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Noelle realized her hands had clenched into fists at his declaration and tried to focus on relaxing. He was no less infuriating than on the day he’d told her they had no future and she should go to Paris and take the job at Matteo Pizzaro Designs.
“What do you want, Christian?” She asked the question in a flat, unfriendly tone that was intended to annoy him. It didn’t.
“I never could get anything past you.” He straightened, putting aside all attempt to charm her. Determination radiated from him. “Can I come in? I really do want to talk to you.”
“It’s late.” From the floor above came the pounding of feet. Marc had grown impatient and would be coming to look for her any second. “Perhaps later this week. We could meet for coffee.”
“I’d rather have a private dinner. Just you and me like the old days. Perhaps you could come to my place in the city? I have some things I’d like to discuss with you and I don’t want to do so in public.”
Bitterness gripped her. He’d never wanted to be seen out and about with her. She scrutinized his expression. He’d obviously come to her with an agenda. But she sensed what he had to say wasn’t about her son. So far, her secret remained safe. If he’d known about Marc, he would have led with that. So, what was he up to?
“I’m afraid my evenings are booked.” Spending time with her son was her greatest joy, and he was growing up so fast. She cherished her evenings with him and resented any intrusion. “Perhaps I could come to your office?”
There was thumping on the stairs as Marc jumped down each step, one by one. Noelle’s heart hammered in time. She had to conclude the conversation with Christian before her son appeared.
“Call me. We can discuss this next week. Right now, I need to go.” She started to shut the door, but Christian put out his hand and stopped it. Marc’s feet thundered across the wood floor; he was coming closer. “Fine. I’ll have dinner with you.”
“Mama, where are you?”
Christian’s eyes widened at the sound of Marc’s voice. “You have a child?”
She could not let this happen. Noelle shifted to put her full weight against the door and get it closed.
“You have to leave.”
“Marc, where are you?” She heard her mother coming down the stairs now and prayed that Mara could get to Marc before he came to investigate. “I told you your mother wouldn’t read you a story unless you were in bed.”
“I had no idea,” Christian mused, his expression strangely melancholy.
“And now you see why my evenings are busy. So if you don’t mind, I need to get my son to bed.”
“Can I meet him?” The prince stared past Noelle into the home’s interior.
“No.” Hearing the snap in her voice, she moderated her tone. “It’s his bedtime, and meeting someone new will stir him up. It’s already difficult to settle him down enough to sleep.”
“He sounds like me.”
It was a remark anyone might have made. Noelle knew there was no subtext beneath Christian’s comment, but she was hyper-secretive regarding the paternity of her son.
“Not at all.”
“Don’t you remember how much trouble you had getting me to sleep on the nights I stayed over?”
She ignored the jump in her pulse brought on by his wicked smile. What she remembered were long, delicious hours of lovemaking that left her physically drained and emotionally invigorated.
“This is a conversation for another time.”
“Mama, who are you talking to?” Marc plastered himself against her hip and peered up at Christian.
Too late. She’d let Christian distract her with bittersweet memories, and now he was about to discover what she’d zealously kept hidden from him all these years.
“This is Prince Christian,” she told her son, heart breaking. “Your Highness, this is my son, Marc.”
“Yourson?” The prince regarded the four-year-old boy in silence for several seconds, his mouth set in a hard line. At last his cold eyes lifted to Noelle. “Don’t you meanourson?”
