Claiming His Secret Royal Heir

‘And you’re happy? Sam makes you happy?’

Her hands twisted on her lap in a small convulsive movement. She looked down as if in surprise, then back up as she nodded. ‘Yes.’

A spectrum of emotion showed in her brown eyes—regret, guilt, defiance,—he couldn’t settle on what it was, and then it was gone.

‘I’m happy.’

Job done. Sunita had a boyfriend and she’d moved on with her life. There was no dangerous scandal to uncover. A simple case of over-vigilance from his chief advisor. He could stop the taxi now and return to his hotel.

Yet...something felt off. He could swear Sunita was watching him, assessing his reactions. Just like two years ago when she’d called it a day. Or maybe it was his own ego seeing spectres—perhaps he didn’t want to believe another woman had ricocheted from him to perfect love. Sunita to Sam, Kaitlin to Daniel—there was a definite pattern emerging.

He glanced out of the window at the busy beach, scattered with parasols and bodies, as the taxi slowed to a halt.

‘We’re here,’ she announced.

What the hell? He might as well meet this paragon who had upended Sunita’s plans, her career, her life, in a way he had not.

Damn it. There was that hint of chagrin again. Not classy, Frederick. Not royal behaviour.

Minutes later they approached a glass-fronted restaurant nestled at the corner of a less populated section of sand, under the shade of two fronded palms. Once inside, Frederick absorbed the warm yet uncluttered feel achieved by the wooden floor, high exposed beam ceiling and polished wooden tables and slatted chairs. A long sweeping bar added to the ambience, as did the hum of conversation.

Sunita moved forward. ‘Hey, Sam.’

Frederick studied the man who stood before them. There was more than a hint of wariness in his eyes and stance. Chestnut wavy hair, average height, average build, light brown eyes that returned his gaze with an answering assessment.

Sunita completed the introduction. ‘Sam, Frederick—Frederick, Sam. Right, now that’s done...’

‘Perhaps you and I could have a drink and a catch-up? For old times’ sake.’

The suggestion brought on by an instinctive unease, augmented by the look of reluctance on her face. Something wasn’t right. She hadn’t wanted him to so much as peek into her apartment, and she could have simply told him about Sam. Instead she’d brought him here to see him, as if to provide tangible proof of his existence.

‘Sure.’ Sunita glanced at her watch. ‘But I can’t be too long.’

Sam indicated a staircase. ‘There’s a private room you can use upstairs, if you want to chat without attracting attention.’

‘Great. Thank you,’ Frederick said, and stepped back to allow the couple to walk together.

Their body language indicated that they were...comfortable with each other. They walked side by side, but there was no accidental brush of a hand, no quick glance of appreciation or anticipation, no chemistry or any sign of the awareness that had shimmered in the air since he himself had set eyes on Sunita.

They entered a small room with a wooden table and chairs by a large glass window that overlooked the beach. Sam moved over to the window, closed the shutters and turned to face them. ‘If you tell me what you’d like to drink, I’ll have it sent up.’

‘You’re welcome to join us,’ Frederick said smoothly, and saw the look of caution in Sam’s brown eyes intensify as he shook his head.

‘I’d love to, but we’re extremely busy and one of my staff members didn’t turn up today, so I’m afraid I can’t.’

‘That’s fine, Sam. Don’t worry,’ Sunita interpolated—and surely the words had tumbled out just a little too fast. Like they did when she was nervous. ‘Could I have a guava and pineapple juice, please?’

‘Sounds good—I’ll have the same.’

‘No problem.’

With that, Sam left the room.

‘He clearly doesn’t see me as a threat,’ Frederick observed.

‘There is no reason why he should.’

For an instant he allowed his gaze to linger on her lips and he saw heat touch her cheekbones. ‘Of course not,’ he agreed smoothly.

Her eyes narrowed, and one sandaled foot tapped the floor with an impatience he remembered all too well. ‘Anyway, you came here to solve the mystery. Mystery solved. So your “unofficial” business is over.’

Were her words almost too airy or had he caught a case of severe paranoia from Marcus? ‘It would appear so.’ He watched her from beneath lowered lids.

‘So, tell me more about your official business—the schools project.’

‘My brother set up the charity—he believed every child deserves access to an education, however basic.’

It had been a philanthropic side Frederick hadn’t even known Axel had had—one his brother had kept private. Because he had been a good man...a good man who had died—

Grief and guilt thrust forward but he pushed them back. The only reparation he could make was to continue Axel’s work.

‘So, I’m funding and working with a committee to set up schools here. Tomorrow I’m going to visit one of the new ones and meet the children.’

‘That sounds incredible—there’s so much poverty here, and yet also such a vibrant sense of happiness as well.’

‘Why don’t you get involved? That would be great publicity for the organisation—I could put you in touch.’

For a second her face lit up, and then she shook her head. ‘No. I’m not modelling at the moment and...’

‘I’m not suggesting you model. I’m suggesting you get involved with some charity work.’

‘I...I don’t want any publicity at the moment—’

‘Why not?’

‘I... Sam and I prefer our life to be out of the spotlight.’

This still didn’t make sense. Sunita had thrived in the spotlight, been pulled to it like a moth to a flame. But before he could point that out, the door opened and a waitress appeared with a tray.

‘Thank you.’ Sunita smiled as the girl placed the drinks on the table, alongside a plate of snacks that looked to range from across the globe. Tiny pizzas topped with morsels of smoked salmon nestled next to crisp, succulent pakora, which sat alongside miniature burgers in minuscule buns. ‘These look delicious.’

Once the waitress had exited, Frederick sampled a pakora, savoured the bite of the spice and the crunch of the batter around the soft potato underneath. ‘These are delicious! Sam runs an excellent kitchen.’

‘Yes—he and...he has made a real success of this place.’

‘You must be proud of him.’

‘Yes. Of course.’