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Aside from being patently untrue—spirited Sofi´a could never be found lacking versus his chilly soon-to-be fiancée—the racy headlines weren’t helping his merger with the Agiero family. Although when it came to Vittoria, it was hard to tell if it was just her stiff demeanor or that her nose was, in fact, out of joint. He had dined with her three times now and was actually wondering how he was going to psyche himself up to bed her. Beautiful she might be; engaging and personable she was not.
Unfortunately, he and the countess were announcing their engagement next week and his choice of who to bed would be forever taken away from him. As it had been with everything else.
His chest tightened at the thought of what he’d had and what he’d lost. Things that would never be given back to him. His brother. His life. The world as he’d known it. It was like opening a can of worms, thinking about it. He’d tried not to.
His life had been a living hell since he’d come back to Akathinia, his father’s recovery slow, his country’s recovery from its crown prince’s death equally lengthy and sorrow-ridden, particularly given Carnelia’s failure to deliver anything other than a formally worded apology via messenger. As if that would ever do.
His coronation had been a blur. He was fairly sure he had processed little of it, his only focus his increasingly verbose neighbor who continued to insist Akathinia was better off back within the Catharian island fold—a desire that Nik knew was motivated by economic reasons. Carnelia’s economy was struggling, had been for years, and Akathinia was prospering. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.
And, if he were to be honest, he wanted, needed to prove to his father and the people that he had the ability to lead this country as well or better than Athamos would have. It was something that kept him up at night.
Exhaling a long breath, he took a sip of his coffee, set the cup down and returned his attention to the report in front of him, skipping to the conclusion. His attention was pulled away once again when Abram knocked on the door and entered.
“Sorry to interrupt, sir.”
He lifted a brow.
“You asked me to keep an eye on Ms. Ramirez, given the news coverage.”
His fingers dropped away from the papers. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine.” Abram clasped his hands together in front of him. “There has been a development.”
“Which is?”
“Ms. Ramirez is pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” He repeated the word as if he couldn’t possibly have heard it right.
“We had a detail on her as you requested, with so many photographers still trailing her. She purchased a pregnancy test earlier this week, then saw her doctor.”
Thee mou. His brain attempted to absorb what his aide was telling him. It was inconceivable. They had been so careful.
A buzzing sound filled his head. “And the doctor? We know for sure it was confirmed?”
“Yes.”
He got to his feet, his head spinning violently. It was impossible. Impossible.
He excused Abram. Paced the room and attempted to wrap his head around what he’d just been told. He was going to be a father. Sofi´a was carrying the heir to Akathinia. It was a disaster of incalculable proportions.
It occurred to him Sofi´a hadn’t told him because the baby wasn’t his. But as soon as the idea filled his head, he discarded it. Sofi´a hadn’t had a lover before him for a long while. They had been exclusive. That he knew.
So why not tell him? What was she waiting for? An image of that last time they’d been together filled his head. Woke up old demons. Sofi´a running a finger down his cheek. I wanted to end it like this. The emotion he’d read in her eyes that said she’d gotten too attached. How she’d stopped him when he’d reached for a condom... Can it be just us tonight?
Blood pounded his temples. Had she bedded him that night with the intention of getting pregnant? It seemed so at odds with Sofi´a’s independent personality. With her acceptance of the no commitment rules of their relationship. Yet didn’t he know from personal experience just how far a woman was willing to go to keep a prince? To preserve a relationship she knew was ending?
His head was in only a slightly better state when he found his father taking a mandated walk in the formal gardens. He curtly broke the news, without preamble. The king’s leathery old face turned thunderous.
“Pregnant? Thee mou, Nikandros. We have all turned a blind eye to your philandering, but to have her conceive your heir? Have you lost your mind?”
