Soldier Prince's Secret Baby Gift
Author
Kate Hardy
Reads
18,9K
Chapters
9
PROLOGUE
TEN MINUTES UNTIL MIDNIGHT.
Ten minutes until the charity gala was over and the guests were due to leave, and then another three-quarters of an hour to finish clearing up.
And then Tia could go home to bed.
She was exhausted. She’d already done her usual full shift at the café that day, and Saturdays were always a rushed-off-your-feet day. When she’d got home, all she’d wanted to do was to have a long bath and then curl up on the sofa with her mum to watch a movie. But her old school friend Sadie was managing a charity gala tonight and Tia had promised that she’d help out, serving canapés and clearing glasses, and Tia never went back on her promises. Particularly as the cause—supporting children who’d been bereaved—was so close to her heart; she knew first-hand how it felt to lose a member of your family in the armed forces.
Twice.
Their neighbour, Becky, was keeping an eye out for her mum—as she always did on the few occasions that Grace Phillips managed to persuade her daughter to go out somewhere. In less than an hour, Tia could go home. And tomorrow was late opening, being Sunday, so her shift didn’t start until ten. It wasn’t so bad. She’d had tougher days.
Though she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was staring at her.
She turned round and caught the eye of a tall, dark-haired man across the room.
There was something very familiar about him. Then again, half the people at the charity gala were household names: everyone from musicians to movie stars to models. All the men were wearing tuxedos, and all the women were wearing the kind of posh frocks and designer shoes Tia would never have been able to afford in a million years. This was another world, one where she was supposed to be invisible—the anonymous waitress who smiled as she served canapés and cleared glasses quickly and efficiently. The guy across the room shouldn’t even be noticing her.
As she went out onto the hotel balcony to collect glasses from the abandoned tables, still thinking about him, she realised who he was.
Antonio Valenti.
Prince Antonio of Casavalle, to be precise.
The man who had been her older brother Nathan’s best friend, who’d served with him as his team commander in an alliance of international armed forces.
The man who’d broken her heart, and her mum’s, four months ago, when he’d brought the news that Nathan had been killed in action. Antonio had delivered the news coldly and calmly: a stoic man in a military uniform who didn’t even blink as he told them that Nathan’s vehicle had hit a land mine on his last mission and he’d been killed instantly. Tia had been too shocked to say anything, but her mother had collapsed at the news that she’d lost her son the same way as she’d lost her husband, so Tia had had to damp down her own grief to support her mother.
Prince Antonio had clearly cared so little about Nathan that he hadn’t even stuck around to comfort Grace Phillips or check that she was all right. He’d left almost as soon as he’d delivered the news. He hadn’t even stayed for a cup of tea, let alone turned up at the funeral; and, apart from a formal embossed condolence card which he’d scrawled his name across, he hadn’t been in contact with them since.
OK, sure, the man was a prince and he had important official duties as well as being in the army. Tia wasn’t stupid. She understood that. But would it have hurt him to spend a few minutes with Grace after delivering the news, just to share some memories of her beloved son with her? Or show his face at Nathan’s funeral? Or later, perhaps, he could’ve sent Grace a photograph or a private note via the Palace press office. It wasn’t as if her mother was going to rush to the media and try to get money for it, or sell it online. All Grace had needed was a little gesture to let her know that Nathan had mattered.
But there had been nothing from Prince Antonio but silence.
Prince Charming? More like Prince Cold and Uncaring, Tia thought, curling her lip. How on earth had her brother been close friends with someone who was so cold and starchy?
And he was probably only here at the gala because he was attending in an official capacity; a man like him certainly wasn’t warm enough to care about the work of the charity, or about the children who’d lost their parents or siblings in war. He certainly wouldn’t be there rattling a collecting bucket along with the rest of the volunteer fundraisers or schmoozing people into buying tombola tickets.
She put him resolutely out of her mind and continued stacking glasses on a tray ready to carry through to the kitchens.
