Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride

‘She’s brilliant. Maybe you ought to commission her to do you a portrait for the coronation. Glass instead of oils,’ Gus suggested.

Indigo frowned. ‘Coronation? Whose coronation?’

Gus looked embarrassed. ‘Whoops. I think I might have just put my foot in it.’

‘It’s fine,’ Lorenzo said.

Oh, no, it wasn’t, Indigo thought. There was a lot more to this than met the eye. Especially as Lorenzo looked shifty, all of a sudden.

They chatted for a few moments more; when they were alone again, Indigo narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What’s this about a coronation?’

‘The King of Melvante is abdicating next month and handing over to his grandson,’ Lorenzo said.

She still didn’t get it. Why had Gus suggested that Indigo should do Lorenzo’s portrait in glass? ‘And?’ she prompted.

He wrinkled his nose. ‘That would be, um, me.’

‘You’re going to be the King of Melvante?’

He nodded. ‘Nonno’s already passed on a lot of his duties to me. And he’s going to be eighty, next month. I want him to enjoy his old age, not have the burden of the crown.’

‘So that’s what you meant about the family business. Being king.’

He shrugged. ‘Running a country isn’t so different from running a business.’

Even so, she was hurt that nobody had told her. Lottie was her closest friend, and she’d known the family for years. Lorenzo obviously thought that she’d tell tales to the media, but surely Lottie’s family knew otherwise?

A king-to-be.

No wonder he’d been sensitive about having his photo taken, and no wonder he hadn’t wanted to sit for her.

This changed everything.

When he’d kissed her, only minutes before, she’d thought this just might be the start of something. How stupid of her. No way could a king-to-be have a fling with someone like her. OK, so strictly speaking Indigo’s father was an earl, so it wasn’t so much the noble and commoner thing; but he’d been married to his countess when Indigo was born and not to Indigo’s mother. The press would drag that up if they found out she was even vaguely involved with Lorenzo. Plus there was the whole mess of her relationship with Nigel and the way he’d let her down. That would look bad, too. A king couldn’t afford to be touched by scandal.

So her common sense needed to kick back in, and fast. Absolutely nothing was going to happen between them now.

It couldn’t.

‘I’ll make sure I address you properly in future, Your Highness,’ she said coolly. ‘It’s a pity you didn’t bother to tell me before.’

‘It wasn’t relevant. You’re a friend of the family and so am I. Who we are outside Edensfield isn’t important.’

‘You still could’ve told me.’

‘How? Was I supposed to correct you and tell you that, actually, no I’m not Mr Torelli, and it should be “Your Royal Highness Prince Lorenzo” to you?’ He grimaced. ‘Talk about an arrogant show-off.’

She blew out a breath. ‘I guess you have a point. I understand now why you were annoyed with me for taking your photograph.’

‘Because I try to protect my privacy—not because I think I’m a celeb or a special snowflake who deserves red carpet treatment,’ he said.

Her frown deepened. ‘What about your bodyguards? I assume you have them, and they’re so discreet that I haven’t noticed them yet.’

‘I get a little bit more liberty than usual from my security team because I’m staying in the house of a family friend,’ he said.

‘But you still can’t do anything spontaneous or even go for a walk without telling half a dozen people where you’re going. Your life must be scheduled out down to the millisecond.’

‘Most of the time, yes,’ he admitted. ‘But I’m officially on leave at the moment. Taking a bit of time to get my head in the right place, so to speak.’

‘Before you’re crowned king.’

‘Yes. Obviously I’m not entirely neglecting my duties while I’m here—I can do a lot of things through the internet and the phone—but Nonno thought I needed a bit of time out to prepare myself.’

‘Your grandfather,’ she said, ‘sounds very sensible.’ Like hers had been. ‘But forgive me for being dim. I don’t tend to read the society pages, so I really had absolutely no idea who you were.’

‘You,’ he said, ‘are the last person I’d accuse of being dim.’

‘You only met me today. I could be an airhead.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Give me some credit for being able to judge someone’s character quickly and accurately.’

‘I guess in your position you have to do that all the time.’ She paused. ‘So how come you’re taking over, and not your father?’

‘He died in a car crash when I was ten,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Along with my mother.’

She could see the pain in his eyes, and then he was all urbane and charming again. Behind a mask. Clearly it hurt too much to talk about. She could understand that; there were certain bits of her own past that she didn’t talk about.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly. ‘That must’ve been hard for you. And for your grandparents.’

‘It was a long time ago, now,’ he said. ‘You get used to it.’

‘Yes, you do.’

‘That sounds like experience talking,’ he said.

She nodded. ‘My grandparents brought me up.’ She couldn’t quite bring herself to tell him of the circumstances, not wanting him to pity her.

‘Something we have in common,’ he said.

Not quite. She didn’t think that Lorenzo’s parents were like hers, choosing to abandon their child. In his case, his parents had been taken from him in an accident. In hers, her father had chosen to distance himself before she was born—his only contribution to her life had been to pay for part of her education—and her mother had been more focused on her own love-life than family life. ‘Just about the only thing.’

He smiled. ‘Sometimes that makes life more interesting.’

And more complicated, she thought. Lorenzo Torelli was gorgeous. The way he’d kissed her earlier had made her bones melt. Which meant she needed to keep a safe distance between them until he left Edensfield for his kingdom. ‘I guess I ought to stop monopolising you and let you chat to everyone else. And I have a few things I need to do for work, so I’d better get a move on. Nice to have met you. Good evening,’ she said.

He gave her a tiny little smile that very clearly called her a chicken. Guilty as charged, she thought—because he scared her as much as he drew her. She couldn’t afford to let him matter to her.

Besides, a man destined to be king would’ve been taught how to be charming from when he was in the cradle. The attention he’d paid her had been flattery. And she already knew the dark side of flattery—the last time she’d let herself fall for a spiel, it had ended in tears. She’d learned the hard way that relationships let her down, but her work never did.