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‘My firstborn son is the heir to the throne.’
‘But we’re not married!’ she protested.
‘We don’t have to be according to the constitution of Themos in which the firstborn son inherits. In the seventeenth century one of my ancestors was unable to have children with his wife but he already had a son by his mistress and his son took the throne after him. His father changed the rules to keep the Diamandis family in power. Married or not, if your son is mine, he will be my heir,’ Angel explained flatly. ‘And if I marry you, you will eventually be the Queen of Themos, ruling by my side.’
‘For goodness’ sake...’ Gaby set down her coffee and released a deep sigh. ‘I had no idea. I didn’t even think Alexios could ever be the heir to anything that belonged to you,’ she framed truthfully.
‘If you’re telling me the truth and I was your only lover, he won’t be illegitimate for very long because our marriage would legitimise his birth,’ Angel breathed tautly. ‘So, the DNA test?’
‘I suppose I don’t have much choice on that score because it wouldn’t be fair to you or my son to refuse. On that basis I’ll go along with it,’ Gaby muttered uneasily.
‘I’ll make the arrangements,’ Angel told her as he pulled out his phone, speaking in fast idiomatic Italian to whoever was at the other end of the line, an employee, she decided, because Angel was reeling off instructions. Someone was to come to the house to perform the DNA test and fast-track the results back to him.
He dug his phone back into the pocket of his cashmere coat and raked long brown fingers through the luxuriant ebony hair brushing his brow, tousling it. Her breath snarled up in her throat as he glanced back at her through a fringe of inky spiky lashes, his eyes a simmering slash of gold as hot as the heart of a fire, his lean, strong jaw framed and enhanced by black stubble. Her body came to life as though he had flipped a switch, her breasts tightening inside her bra, a tugging sensation clenching the heart of her. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her colour heightening.
I will have to marry you?Not words she had ever expected Angel to say to her personally, not even in some crazy fantasy. Even as a teenaged student she had never dreamt big enough to imagine herself marrying a royal prince. But why would hehaveto marry her? Because Alexios was his heir? Surely if legitimacy were not demanded, marriage would be unnecessary? She could not, even in the wildest reaches of her imagination, picture being married to Angel, whose lifestyle was so far removed from her own. Themos was a very glamorous place, packed with the rich, famous and powerful. The island teemed with yachts, luxury hotels and casinos and staged world-class fashion, sport and charity events. Nobody would match someone as ordinary as she was to someone like Angel, the ruler of his own little country.
‘May I see him?’ Angel pressed.
Gaby’s lips parted to utter a negative but then she thought about it. She already knew that Alexios was Angel’s flesh and blood and soonhewould know as well. What good reason did she now have to refuse him access to a mere glimpse of his sleeping son?
‘OK, but you’ll have to be very quiet. He’s cross as tacks if you wake him in the middle of a nap,’ Gaby warned, leaving him to follow her back across the hall into the kitchen, where a small corner staircase led up to her little apartment.
‘What are you doing living here?’ Angel asked.
‘Clara had knee surgery and needed someone around to help until she was mobile again. Alexios was a newborn. This arrangement suits us both because we both still have our privacy. In a few weeks, Clara will be moving into a smaller house in town, which will suit her better, and Alexios and I will be moving on.’
‘To where?’
‘I haven’t decided because Clara doesn’t have an actual moving date yet.’ Gaby opened the door of her accommodation at the top of the stairs. ‘Her son lived here until he emigrated.’
Angel thought the large room with its shabby furniture and small kitchen area at the far end was a dump. He paused by the one connecting door. ‘Is the child in here?’ he prompted.
Her face taut, Gaby stepped past him to open the door quietly and step into her bedroom, which she shared with her son. As luck would have it, Alexios was already awake, sitting up in one corner of his crib, hugging his rabbit blankie. A huge welcoming grin lit up his little face when he saw her. Behind her, she heard Angel release his breath in a sudden hiss.
‘He has my mother’s eyes,’ Angel whispered hoarsely. ‘And he looks very like baby pictures of me.’
‘Surprise, surprise,’ Gaby said drily as she bent down to lift the child already holding his arms up in anticipation. ‘I did tell you he was yours.’
Angel tensed as she spun back round to face him. He wasn’t comfortable with young children. None of his friends had had kids yet. Nobody handed him a baby and expected him to know what to do with it...but Gabydid. She plonked the child into Angel’s arms as though he were a parental veteran.
Angel stared into those vivid green eyes that reminded him so disturbingly of his late mother. His son smiled and planted a chubby little hand against the stubble surrounding Angel’s mouth, fingers exploring that interesting roughness. The baby giggled.
‘He’s not used to men, so you’ll be a novelty,’ Gaby remarked, feeling that in the circumstances she was being remarkably generous in sharing her son.
That innocent chuckle released Angel’s tension. A smile flashed across his wide sensual mouth and Gaby’s heart stuttered in receipt of that powerful flare of raw masculine charisma. Illuminated by that smile, his lean, darkly handsome features were incredibly appealing.
‘He seems to be a happy baby.’
‘He is. Why wouldn’t he be? There are no problems in his little world.’ Gaby moved back out of the bedroom. ‘Do you want to play with him?’
Angel winced. ‘I wouldn’t know how to. You called him Alexios?’
‘It’s Greek.’ Gaby coloured with self-consciousness.
‘My great-grandfather was also called Alexios,’ Angel remarked.
‘Was he?’ Gaby lifted and dropped a shoulder, refusing to be drawn as she reclaimed her son. She settled down on the rug with him and pulled over a plastic basket of toys. ‘Come on,’ she murmured ruefully. ‘You have to learn how to play with him some time.’
