Chapter Seven
Gabriel did not go back. He was proud of himself for that. Because there were a few times over the course of the next six months that he had gotten close to breaking. Once, he’d even arranged for a plane.
He would have gotten on it, with no clear intention but to see her again, get his hands on her again, but he’d received an email from Alexandre that day about some party in Alis he wanted Gabriel to attend.
Gabriel had canceled the plane immediately, gone to the insufferable party and thought of Evelyne the whole time.
But he knew what would happen if he ever went back to her. He would not be able to resist. Because separation had not dulled this obsession. He thought of her, dreamed of her, cursed her.
Wanted her with every breath, like she had become the very air he needed to survive. It was insanity, this warped thing inside him. Because he could think of nothing, feel nothing, want nothing but her.
He would not allow it to tear him apart a second time. Perhaps it felt different from before. He thought more of her than avenging her.
But at its heart it was the same, so what did it matter?
When his phone rang one night as he tried to convince himself to go out, find a woman, he saw the screen read Alexandre and he answered it, teeth gritted. He felt an immeasurable guilt every time he spoke to his friend that did not go away with time or separation from Evelyne.
“Alex.”
“You must come at once,” Alexandre said with no preamble. “And I cannot explain until you get here.”
So, quite against his will, Gabriel flew to Alis that very night, because Alexandre had not sounded himself, and it worried Gabriel. He arrived in the dead of night, and it was Alex himself who let him into the palace.
The prince never answered the palace doors.
“What is it?” Gabriel demanded on a hushed whisper—the dark, silent halls around them seemed to demand it. Everything felt wrong, but Alex vibrated with a strange kind of energy.
He leaned in close. “My father is dead,” he whispered.
Gabriel wasn’t sure he understood the words. “I beg your pardon?”
“We have not made it public yet. The doctors thought they’d be able to save him at the eleventh hour, but he took his last breath right before I called you.
I have much to do. A million arrangements to make.
” He raked a hand through his hair, an almost never seen movement of being overwhelmed from the pri—the king.
Because the old king was dead. Enzo was…dead. It felt impossible, but Gabriel knew he had to be more than shocked. Alexandre had called him for a reason. For help. He would jump to do whatever Alex required.
“What can I do?”
Alex turned to him as if he just remembered he’d been the one to call him here. “You must bring Evelyne home.”
Ice slid through Gabriel’s veins. Evelyne. Home. He had to clear his throat to speak. “I’ll send for her.”
“No. No, you must fetch her. This is delicate. I have taken the oath, but until the coronation happens, things are very complicated. Especially with the general. I want her here for the coronation, but I do not want it to be publicized. Not yet. You must go get her and bring her here without anyone in the palace knowing. Ensure she is safe. We will not make the announcement until she is here.”
“Are you certain…” Gabriel wasn’t sure what he meant to ask, so he only trailed off, not sure how to proceed.
Alex laughed. Not a joyful sound, but not a bitter one. Just a kind of wondering. “He just…keeled over in front of me after dinner.”
Gabriel said nothing, let Alex talk. Clearly he needed to say it, accept it.
“He was talking to me, muttering about some slight handed to him by some diplomat. He was planning a war.” Alexandre shook his head.
“And then he put a hand to his head, complained of a headache and just…crumpled. The doctors believe it was a stroke.” Alex looked around the darkened entryway as if seeing it for the first time.
“He is truly dead, Gabriel. I saw it for myself. A stroke.”
“A stroke of luck, perhaps.”
“I suppose,” Alex agreed. He was looking into the dark shadows of the hall. His voice was very quiet, very tortured when he spoke. “He lay there, Gabriel, and I did not want to call for help.”
“And why should you?” Gabriel returned, knowing his friend needed assurance, comfort, even as Gabriel’s mind whirled with thoughts of Evelyne.
“But you did call for help. There were doctors. So there is nothing to concern yourself over,” he said fiercely, because he could see Alex doubting himself and it would not do.
One of them was a good person, and one of them was not. Alex would always be the good. Gabriel…never now.
“I suppose.” Alexandre shook his head, as if to scatter unwanted thoughts. His gaze zeroed in on Gabriel again. “You must bring Evelyne safely home, Gabriel. As quickly as possible. I want my family together. To usher in a new era for Alis. A good one.”