Tia Phillips looked absolutely exhausted.
Guilt balled in a hard lump in Antonio’s throat.
He’d been there when his second-in-command’s vehicle, the one in the convoy in front of his, had been blown up by a land mine. Mercifully, death had been instant, so he knew Nathan hadn’t suffered; but Antonio had been shattered by the loss. During his years in the army, his team had become like a family to him. Nathan had been his best friend as well as his second-in-command.
But Antonio had been brought up not to show any emotion in public; as a prince of Casavalle, he was expected to be cool and calm in every situation. He and his elder brother Luca had been brought up knowing their duty always came first. And you never, ever said or did anything that made you look as if you’d lost control of your emotions. That had been reinforced by his military training, so Antonio knew he’d been calm and reserved when he broke the news to Nathan’s family.
Too calm and reserved, perhaps, in their eyes.
Antonio knew how much Nathan had loved his family. He knew that Grace Phillips was poorly and that Nathan and his little sister Tia had spent their childhood as her carers rather than having the freedom to be children; and he’d promised Nathan silently by the side of his coffin that he’d keep an eye on Grace and Tia.
But he’d been called away almost immediately on another mission, so he hadn’t even been able to attend Nathan’s memorial service. He’d written a personal note and asked Miles to post it for him—but he knew that a note wasn’t the same as actually being there. It had felt horribly like a weak excuse.
And then the fallout from his own father’s death had kept him on special leave from the army. For the last four months, Antonio Valenti had been kept busy supporting Luca as his brother took over the reins of ruling Casavalle. He’d also been helping with the preparations for both the coronation and Luca’s upcoming wedding to Princess Meribel, the oldest daughter of King Jorge of the house of Asturias in the neighbouring kingdom of Aguilarez. He’d barely had a minute to himself since returning to Casavalle, so he’d let his unspoken promise to Nathan slide.
Though Antonio knew he should’ve made the time. Especially as he knew how bad Nathan had felt, leaving his sister to care for their mother while he’d joined the army at the age of sixteen so he could send money home to help them financially. He should’ve done more to help support his best friend’s family. Been there for them, because he knew they had nobody else.
Tia had glanced back at him before going out on the balcony with an empty tray, presumably to collect glasses, but he had no idea whether or not she’d recognised him.
Then again, she was clearly working and her boss wouldn’t be happy if she stood around chatting to guests at the charity gala when she was supposed to be clearing up. Given her family’s circumstances, Antonio knew that Tia needed her job. It wouldn’t be fair to risk her losing the job and having that added financial pressure, just to salve his own guilty conscience.
But he couldn’t just leave things. Not now he’d seen her again. Surely she could spare him two minutes?
‘Please excuse me. I’m expected to mingle,’ he said to the guests he was with. As the patron of the charity, he was supposed to talk to every guest and thank them for their support; but he was pretty sure he’d already done that. So his conscience was clear as he headed towards the balcony where Tia had gone.
She was standing on the other side of the door as he opened it, and almost dropped her tray.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Tia. It’s good to see you.’
‘Thank you, Your Royal Highness,’ she said coolly. ‘I would curtsey, but I’d rather avoid the risk of dropping my tray.’
He winced, knowing he deserved the rebuke. ‘You don’t need to curtsey, and it’s Antonio to you. Your brother was my friend.’
‘Yes, Your Royal Highness.’
Which put him very much in his place. He’d been a stranger and he deserved to be treated like one, despite his current attempt to be friendly with her. Given how he’d behaved, the last time they’d met, maybe it wasn’t so surprising that she preferred to keep a barrier of formality against him. OK. He’d stick to formality.
‘Ms Phillips,’ he said. ‘I appreciate that you’re working right now, but perhaps we could talk when you’ve finished?’
‘I really shouldn’t be taking up guests’ time, Your Royal Highness,’ she said.
