Chapter 50

~ BAILEY ~

I might be building the perfect bridge.

Well, maybe not totally perfect. But darn close to it.

An hour of reading to Antonio leads to a half-hour of him sharing a quaint story from his childhood. One that does not involve magnificent horses and banners flying, or silver platters piled high with glorious desserts, or anything else expensive and exquisite that screams privilege. It’s simply a remembrance from when he was a small child and had wandered off in the forest during a group hunting expedition. He was alone and had panicked that he might not be able to find his way back. But he learned a handy trick. Look to the sky.

The sun at noon offers a southern alignment. Since it rises in the east and sets in the west, Antonio was able to gauge an appropriate direction by the movement and shadows. He navigated toward the hunting encampment by the western lakeshore. His father had not yet sent out a search team for him. He’d allowed Antonio the opportunity to get his bearings and prove he could be successfully resourceful.

Obviously, I’m not happy to hear about the delay of an immediate rescue party springing into action to locate a lost boy. However, Antonio contends that, despite the formal command not being issued, he’s convinced he was never completely alone. That someone was always looking out for him.

Another lesson is embedded in there. A fairly new one for me, and certainly what will be a tried-and-true one for Brielle-Chantal.

I contemplate this as Grayson and I leave the royalist of royal suites, with Bodyguard in the background (so right there is a case-in-point to Antonio’s recollection) and wind our way toward Nick’s apartment.

I want to set aside my mulling for a few minutes to contact Mitch, but I’d be waking him. Damn it, I once again missed my chance at a connection at a reasonable hour. So, instead, I keep up my ruminations.

I ask of Grayson, “Were you instructed to let Nick roam about the palace, while also keeping an eye on him?”

Given that Grayson was just in the room with Antonio and I, he’s aware of the reason for my inquiry.

“There’s a very fine line between watching over someone, and outright smothering them.”

I laugh. “Sure. Of course. But you didn’t exactly let him fend for himself, correct?”

Grayson snickers. Shakes his head. Clutches his hands behind his back as we stroll along.

These gestures indicate so much.

I might feel as though he’s fatherly toward me, but I’ve long since deduced that Grayson feels the same about Nick. He defines Nick in a familial capacity, well beyond a dutiful “charge.”

He says, “I was always very pleased when Nick would run amok.”

“Run amok?” This has me smiling. “You can’t be serious? He’s so… You know. Nick.”

“Hypersensitive of his station and responsibilities? Certainly. But boys will be boys,” Grayson reminds me. “Whether they’re of royal blood or not. Most of them crave action and adventure. Nick was no exception.”

“And what did he do, exactly?”

“Oh, that’s not for a butler to tell,” Grayson playfully muses.

I nudge him with my shoulder. Then I twine my arm with one of his again and gaze up at him. “Fine, keep his secrets. I find loyalty to be a worthy quality.”

He chuckles. “As does the king father. You’ve noted this.”

I stare more curiously at Grayson and query, “Do you think he understands that I have no desire to be disingenuous? That it’s not in my nature? That I’m really sort of adrift and trying to locate my own true north?”

“Absolutely. One hundred percent.” Grayson’s tone does not waver, and he doesn’t even bother sparing a glimpse my way. His attention is on the hallway before us because, regardless of Bodyguard trailing discreetly behind, Grayson considers that I’m on his watch.

I couldn’t possibly adore him more. I also love that he fully gets me. He knows my dilemmas and my conundrums.

I don’t believe he finds them tedious. They are, after all, pretty significant with a baby involved, and sometimes even quite perplexing.

He also doesn’t overly pontificate, so that I can’t latch onto his key points.

He’s fantastically wise and supportive. Succinct.

The very reason I not only seek his counsel, but also cherish his friendship.

We continue on our path without further conversation. I serenely enjoy the grandeur of the palace and the strong, silent company at my side. (And behind me.) I appreciate that I always have the opportunity to get lost in my own thoughts. It’s necessary these days.

The other thing I appreciate is that no one is bombarding me with their baby-ownership-conceptualizations. Not at all. It’s almost as though everyone is attempting to come to terms with the situation based on the biggest of all pictures, and that they’re wanting their personal, educated opinions to encompass a reality that is still difficult for me to comprehend and embrace—and they fully realize and accept this. Even Antonio acknowledges there’s more at stake here than a signed contract.

I’ve given this enough consideration since I arrived to faithfully believe no one is gaslighting me, swaying me, forcing me in one direction or another. It’s very much a breathe and think type of scenario.

In the end, my decisions must be mine.

I feel blessed to not have the walls closing in around me. In fact, this lovely waltz through the corridors is invigorating and I once again imagine what it might be like for my daughter to have all this space to spread her wings.

When we reach the apartment, a nap is in order. All the walking and all the mental quandaries have exhausted me. I snooze for an hour or so. Wake and shower. Primp for dinner and don the nightgown that Grayson has just returned from the cleaners, along with my other articles of clothing. Clearly a hint at how easy it is to stretch out my stay. Though, I also don’t overlook the few extras in the dressing room, compliments of Claire, no doubt.

I enter the living room and there’s Nick, to steal my breath. He’s on the phone, but immediately senses my presence or catches a whiff of my perfume. He turns to me, at the same time he says into the phone, “That’s all for now. Have a good evening.”

