The Italian's Pregnant Prisoner Page 11

  “Yes,” he said. “Also my other palace-owning friend, Adam, will be there.”

  “I’m very excited to meet your friends,” she said. “I’m excited you have friends.”

  He growled, grabbing hold of her and pinning her down to the mattress. “I am charming.”

  “Obviously I’m not immune to you, or I wouldn’t be here.”

  He kissed her, and he could taste the laughter on her lips. “That is good. It is very good.” Finally, he was succeeding at his goal. Finally, he had secured her promise she would stay.

  He ignored the disquiet in him. Ignored the echoes of other promises he’d heard as a child. That he would be warm tonight. That he would be safe.

  That he would always have a home.

  He ignored those broken promises and clung to Charlotte.

  The problem was that the past looked bright and clear, and the present was full of darkness. But at least she was here. And he could hold her in his arms.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “RAFE,” CHARLOTTE SAID one evening over dinner. “Do you often bring women to events?”

  He lifted his head, arching a brow. “Never,” he responded.

  Charlotte frowned. “Well, do you think that bringing me is going to cause a little bit of a stir?”

  “Oh,” he said, sounding unconcerned. “Undoubtedly.”

  “Is my pregnancy a secret?” she pressed.

  He raised his shoulders. “Why would it be?”

  She held back an exasperated sound. Talking to him was like pulling teeth sometimes. He had all the plans for everything in that brilliant head of his and he seemed to not think sometimes about sharing them with the people they affected.

  “I have no idea,” she said drily.

  “It is not a secret.”

  She cleared her throat. “How will I be introduced?”

  He sighed heavily and reached out, picking up his glass of wine. “As Charlotte Adair, I would suppose.”

  Charlotte took another bite of her chicken. “All right. Rafe, how come you’ve never brought women to events before?”

  “Because. I haven’t been with a woman other than you since my accident.”

  He said the words so casually, so offhandedly. As he had done every other tiny bit of information given in his short sentences over the course of the meal. But this one...this one held a wealth of information and also raised a thousand questions.

  It had never occurred to her that Rafe hadn’t been with another woman. He said that she was the last woman he had seen naked, and once he had given context for his accident, that made sense. But that had not meant that she was the last woman he had actually been naked with.

  “You haven’t been with anyone?”

  “Neither have you.”

  “Well. No.” But she had been desperately in love with Rafe. And he had broken her heart. Considering she had spent so many years under the impression that he had abandoned her, it had certainly not occurred to her at all that he hadn’t moved on. Plus, in the tabloids women did talk about him. Oh, none of them went so far as to claim they had had an affair with him, but they certainly spoke of him in the kinds of reverent tones that one would expect if a man had made them see God. And, she knew from firsthand experience that Rafe possessed that kind of power.

  “I just would have thought—”

  “I like control,” he bit out. “I would have to know someone quite well in my present circumstances in order to have a physical affair with them.”

  “You didn’t know me. When I came up to you at the ball all those weeks ago, it wasn’t as if you actually knew me.”

  “Well, failing knowing the person well I thought perhaps getting you out of my system, finally having some recompense for what happened between the two of us, would fix something inside of me.”

  “And are you fixed?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” he responded, his tone dark.

  She looked back down at her dinner. “Are you going to be expected to dance with me?” She wanted out of this vein of the conversation. It was oddly painful, and a bit too personal. Because he wasn’t telling her what she wanted to hear. What she wanted to hear was that he had abstained from other women because he could not stop thinking about her. Because nobody compared to her.

  It was much more likely that he didn’t want to be vulnerable with someone after all the physical vulnerability he had endured surrounding his accident.

  Still. She liked the fantasy version. One where she mattered.

  “We might be,” he said. “But I have never done what was expected of me.”

  “Would you like to?”

  “What?”

  “You like control, as seems to be the theme of many of our discussions, and our interactions. If you go, and you don’t dance, I suppose people understand why. But if you did...”

  “You are suggesting that I go all out and surprise people?” he asked.

  “You are finally bringing a woman to an event. A woman who happens to be pregnant with your twins. I would think that you might as well go for a triple threat in terms of shocking the world.”

  Admittedly, she wanted to dance with him.

  She wanted to be out in public with him. To not be hiding in her tower room. To not be hiding at all. It had been so long. So many years. Her entire life’s worth.

  If her future was going to be tied to Rafe’s, and it was clear at this point that it was, then she wanted... She wanted it to be bright, beautiful and in the spotlight. She wanted her lover to hold her close on the dance floor, to lay claim to her in public. Without fear of retribution. Yes, her dearest wish was to finally have everything.

  And for everyone in the whole world to see it.

  She had been kept locked away, and then she had been in a prison of her own making. She was tired of that. Tired of living her life dictated by others. By fear.

  “Unless you think it would be too difficult,” she said, knowing that she was goading him. “Everything can be accomplished through practice. It takes me a bit more practice sometimes than it does others, but I am not afraid of hard work.”