Which was a polite way of telling him he shouldn’t be taking up her time, either. Another deserved rebuke, he thought. ‘After your shift,’ he said, glancing quickly at his watch. ‘The gala finishes in five minutes.’
When it looked as if she was going to think up an excuse, he said softly, ‘Please. It’d be so good to talk to someone who knew Nathan.’
For a moment, his brown eyes were filled with pain, before his expression returned to its former careful neutrality. So maybe the Prince wasn’t quite as cold and uncaring as he’d seemed. That glimpse of pain just now told her that the Prince really had cared about her brother. Maybe she should cut the man some slack. Be kind to her brother’s friend. Even though part of her still felt he should’ve made more of an effort, for her mum’s sake.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll meet you when I’m done here. But I’m working tomorrow. I can’t stay long.’
‘Just a few minutes. Thank you.’ He paused. ‘I’m staying in the penthouse suite. I can of course arrange for a chaperone, if you prefer.’
‘That won’t be necessary, Your Royal Highness.’ Like her brother, Prince Antonio was a man of honour. Tia knew without having to ask that his behaviour towards her would be respectful. ‘The penthouse suite,’ she echoed.
‘My security team will let you in,’ he said. ‘Forgive me for being rude, but I’d better go back to the guests. I’m the patron of the charity.’
Meaning that he was here on official duties? Though the Prince had been so cold and starchy when he’d come to tell Tia and her mum the news about Nathan, she wasn’t convinced he really cared about bereaved children, the way the patron would normally have a personal interest in the cause they supported. Though maybe losing his friend had taught him a little more empathy.
To her surprise, he held the door for her so she didn’t have to struggle with her tray of glasses.
This was surreal.
She’d just made an assignation with a prince. In his penthouse suite.
A prince who’d been her brother’s best friend, though because Nathan had kept his work and his family separate this was only the second time she’d ever met Prince Antonio. They didn’t really know each other. The only thing they had in common was Nathan and the hole his death had left in their lives.
But maybe she should hear what he had to say. Maybe he’d give her some crumb of comfort she could give to her mum. That would be worth her feeling even more tired tomorrow morning.
The next few minutes passed in a blur of clearing tables and attending to the last-minute needs of guests, but finally she was done.
Sadie hugged her. ‘Thanks so much for helping tonight, Tia. I owe you.’
‘That’s what friends are for,’ Tia said with a smile. ‘And you know it’s a cause close to my heart.’ She’d been in exactly the same position as the children that the charity helped.
‘Get a taxi home. I’ll pick up the bill,’ Sadie said.
Tia shook her head. ‘It’s fine. I’ll get the night tube. The walk will give me a chance to wind down.’ After she’d met Prince Antonio. Not that she planned to tell her friend about that.
‘Then I’m buying you dinner, some time this week. No arguments,’ Sadie said.
‘That would be good. Depending on how Mum is,’ Tia added swiftly. No way was she going out if her mum was having a tough health day. Family came first.
‘Or maybe I could bring dinner round for the three of us,’ Sadie suggested.
‘That might be nicer, if you don’t mind. Mum would really like that.’ And the company would help to brighten her mum’s day.
‘Then we’ll do it. Check your diary tomorrow and text me with your free dates,’ Sadie said.
I’m free every day, Tia thought, but didn’t say it. She was just grateful that one of her old school friends actually understood her situation enough to make the effort to stay in touch. Grace had encouraged her to make a life for herself; even though her grades hadn’t been good enough for her to train as a teacher, Grace had suggested other ways into the classroom. Tia could work as a classroom assistant or at a playgroup, perhaps, or maybe she could do a foundation course at university and then do her degree and train as a teacher. But Tia hadn’t wanted to leave her mum, knowing that Grace’s health really wasn’t good. Being away from home would’ve left her worrying that her mum was struggling, and eventually Tia had convinced her mother that she was much happier staying where she was.