Good. God, Gabriel hoped so, but first he had to face Evelyne.
What he had done.
And would no doubt want to do again.
Evelyne was humming to herself as she turned into the drive.
Her monthly appointment with Dr. Stevens had gone well.
She liked the doctor, even if he was a bit elderly.
He was sweet and kind and asked no probing questions about the missing father of her baby—unlike some of the nosier ladies at the general store who wondered aloud why they never saw her husband.
Dr. Stevens answered all her questions with a calm patience that soothed her. He was like a father—or perhaps grandfather—figure. And when he gave her advice, she listened. Like when he’d told her to stop reading about pregnancy online—her anxiety had calmed quite a bit since she’d done so.
She found she fit in better with the elderly population of Bay’s Point.
She did not know how to relate to people her own age, though she had tried.
It wasn’t just that she was a princess, or had been raised so differently from the younger people of town, it was that she was pregnant, and alone, and, probably since everyone thought her incredibly wealthy, they viewed her as an oddity. Not a potential friend.
But the older people of the town seemed hell-bent on making sure she was hardly the oddest thing they’d ever beheld, and there was a great comfort in that.
“Maybe I do not have any young friends yet,” she said, talking to her baby bump as she often did.
“But we do have friends, and they will be very helpful when you arrive, I have no doubt. You’ll have better honorary grandparents than your actual grandfather, that is for certain.
And then, perhaps when you are in school, there will be other children’s parents to befriend. Maybe by then, I won’t be so odd.”
It was a comforting thought, if a bit of a stretch. But kindergarten in the States started at five. She could enroll in a preschool before that. It felt a million years away, but she was assured by anyone she talked to that the years would fly by.
And she would have a baby. A child. “You will be the light of my life,” she murmured as she drove up the winding drive to her house. There would be no cruelty. No punishments. There would be only love.
She reminded herself of that any time she considered calling Gabriel’s emergency number. That her baby would be wanted and loved and feel nothing but joy. Maybe Gabriel would not reject a baby as he had rejected her, but Evelyne refused to take that chance.
Still, it left an ache in her heart. For him. For home. For family.
“And maybe someday, when it is safe, I will be able to take you to Alis and show you your birthright.”
She thought of her home, her brother. Would Ines be pregnant yet? The only reason for Alexandre to get married was to produce an heir. Would they have children around the same time and never know it?
She shook that depressing thought away. “Only happy thoughts,” she told them both cheerfully.
But the attempt at cheer was immediately threatened by an unfamiliar car parked in her driveway and the worry that fluttered in her chest at all the possibilities.
But then she saw the man on her doorstep. He was not unfamiliar.
She sat in the driver’s seat, simply staring at him. Maybe in those first few weeks she had allowed herself the tiniest seed of hope that Gabriel might return, but once she had come to accept she was pregnant, she had not allowed herself errant thoughts of his return.
She did not need him and his rejections, and neither did their baby.
But there he was. Looking as handsome as ever. Visions of their night together tried to take up residence in her brain, but she shoved them away. For many reasons, but the most important one was the child of theirs she was growing.
Some small part of her wanted to get out, dash to him, throw herself at him and tell him everything. Beg forgiveness. Beg him to love her, take her, care for them.
And that was so sad and desperate she stayed where she was. She had to figure out a way to get rid of him without him seeing. She didn’t know what his reaction would be, and he’d left. Never checked in on her.
So his reaction did not matter.
But she could hardly just ignore him. He was right there, staring at her as he came down the stairs and toward her car.
Handsome. So stern. She did not understand what about her brought out the stern and tortured in him when what appealed to her was his charm and light with everyone else.
Tentatively she rolled down her window. “I do not recall issuing you an invitation.” He did not need to know about the gift he’d left her with.
Not until she knew why he was here anyway.
“We do not have time for childishness, Evelyne. Get out of the car. Pack a bag. You must come with me.”
Childishness. So disdainful, so demanding. After the way he’d left her. “Why should I?” she returned archly.
He studied her face in return, and her heart trembled. He was so serious, and clearly here against his will. This was definitely not reconciliation, so it had to mean something was wrong. “Is it Alexandre? Is something wrong?”
