Chapter 36

Though the truth is, I can’t imagine him minding too much.

So I shake off that panic as well.

My anxiety has to be rooted in something else that’s elusive to me at the moment.

Thus, I once again confirm for everyone’s benefit that I’m fine. I even sit and nap a little. Actually, I merely drift in and out, but I’m resting. And I’m not groggy when we land, following breakfast and some freshening up in the nicely appointed bathroom.

As soon as my feet hit the red carpet, Claire leaps forward. As enthusiastic as she is to meet me in person (and to ascertain for herself that I’m perfectly healthy), she delicately puts her arms around me and gently hugs me.

I hold onto her for a few lingering seconds—camaraderie arcs between us, yes. But also, there’s a deeper emotion. She’s practically become a sister.

Tears mist my eyes over the lengths she has proven she will go for me. Not at all out of disrespect for or disobedience toward Nick and her position with him. And not entirely as an extension of his goodwill. She sincerely and earnestly responds to me. I really think of us as more than just friends. Certainly, there’s mutual adoration on more than a professional level because I’ve revealed private things to her regarding my feelings for Nick.

Eventually, we detangle from each other, but she still holds me at arm’s length, her eyes bulging a bit. “My,” she says on a long breath. “When the king made a comment about you being ‘amazingly beautiful,’ he was not exaggerating.”

“You’re too nice to me,” I quip.

“Being completely honest.” She even appears taken aback. Then murmurs, “I get it now.”

My gaze narrows on her. “Get what?”

“Why sometimes he has this far-off look in his eyes and he just kind of goes somewhere secretive in his mind. Then he smiles. Obviously, he’s thinking of you.”

I could wither at her feet. “Really?”

“Swear it.”

Actual tears form now. Maybe I have made the right decision by coming here. Maybe Nick needs to see me as much as I need to see him.

I can’t fully dwell on that, though. I have to collect myself.

I tell Claire, “You’re as lovely on the outside as you are on the inside.”

She’s the one who’s touched now. She hugs me again.

Then she sort of hops-to and exclaims, “Oh! We are on a schedule this morning, so if everyone will please follow me…”

She swipes at a drop on her cheek and immediately transitions into her very in-charge persona.

Sisters, indeed.

I give huge props to people who stay on-point.

Claire doesn’t miss a beat. She ushers us to an awaiting limo. A valet loads our bags in the trunk. Then we’re off.

The drive from the airpark to the…um…palace…is extraordinary. Claire indicates the major landmarks, which include statues, ornate structures, artistic sculptures, and gorgeous bridges over a river that all boast tall columns with flame lanterns ensconced in enormous, gilded cages that are stunning. Nick has frequently noted the brilliance of his people in the scientific, research, and economic fields, but it is quite clear there’s genius creative design and architectural forces at play in his country as well.

While everything has an old-world feel to it—because of the history on display—it is also conversely modern. There is no easy or fully accurate way to describe how “new” the antique-y embellishments appear. Other than to simply deduce every inch of this country is well maintained.

The city proper is decorated with buildings bearing influences from London, Paris, and Rome. But as we enter more of a rural area, the stretches of manicured tracts of land with lush green grass, vibrant flowers, full bushes, and the tall trees—along with pretty ponds dotted with lilies—are breathtaking.

Though no more so than when we pass through the massive wrought-iron gates at the entrance of the royal estate.

A vision from The Man in The Iron Mask immediately pops into my brain.

There is nothing but verdant pastures, sensational coloring, artistic fountains, and spectacular courtyards as far as the eye can see. And in the distance is a striking building with a four- or five-story main portion, right and left wings that are three stories high each, with additional wings coming off them, heading toward the back of the property, all topped with elaborate spires.

I already know the inside is going to be even more opulent.

My heart skips.

Nick lives here.

Here.

My pulse jumps.

This might be more than I’d bargained for. Most definitely more than I’ve mentally prepared myself for.

Hell—I haven’t mentally prepared myself at all.

I’ve only obsessed over showing up unexpectedly. What Nick’s reaction might be to my impromptu visit.

I have not contemplated how overwhelming his kingdom will be.

Nor have I allowed my mind to wander to all the implications of…a kingdom.

