“I’m not hungry.” The boy had become sullen.
Christian was not going to give up. “That’s too bad because this is a new American-style restaurant that has the best hamburgers and milkshakes in Sherdana.” It didn’t occur to him that Noelle might not want her son eating the less than healthy food until he noticed she was regarding the slim gold watch on her wrist. “It’s okay if we go there, right?” he belatedly asked, giving her a winning grin.
“I wasn’t planning on taking time for lunch. I have an appointment in an hour.”
“Marc and I could go by ourselves.” He smiled at the boy. “And I could drop him off after.”
“I suppose that would work. How does that sound to you, Marc?”
The four-year-old dug the toe of his brown loafer into the ground and stared down. “I don’t feel good.”
Christian recognized a losing battle when he saw one. How was he supposed to get to know his son when the boy didn’t want to have anything to do with him? “Perhaps another time then.”
“Can we go home, Mama?”
“Of course.” Noelle ruffled her son’s dark wavy hair and mouthed an apology to Christian. “And straight into bed. That’s where sick boys belong.”
“But I was supposed to play with Dino this afternoon.”
“I’m not sure you’ll be feeling better that fast.”
Marc aimed a surly glare in Christian’s direction, obviously blaming him for the canceled play date, before taking the hand his mother put out to him.
“It was nice seeing you again, Marc.” Christian sounded more like a prince and not at all like a father.
The boy said nothing. So, Christian tried a smile, but the muscles around his mouth didn’t want to cooperate. His awkwardness around his son made him come off stilted and unfriendly. It wasn’t at all like him. Gabriel’s two girls adored Uncle Christian. He snuck them sweets and helped them play tricks on their nanny and the maids charged with caring for them. That he wasn’t developing the same rapport with his son frustrated him.
“Please say goodbye to the prince,” Noelle said.
Her firm prompting produced a grumbled response from Marc. Looking exasperated, Noelle tugged him in the direction of the palace. Christian watched their progress and waited until they’d reentered the building before heading back himself.
He was met halfway by his mother’s private secretary. Gwen had been with the queen since the triplets had been born. Despite her sensible two-inch heels, her head barely came as high as Christian’s shoulder. Her diminutive size sometimes caused her to be underestimated. No one made that mistake twice.
“The queen would like you to come to her office.”
The summons wasn’t unexpected. After meeting Marc, she was sure to have questions for Christian. “Right now?” His mother only sent her secretary when she expected immediate results, and the question would irritate Gwen, but he needed to release some steam.
Gwen’s eyebrows arched. “You have somewhere more important to be?” So much for riling Gwen.
Christian shook his head. “Lead the way.”
“I have things that require my attention. I’m sure you can find your way on your own.”
Despite his foul mood, Christian grinned. Perhaps he’d gotten to her after all.
As much as he’d have liked to drag his feet on the way to his mother’s first-floor office overlooking the meticulous gardens that were her passion, Christian figured the sooner she spoke her piece, the faster he could get back to the challenge of persuading Noelle and Marc that they should be a family.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said as he entered her office and took a seat across from her. “Your gardens look lovely as always. I don’t know how you do it.”
The queen was not to be distracted by his flattery. “I’m surprised you noticed. It seemed as if your attention was focused on Noelle Dubone and that son of hers.” The queen paused and tilted her head, prompting him to answer the unasked question. When Christian remained mum, she continued. “Or should I say that son of yours. You’re planning to marry her, I presume. We simply cannot have any more illegitimate royal children running around Sherdana.”
“I’m working on that.”
“Good. I’d like you to have a ring on her finger before the media gets hold of this. We’ve had enough scandalous romance at the palace in the past year to last several generations of Alessandro rule. There aren’t any other of your progeny running around Europe, are there?”
“Not that I know of.” He didn’t add that he hadn’t known about Marc either, but if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t always been as careful with Noelle as he’d been with other women.
His answer did not please his mother one bit. “Christian!”
“No. There aren’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I’ve been careful.”
The queen’s expression grew even more severe. “Not careful enough.”
“Noelle was different.” It was almost a relief to let himself think about her all the time. He’d spent five years pushing her out of his mind. When a bit of music reminded him of slow dancing in her apartment, her body languid against his as his palms coasted along her curves. Or when he’d catch a whiff of the perfume he’d bought her and remembered introducing her to several new places to wear the scent.
“Christian?” His mother’s sharp voice jerked him back from those heady intoxicating days.
“Yes?”
“We need an heir for the throne.” She didn’t need to add that he was their last chance to make that happen.
He gave her a short nod. “I’ll do whatever it takes to convince Noelle to marry me.” He was more determined than ever because if Noelle refused him, he wasn’t sure he could marry anyone else.
* * *