  “Then I suppose we had better start practicing.”

  They finished their dinner, and Charlotte suggested they go to the solarium.

  “I’m going to move the furniture up against the walls,” she said. “I will make sure to let Della know to have it moved back by tomorrow.”

  “That is fine,” he remarked.

  “I don’t have any music,” she said, reaching out and taking hold of his hand.

  The corners of his mouth tipped upward, and she wanted to kiss him. “But you know how to dance?”

  “All right, in truth, I’ve never danced with anyone. But I thought maybe you might know how. You know, since you did go to that fancy private school.”

  “Your father sent me to private school,” he said, his voice deepening, getting rougher, his forehead wrinkling as his brows drew together. “He did not send you to school?”

  “I had tutors. I did not go uneducated. He felt that any of the men he might want to marry me off to would not accept a woman with no education at all. But of course, he did not want me too highly educated. Because men don’t like that either.”

  “Your father did damage and in a million inestimable ways, didn’t he?”

  “I think that we can both agree the most damage was done to you.”

  “I am not so sure. He used me. Blackmailed me. But he gave me much more freedom than he ever gave you. I think, in some ways, he considered me a son. Though, when a man would hold the threat of death over his own biological child, it is clear that it is not a high compliment to be considered such.”

  “I suppose he did,” she said softly. “No wonder the two of us feel so broken.”

  “I feel less broken just at the moment,” he murmured.

  She took a deep breath, trying to shift the weight in her chest. Instead, she felt something like a jagged piece of her soul cut through to her heart. “You do
know how to dance?”

  “I do.” He smiled, the expression somewhat rueful. “Though I have not done so in about thirteen years. And when I did it was under sufferance.”

  “Well, perhaps it’s like riding a bike.”

  He laughed. “I haven’t done that in a long time either.”

  “We can try,” she said. “At least we can try.”

  He began to lead, his movements firm and strong, and if they weren’t moving to any kind of beat, if their steps made no sense, it didn’t matter to her. There was no music. There was almost no sound at all.

  For him, she knew there was no sight either. And so, she closed her eyes too. Closed her eyes, and trusted him. Allowed him to lead them. Just sweep them both off in this dark, silent dance where she felt as though her feet weren’t even touching the ground anymore. She clung to him, her entire body feeling like it was on fire. Her heart feeling like it would burst through the front of her chest.

  And when they stopped spinning, when they stopped moving altogether. When it was just the two of them standing there breathing hard, their hearts thundering heavily. She had to acknowledge that shattering sensation in her chest whenever she breathed. To name it for what it was.

  Love.

  She loved Rafe Costa. And in all likelihood had never stopped loving him. No matter that he had broken her heart. No matter that he had left her—or so she’d believed. No matter that there were five years standing between them, five years of lost time, and so much pain was an uphill climb.

  She loved him, and she always had. The evidence was in the simple fact that she had not been able to cut her hair. And also in the fact that she had not been able to take it down for him since they had found each other again.

  Because it felt like a symbol of all they had been. The way she had revealed it to him, only to him. How it had felt like a gift, rather than something she was forced to keep because her father considered it an asset.

  “I think that will do,” she said softly.

  “Perhaps it will be much harder when there are other people on the dance floor,” he pointed out.

  She hadn’t thought of that. Of course, in an empty room, they had both been able to close their eyes.

  “You lead,” she said, “and I will follow. Everyone else can get out of the way.”

  He smiled, and Charlotte felt as though she had won something. Won back something she had thought lost forever.

  In those dark, lonely years she’d spent in hiding she had not imagined she would ever find Rafe again. She had not imagined being with him. She had certainly not imagined that she would be having his children. But they had found each other. They had, and this was the outcome. It was a miracle in many ways, so perhaps they would get one more miracle. Perhaps they could be happy together. He might learn to trust. He might learn to love.

  It was an unlikely thing, and she knew it. But, she supposed, it was no more unlikely than their beautiful dance in the dark. And that had happened. So perhaps, the rest would happen too.

  “Rafe,” she said softly, “I’m ready for bed.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  RAFE HAD NEVER been one for large parties. He had always felt somewhat out of place. At the boarding school he had attended with his friends, he was one of the only students who was not from an aristocratic background. Yes, there were some from new money, but most had come from the aristocracy. Princes, like Adam and Felipe. Plus a host of lesser nobles, lords and other obscure titles.

  But as far as he knew he was the only one who had come up straight from the gutter. And he had always been aware of the fact that it wasn’t through any merit that he was there.

  No, he had done nothing good to find himself in this place. Nothing at all. In fact, he had committed a crime, and been taken in as the indentured servant of a crime lord. So, his background had never been anything he had shared freely.

  Rafe had always been aware of the inequality, and he was still aware of it. Even now that the money he had was his own, he was aware of it.

  There would always be something that distinguished him from everyone else. It had been his humble beginnings at school, and now, it was his blindness. Whatever the reason, these sorts of things had never been his cup of tea, and now he had to go to them even more often than before, because of his status. And because Felipe never took no for an answer.

