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Blackmail. That was why she was here. She had to take pictures and blackmail the King into giving her son back. She’d forgotten about that the night before. He’d made her forget everything, even her own name, and when she’d finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, all she’d been conscious of was the feeling of being safe again. Of being protected.
A lie. She was never safe and there had never been anyone to protect her. Katherine had once told her that she’d love to be Solace’s mum, and that Solace could live with her permanently, and Solace had believed her. But then Katherine had changed her mind and Solace been bounced to another home.
Never trust anyone, that was the lesson. Never trust what people told you. And most of all, never trust those feelings of safety, because they were lies too.
In the end, all you’d ever have was yourself.
In your case, you can’t even trust that.
Shame, sharp as barbed wire, wound around her heart, the line of gold on the floor blurring as her eyes prickled.
Fiercely, she forced the tears back.
She wouldn’t be weak again, not as she’d been after the birth of her baby. She’d allowed fear and despair and the overwhelming guilt at what she’d done undermine her and it had taken her six months to pull herself out of the pit of postnatal depression she’d fallen into. She wasn’t going to fall into it again.Never.
She’d never forget the three people who’d turned up on the doorstep of her grotty flat, literally the day after she’d had her son, either. She’d felt as if she were sitting at the bottom of a deep, dark well, with mile-high walls all around her, unable to get out. And those people, two men in black suits and a smiling woman in some kind of uniform, had seemed...kind.
The woman had explained who she was and that they were from Kalithera, and could they come inside because they needed to talk to her.
So, she’d let them in. And in her tiny bedsit, her baby screaming on the bed since she’d had no bassinet or baby things—he’d come a couple of days early and very unexpectedly—and no money to buy them anyway, the woman had told her that the man she’d been with nine months earlier at that ball was the King of Kalithera. And he wanted his son.
Shock and the fug of birth hormones still flooding her system had made her mute and slowed her thinking, so she’d just stared at the woman, her brain struggling to make sense of everything. She’d still been struggling to make sense of the fact that she’d had a baby at all, let alone the fact that her baby was a king’s son.
Both she and the baby were to come to Kalithera, the woman had said kindly, and the King would take care of everything.
It had sounded so good. It had sounded perfect.
But no one took care of everything, she knew that for a fact, which must mean what the woman had told her was a lie. Not so much that her son was the son of a king—the uniforms, the black, expensive car in the street, the air of wealth and authority that clung to all three people made her sure of it—but that she was welcome. Because why? What would a king want with the likes of her? Yes, she was the mother of his child, but she was a poor nobody with no money and no education, and she knew what happened to poor nobodies. They were either taken advantage of or forgotten, especially by people in authority.
Her first impulse had been to refuse, to pick up her baby and hold him tight, send the people away. But then she’d looked around her tiny flat, at the mould on the ceilings and the peeling lino. The lack of a bassinet. The lack of anything resembling baby things because she’d only found out she was pregnant a week before she’d given birth. She’d had no money. No support. She’d known nothing about being a mother. She’d had nothing. What kind of life could she have given her child? He’d had no future with her, none at all.
It had been then that the dark pit had opened up beneath her feet and swallowed her whole.
She’d signed all the documents they’d given her, not seeing any of them, and when they’d told her there would be money in her account, she’d nodded blankly.
It was only after they’d finally gone and her flat had echoed with emptiness and absence, that the crushing weight of what she’d done had flattened her.
A wave of unexpected grief and guilt came, and she had to fight to force it back.
No, she couldn’t let that overwhelm her. That was why she was here. She was here to fix the mistake she’d made, to get her baby back however she could.
Taking a calming breath, she gave the room a careful survey.
The night before, the limo had pulled up outside a house in a well-to-do part of the city. She hadn’t been paying much attention, too occupied with Galen, and she hadn’t paid attention when he’d pulled her out of the car and hurried her up the steps into the house either. Or when he’d carried her upstairs into this bedroom. And especially not when they’d finally ended up in this bed.
But her clothes must be around somewhere and hopefully her clutch, since her phone was in it.
Finally, she spotted a small pile of silver fabric near the door, which must be her dress. The stiletto sandals she’d been wearing lay not far away and in a piece of good luck, right near the bed, was her silver-mesh clutch.
Carefully, she glanced over her shoulder to check on the man behind her.
His face was relaxed in sleep, his breathing deep and even, and for a moment she just stared at him, part of her wondering how someone like her had managed to seduce a man like him. A king. A beautiful, powerful man, from one of the most ancient and aristocratic families in Europe, while she...
She was a nobody of unknown parentage, who’d dropped out of school, who stacked supermarket shelves and cleaned offices for a living. Not that there was anything wrong with that—she was proud of the fact that she earned her own money—but it was hardly at the same level as running an entire country.
She wasn’t rich, she wasn’t beautiful, and she had no power to speak of...
But no, that was being defeatist. She was changing things. Shewouldchange things. She was going back to school, and she’d apply herself and get great marks. Then she’d work hard and get into university and hopefully study law. And once she had her degree, she could use it to help people. People like herself.