He disconnects. Takes me in from head to toe—and I swear the heat that flares in his eyes makes it seem as though this is the very first time he’s seen me in this gown.

My skin tingles and my heart flutters.

When he stalks forward, his gaze holding mine, my stomach takes a wild tumble.

The corners of my mouth quiver and I’m not sure if I’m biting back a smile, or a vehement request for him to take me straight to the bedroom.

Who cares that I just came from there and it’s dinnertime? Whatever delicacy awaits us on the terrace tonight can wait a while longer, is my naughty thought.

Nick’s apparently weaving his own sexy notions because he stuffs his phone in the pocket of his suit pants, strips off his jacket, removes his cufflinks, and rolls up his sleeves.

I basically salivate as a minute or two ticks by.

Then he swoops in, wraps an arm around me, and pulls me close.

I reach up with one hand to thread my fingers in his hair. I flatten the other palm against his pecs.

His head dips and he murmurs, “You being here at the end of the day is one hell of a treat.”

“So romantic,” I tease.

“Do you need me to tell you how beautiful you are? I’ll gladly remind you, over and over.”

“I’m sufficiently flattered, simply by the way you look at me.”

“Good. Now… How hungry are you?”

I grin. Because I know precisely where he’s headed with this question.

“Not starving,” I assure him.

“Perfect.” And he sweeps me into his arms.

I don’t mind in the least.

~ * * * ~

I’m pretty sure Dr. Shaw would approve of the amount of time I’m spending in bed. Well, okay, there’s plenty of activity when I’m not napping, but at least I’m off my feet.

Nick and I emerge from the bedroom an hour later, looking guilty as sin. And ridiculously in love. My arm is twined around his thick biceps and the fingers of my other hand are laced with his. Meaning I’m still tangled up with him, even though we’ve cleaned ourselves up and have dressed.

Grayson appears quite pleased with us. He falls into step as we cross the suite toward the terrace and says, “Dinner will be ready shortly.”

He’d postponed it when Nick had carried me into the bedroom. Admittedly, it’s advantageous to have someone so attuned to our moods and whims. He’s not even disgruntled when, instead of taking the chair he’s holding out for me at the table, I slip into Nick’s lap. He merely pushes my empty chair back in and sets about serving water and bread. I’m inclined to invite him to join us, but that’s just an exercise in futility while His Highness is present. More specifically, while we’re in the palace.

Were we to be at the beach house, I suspect Nick would now prefer Grayson to be less formal and more integrated, given it’s what I like.

I suddenly conjure the mental image of Nick cooking dinner, me assisting, and Grayson entertaining our daughter.

At the beach house.

I immediately erase the picture from my mind. It’s a beautiful one I could easily fall prey to. Having delightful thoughts of us being our own family unit comes with the grim reality that it’d only be temporary. A few nights here and there, because Nick would have to return to his duties on this continent. And to his father, whom I truly hope has a prolonged prognosis.

Sure, I’d conveniently ignored his congested cough and the occasional tremors through his frail body when I was with him. I believe him to be the type of man who would choose I don’t draw too much attention to his ailments. Therefore, I’d paused reading to allow him to work through the unexpected fits and handed him tissues, but not with great fuss. Grayson and a medical specialist were also in the room and so I knew someone would intervene if necessary.

That modicum of relief permitted me to remain somewhat relaxed, so that I didn’t make a big production out of his condition. In fact, we’d fallen into the practice of him giving me a small nod when he was ready for me to continue. He’s a dignified man and I would never treat him as less than such—and I demonstrated that.

But all the peculiarities of my existence with Nick and our two worlds didn’t need to be at the forefront of my brain right now.

He had one arm around my stomach and one about my back as I draped mine along his broad shoulders. I cozied up to him and whispered in his ear, “So that thing you did to me when we were under the covers isn’t illegal in your country?”

He chuckled. So low and rich, I squirmed a little as sparks ignited against my clit.

“If it’d been against the law previously, I would have catapulted a reversal to the top of my agenda and immediately exonerated anyone who’d been convicted of said crime. As long as consent was given, of course.”

“To be honest… It was sort of criminal.” I flicked his earlobe with the tip of my tongue. And added, “In the sexiest damn way.”

“Keep flirting with me and we’re never going to make it to the meal portion of this dinner.”

“I wouldn’t complain.”

“Someone else might,” he reminds me. And gently rubs my belly.

I blow out a long breath and ask, “Do you think it’s possible for a baby to be too content?”

“No more popcorn kernels?”

“Oh, yes, I still feel them from time to time. But I believe she wouldn’t even care if I had lobster for breakfast.”

“Did you hear that, Grayson?” he queries as our bone china plates are set out on gorgeous silver, satin-damask placemats. “Bailey would like lobster for breakfast.”

“Or even as a midnight snack,” I contend. “Because now I’m craving it.”

“And you believe I can’t whip up a lobster macaroni and cheese to go with these filet mignons?”

“Oh, my God…” I practically melt like butter off Nick’s lap. Except that he’s holding onto me. So I smile my prettiest smile at Grayson and ask, “Would you, please?”

“Be a proper lady and take your chair, let me offer you a napkin, and promise to eat all your vegetables,” he counters.

“Done.”