Chapter 6
Courtney
The next few days are quiet. Landon is staying with me, so he’s available to watch the baby while I take on as much work as Chains can give me.
Tonight’s assignment is awful. Surveillance is the most boring job in the world.
Especially when the person you’re surveilling is currently in a seedy hotel room doing God-only-knows what.
I’m probably going to be here all night, which is a drag, but I have to pay the bills. I’m grateful that I have a job with flexible hours that pays well enough for me to support myself.
To my surprise, the man I’m following—who is most definitely having an affair—leaves the motel room around ten-thirty, sloppily kisses the woman he’s been with, and then gets in his car and drives away.
With me following, of course.
I got lots of pictures of him and his affair partner kissing and touching when they arrived, kissing as he left, and now I wrinkle my nose in distaste as I watch him pull into his home driveway.
Gross.
But he’s not my problem. This is nothing but a paycheck for me.
When Landon isn’t here, my elderly neighbor, Adele, will sit in the living room watching her shows and knitting when I need someone to watch Micah at night.
In exchange, I take her grocery shopping and to doctors’ appointments.
Occasionally I change a lightbulb or do something else that requires standing on a stool, which makes her uncomfortable.
She’s still pretty spry in her seventies, but helping each other out works for us.
The problem is that if I’m out all night, I can’t get any sleep because Micah is up by seven. He naps twice, and I can nap when he does, but it’s hard to get into a routine if I’m working nights.
So far, that’s been my only struggle as a single mom. I’m fortunate that he sleeps well and has been sleeping through the night since he was six weeks old. He’s laid back and happy most of the time, so becoming a mother has been pretty great.
Except when I look into his big blue eyes and think about his father. Or when his father shows up unexpectedly at my job and gives me the third degree.
I hate lying. To him, to my friends, to the world. Other than Landon, Elliott, and Chains, everyone else thinks Micah was the result of a one-night stand and that I don’t know how to contact his father.
If only.
That would make my life so much simpler.
The idea that my child is royalty freaks me out a little. Okay, it freaks me out a lot. And Daniil is the last man in the world I would have wanted to make a baby with. That’s probably not fair but when I break it down there are so many things going against him.
I’ve made list after list, comparing the pros and cons, trying to make a decision about whether or not to tell him he has a son.
I know hiding the baby from him is wrong, but I have reasons that go far beyond his playboy reputation.
Or the fact that he had two children with his last partner and then just walked away, decided to be Uncle Daniil instead of Daddy.
Or even the fact that being with him would mean raising our child in a small, developing country.
That last part is somewhat unfair because Daniil is filthy rich. His family has oil money that goes back generations, so he only works because he’s compelled to, not because he has to. We would have everything we need and then some.
However, the Royal Protector thing is a problem. To become a Royal Protector, you take an oath to serve your king and country, putting the lives of the members of the royal family before your own. And before your own family. For life.
I saw that firsthand, and I’ll never forget it.
That life isn’t for me. And there isn’t a chance in hell I would put anyone—not the king or even the Almighty himself—before my child.
Every time Landon mentions that Daniil has a right to know his son, I remind him of the oath he took.
Basically, it’s a standoff every time. Daniil would have had no choice but to leave me in that tunnel trying to escape, if I was the one who’d been pregnant at the time, and that’s the part I can’t wrap my head around.
He’s not a bad person, but between the life he was born into and the life he chose, there’s no room for a family. Deep down, I know I could fall for him. He checks all the boxes. Except the one where he would leave me and our baby to die so he can protect the king and his family.
I don’t understand it and I’ll never accept it.
Landon says I’m making excuses.
Chains says he’ll respect my privacy, but it’s obvious he disagrees with my decision.
Elliott told me he understood my reasoning but thinks I’ll regret it as Micah gets older.
I really wish I had someone to talk to. It’s been lonely since I made myself disappear.
I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy, much more interested in sports and flying than clothes or makeup.
That’s one of the reasons Lennox and I got close—she’s a tomboy too.
Until she met Sandor and went full-on princess.
Well, not full-on. She’s still badass as hell, tougher than most men I know. She’s just so happy and… in love. She’s also a mom, and I wish I could share that journey with her.
It simply wouldn’t be fair to put her in a position to keep secrets from her husband. Not to mention—she took that damn oath too. She buys into the Protector mantra, and while I respect it, it’s something we disagree on.
As per usual these days, my sleep is restless and filled with disturbing dreams and images. The attack on the palace. Daniil’s face. Micah screaming in terror from an unknown assailant.
By six o’clock, I give up on sleep and drag myself out of bed.
I wash up, pull on bike shorts, a sports bra, and a tank top, and spend thirty minutes doing yoga.
By that time, Micah is stirring, so we fall into our morning routine as I change, dress, and feed him.
