One Night Of Consequences Collection. Annie West

dream he’d often had over the last fourteen months winged into his consciousness. It had always been about a child of indiscriminate gender. But the eyes had always been emerald-green and ringed with brown curly lashes. Usually the baby then became the woman, which was when he usually woke up. Usually sweating. Usually cursing.

      * * *

      He thought about her claim that she hadn’t run away from him. The different surname. His gut tightened. Was he being played for a fool? And what was up with the buffoon who had tried to defend her? The one who had trod off like a trained seal at her bidding.

      Seeing Imogen with her arm linked through his, that sweet smile on her face that could fell an army of warriors...another screw in his gut turned.

      She lived with him. He knew that and the water turned sour in his mouth. He’d nearly decked the guy when he’d tried to keep him from her. As if he’d had a chance. On some level he knew his reaction wasn’t logical, but logic had never been his firm friend when she was around.

      He glanced over as she laughed at something Nadeena had done. He had always loved her laugh. Deep and throaty and redolent of all the pent-up passion of her personality. She had laughed a lot when they had been together. Laughed and teased him as no one else ever had. And she had done it right away, something he’d found as sexy as hell. As sexy as he found her now in faded denims and a simple cotton T-shirt. As sexy as he found her—

      Breathing? a mocking voice in his head suggested.

      No, Nadir silently snarled back.

      And why was he even thinking like this? Brooding over things he couldn’t change wouldn’t make this whole situation any easier. It didn’t matter that he had never met a woman who affected him as strongly—or as quickly—as Imogen. It didn’t matter that she made him angry or frustrated or horny or hell—guilty. What mattered was that they get married and make the best of the situation.

      What mattered was that he was a father.

       A father.

      Hell. The thought rocked him. But he knew it was true. He had known the minute the kid had looked up at him with his twin sister’s soulful eyes staring back at him. His eyes. And Imogen had given her an Arabic name as if she’d been racked with guilt over knowing she was never going to tell him about his child. Anger rolled through his blood, thick and renewed, and he recalled how she’d called him a bully. Did she just expect him to give up on his daughter without a fight? Whether she liked it or not, he had a hundred options up his sleeve. And he didn’t give a damn how Imogen felt about that because he wanted his daughter.

      He had wanted Nadeena—truly wanted her—from the moment he had looked at her with her chubby hands fisted on Imogen’s soft breast and her wide eyes staring up at him as if she was trying to learn everything about him, as if she was looking directly into his soul. He swallowed heavily. He’d taken one look at her and he’d been...he’d been smitten.

      It had been the same the first time he had looked at Imogen and felt that his life would never be the same again.

      Hell. What was he thinking?

      His life hadn’t changed when he’d first laid eyes on Imogen. They had only been having an affair.

      No, his life had changed when she had become pregnant with his baby. And now hers was about to change and he had no doubt that she would acquiesce when she got down from her high horse and realised how much he could provide for her. He nearly laughed. As if she hadn’t already thought of that.

      But that was okay. He could live with her wanting him for his money. It would be a small price to pay to know that his daughter was safe and well.

      He signalled the hostess waiting to serve them. This was going to be okay.

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘Coffee, please and...’ he glanced at Imogen ‘...food for Miss Reid—Benson. I haven’t noticed her eating anything yet.’

      ‘Miss Benson said she’s not hungry, sir.’

      Nadir checked out the thin outline of her once curvy body. ‘Give her something anyway. Have the chef cook up Aubergine Provençal.’

      ‘I’m sorry, sir. What was that?’

      Yeah, what was that? He scowled. ‘An omelette, then. Something. Anything. Just as long as it’s vegetarian.’

      ‘Of course, sir.’

      Nadir flipped open his laptop, determined to focus on work for the rest of the trip. Once he renounced the throne tomorrow and married Imogen his life could get back to normal. Or as normal as it would be with a wife and a child and why didn’t that notion bother him half as much as it had fourteen months ago?

      * * *

       Marriage?

      The word clunked around in Imogen’s brain for the millionth time like a giant-sized anvil and she hoped to God Nadir was at this very minute coming to his senses and seeing how ridiculous the idea was.

       The best solution...

      Of course there were other solutions, and she’d looked some up on her phone as she’d waited for his plane to take off. Not that she wanted to head down the shared custody route and she was sure—once he had calmed down and thought rationally—that neither would he. What rich playboy would? Especially once he learned how detrimental having a child would be to his bachelor lifestyle and she had every intention of pointing it out to him. Because, although she didn’t think those things, she knew that once the reality of parenthood set in Nadir would never take his responsibilities seriously. Not with his reputation as a serial dater. No, he wasn’t the faithful type and she’d been serious when she’d told him she wouldn’t marry him.

      And he couldn’t force her. No one could do that in this day and age. The worst he could do was to take her to court and fight for custody of Nadeena. And that was... She swallowed heavily, her eyes darting across the aisle to where he was ensconced in work. Could he win? Would a court of law side with his sob story that she had run away with Nadeena?

      Not that she had run; she’d simply taken charge of her life. Taken charge without him in it. And he hadn’t wanted to be in it. Or at least that was the message she had taken from his acerbic text.

      She still remembered with embarrassing clarity the burst of happiness she had felt when it had pinged into her phone. It had sat there for a full five minutes before she had clicked on it and by then her heart had constructed a full-on fairy tale around what it would say. She had imagined that the text would confirm that he’d had time to think about things and he missed her. That he wanted her in his life. That he wanted their baby. In fact the foolishly sentimental organ in her body had imagined every possible thing he could have written except for what he had.

      Imogen, there is a DNA test that can be done while the child is in utero. I have organised an appointment for you at a specialist. If the child is mine I will be in contact.

      Devastated by his callousness and influenced by Caro’s dire warnings, Imogen had left. And really, what had been the alternative? To write back to him and plead? Are you sure you don’t want our baby? Are you sure you don’t want me? She did have some pride.

      A delicious smell wafted into the cabin and Imogen’s stomach growled as a flight attendant stopped beside her.

      ‘The chef has prepared an omelette for you, Miss Benson. It’s vegetarian.’

      ‘Oh.’ How had the chef known she was vegetarian? ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t order this.’

      ‘Prince Nadir ordered it for you.’

      Imogen glanced across at the man she was trying hard to think about rationally. Objectively. Something that was almost impossible, given his startling demands and that kiss...

      Kiss? She felt a blush heat her cheeks. That kiss had shattered her equilibrium.