“Alex is fine. It is your father. He suffered a stroke.”
“A stroke.” She couldn’t imagine it. The hearty, powerful, untouchable King Enzo Lidia…suffering a stroke.
“He is dead, Evelyne.” Gabriel moved closer to the car. “You may return home. For good.”
Evelyne tried to absorb those words, but they refused to penetrate. Dead. Return home. Dead.
Dead. Her father, her own personal demon, was dead. Just…gone. In the blink of an eye. And she could go home.
“Get out of the car so we may have a real discussion,” Gabriel ordered. “And get you back to Alis.”
Home. Dead. It was all so much to wrap her head around, and he was right. She couldn’t just sit in this car and wait for him to go away, even though she needed more time to figure this out.
He thought he would take her home.
She looked up at the beautiful house she’d tried to accept was hers forever. She had spent time forcing herself to think of this place as the place she would raise her child. And there were so many things she’d learned to like about this place, this house.
But particularly since becoming pregnant she had ached for home. For her brother. For the familiar. She liked her friends here, but it was not the same. She had known she couldn’t go back, would never subject her child to an Alis ruled by King Enzo, so she’d tried to accept that.
But what about an Alis ruled by King Alexandre? It was almost unfathomable in all the positive possibility.
She looked at Gabriel, who studied her with his dark eyebrows drawn together. Perhaps she should refuse. Perhaps that was her only choice to keep her child a secret.
But why should she now if there was no King Enzo?
Because he left you.
Which felt a bit childish now that there was more at play.
She had to figure out how to work through it somehow.
Sitting in this car wasn’t that. So she picked up her purse, her jacket.
She tried to arrange them all in front of her so that she could hide the bump.
It wasn’t unwieldy just yet, but it was getting there.
Carefully, angling her body just so, she got out of the car. She didn’t bother to look at Gabriel. “This feels like some kind of…trick.”
“It is no trick. The king died yesterday. Alexandre has tasked me with bringing you back home before the announcement is made to the kingdom and then the world. He wants you at the coronation.”
Coronation. “Alexandre will be king.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever be used to it, so sure it would not happen until they were both old themselves.
“He will…” Tears filled her eyes. Not just hormones.
A relief from a tension she hadn’t known she carried.
It fully hit her now, with Alex in charge, he would not be in danger from her father’s vicious whims. With Alex in charge, everything changed.
Decades before she’d thought that possible.
But in her emotion, her elation and relief, she didn’t hold the bag and coat just as she should. She saw Gabriel’s eyes widen. She tried to recover, but it was too late. He’d seen.
He pointed at her—at her stomach. “What is that?” Gabriel demanded.
She had dreamed of this in her weaker moments. Telling him that he was to be a father. In her fantasies, she was calm, casual, disdainful almost. She did not give him the satisfaction of thinking that she needed him, wanted him, or was afraid of being alone.
She was determined to make fantasy a reality.
So she beamed at him, made sure she sounded cheerful. “In the States they call it a baby bump.” She ran her hands over the roundness, moved to give him a profile view. Refused to let the nerves fluttering through her show—she’d had ample practice at hiding those. “Isn’t that cute?”
He said nothing. Didn’t move. She wasn’t sure he breathed.
When he finally moved, it was with clear-cut precision. “Explain yourself,” he said quietly, dangerously.
She chose to maintain her flippancy. “Is it not self-explanatory, Gabriel? I am pregnant.”
“By whom?”
She startled a bit at that. She’d assumed he’d jump to the natural conclusion. Did he really think she’d just…immediately hopped into some townsperson’s bed after him?
It ached, almost as bad as him leaving her. That he’d think so little of her. She refused to even acknowledge the question. “I will need some time to pack.” She started to walk up to the porch, but he caught up with her.
She expected him to take her by the arm, but he stood in front of her blocking her bodily. Like he was afraid to touch her.
She almost hoped he was.
He pointed at her stomach again. “Evelyne… Is that baby mine?”
He was so good at poking at her temper. She used her purse to slap him across the chest. “Of course it’s yours, you asshole.” And with that, she pushed past him and stormed inside.