrobe consultation, and Eden was glad for the confidence boost the exquisite House of Domene outfit, matching heels and clutch purse gave her.
Her hair had been pinned back off her face and left to fall in newly washed and styled waves down her back. She’d baulked at the priceless jewellery offered, her nerves way too frayed to add taking care of what she suspected was a nose-bleedingly expensive collection to her worries.
To his credit, if Azar had feelings about her lack of jewellery he’d chosen to remain silent on the matter, and his heated gaze raking over her told her that at least he didn’t find her too lacking.
‘Ignore them,’ Azar rasped, his hand in the small of her back guiding her to the open back door of the limo, heating her up in ways she didn’t want to dwell on.
Her senses were still erratic when they arrived at their location ten minutes later, and Eden stared up at the matte black and silver edifice of Le Cramoisie, wondering why her senses tingled so fiercely.
Stepping out of the car, once Ramon had given the driver the nod, she walked with Azar into the restaurant—and drew to a stop.
Low ambient lights illuminated a solitary impressively laid table, its two chairs set at perpendicular angles to each other. All the other tables and chairs had been lined up on the sides like silent soldiers, and not a single other soul graced the Michelin-starred establishment.
‘We’re the only ones here?’
‘I booked the place for the evening, so we won’t be disturbed,’ Azar replied.
She’d seen it in movies, read about it in glossy, unrealistic magazines. But despite having served some of the world’s wealthiest men at the Vegas casinos, and rejected the advances of several, Eden had never imagined such a thing would happen to her. And, yes, while it was OTT in the extreme, she couldn’t stop the waves of excitement that rolled through her.
‘If that’s okay with you, of course?’ he tagged on.
She curbed the fizz of fireworks exploding in her belly with the timely reminder that there was always a price to pay. It quickly soured her excitement.
‘And if I said it wasn’t?’
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