Chapter 9
Daniil
There are truly no words to describe holding my son for the first time. He’s chubby and sturdy, with a gummy smile and eyes exactly like mine. He reaches up and fists a chunk of my hair, making soft noises and seemingly content to hang out.
How could she keep him from me?
How could she not? The devil on my shoulder seems to be siding with her.
Every single thing she said is true.
Once I claim him, he’ll always be in danger. Whether I bring him to Limaj or let him live here, he’ll need security, private schools, round-the-clock protection. His life will never be the same, and no matter what we want, neither will hers. She’ll be dragged into the shit show of my world.
I’m proud of my country, my culture, and the things Erik is doing to bring us into the twenty-first century. But it’s come at a huge cost. Every single day is a struggle. We face danger every moment of every day. There are contingencies in place for almost any scenario but sometimes shit happens.
Like the day Lennox went into labor.
Micah gets bored with my hair and begins to lightly slap at my cheeks, wiggling his bottom as he looks into my face, as if trying to figure out how I fit into his life.
No shit, little man—Daddy’s trying to figure out the same damn thing.
Daddy.
Jesus, I’m someone’s daddy. For real. Not like with Jesper, who micromanaged every moment of his children’s lives, leaving me something of an afterthought.
Maybe he saw the writing on the wall with our relationship but in retrospect, it feels like he purposely didn’t allow me to get too close to the kids.
But there’s no chance of that happening this time.
Micah is my son.
It would be better—safer—if I walked away. Sent her some money. Checked in now and again.
But that’s not what I want.
My son.
My woman.
I want both.
Except that’s not necessarily the best decision for him and I’m pretty sure she would laugh in my face if I suggested something as ludicrous as marriage. Or even a relationship. She left long before she knew she was pregnant, so she never wanted anything serious with me.
I can force her to let me be part of our son’s life, but I can’t force her to want me as much as I want her.
With a hundred emotions whipping through me, I abruptly hand the baby to Courtney.
“I need time…” I can’t even form words, that’s how twisted up I am inside. “Can I call you…tomorrow? Or later tonight?”
She nods slowly. Suspiciously.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I mutter. “I’m not going to take him from you. Jesus. I just need to think about the best way to move forward. Can you give me a day or so? You’ve had more than a year to think about what you want—can you please afford me the same grace?”
“Okay.” She pulls Micah closer to her chest. “Do you, uh, do you have my number?”
“I’ll get it from Landon.”
With that, Marcus and I take our leave and climb into the SUV.
Neither of us says anything at first, merely sitting there in the vehicle, letting the air conditioning cool us down.
“You okay?” he asks finally.
“No. Not even a little. Drive.”
He puts the SUV in gear and pulls down the street.
“Where to?”
That’s the thing—I have no idea.
It’s a Thursday morning in Vegas. I’m too wired to go back to the hotel. Too frustrated to eat or drink anything. Not in the mood to gamble or party.
I don’t know what the fuck I want.
“Hotel,” I say finally. “I need to make some calls.”
“You got it.”
I stare out the window as he heads toward the Strip. There are tons of other places to stay, but I like the energy, the excitement. The fact that there’s always something to do, somewhere to go, willing women available.
Too bad I’m not interested in any of that now.
I have a son.
He’s five months old, and I’ve held him once.
My heart is screaming that there isn’t a chance in hell I’m not going to be in his life.
My brain is telling me to stop being selfish and think about the risks.
Courtney risked so much to protect our child—from my life.
Danger follows me everywhere. Maybe not right this second, but tonight or tomorrow or next week, someone will come for me. For Erik. For one of the kids.
We stave off attacks regularly. Usually they’re minor annoyances, cyber threats, a crazed tourist trying to get onto the grounds through the woods behind the palace. But sometimes it’s the real thing.
The Bojovnik Brat has made it their mission to take down Erik and the democracy we’re building. Get control of the billions of dollars worth of oil we have. Send the people back into despair, like they were during the ten years we were in exile.
We all vowed we wouldn’t let it happen. Not again.
Last time it was our cousin Anwar—the son of one of my uncles. He killed his parents, my parents, one of my siblings, and both of his, along with their significant others. All to take control. That day is burned in my mind the same way what happened in the tunnel that day is burned into Courtney’s.
I understand where she’s coming from—but she has to try to understand my side of things as well. We have equal but opposing traumas driving us. And somehow, I have to put my emotions aside and really think about what’s best for my son.
When we get back to the room, I start pacing like a mad man. I’m wealthy and powerful. I can have almost anything I want. The money we get from our oil residuals is substantial. We could all leave the country, buy an island in the South Pacific, and never have a day of hardship ever again.
Erik chose not to take that route, and the rest of us followed suit. We owe it to the family members who were murdered to protect their legacy, bloodline, and country. It’s that simple.
