Soldier Prince's Secret Baby Gift. Kate Hardy

with the impression that, as an eligible bachelor, Prince Antonio had hundreds of women calling, claiming they ‘knew’ him because they had shaken his hand once or attended an event where he was on the guest list. The palace secretary clearly thought she was just another in a long line of unwanted callers, and he wasn’t going to put her through.

      Miles had been kind enough. He’d asked her if he could help. He’d asked her to tell him what the problem was.

      But how could she let news like this go through a third party, no matter how discreet he seemed or how well he knew Antonio? This was something she needed to tell the Prince herself. That their one night together, the night that was supposed to give them both comfort and never be referred to again, had had consequences.

      She’d tried to explain that Antonio knew her brother; but Miles had asked in that kind but immovable way exactly how Antonio knew her brother, and she’d ended up in tears of frustration.

      How could the palace secretary not even know the names of the people who were on Antonio’s team in the international alliance? Surely he’d know information like that?

      Frustrated and miserable, she’d ended the call.

      She’d tried a dozen times now to talk to Antonio, to tell him about the baby.

      And failed a dozen times, too.

      She didn’t have his email address, and even if she did she suspected that someone else—probably Miles Montague, or one of his team—would check through the messages before they reached Antonio, weeding out the ones they judged unimportant or inappropriate, which would definitely include hers. The same would go for letters. Any message she left would be blocked just as effectively as her phone calls had been blocked.

      It left her with no other alternative. She’d have to go to Casavalle herself to tell him about the baby. Face to face.

      If she sat on Antonio’s doorstep and refused to budge, they’d have to let her talk to him. And she could tell him the news—well, as she was six months pregnant, he’d be able to see that quite well enough for himself, she thought wryly—and then leave.

      Originally, she hadn’t intended to tell him at all. She hadn’t realised for a couple of months that she was pregnant; then, when she’d finally realised her period was a lot later than usual and did a test, she’d seen the centre spread in the celebrity magazine she’d bought for her mum as a treat. A story about Prince Antonio of Casavalle, speculating which of the four women who’d graced his arm that month might be his future bride.

      How ironic. Tia had thought she’d had a glimpse of the real Prince, the man her brother had been friends with—but maybe he was exactly what the media said he was. He hadn’t really needed her to comfort him, that night, because he had strings of women ready to comfort him. And she’d been so angry at herself for being a fool that it had taken her mum another month to talk her round into telling Antonio about her pregnancy.

      Six weeks later, she still hadn’t told him—though not for the want of trying.

      She grimaced. She didn’t expect anything from him, either for herself or for the baby, and she certainly wasn’t looking for a cash handout or anything like that. Antonio had been her brother’s friend, and she owed it to him to tell him that the baby existed. And that was the limit of their obligations to each other, because their lives were too different for anything else to happen.

      She flicked into the Internet. The cheapest flight to Casavalle would get her in at about half-past eight tomorrow evening. She had no idea how far it was from the airport to the palace, but even though she wouldn’t have to wait to collect her luggage she would still have to go through airport security and customs. Maybe she’d get to the palace at ten p.m.—which was way too late for anyone to be admitted to the palace offices.

      To get there for the early afternoon… She scanned the flight schedules. She’d have to leave London really early in the morning and change planes at Rome, and she’d have a two-hour layover in between. Plus the flight was a lot more expensive. It was money she could really do with elsewhere in her budget; but if she got the cheaper flight and stayed at a hotel overnight, it would cost even more, and she couldn’t waste money that she needed to spend on the baby.

      She stroked her bump. ‘Hopefully we’ll find somewhere quiet to sit at the airport, and we’ll get a taxi from the airport to the palace.’ She’d ask to speak to Miles Montague. And as soon as he saw her he’d realise exactly why it was so important for her to talk to Antonio. Then she could deliver her message—and go home.

      Wednesday. ‘Hump day’, they called it in civilian jobs. The middle of the week.

      Except you didn’t get a day off from being a prince, Antonio thought.

      And you particularly didn’t get a day off when you had a long-lost older sister who was very probably going to be the one taking their father’s place as the ruler of the kingdom, and an older brother whose fiancée had told him on the eve of their wedding that she was pregnant with her true love’s baby, resulting in the royal wedding that the whole country had been looking forward to being cancelled at the last minute. The Asturias family were just as keen as the Valentis to minimise the scandal, so they’d issued a joint statement to the media that the wedding had been cancelled due to ‘irreconcilable differences’ between the bride and groom.

      Luca, wanting to get away from the palace, had gone to meet their long-lost half-sister Gabriella in Canada; which meant that, instead of their original plan of Antonio being the one to go over and meet Gabriella, he was stuck here.

      In charge of the country.

      Something he’d never really expected to happen, despite being third in line to the throne. He’d thought his father would go on for ever, and then Luca would take over, and then Luca and Princess Meribel would have children who would be next in line.

      But, this last year, their lives had been turned upside down. Everything he’d thought he knew turned out not to be true.

      Life at the palace was turning out to be much more stressful than taking part in dangerous missions in the army. At least as a soldier Antonio had known what he was doing. He’d had a strategy. He’d had a team he could rely on. They were all working on the same side; his team listened to him, as their leader, and he’d had a brilliant second-in-command in Nathan. In Casavalle, things were nowhere near as clear cut. It was so easy to misinterpret words and put the wrong spin on things; the most innocent comment could swiftly turn into a political nightmare.

      Just one day, he thought wistfully. He’d love to have just one single day where he could have the time to gather his thoughts instead of constantly firefighting and dealing with political situations. Had it been like that for their father? Was that why King Vincenzo had always been so remote and distant, even from his sons, because he’d simply been worn out from watching every single word or expression or gesture?

      At the rap on his open door, Antonio looked up to see the palace secretary standing there.

      ‘Good afternoon, Miles. What can I do for you?’ he asked, forcing a smile and hoping that whatever the secretary wanted from him wasn’t going to mean yet more politics and media attention.

      ‘Sir,’ Miles began.

      The palace secretary was usually unflappable. Right now he looked distinctly nervous and Antonio’s heart sank. Was the palace about to be hit with yet another scandal? They said things came in threes, and a long-lost princess and a broken engagement because the bride was pregnant by someone else definitely counted as two…

      This felt like living in a television soap opera. And Antonio wasn’t enjoying the drama one little bit. Yet again, he wished he was back in the army. Back in the job he was really good at.

      ‘What is it?’ he asked.

      ‘I have someone asking to see you.’

      Why would Miles