  At least he had Charlotte by his side.

  If nothing else, because he had the night after the party to look forward to.

  He held on to her hand as they ascended the steps of the museum and walked in. Charlotte leaned over, murmuring softly, “This is a great, open room. It is quite full of people. You can probably hear that.”

  “Yes,” he said, tightening his hold on both her and his cane. “I can.”

  He could also do a fairly good job of gauging the size of the room based on the acoustics. It was not perfect, but it was educated, at least.

  “There are a few tables set up in here, and waiters holding trays of drinks and food. There are a couple of sculptures. Mostly of people. I assume this is the classical art of the country. Your friend was talking about that being part of the exhibition, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Rafe said. “His new wife, Briar, is quite fascinated by art. And when they married, she was put in charge of resurrecting the arts in this country. She brought a great many pieces long thought destroyed out of basements in manor houses and old universities. And she has now done her first exhibition of original art, as well.”

  * * *

  “Wow,” Charlotte said, feeling a twinge of something.

  Could it be jealousy? Envy? That made her feel small and slightly petty, but it was the most likely feeling. It was just that a young woman having such an effect on her adopted country—having such drive—was enviable as far as Charlotte was concerned. Her life had been reduced to survival for so long, and she had so rarely had the chance to make her own decisions.

  “She must be quite an amazing woman,” Charlotte said.

  “She is. She also happens to be the long-lost princess of a country.”

  “Really?” Charlotte asked.

  She supposed she was a long-lost daughter of a crime lord, but that was not anywhere near as glamorous.

  She looked across the room and saw a striking couple, a tall, elegantly dressed man in a black suit with his black hair slicked back. By his side, a petite brown-skinned woman with full, curly hair and a shimmering golden ball gown that set off her complexion.

  “There is a very good-looking man. Tall. Black haired and an easy smile standing at one o’clock. And next to him is an extremely beautiful woman wrapped in gold.”

  “I would imagine that is Felipe and Briar. Felipe draws the eye of women quite effortlessly.”

  “Well,” Charlotte said, “my eye is drawn.”

  “I have, of course, never actually seen his wife, but he is never anywhere without her, so I suspect that is the woman standing next to him.”

  “They have just been joined by another couple,” she said. “But this man is not as handsome. He is...well, he has terrible scars. The woman is pregnant.”

  “That is Prince Adam Katsaros. And I would assume he is with his wife, Belle. Adam had a terrible accident some years ago. You might say it runs in our group of friends. Only Felipe has escaped unscathed. But then, I suspect Felipe is only unscathed in a physical sense. Though, I think his wife has gone a long way in healing those wounds.”

  That Rafe could acknowledge that made Charlotte feel hopeful. That he could see that his friends had been healed by the power of the love they had found with their wives. Perhaps, then he would acknowledge that it could be the same for him. Maybe. Just maybe.

  “Do you suppose we should go and talk to them?”

  He laughed. “I have no doubt. And, if we didn’t, Felipe would certainly cause a scene.”

  “Well,” she said, “we don’t want to cause a scene. Until we are ready to.”

  He laughed, and that
made her feel like she was doing the right things. Like she had accomplished something. It made her feel as though she might be closer to her goal than she had thought before.

  She took his arm, and the two of them walked to where his friends were standing.

  His scarred friend Adam kept his emotions carefully guarded, while Felipe looked at them with open interest. The women were smiling, and introductions were made all around.

  Charlotte felt...well, it made her yearn. For things she didn’t have. For a chance to be a normal couple. A real couple like the two in front of them.

  “So is this the missing piece to the puzzle?” Felipe asked.

  “Puzzle?” Charlotte asked.

  “The puzzle that is Rafe,” Felipe said. “He has always been incredibly quiet about certain aspects of his past. The time that we had no contact with him between school and adulthood. I have always assumed that there was a woman involved. And I see now that I was correct.”

  “You don’t know that she’s from my past,” Rafe said. “I didn’t say.”

  “I suppose I don’t know. But my intuition is pretty good. And, you have never brought a woman with you to any event like this. As far as I know, you have essentially lived like a monk for the past five years. You are welcome to correct me if I’m wrong.”

  Rafe looked annoyed for a moment, then schooled his expression into one that was carefully controlled. “Very well. Charlotte is a woman I’ve known for a great many years.”

  “Did you kidnap her? Because you were exceedingly judgmental when Adam and I kidnapped our wives.”

  “Did they kidnap you?” Charlotte addressed Belle and Briar, who exchanged long-suffering looks, then nodded.

  “Well, Adam took me prisoner, technically,” Belle said.

  “Felipe definitely kidnapped me. From a hospital.”

  Charlotte blinked. “Well.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not his wife.”

  “But are you kidnapped?” Felipe asked. “In my opinion that is the most important bit of information.”

  “Not anymore,” Charlotte answered.

  “Not anymore,” Adam said drily. “So you did kidnap her.”