‘I will,’ she promised.
Instead of leaving the hotel, Tia took the lift up to the penthouse suite. A man in a very ordinary suit leaned casually against the wall opposite the lifts as the doors opened, but Tia wasn’t fooled; it was obvious that he was the Prince’s security officer.
‘Ms Phillips.’ It was a statement, not a question. He clearly knew who she was and was expecting her. ‘Would you like to come with me?’
It was a polite enough question, but she knew there wasn’t a real choice. It was accompany him or go straight back down in the lift.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
He ushered her over to the door of the penthouse suite, and knocked. ‘Your guest has arrived, sir.’
Not ‘Your Royal Highness’? Or maybe he was from the Casavallian military.
‘Thank you, Giacomo,’ Antonio said as he opened the door. ‘Please come in, Ms Phillips.’
The carpet was the sort that you sank into when you walked on it. One wall of the sitting room was pure glass, looking out over the Thames; it was late enough that the lights from the bridge and the buildings on the other bank were reflected on the dark water of the river.
‘Thank you for coming. May I offer you a drink? Champagne?’
This was her cue to refuse politely and ask him to just get on with it and see what he had to say. But since he had offered refreshment and she’d been on her feet all day and all evening...
‘Actually, Your Royal Highness, I could really do with a cup of tea.’
‘Of course.’ He smiled then. ‘You’re very like your brother. At the end of the day, most of the team would relax with a cold beer. But Nathan said nothing could refresh you like a cup of tea.’
She could almost hear her brother’s voice saying the words, and it put a lump in her throat.
‘Strong enough to stand a spoon up in. One sugar. A dash of milk. And in a mug, not a cup,’ he added.
That was when she knew for sure that he really had been close to Nathan. Because it was exactly what her brother would’ve said. And all of a sudden she felt a bit less wary of him.
‘I remember,’ she said, her breath catching.
‘Do you take yours the same way?’ he asked.
Normally she was just grateful if her tea was hot. ‘Yes. Thank you, Your Royal Highness.’
And he actually made the mug of tea for her himself. No calling room service, no pretensions. Were princes supposed to be like this?
And, she noticed, he joined her in drinking tea. He didn’t take sugar in his, though.
‘Cheers,’ he said, lifting his mug in a toast. ‘To Nathan.’
She lifted her own mug. ‘To Nathan.’
‘You must miss him terribly. As do I.’ He looked at her. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch, Miss Phillips. Life is a little bit complicated at the moment.’
‘Complicated?’
He shrugged. ‘My father died not long after Nathan was killed. Obviously my older brother will be the one to succeed him, but there’s a lot of political stuff to sort out.’
She’d had no idea that he’d lost his father, too. ‘My condolences on the loss of your father, Your Royal Highness,’ she said formally.
‘Thank you. I know you’ve been in that situation.’
‘Except I was ten when Dad died,’ she said. ‘He was killed in action, too.’
‘That’s tough for you,’ he said. ‘Losing your father and your brother the same way.’
‘It’s one of the reasons why I worked here tonight,’ she said. ‘I wanted to do my bit to help the charity.’ To support children who’d been bereaved the way she had, because she knew what it felt like.
‘You were a volunteer tonight?’ He sounded surprised.
‘Yes. Though, actually, my day job’s in a café.’ A proper Italian café, run by a middle-aged couple from Naples who’d taken her to their hearts and who always sent her home after her shift with treats for her mum.
‘It’s good of you to help. Thank you.’ He paused. ‘How is your mother?’
‘Fine.’ It wasn’t strictly true, although thankfully this week Grace was having a good patch where she was fully mobile and not quite as exhausted. Chronic fatigue syndrome was the kind of illness that had peaks and troughs, and Tia knew that a good week like this would be balanced out by one where her mother could barely get out of bed and would need a lot more help with day-to-day things.
‘I’m sorry. I should’ve kept in touch.’
