His Royal Love-Child

His Royal Love-Child
LUCY MONROE

The prince and his pregnant mistress…Danette Michaels knew that when she became Principe Marcello Scorsolini’s secret mistress there would be no marriage, no future and no public acknowledgment. At the time it was enough. But Danette can’t be Marcello’s secret any longer.She wants him, all or nothing —even if it means their affair is over. Until a pregnancy test changes the rules forever.

His Royal Love-Child

Lucy Monroe

For Lidia Chernichenko, a dear friend and

a valued reader. I enjoy our friendship so

much and thank you for helping me name the

Scorsolini family. And for Theresa Brookins, a

wonderful reviewer and another special LFBJ pal.

Your presence at my chats always blesses me and

thank you for managing my “claim list.” Thank

you also for having the idea to name the country

after the family which gave the main island in

Isole dei Re its name. You’re both the best!

Hugs,

Lucy

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

COMING NEXT MONTH

CHAPTER ONE

DANETTE MICHAELS closed the tabloid and put it down on the coffee table with careful precision.

Her hands were steady. It amazed her. A hurricane of pain was shaking her insides. She made no sound, though she wanted to scream. She wanted to rip the offending magazine to shreds, too. But she couldn’t do either. If she so much as touched the tabloid again…if she gave vent to even a tiny bit of the storm tearing apart her soul, she was going to lose it completely.

She refused to do that. She’d spent years controlling her emotions, hiding both physical and mental pain while denying her tears. Ray’s betrayal had made her cry and she’d sworn she wasn’t going to let another man do that again. Not even Principe Marcello Scorsolini.

“He’s just delish, isn’t he?” Lizzy breathed, oblivious to the devastation her visit had wrought in Danette. She leaned forward and flipped the magazine open again, and pointed to the picture that was the source of Danette’s current mental agony. “Can you imagine being that woman?”

Danette looked down at the picture. She didn’t want to. It hurt, but she couldn’t help herself. Her eyes were drawn by an emotion as powerful as the love that lay bleeding at the bottom of her heart. The need to know, and a desperate hope that her vision had deceived her the first time.

It had not.

The picture was exactly what she thought it was. It showed the drop-dead gorgeous president of the Italian arm of Scorsolini Shipping dancing with an equally attractive woman at his father’s birthday bash on Scorsolini Island. They were practically molded to one another’s bodies. Prince Marcello was smiling and the woman looked like a beautiful, sleek cat who had just copped a whole bowl of the richest cream.

How could Danette have been so stupid that she’d allowed herself to get involved with this man…to actually believe that they had enough in common where it counted?

She’d fallen into his arms with about as much self-preservation as a lemming following the pack leader off the side of a cliff. She’d given him her virginity and asked for nothing in return but his overwhelming passion. He’d offered her his fidelity, but that picture made her doubt the sincerity of the gift.

Contrary to what he had told her, her prince was the king of the playboys. Was she terminally stupid where men were concerned, or simply unlucky?

“Earth to Danette. Hello, is anyone in there?” Lizzy’s voice penetrated Danette’s crushing thoughts.

“What?”

“Where were you at, chica? Don’t tell me you were thinking about work.”

“Something like that,” Danette said in a strained voice. In her mind, her job and her lover were inexorably linked.

“I said, can you imagine being her?”

Only too well, except when Marcello held Danette close like that, she was never wearing a designer original ball gown. Most of the time, she wasn’t wearing anything at all. “Yes.”

Lizzy laughed. “You’ve got a better imagination than me then.”

“Not really.”