Like, does he stand on that grand, dual-curving outside staircase leading up to the entrance to address his loyal subjects as they cover every square foot of the massive circular drive and the event lawns on either side?

(Or does he just go live on socials from somewhere inside the palace??)

I have a slew of other questions. Oh, Lord, do I!

But now is not particularly convenient for them to take over my brain.

We leave the limo and Claire escorts us up to the double doors that must be sixteen- or eighteen-feet tall. They are opened by doormen, of course.

We step inside, me drawing up short so that Grayson nearly steamrolls me from behind.

He lets out an unchecked, “Umph!” as he grabs my shoulders to keep me from lurching forward.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

Then I glance up again.

So much for my heart skipping—it’s pretty much stopped.

“Oh, holy Chr—”

I clamp my mouth shut. Try to breathe.

I have a flashback to the one instance when I walked into the most prestigious hotel in San Francisco, froze in place the moment I passed through the revolving doors, and just… Stared.

For endless, endless minutes.

My jaw had hit the ground and I’d been awestruck.

Similarly to this case—though, I’ve become couth enough over the years to semi-school my shocked expression and keep my jaw intact.

There is brown-and-ecru marble spanning the vast floor and climbing the rounded pillars that are accented at their stellar heights with decorative bronze fixtures. The chandeliers are too stunning for words and the furniture is plush and plentiful, with accompanying coffee, sofa, and end tables. Oversized fireplaces have low blazes in the hearths, with generational paintings in expensive-looking frames hanging over them. Heavy mirrors in different shapes and sizes also adorn the walls.

A warm, golden glow permeates the place. And there are more of the grand, sweeping staircases, leading in various directions.

One would require a map to navigate this scene.

“Ah, we’re right on time,” Claire murmurs from beside me as she consults her tablet. “I requested an audience with His Majesty. Set for right now,” she calculatedly adds. Then she more conspiratorially whispers, “Three… Two… One…”

Nick appears from a corridor on the second level and strolls out onto the open mezzanine, surrounded by his staff and, presumably, advisors.

“So punctual,” she quietly jests.

While everything within me goes haywire and it’s not only because he is so absurdly hot in a sharp black suit with a crisp white dress shirt and black silk tie with silver pinstripes on the diagonal.

Yes, his supreme gorgeousness and cultured elegance and raw edginess all consume me at once, filling every crack and crevice inside me and igniting a firestorm.

But also…

It suddenly dawns on me that I’ve made this significant gesture—for better or for worse.

I am here. Without having any idea if my presence will be welcomed—or if I’ll cause some sort of upheaval in Nick’s life.

All I know is…

I am anchored where I stand.

I’m not sure when I’ve last taken a real breath.

And although there truly is a sizzle through my veins, there is an additional soothing sensation riding the flames. The feeling comes from all the far recesses of my existence, my psyche, my soul.

It’s a ridiculously absurd notion that develops in my subconscious, but I can’t help but think I’m not the only one who’s thrilled to be here. The peanut is as well.

Now to find out Nick’s thoughts on the matter…

~ NICK ~

There’s a familiar fragrance wafting toward me. It’s not Claire’s.

This one is velvety and yet refreshingly vibrant.

It seeps into my soul and oozes through my veins. It stimulates all my senses. Jolts me deep inside.

I don’t even spare a glance downstairs. I don’t have to. I know she’s here.

I hand my tablet to one of my assistants and I tell an advisor, “Work together on the notes I made and come up with a proposal to present to me tomorrow.” To another assistant, I say, “Cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day.”

“But—” she instantly balks. “There are the meetings with—”

“Yes,” I acknowledge. “Yet this is more important, Janelle. I assure you. Work your magic and reset the meetings while keeping all the dignitaries happy and engaged.”

Janelle simpers for all of two seconds. Then she does a sort of I’ve got this eyeball roll that’s neither dramatic nor sarcastic. More comical and accepting. Like… Yeah, this is what I do best.

She gives a rather sassy shrug, presses her cell to her ear, and walks off, making the applicable calls.

She’s my unofficial niece. My best friend’s daughter.

She’s sharp as a tack, I will never discount that.

Also… Incredibly tactful.

