The Queen's Baby Scandal

“I don’t know that you realize just how rare it is for me to take a woman up on such an offer.”

“And here I thought you took women up on such offers on a nightly basis. I’ve read about you.”

His lips twisted upward in a cynical impersonation of a smile. “Of course you have.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Should I pretend I don’t know who you are? Should I pretend that this is simply a chance encounter, and I came to your club with no prior knowledge of who you were?”

He affected a casual shrug. “Many women would.”

“Perhaps those women have the luxury of time. I don’t.”

“You don’t have a bomb strapped to your chest, do you?”

She swallowed hard, letting the edges of her coat fall open, revealing the only thing she had against her chest, that emerald, which immediately felt cold in the icy room. “You’re welcome to look for yourself.”

His gaze flickered over her body, and it didn’t stay cool. “I see. Someone waiting for you at home, then?”

That was close enough to the truth. “Yes,” she said.

“Can I have your name?”

“Alice,” she said.

“Alice,” he repeated. “From?”

She knew her English was quite good, but that it would also be colored by an accent. His was too, though different from hers. She liked the way it sounded. She wanted to hear his voice speak his native tongue. And hers. What sort of accent would it give to her own language? And what sorts of words might he say…?

“England,” she said. “Not originally. But for most of my life.”

“What brings you to Italy?”

“Your party,” she said.

“I see. Are you an enthusiast when it comes to clubs, or are you a sex tourist?”

The words were bold, and she knew that she was playing a bold game and she needed to be able to return in kind.

“In this instance, I suppose it’s sex tourism.”

“Am I to understand that you saw my picture in the news and decided to make a trip all the way to my club for sex?”

Nothing he’d said was a lie. There might be more in her reasoning, but she had seen his photo. And she had wanted him on sight.

“Chemistry is a fairly powerful thing.”

“Can you feel chemistry with a photograph?”

“I didn’t even have to go looking for you,” she said. “You came to me. So that makes me wonder if it’s possible.”

And that was the honest truth.

She had never expected Mauro Bianchi to approach her. No, she had expected that she would have to chase him down. That she would be the one pursuing him. And yet, he had simply appeared. And now, he had taken her to a VIP room. So it all rather did beg the question if chemistry could be that obvious.

The expression on his hard face did something then, and she couldn’t quite put into words what that was. He looked quite irritated, but at the same time perhaps a bit impressed with her boldness and her reasoning. And he couldn’t argue. Because here they were, sitting in this private suite, strangers who had never met until only a moment ago.

“I think the only thing to do then is perhaps test your theory,” he said, his voice lowering to a silky purr.

“That is what I’m here for,” she said, fighting to keep her voice smooth.

“Perhaps you would like to see my private suite.”

“I would like that very much,” she said.

This was moving much quicker than she had anticipated. But it was also going exactly according to plan.

She had expected…obstacles. Resistance.

Perhaps because the last year of her life had been marked by such things. Endless resistance from her father’s officials. Endless proclamations being made. Demands that she be married. The concern over her producing an heir, as for her, there would be a time limit, unlike with men.

But they had not counted on one thing. Because they had not educated themselves, not to the extent that she had.

Men. With their arrogance. Their certainty that they were right. That they could not be bested, least of all by her.

She had read the laws. She had studied. She had made sure, above all else, that she was prepared for her position, and that she would not be taken by surprise.

Because for the protection of the queen, for the protection of the throne, if she claimed that her issue had no father, that it was the queen’s alone.

And there were no questions of legitimacy. A law set into motion to protect the queen from marauders, Vikings and barbarians, anyone who might seek to use her to claim power.

And at this point in history, in time, used to protect the queen from forced marriages, and politicians who overexerted their power, and sought to keep a nation in the dark ages.

All she needed was her marauder.

And she had found him.

“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go to your room.”

CHAPTER TWO (#ufc28c622-4abb-5f43-b3b0-aa1ea4440592)

BY THE TIME they had gone through a maze of high-gloss marble corridors and arrived at Mauro’s suite, Astrid was trembling. She did her best to try to disguise it, and hope that he would perhaps assume it was because they were surrounded by ice. But the fact of the matter was, the pieces of the structure that were not made of ice were quite comfortable, and she imagined he assumed no such thing.

She was so good at pretending to be confident, serene and as if she were in possession of every secret in all the world, that sometimes she even convinced herself such things were true.

Sometimes she forgot what she really was.

She was a queen, that much was true. A queen with quite a lot of power, education and confidence that was rightly earned.

She was also a woman who had been kept separate from peers for most of her life while she focused on her education. A woman who had danced with a man, but never, ever kissed one.