Society Secrets. Sharon Kendrick

      It was the first time she’d actually thought of Ben as a Prince and, although the mother in her thrilled with pride, the title terrified her as well. Because didn’t it seem an awfully distancing thing—to be a royal Prince? Especially since she was just a commoner…

      ‘We don’t have to stay living there if you think it’s so awful!’ she declared wildly, because the expression which was darkening his arrogant features was really beginning to unsettle her.

      ‘You mean you’d let me buy you somewhere bigger?’ he suggested softly.

      She walked straight into it. ‘If that’s what you want.’

      ‘Ah! So you don’t mind accepting my money, after all, Melissa? A remarkable change of heart. How come I’m not surprised?’

      Now he was making her sound like some kind of cheap gold-digger. Twisting everything she uttered so that she felt as if she were in some sort of verbal maze—with everything she said leading nowhere. ‘I thought that’s what you wanted,’ she said, in confusion.

      ‘No, it is not what I want!’ he snapped. ‘I can just imagine what outcome buying you a big place and settling you with a suitable income would produce. Why, you’d have every male in the vicinity sniffing around you as if all their Christmases had come at once!’

      ‘You’re disgusting!’

      ‘No, Melissa—I am being practical. Make a woman rich and she becomes a target.’

      ‘And make her poor and she becomes a puppet?’ she retorted.

      At this he gave a glimmer of a smile and leaned back in his chair—and maybe he had given some kind of sign to the staff because their untouched plates of fish were whisked away and Melissa’s glass of water refreshed.

      It was time to call her bluff, he thought.

      ‘Okay. Have it your way.’ He laced his long fingers together and Melissa saw the shiny gold signet ring glinting on his little finger. ‘No marriage—if that’s what you want.’

      Now she felt as if she were in a hall of mirrors—where reality was distorted differently every time she tried to examine it. Melissa frowned. ‘But…but…you just said it was non-negotiable.’

      ‘And you charmingly responded by implying that I would have to drag you down the aisle.’ His eyes tossed her a silent, mocking challenge. ‘I agree, not exactly the best public relations exercise for Zaffirinthos. So we won’t get married and obviously I will have to make some kind of financial provision for Ben. You’ll need to live somewhere secure—because once it comes out that he’s a royal baby you will be subjected to all kinds of inducements and attempts to exploit that.’

      ‘From crazies?’ she echoed sarcastically.

      Oh, but her defiance and her sharp tongue inflamed him! Would make his inevitable victory all the sweeter. ‘That’s right.’ Leaning back in his chair, he studied her. ‘And, naturally, we’ll have to draw up some kind of legal settlement.’

      ‘Settlement?’ A sense of wariness began to creep over her.

      ‘Of course.’ He sent her a look of cool challenge. ‘While Ben can never be acknowledged as my legal heir because he is illegitimate—nonetheless I still wish to have an equal say in his upbringing.’

      It was the word illegitimate which leapt out at her like a dark spectre. An old-fashioned word which wasn’t used much any more because having a baby out of wedlock was no longer considered shameful in the way it had been in the bad old days. But Casimiro was making it sound shameful. Was that deliberate? she wondered.

      ‘Equal say?’ she repeated, swallowing down the terrible nameless fear which was beginning to well up inside her.

      ‘Well, that is only fair, Melissa—and supremely modern. And presumably what you want.’

      She was tempted to tell him not to presume anything about her but backbiting was a luxury she could ill afford—not when she was desperately trying to keep her wits about her. Because it felt as if he was playing some kind of cruel and sophisticated game with her only he hadn’t bothered to tell her the rules. Had he really said that he wanted to be fair and modern? Why, he was the least fair and modern man she’d ever met!

      ‘Ben will need to spend time with me,’ he continued. ‘And of course, much of his schooling will need to be done on the island.’

      ‘His schooling?’

      ‘Where else will he learn to become fluent in Greek and Italian?’ questioned Casimiro sardonically. ‘In Walton-on-Thames? He will also need to understand the island’s culture since it is his heritage. Because when I do marry, any legitimate son I may have will inherit the crown—but Ben will always be able to play a significant role within the kingdom. If he wants to.’

      Everything he had said to her was like being slapped in the face with a cold fish, but one phrase hit her with greater force than any other. So hard, it made her feel as if she were reeling from the impact. ‘M-marry?’

      Casimiro understood perfectly the stuttered and horrified word for he knew that a woman’s jealousy should never be underestimated. ‘If I’m staying on Zaffirinthos—which now I must—then I will need a wife.’ He smiled. ‘And in a way, your refusal to marry me has liberated me. This way, I’ll be able to find myself someone who’s much more suitable. Someone who will care for and love Ben when he is staying with us.’

      That did it. There were many disadvantages to bringing up a child on your own, but one of the benefits was that you didn’t have to share them—or not be able to see them 24/7. Melissa thought of another woman with Ben—being a pretend mother to him when she wasn’t around. Tucking him up at bedtimes and holding onto his chubby little hand. Perhaps even witnessing his first faltering steps or hearing him stumble out new words. Her son enjoying a parallel life which didn’t include her. Nausea rose in her throat and threatened to choke her. Anything would be better than that. Even marriage to Casimiro.

      She looked at him across the table, some inner voice urging her to stay calm—because what if he turned round and told her that it was too late and he’d changed his mind?

      ‘Actually, Casimiro—when I come to think of it—perhaps I was a little…well, hasty.’ Her fingers fluttered to the base of her throat where she could feel the mad racing of a pulse. ‘And perhaps, well, what I’m trying to say is that I would like to marry you, after all.’

      He waited for a moment, just long enough to see anxiety cloud those bright green eyes—and then Casimiro lifted the linen napkin to his lips to hide his smile of triumph.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      MELISSA’S whole life changed from the moment she agreed to marry Casimiro. One minute she was struggling to pay the bills and the next she was deciding whether a white wedding would be hypocritical. She tried telling herself that it was the same for every newly engaged woman—but deep down she knew that her experience was entirely different.

      Most women weren’t tearing out their roots and moving to an unknown land—a Mediterranean island where she was to be crowned Queen. And most women wouldn’t need to undergo a dramatic change of image before they walked down the aisle. To ‘look the part’—as Casimiro unemotionally informed her during that tense ride back to her apartment, after the fraught dinner when she’d agreed to be his wife.

      ‘I won’t make any kind of announcement until you’re ready, Melissa. Otherwise you won’t know a moment’s peace. The circus will start soon enough.’

      One word had jarred—along with the fact that he had been sitting on the far side of the car seat as if to emphasise the great gulf between them. ‘Ready?’