I leave Landon a note after I pull on my running shoes, telling him I’m taking the baby and going for a run.
The jogging stroller has been a godsend, worth every penny.
It’s been the easiest way for me to take off the baby weight.
I stayed in shape during my pregnancy, only gaining twenty-five pounds, so it didn’t take long for the weight to come off.
But gaining back muscle and my pre-baby shape has been more difficult.
I’m thicker now, with a larger waist even though the number on the scale is back to what it was.
Yoga seems to be helping, and though I loathe running, it’s the most efficient way for me to exercise since I can take Micah with me, plus he seems to love being outside.
Since it’s still early, the desert heat hasn’t kicked in yet and I’m able to pick up speed without overheating. The neighborhood is still quiet, a handful of people heading off to work or school, but mostly it’s peaceful. And working out stills my racing thoughts for a while.
At least until I get close to the house.
A big black SUV is parked on the street in front of the house, and my stomach clenches nervously. I slow down, cautious, but I already know who it is. There’s only one person who would be at my house this early, unannounced.
He found me.
And he’s almost definitely discovered my secret.
I send Landon a quick text and then approach warily.
I’m furious, ready to fight, but there isn’t anything I can do to stop this. He’s here. He sees the baby and is already out of the SUV, staring at me intently.
Son of a bitch.
“What. The. Fuck.” I approach Daniil and Marcus, who are side by side next to the SUV. “Did you seriously follow me home after I asked you not to—and then stalk me the last few days?” I figure going in on the offensive is my only move at this point, because it’s going to go bad no matter what.
“Is he mine?” Daniil asks without preamble.
“Excuse me?” I glare at him.
“Is. He. Mine.” He enunciates each word as he stares down at Micah.
“Who?” That’s a ridiculous question, but I’m anxious to delay the inevitable. Give Landon time to wake up and come outside.
“Don’t play coy.”
“Did you follow me home the other night?” I demand, ignoring him.
“Answer the question.”
“You first.” I point a finger at him. “I asked you very nicely to leave me alone. And then you followed me or had me followed. Now you think you can storm into my home and demand answers to questions I shouldn’t have to answer?
” I feel like the worst kind of hypocrite, but I don’t know what to do.
Fear and anxiety and anger are spinning together in my gut, bile rising in the back of my throat.
“The child in the stroller is no more than six months old,” he continues as if I hadn’t said anything. “I can do backward math. That dates back to the last time we slept together. So, I’m going to ask you one more time—is he mine?”
“Or what?” I snap defiantly. “You going to put me in front of a firing squad? Sic your Protector buddies on me? What happens if I don’t answer, Daniil?”
A look of surprise flashes in his eyes before he blows out a frustrated breath. “No, none of those things were in my plans. I was, however, thinking more along the lines of getting a court order for a paternity test.”
I’m pretty sure I’m going to puke.
Fuck.
The only thing worse than puking is puking in front of the guy you used to sleep with who’s about to figure out that you gave birth to a child he knows nothing about.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Landon comes out of the house looking tousled, but I can see the outline of his gun beneath his T-shirt. “You saw her at the club. You knew she was okay. Why did you have to push it?”
“Apparently, I had a very good reason.” He motions to Micah. Then he turns back to me, his face a mask of barely contained fury. “Is he mine?”
This isn’t how I envisioned telling him. I never wanted to, but I knew eventually I would have to. I definitely didn’t imagine it like this.
The bile in my throat is threatening to come up and I clap a hand over my mouth as I race into the house, pushing past Landon as I whisper, “Watch the baby!”
I barely make it to the powder room before the contents of my stomach come right back up, and I mentally curse myself for being weak.
“Court.” Landon is behind me, Micah in his arms. “You okay?”
“Do I look okay?”
“Come on, it’s going to be all right. You know I won’t let anything happen to you or Micah.”
I don’t reply, merely turn on the tap so I can splash some water on my face. I look like hell, but it’s time to face the music.
This is going to suck.
I square my shoulders, take Micah from Landon, and walk into the living room where Daniil is pacing and Marcus is sitting on the arm of the couch.
“Hey, this isn’t a board room or hotel,” I say to him, scowling. “Don’t sit on my couch like that.”
Marcus looks surprised and then nods his head. “I apologize.” He moves to sit on the couch properly, resting his arms on his thighs.
Then no one moves.
No one says anything.
The room is deadly silent other than Micah making little cooing noises as he chews on his fist.
“Courtney. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.” Daniil looks uncomfortable.
Good, the stupid jerk.
Why couldn’t he just leave things alone?
“Can we just talk? Please?” His tone is softer, the hard edge gone, but he’s a great actor. He puts on a show every time he’s in Parliament, pretending to be a cutthroat politician when I know damn well he hates every minute of it.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” I stare back at him without blinking. “And yes. He’s yours. Now what?”