Janelle excels at all things confidential and resourceful. She’s both intense and flippant at the same time, which fantastically balances out my staff.

I send everyone else on their way.

I inhale again.

Breathing in the enticing scent.

Her scent.

The first thing that registers in my brain is the typical euphoria that always comes when I’m buried inside Bailey and moving slowly, though insistently, with her—and connecting with her on every level imaginable and possible.

For a few moments, I’m in heaven.

Because she’s here.

In the next instant, however…

Panic shoots through me.

Because she’s here.

My gut wrenches and my gaze snaps to the foyer below.

She’s with Claire and Grayson and her bodyguard and—

Fuck!

Dr. Shaw.

My insides cramp so fiercely, I can no longer breathe.

Bailey is staring up at me—a hopeful glistening in her blue eyes.

But then she grasps the scene and my fear and she pulls away from Grayson and rushes up the stairs while chirping, “Wait, wait, wait!!! It’s not what you think! Just wait, Nick!”

She’s gasping for air and not only because of the ascent to get to me.

She’s flushed.

She’s nodding and tears are streaming down her cheeks.

She’s positively… Stunning.

I stalk toward her, but she’s really racing forward—because she’s drawn the appropriate conclusion.

As everything within me shreds to ribbons, she grips my hands and hastily, breathlessly says, “It’s not the baby. It is totally not the baby, Nick!”

Relief flashes through me.

Regardless, I rip my gaze from Bailey. It lands on Dr. Shaw, who has reached the bottom step, having followed Bailey. She pauses, though. Stares up at me. And says, “Everything’s fine. One-hundred percent. There’s nothing medically wrong with Bailey or the baby.”

“I only brought everyone along,” Bailey rapidly explains, “because you’d have it no other way. And… Neither would I.”

My full attention returns to her.

She’s smiling and crying at the same time.

I am thoroughly confused. My stomach is twisted, my heart painfully constricting. Because I have no fucking clue what’s going on.

She knows this and does everything in her power to unravel the mystery as quickly as she can, not hold me in suspense.

“It’s true, Nick. Baby and I are fine. Sooo fine. It’s just that… It’s just that…” Now, she lets out a laugh. And it’s not a tentative one. It’s actually quite robust.

Despite this, my brow furrows and consternation grips me. She wouldn’t be here if something wasn’t wrong. I’m well aware of this.

“Bailey—”

“Oh, fuck.” She draws in a sharp breath. “I’m freaking the shit out of you. This isn’t how this is supposed to go. We were supposed to see each other—you at the top of the stairs, me at the landing. And just… You know… Make our way toward each other. Meet in the middle. Oh, fucking fuck.”

She sighs and sniffles. Shakes her head.

I reach for the handkerchief in my inner jacket pocket. Except… Grayson has suddenly appeared behind her, and he passes a tissue to her. She accepts it, not even cognizant of my offering.

Initially.

When she blows and then opens her eyes, she catches on.

She glances up at me.

Those big, haunting blue irises glimmer mischievously—and instantly calm my insides.

She murmurs, “Sorry. This is our thing.” She tilts her head in Grayson’s direction.

I smirk at him.

He chuckles. Then says, “A lady should never be without a tissue at hand when she’s in—”

“A-hem!” Bailey all but growls, effectively cutting him off.

Grayson whips out a small disposable baggy from his pants pocket, opens it, and Bailey drops in the used tissue.

I am perplexed, intrigued, and comforted. All at the same time.

This has become a reunion of scary, sweet, and baffling emotions rolled into one.

Bailey realizes this. She fists the lapels of my jacket as Grayson discreetly leaves us.

She doesn’t say anything just yet. I hear Claire in the background, offering to give the tour to Dr. Shaw—and that’s when I know there is no need for the OB/GYN to hover close to Bailey. She really is just along for the ride, in the event a need does happen to arise.

I finally take a full breath.

Gradually let it out.

“Better?” Bailey asks.

“Yeah. You just… You know where my mind goes when it seems as though there’s some sort of emergency,” I tell her.

“No emergency. Other than…”

She releases the material she’s clutching. Takes one step backward.

Only one.

I’m having none of that.

I reach out and snake an arm around her waist. I bring her back to me.

My head bends to hers. “What is it?”