The Royal House of Niroli: Innocent Mistresses: Expecting His Royal Baby / The Prince's Forbidden Virgin. Robyn Donald
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he was carrying and, as he handed over the eviction notice, he couldn’t help thinking that, in spite of the downturn in her fortunes, the young woman in front of him possessed a quiet dignity that commanded his respect.
She had forgotten how cold and bare her attic room was. The eviction notice allowed her twenty-four hours to clear out her things. She neither wanted nor needed twenty-four hours. She missed her aunt, but she was pleased to be leaving such a sad and lonely place. Her aunt’s house could so easily have been filled with love and laughter if only Aunt Mabel had been able to forget that Carrie’s father had chosen Carrie’s mother over herself.
But things could be worse. Carrie’s mouth tipped down wryly as she totted up the facts. She was jobless, homeless, single and pregnant.
Carrie’s wry smile turned into a smile of true happiness when she thought about her baby. The pregnancy was a source of great joy to her that nothing could dim. She was going to have someone to love; someone who would love her, someone she could care for and champion. The only problem was her baby’s father. He would have to be told. He had a right to know, Carrie thought, even as her stomach clenched with apprehension.
Unfortunately, her baby’s father was the hardest and most unfeeling man she had ever known. He was about as approachable as a tiger with a thorn in its pad. He was also the man she was in love with, the man she had loved since the first moment she had set eyes on him; the only man she could ever love … The same man who barely knew she was alive. And the longer she left it, the harder it would be to tell him that he was about to become a father.
Crossing her arms over her stomach in a protective gesture, Carrie determined she would not allow anything to stand in the way of her baby’s future happiness, certainly not her own lack of nerve. She had to face up to him and she would. She didn’t want anything for herself, but she did want recognition and security for her child. Her baby’s father was a very wealthy man and she wondered if he could be persuaded to set up a trust fund to provide for college fees when the time came.
Before Carrie had learned she was pregnant she had dreamed of leaving the office where she had worked as a secretary to try and turn her hobby of painting into a profession, but that was out of the question now. She planned instead to find some cheap accommodation and work until the baby came. Her goal was to build up a small nest egg so that one day she could buy a modest property with a child-friendly garden. A solid base was important. She didn’t want a child of hers to be pushed from pillar to post as she had been after her parents’ tragic accident. She might be homeless today, but not for long.
Nico Fierezza. It was the only name the King of Niroli had allowed to be spoken in his presence for days, and he had just been informed that his grandson Nico was on the final flight path to Niroli.
Nico piloting his own jet. King Giorgio’s mouth curved with appreciation. Nico lived the life he would have enjoyed had not royal duty claimed him. And now the only task remaining in his long and eventful life was to tame this wild grandson of his and persuade him to accept the throne.
Tame Nico Fierezza? King Giorgio’s eyes clouded over. Even a king might find that a challenge. Then his crafty gaze brightened. Maybe there wasn’t a man alive who could tame Nico Fierezza, but a woman might …
What was he doing in Niroli? Nico asked himself as he brought his jet down in a perfect landing. What was he doing back on this small, lush, glamorous island? Niroli, the island of dreams for so many, but not for him.
He was happy to undertake the odd restoration project of the sort he had recently completed for his cousin Isabella, or even to design major projects like the new airportterminal building. But his life was in London. The only things he had missed about Niroli were his mother, Princess Laura, and his brothers, Luca and Max. His younger brother, Max, was fully committed to the wine groves he cared for, and his older brother, Luca, owned the casino that contributed so much to the island’s wealth. Luca had run the casino himself for years, but after a whirlwind romance he had recently married and moved to his bride’s native Australia to develop his business interests over there. Nico was the only member of his family to have inherited the restless gene, and right now that gene was killing him, urging him to leave the island before he had even halted the jet.
Nico’s lips tightened with impatience as he taxied in to the premier spot. They had laid out the red carpet for him. When would they ever learn that pomp and ceremony were the very last things that would lure him back to Niroli? But this was his first visit to the island since the tragedy of the yachting accident. Half his immediate family gone and the weight of their loss still hung heavily on him. Was his time so precious he couldn’t spare any for his remaining family?
He would do what he could to reassure his ageing grandfather and then he’d spend some time with the rest of his family. But not too much time. He didn’t want to raise false hope. He could do the maths as well as anyone. There were three surviving male heirs ahead of him, and he had no doubt they had all found some reason to exclude themselves from the succession, which meant he was next on the list.
Why else would his grandfather want to see him?
Whatever King Giorgio’s reason, it didn’t change a thing; he wasn’t interested in the throne.
Nico’s reasons for refusing the throne of Niroli went far beyond his restless nature. He wouldn’t accept anything under false pretences and knew that the last thing Niroli needed was another king desperately casting about for an heir some time in the future. A childhood illness had left him infertile, which meant marriage and long-term relationships had always been out of the question. He didn’t dwell on it, and in some ways it suited him, because he didn’t answer to anyone.
She couldn’t tell the father of her baby the news over the telephone. She had no alternative other than to face the lion in his den….
Lifting her suitcase as the underground train slowed to a halt, Carrie squeezed her way through the press of commuters. When she finally saw the light of day again she put her suitcase down and turned her collar up. It was a typical summer’s day in London with rain sheeting down from pewter skies. And every cab was taken, which was hardly a surprise. One drop of rain was always enough to ensure that was the case, and this was a full-blown summer storm.
Picking up her bag, Carrie started to walk at a brisk pace towards the commercial centre of the city where she had been employed as a secretary. It seemed so long ago, though it had only been three months since she had left her job on a point of principle.
More pride than principle, Carrie accepted, shivering with cold. Aunt Mabel, never one to miss an opportunity, had immediately dismissed her nursing staff and hired Carrie in their place. It was a job Carrie had been pleased to do. Aunt Mabel hadn’t paid her, but at least she had felt useful, as if she was earning the right to her board and lodgings, though, of course, she had paid for those, too. In her naïvety, she had hoped by working for her aunt it would bring them closer.
She knew better than to expect miracles now, but whatever happened she would cope with it. Apart from sharing the news of her pregnancy with her baby’s father, she was after a reference. With a baby to support she had to find something more than casual work and had left her job in such a hurry she had overlooked the practicalities. Where had her brain been?
Somewhere below Nico Fierezza’s belt, Carrie accepted grimly as she shouldered her way into his sleek steel-and-glass office building. She had been so overwhelmed by Nico noticing her at all that she had been swept into a fantasy of her own making without any thought of the consequences.
The first discovery Carrie made was that the girl who had once been her assistant was now office supervisor. Meek and mild to haughty in twelve weeks flat, which wasn’t bad going, Carrie conceded as she braved the girl’s disdainful stare.
‘Not there.’ The emery board that had been busily sawing at some impressive red talons took a break. ‘If you leave your case there it will drip on the carpet.’
‘I seem to be doing that, anyway,’ Carrie pointed out, holding onto her composure by the thinnest of threads. ‘Do you mind if I take off my coat and hang it up to dry?’
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