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He stared at her coldly, going back over what she’d said now he’d had a chance to fully processes what was happening.
Her son. She’d said that was what she wanted when he’d asked. Not money, not power. Her son.
Hisson.His.Because she’d given him up. She’d signed away her rights and had taken the money he’d authorised his representatives to give her should she not want to come to Kalithera. He’d tried to keep tabs on her subsequently, because his son should know who his mother was, but then she’d vanished without a trace. And Galen had let her, assuming she hadn’t wanted Leo anyway.
Yet now, here she was, in his bed, blackmailing him.
Last night was never about you...
Something a lot like disappointment twisted in his chest, but he ignored it.
He could treat last night as yet another reminder of how unsuited he was to the crown he wore, or he could treat it as a warning. He couldn’t afford more mistakes, not with Kostas still waiting for an opportunity to take Kalithera from him. And now Galen had not only a country to protect, but a succession to guard. Destroying his son’s legacy and putting Kalithera at risk for the sake of his own lusts was inconceivable.
‘You cannot possibly think,’ he said icily, ‘that I’d give my son away just because I didn’t want a couple of pictures of myself in bed with you in the media?’
She was already very pale, now she went even paler. But her chin remained at a stubborn angle and still she didn’t look away. ‘Perhaps you might think differently when the media comes to camp on your doorstep,’ she said. ‘I don’t imagine your reputation will last long after that.’
Deep inside him, past his fury, Galen was aware of another emotion, a reluctant, grudging respect he didn’t want to acknowledge. After he’d had the news that she’d had his child, he’d read the file his staff had given him about her. He knew she’d grown up in the foster system and that she hadn’t finished her schooling. That she did various low-paid jobs to make ends meet and that her current living situation was not ideal for her, let alone for a baby.
Remembering her grey eyes and wild passion the night of the ball, he’d felt sorry for her and had very much wanted her to come to Kalithera with their son. But his aides had told him she’d refused, no reason given.
He’d been furious about that, furious she’d given up their child without protest, only to disappear off the face of the earth, and he’d assumed all sorts of things about the kind of woman who’d give up her child for money. And he didn’t know why she was back to claim Leo now, but one thing was clear: she was a fighter.
Still, if she thought blackmail would work on him then she needed to think again. She’d get no more money from him, if that was what she was after.
‘Then your imagination is sadly lacking.’ He folded his arms across his bare chest. ‘I have the best PR team in the business, and they can spin anything.’ It was no less than the truth.
‘Oh?’ Her cheeks were now flushed, the glitter of anger in her eyes becoming more pronounced. ‘You mean like how they spun your son’s mother dying tragically in childbirth? Or rather yourfiancée. Since apparently you were going to marry her after a whirlwind secret romance.’ Her tone dripped with disdain.
Galen had never thought he’d be in the position of having to justify the story his PR team had come up with to explain Leo’s existence. That had painted him in the light of a grieving single father who’d lost his love tragically.
He hadn’t liked the lie, but it had been necessary to stop Kostas from digging too deeply in places he shouldn’t and bringing it up with the media.
His team, of course, didn’t know the exact reason why it was so important that not a breath of scandal be attached to his name. All they knew was that the reputation of the King had to be protected and so protect it they had.
No one had expected Leo’s actual mother—the mother who’d given him up—to turn up in Kalithera to get her son back.
Yet here she was and now he had to deal with it.
‘I’m not explaining the decisions of my PR team to you,’ he said coldly, ignoring the faint sting of what could not possibly be shame. ‘The fact remains that blackmail will not work on me and so you have nothing.’
There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and, through his anger and the cold grip of control, he was conscious of a certain protectiveness.
He’d felt it that night over a year ago, in the deserted office. In the aftermath of passion, he’d held her against the wall with his body, both of them panting, and looked down into her face. There had been wonder in her expression, and desire and not a little awe, and protectiveness had swept through him. She had been a stranger, he hadn’t even known her name, yet she’d held nothing back. She’d given herself to him so passionately it was as if those moments with him had been her first taste of pleasure.
Yet then she’d ripped herself away from him and run, vanishing into the crowds before he’d had a chance to talk with her. He hadn’t been able to go after her since he’d been the guest of honour, and afterwards he’d been inundated with all the formalities of an official visit.
You knew she was a virgin. You knew. And you left her alone and pregnant with your child.
Guilt caught at him, along with another sting of shame, but again, he forced them away. He hadn’t known she was pregnant, not until his security team had finally managed to track her down, following up as a matter of course since they monitored anyone he had an interaction with. As to the virginity, he hadn’t known that either, not when they’d barely exchanged a handful of sentences.
‘You think I’m bluffing?’ she said shakily. ‘I’m not.’
‘Nor am I.’ He met her gaze, held it. ‘Go on. Do it. Upload them. My team won’t break a sweat explaining them. Though if you are indeed who you say you are, it still won’t get you your son.’
She’d gone pale as ashes now, her dark eyes full of accusation and anger. Yet she didn’t move for the phone. ‘You took my baby from me,’ she said instead. ‘You took him away. And I want him back. Now.’
He should bring this little scene to a close, that would be the safest thing. He should call his security, get them to delete the photos, and then send her back to London where she came from. Perhaps he’d even send her first class or on one of his private jets—there was no need for jail or anything too heavy-handed. She hadn’t actually done anything, after all.