‘Or come to his funeral.’ The rebuke tumbled out before she could stop it.
He inclined his head. ‘My apologies. I intended to be there. But I was called away on a mission, and it wasn’t one that I could delegate to someone else.’
That hadn’t occurred to her. It was a valid excuse, she supposed, though she still thought he could’ve sent her mother a personal note.
As if he’d guessed at what she was thinking, he said, ‘I did write a letter to apologise for my absence.’
‘Mum didn’t get any letter from you.’
He frowned. ‘I’m sorry it didn’t arrive. I promise you, I did write.’
‘It must’ve got lost in the post. That’s not your fault.’ Though he hadn’t followed up on his note after his mission. Surely he could’ve found the time to at least call her mother?
He took a deep breath. ‘What can I do to help?’
‘Nothing,’ she said immediately. They didn’t need to lean on anyone. She and Grace were doing just fine on their own. They had their routines and they had good friends to support them. They didn’t need a prince throwing money at them to salve his conscience.
‘Nathan said you were proud and independent,’ Antonio said gently. ‘Which is a good thing. But your brother was part of my team. My friend. And, despite what you must think, my team are like family to me. If I can help to make life easier, Miss Phillips, please let me know. Nathan wouldn’t have wanted you to struggle.’
He was offering her a financial handout? She kept her temper with difficulty and said politely, ‘Thank you, Your Royal Highness, but we’re managing just fine as we are.’
‘I didn’t intend to offend you,’ he said. ‘Just...’ For a moment, he looked racked with guilt. ‘I couldn’t do anything to save your brother.’
‘It wasn’t your fault that he was killed. And Nathan knew the risks of the job before he signed up for it.’ She knew her brother had wanted to follow in their father’s footsteps.
‘I know. But it doesn’t stop me missing him.’
Then he looked shocked, as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
And again that bleakness was back in his eyes for a moment before he managed to hide it again.
Prince Antonio, despite his privileged upbringing, seemed lonely, deep inside. Right now she’d been given a glimpse of the man behind the cool, collected mask. And she could almost hear her brother’s voice echoing in her head: He could do with a hug.
Which would be way outside official protocol. Then again, some things were more important than protocol. So Tia put her mug on the coffee table, walked over to Prince Antonio, put his mug on the coffee table next to hers, and wrapped her arms around him.
For a long, long time, he just stood there, unmoving; but then, just as she was about to apologise and take a step backwards, he wrapped his arms around her and held her back, warm and comforting.
She really, really had intended it as comfort. Just comfort. Sharing their grief.
But one of them—she wasn’t sure which of them—moved, and his cheek was pressed against hers. Her skin tingled where it touched his. Another tiny movement—hers? His?—and the corners of their mouths were touching.
The tingle spread.
Another infinitesimally small shift, and then his mouth was brushing against hers.
She shouldn’t be doing this.
He was a prince and she was a waitress. Their lives were so far apart, it was untrue. Neither of them was in a position to start any kind of relationship. He had official duties and she was busy working and looking after her mother. Nothing could possibly come of this.
But the temptation to take comfort from him and to comfort him in turn was so strong.
Maybe this was something they both needed. Just for one night. No strings.
Because, just as Antonio had shown no emotion when he’d come to tell them the news about Nathan, Tia had locked her own tears away because she’d needed to be strong for her mother.
When he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, she could see the tears glittering there, the emotion he was trying so hard to repress.
Maybe tonight they could cry together. Find a release together. Comfort each other. Heal each other.
Just for tonight.
‘Stay with me, Tia?’ he whispered.
Common sense said that she should leave. She was due at work tomorrow morning. And there was her mother to think about.
But Becky was only next door if she was needed. Tia could drink coffee tomorrow rather than tea to get her through her shift. Right now, Antonio needed her—and she needed him.
She laid her palm against his cheek. ‘Yes.’
He kissed her again, scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed.
