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Stick to the plan.
Aleki strode out of the elevator onto the open walkway of the apartment complex, inhaling the crisp winter air deeply. Neither the flight from Avali, the car from the airport or the urine-scented contraption that had delivered him to the building’s fourth floor had allowed him to take in enough air to centre himself. Not that finding a calm moment had been easy since he’d received the phone call late last night. Anger pulsed through him at the memory.
“Malo?”
“You stupid bastard.”
“Luke?”
“You selfish prick.”
“Are you upset?” The question was mild, because similar accusations had been made before, in reference to anything from purchasing an antique Turkish rug for the spare bedroom to taking the last beer from the cooler.
“How could you shag Mae’s best friend-” Luke’s voice pitched with anger “and not use a condom?”
“I did use a condom.” The surprise that had bloomed in his chest at Luke’s knowledge of his night with Stella tightened into a hard ball of unease.
Wait. What?
“Why would you think I didn’t use a condom, Luke?”
Silence.
“Luke?”
A heavy sigh.
“She’s pregnant.”
“Leai.”
The denial slipped past his frozen lips before he could stop it. Cold flooded his body, the icy tendrils roping over his chest and down his forearms, tunneling ahead of the fear that rushed in its wake.
“No.” He forced the English translation out through the tightness in his throat. “It’s not possible.” He was careful, always.
“Well, according to Mae, there’s a trio of pregnancy tests from this afternoon proving you wrong, my man. Look, I don’t know if I was supposed to say anything, but my wife is storming around the house threatening to unman you.”
The fear bubbled, shifted, a moving entity that danced in the face of his dismay. Luke kept speaking, but Aleki heard nothing but the rush of blood in his ears as the implications settled themselves into his consciousness.
Stella, pregnant. A baby. His baby. His heir.
Oh Gods, his father.
“I have to go.” He cut Luke off mid-sentence. “Thank you for calling. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up without waiting for a reply as his brain whirred through the likely responses of King Tama of Avali reacting to news of his first grandchild. None of them were good.
It had taken a sleepless night to organise an unscheduled trip to Wellington without his father finding out, but it was done. He was here, he had a plan, and the sooner he stopped loitering in the outdoor hallway like a well-dressed Jehovah’s Witness and got on with it the better.
He strode down the walkway, the tap of his shoes echoing off the terracotta coloured tiles. For the eighth time since landing, he checked the address Luke had texted through. Apartment 12. He came across it at the end of the hall, and rapped briskly on the door under the brass numbers. A faint groan sounded through the door several beats before it cracked open.
“Aleki?” Shock coloured Stella’s tone as she swung the door wider, revealing herself in full.
Her chestnut waves were up in a short fountain on the top of her head and she wore nothing he could see other than a black oversize sweatshirt than hit the top of her thighs and a pair of white sports socks. Desire punched low in his gut, heating his skin. His cock twitched in his pants and if he felt electrified by her presence, she looked as though she’d been struck by lightning at his. Wide green eyes did little to distract from the pallour under her light tan, but the end result was certainly that of a woman who was unhappy to see him.
Well, too bad.
Aleki strode past her into the apartment, turning his hips a little to accommodate the fact that she remained in the doorway like she was glued to the spot. Sweeping his eyes over the apartment, he catalogued the clean lines of the modern furniture and monochrome decor. Only a single vase of lavender roses on the coffee table stopped him from thinking he’d been transported back to the black-and-white world of Dorothy’s Kansas. Glancing towards the kitchen, he could see a similar situation - devoid of both colour and clutter, save for a small plate with the remnants of cheese and crackers by the sink.
“No, please, come in.” Stella’s sarcasm washed over Aleki like a wave as she shut the door and turned to face him. She raised an eyebrow at him haughtily and Aleki was struck again by how in control she seemed, even now with a royal ex-lover barging into her home while she was half-clothed. He let his eyes linger over the toned length of her legs, reaching up, up, up until they reached the thick cotton of her sweatshirt, brushing the top of her thighs just higher than was decent. If she raised her arms, he’d be able to see her panties…
“Your Highness.” Stella’s tone could have cut diamonds. “I doubt you flew halfway across the Pacific to stare at my legs. What do you want?”
The tension that had been simmering in Aleki’s shoulders since Luke’s call unfurled throughout his torso, creeping lower and lower until his chest tightened with suppressed emotion.
“Your legs, little star, are worth crossing more than a single ocean.” He stalked towards her. “Or perhaps you think I have forgotten how they felt locked around me? Leai, fafine aulelei. No man forgets the feel of heaven.”
He heard the hitch of her breath, music to his ears as she pressed her back against the closed door. He moved closer, electricity sparkling like champagne in the space between their bodies. The cool citrus scent of her perfume teased his nostrils, and he drew a deep breath, taking in as much of her scent as he could. Memories flashed, the last time he’d seen her awake, smelt her, wearing this perfume, black heels and nothing else. Rocking into him, lush and ripe and dizzyingly perfect.
“Why are you here, Aleki?” Stella’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“You know why I am here, little star. You left my home before we could talk. And now it appears you have taken something of mine with you.”
Stella’s eyes fell shut and he felt the loss of their green light like a fist to his gut. She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “Fucking Luke.”
“You are pregnant?”
“I think so.” She held up a hand at his grumble of discontent. “I’ve taken some tests that have come up positive, but I need a blood test to be confident. I’m seeing the doctor the day after tomorrow and I’ll know for sure then.”
“And what do you plan to do if you are?”
Stella let out a groan. “Let’s sit down.”
He let her lead him back to the living area and sank onto the squashy white linen couch that reminded him disconcertingly of a giant marshmallow. Stella bundled herself up in a black blanket at the opposite end, hiding her legs from view. He mourned the loss.
“Honestly, Aleki, I don’t know what to do. My business is going so well right now, but it isn’t the kind of career that works well with a baby. I can’t commit to a boyfriend, remember? Let alone a child for the rest of my life. I’d need a two-bedroom apartment, and I can’t afford that-”
“Money would be no object.”
Stella shot him a wan smile. “That’s kind of you to say Aleki, but the reality is that I can’t do this on my own. If I decide not to terminate, there’s always adoption. Brad and Oscar Reynolds did that after they got married and they have the cutest little boy now.”
“You would give our baby away?” A protective pull tugged at the centre of his chest as he glanced towards the mass of black fabric swaddling her stomach and hiding it from his view.
“Possibly.” She sighed again, an anxious look creasing her brow. “I know how it feels to be unwanted by a parent, but this way I could give our child a family that really did truly want it. That happens a lot in the islands too, doesn’t it?”
“To family.” Aleki couldn’t keep the horror from his voice. The Polynesian practice of whangai meant children were often raised by extended family members if their own parents felt unable to care for them. “Not to strangers.”
“Well I don’t have any family here, Aleki,” Stella snapped. “Unless you want your son or daughter to be raised by my deadbeat father and half the local pub.”
Now. Do it now.
Aleki sucked in a deep breath. “There is one other option, Stella.”
She shot him a sulky glare. “What?”
“Marry me.”
