Chapter 8
Courtney
His hesitation and silence speak volumes, telling me I made the right decision.
“Courtney.” He finally seems to find his voice. “It’s not black and white like that.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
His eyes meet mine defiantly. “There are a million variables.”
“Is what I described about your oath correct?”
Another hesitation before, “Yes.”
“So, you would have gotten Casey to safety and then come back for me.”
“I don’t know.”
“You just said you took the oath to protect the royal family at all costs.”
“Yes, but there are variables, depending on the situation!” He looks frustrated.
“There aren’t any variables—just facts. Eight months pregnant with your child. Attack on the palace. Casey and Levi vulnerable. My water breaks and I can’t keep going—who do you take care of first?”
He glares at me, but I know the answer—and this is why I hid his son from him.
“Fine,” he says at last. “That’s why you don’t want to be with me. I get it now. But why keep my son from me?”
“Because your son is a prince,” I say carefully. “Acknowledging him, even though he’s a good way down the line of succession, means he could still be a target for kidnapping. Someone to be used to control you and/or Erik. I don’t want that life for him.”
“But you made that decision without even asking for my input.”
“Yes.” I lift my head and try to keep my voice from cracking. “I made the decision I thought would be best for him—and by extension for me. This way, he’s just another American little boy. Not Prince Micah, son of Prince Daniil of Limaj. The son of the man who’s fifth in line to the throne.”
I know he’s pissed. I can see the anger and frustration burning behind those aqua-blue eyes.
I don’t blame him, but I refuse to feel bad about my decision to protect my child—knowing full well that under the most dire of circumstances, he won’t.
Or can’t. The distinction doesn’t matter to me, just the end result.
“You went to a lot of trouble to hide him.”
I don’t respond because it’s true.
“But now I know. And I can’t just walk away from my responsibilities.”
“He doesn’t have to be your responsibility,” I say quietly.
“He’s mine. I’m taking care of him just fine.
As you can see, he’s healthy and happy. I have a small but reliable support system.
I work. We have health insurance. And while I may not be a Royal Protector, I’m extremely capable of protecting my son. You know that.”
“I do.” He shakes his head. “But he’s my…son.”
“You didn’t like fatherhood the first time you were married,” I remind him. “Why do you think it’ll be any different this time?”
He grapples for an answer, opening his mouth a few times and then closing it again. “That isn’t fair,” he grunts. “Those kids were Jesper’s biologically. The mother was an egg donor.”
“But you were married and supposedly wanted those kids. Then you just walked away.”
“That was Jesper’s decision!” he snaps, obviously frustrated with this line of reasoning. “He’s their biological father, and when I left him, he asked for a clean break.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Maybe you should have asked.”
Maybe I should have but I was frustrated when I had to leave my friend in that tunnel, taking two people I didn’t care about as much as her to safety while she lay there, hoping she wouldn’t die before help could arrive.
“What do you want to do now?” I ask after a long, uncomfortable silence. “If you try to take him from me, you’d better be willing to kill me because—”
“Jesus Christ, Courtney!” He jumps to his feet and glares. “Do you really think me some kind of monster?”
“Not a monster.” I shrug. “Just a man who’s been to hell and back because of his title and bloodline. I don’t think you have the same moral code as the rest of us.”
“Moral code… you think I’d kill the mother of my child so I could take custody?” He stares at me like he’s never seen me before, and a tiny hint of doubt creeps in.
I’m being hard on him. But we’re talking about my baby, an innocent child brought into the world. He didn’t ask to be thrown into the war to control Limaj’s oil. There are a lot of reasons Erik, Sandor, and Daniil spent nearly a decade in exile.
Cousins. Friends. Next in line to the throne.
It was always going to be Erik, but I know Sandor and Daniil would have been up to the task if Erik had been killed.
And their Royal Protector vows go back to before Erik took the throne, so this was a life they were destined for.
I understand that—I simply don’t want to be part of it.
“You’re fine being Uncle Danny to Briony and Charlie—you can do that here. You don’t have to formally acknowledge him. You can come visit, send money, whatever makes you feel better but—”
“Knock it the fuck off,” he growls, beginning to pace. “I’m not going to be Uncle Danny to my son. My son, Courtney. He’s my son—my heir.”
Oh, great. He’s already throwing around words like heir.
“He doesn’t have to be.”
We stare at each other, and I back down first because despite my good intentions, I know hiding his kid from him puts me in a negative light.
“You really don’t understand, do you?” I whisper.
“Of course I understand!” he yells, throwing up his hands. “If I didn’t understand, I would have already ordered the paternity test and hired a lawyer. I wouldn’t be sitting here defending my heritage and culture.”
“You haven’t defended anything,” I point out.
“You’ve just yelled or tried to make me feel bad.
And I do feel bad for keeping him from you.
There were so many nights I lay awake wondering if I should reach out.
Call. Text. Tell Lennox. But in the end, the memory of what happened in that tunnel haunted me.
It still does. And if you love your son, or at least the idea of him since you don’t know him yet…
you’d know that not stepping up as his father is the right thing to do.
“It means he’s safe. He’ll never be in a tunnel racing for his life.
He’ll never be at the Christmas markets having fun with his cousins and get kidnapped.
” That happened to Crown Prince Lucas a couple of years ago.
“He’ll just be Micah Grimshaw, son to a single mom who would die for him.
For him, Daniil. Not for you, not for Erik, not for anyone. My entire world is focused on him.”
Daniil is quiet for a long time before he says, “Can I… see him? Hold him? Would he come to me or is he nervous around strangers?”
“He’s pretty laid-back for a five-month-old. Sometimes he’s shy but it depends.”
“I’d like to touch him. Look at him. I feel…” He stares at the ceiling. “I’m confused too.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I get to my feet and approach him slowly.
“Daniil, I didn’t do this to hurt you. It wasn’t a statement about your ability to be a father.
Not really. Those were excuses to make me feel better, because I was torn.
But at the end of the day, it boils down to his safety.
The identity I want for him. You don’t want him drawn into the chaos of your life. Do you?”
He stares down at me and I’m momentarily blinded.
Aqua-blue eyes.
Full, red lips.
High cheekbones and a patrician nose.
Broad shoulders that I know taper into lean hips and strong thighs. I distinctly remember what it’s like to have that gorgeous body cover mine. Pleasuring me like no one else ever has.
Fuck.
I can’t think about that.
Not now. Everything hinges on what he decides to do next.
“I’d just like to hold him for a minute,” he says finally. “Is that all right?”
I pull in a shaky breath.
It’s not all right. Because I know what will happen the minute he touches him. They’re going to bond, and then… but I have no choice. I’m the bad guy no matter what I decide.
“Landon?” I call toward the kitchen. “Will you bring Micah in here?”
“Okey-dokey.” Landon comes padding into the room, carrying Micah under his arm like a damn football. Micah’s kicking his legs and laughing.
My sweet, beautiful baby.
He loves everyone, so I know he’s going to love his father. How could he not?
Everyone pauses and even though it nearly kills me, I motion with my head to Daniil. “Go on. See if he’ll let you.”
Daniil hesitates, staring down at where Micah’s laughing.
“Hey, big guy. Will you come to me?” He holds out his hands, slow and steady, giving Micah time to size him up. Micah kicks a few times and gurgles, and then holds out his arms.
I don’t think there’s a dry eye among us as Micah moves into his father’s arms for the first time.
“Hey, Micah.” Daniil’s voice cracks just a little and I turn my head to swipe at my eyes. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m terrified. Terrified that he’ll take him from me. Terrified that he won’t.
Simply terrified at how this is going to change my life.