Or is it?
I reach for the phone even though I’m not sure who to call.
Ironically, I don’t have a lot of friends. I have my family, but they’re busy with their own lives. Sandor and Lennox have the twins, who were born the day of that attack. My sister Elen is married to a Royal Protector named Xander, and they have a little girl.
My ex-husband Jesper is now romantically involved with Joe, who runs palace security, and Charlie and Briony take up all their free time.
Marcus and I are close, working and partying together, but it’s not fair to dump this on him.
His twin brother, a rock star named Tyler, lives here in Vegas, and they were planning to hang out on this trip.
Truthfully, I don’t need a bodyguard. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, so there’s no reason he can’t take some time off.
My brother answers on the first ring. “Everything okay?”
“Safety-wise, yes. My personal life, however, took a very unexpected turn.”
“Oh?” He sounds distracted.
“Sandor. You have a minute? It’s important.”
“Give me a sec.” I hear movement in the background and then the click of his office door closing. “I’m all yours. What’s up?”
“I found Courtney.”
“Okayyy?” He draws out the end of the word with a huge question mark.
“And I know why she disappeared.”
“Are you purposely keeping me in suspense?”
“She had my baby.”
Dead silence. Then, “Is this a joke?”
“Do I sound like I’m joking?”
“Jesus fuck.” He huffs out a grunt. “How old?”
“His name is Micah. He’s five months now.”
“So… she was pregnant when she last left Limaj.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Are you sure it’s yours?”
“Obviously not a hundred percent sure but she went incredibly far out of her way to hide his existence from me, and he looks just like I did at that age, so yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I wish I knew.” I pull in a breath and tell him everything.
When I’m done, he lets out a low whistle. “That’s…a lot.”
I hesitate. “Is she right? That his life would be better without me in it?”
“Only you can answer that. From where I’m sitting, no. Hell no. A child needs both his parents. There’s no universe where I let Lennox take the boys and raise them without me,” he says flatly.
“Yes, but you were married and planned your children. We aren’t even friends, much less in a relationship. She has zero interest in what we do or what we stand for, as the royal family or Royal Protectors.”
“You can still be in his life.”
“Can I? Can I claim the boy, legally make him my son, and then just leave him behind for her to deal with? We both know someone, somewhere, at some point, will try to get to him.”
“Probably.”
“So, what the fuck do I do?”
“Start with an easy one: In a perfect world, where there are no wrong answers, what would you want?”
“Her and him. With me in Limaj.”
“Interesting.” I can see him smiling in my mind’s eye. I’m sure he finds the idea of me settling down amusing since I’m known as the bisexual Playboy Prince all through Europe. “Now, flip that to the thing you want least—the thing that would hurt and piss you off.”
“Knowing my child is out there and that I’m not part of his life.”
“The two extremes. So, we can mark those off. My suggestion is to make a list. What you want, what you don’t want, and all possible scenarios, including the two we just discussed.
Slowly, you cross off options that are distasteful to you.
When you’ve narrowed it down to what you can live with, you go back to Courtney and present her with those you want to discuss. ”
I wrinkle my nose. “Jesus, man, this sounds like a business negotiation.”
“In a way, it is. You and Courtney had the equivalent of a one-night stand. There’s nothing romantic between you, so the goal here is to do what’s best for her and Micah, as well as for you. Though I think you’re going to have to be the one to compromise.”
“Wouldn’t you be upset if it happened to you?”
“Of course. But again, since you’re not in a relationship, it doesn’t matter if you forgive her or hate her or whatever else. As long as you can be civil for the boy.”
“I don’t hate her,” I admit grudgingly. “I respect her. She made what was probably an incredibly difficult decision—to have and raise this child alone. She went through pregnancy and childbirth with no one but her brother for support. Her father’s supposedly a drunk and I don’t think I’ve ever heard her mention her mother.
From what I can tell, she has few friends and does nothing but work and take care of the baby.
She gave up a lot to protect our child. That’s the part I’m struggling with.
She made a huge sacrifice—for him. Am I being selfish by forcing myself into their lives? ”
“Only you can answer that.”
“You’re no help,” I grumble.
He chuckles. “I’m sorry. I can offer one olive branch, though.”
“Yeah?”
“I can have Lennox reach out to her. They were close. Maybe Lennox can help.”
“Maybe.” I hesitate.
“Look, take a deep breath. Give yourself some grace. Go to the gym. Get laid. Whatever it takes to blow off a little steam. Then take a day to really think.”
“Solid advice.”
“I try.”
“We’ll talk soon. Let me know if Lennox talks to her.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks.”
“Any time.”
We disconnect and I decide to try at least the first of his suggestions. A good workout at the hotel gym will help me burn off energy and quell some of the anxiety churning in my gut.
Tomorrow, I’ll think about what comes next.