“We should have a paternity test done,” he said firmly. “Just in case. Like you said, they made one mistake, they might have made more.”
Her sweet little body that had been so soft and pliant against him went rigid in his embrace. “If you think it’s necessary.”
“It would be responsible.”
She paused for a long moment and he could feel her drawing in short, shallow breaths. “Is there a way to do it without risk to the baby?”
“I’ll find out.”
“Okay.” She didn’t move away from him, but she wasn’t melted into him anymore, either.
“We’re going home tomorrow,” he said, tightening his hold on her and tracing circles over the bare skin of her arm. “I need to get back and deal with some issues with one of the larger casinos.”
“Okay.” The note of sadness in her voice hit him like a punch in the gut. He’d upset her. He’d hurt her.
“You’re disappointed?”
He felt the shrug of her slight shoulders. “This has been wonderful. But it’s kind of like a fantasy. Tomorrow we’re going back to reality.”
“You prefer the fantasy?”
“Well, it was a wonderful fantasy.”
He looked around his studio, the place he’d never shown another living soul. “Yes, it was.”
After their return to Turan, Maximo’s work schedule kept him away from the castillo during the day. He was hands-on with his work, something she greatly respected, but, despite the fact that she was keeping busy by helping to establish a Turani branch of the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation, she missed him horribly while she rattled around the huge castle.
Isabella was a cheerful, fun presence in her life, but she was busy studying her college tele-courses, and in her spare time her parents were practically keeping her under lock and key since their shopping escapade.
But even though Maximo was gone during the day, the nights were theirs. That part of the fantasy, at least, was still intact. Her passion for him hadn’t ebbed, and it didn’t seem as if his had for her. It was a strange thing, going from giving sex no more than the random, cursory thought, to having it be so much a part of her. Her long-denied sexuality was definitely no longer repressed, and honestly, she was happy about that. She felt more like a whole person, a whole woman, rather than someone who had a host of private hang-ups and issues that were so wound up around her she had to find an alternative way to function.
She spent every night in Max’s bed, in his arms. But she kept her own room, kept her clothes hanging in the closet there, kept her makeup case in the bathroom that adjoined it, because she just wasn’t ready to have everything in her life melded together with Max’s. It would be too much like depending on him, and the very thought of that made her chest feel tight with panic. The wedding was in two weeks and she expected him to want her to move into his room fully after that, but until then she was retaining some sort of independence.
He was already getting under her skin, and if she wasn’t careful he was going to get into her heart, too.
She sighed and checked the time on her cell phone. Max’s personal physician, Dr. Sexy, was due any minute to draw her blood for the noninvasive paternity test. And Max wasn’t there. Alison clutched her orange juice, her sugar boost and last line of defense against passing out when the doctor drew the blood. She was trying not to be emotional about Max’s absence, but she was pregnant and more than a little hormonal so she was finding it difficult to keep tears from welling up.
When Max had asked for the paternity test her heart had felt as if it was splintering. It had become easy to forget that they didn’t have a real relationship. That their baby had been conceived in a lab. His demand for the test had been a stark reminder.
The worst thing was that she wasn’t certain which result Max was hoping for.
When the beautiful doctor arrived it only took a few minutes to collect her blood sample. “All done. And we have the buccal swab from Prince Rossi already, so there really isn’t anything more we need. This is a relatively new way to test paternity,” she said. “If there isn’t sufficient fetal DNA in your blood stream we won’t get a result. But if there is then the results are just as accurate as CVS or amniocentesis.”
Alison nodded, feeling the first stab of anxiety over what the test results might be.
The other woman offered her a sly smile. “Well, good luck. I know if it were me I would really be hoping it was the prince’s baby. He’s incredibly handsome, and of course he’s wealthy enough to take care of you.”
Alison shook her head. “It … it isn’t like that.”
She was treated to a raised eyebrow. “I only know of one reason to test for paternity. But then, what do I know? I’m just a doctor.”
Alison’s hand itched to do something very out of character and very hormonal and slap the smug smile right off the other woman’s face. But just a few moments later she’d collected all of her things, and with a promise to call within the next twenty-four hours she left Alison by herself again.
She collapsed into Max’s plush office chair and tried to fight the tears that were seriously threatening to spill over. She’d wanted him here for this, needed him, despite her best efforts not to. Not even keeping her clothes confined to their own closet had been able to save her from it.
Cradling her face in her hands, she rested her elbows on his desk and let herself wallow in her pain. It wouldn’t hurt to just give in for a while. A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away, annoyed at herself for crying. If she’d never found out about Max she would have done all of her testing alone, so it was just stupid to cry because he’d missed the test. But he was the one who’d wanted it, and then he hadn’t even bothered to show up for it.
She lifted her head when the door to the office opened. Her pulse jumped when Maximo walked in. Even when she was mad at him he still had the most powerful effect on her body. On her heart.
“You missed the test,” she said, swiping at the remaining moisture on her cheeks.
“What happened?” he asked, his expression tight.
“Nothing. She came and drew my blood. She’ll tell us the results within twenty-four hours.”
“Then why are you crying?”
She sucked in a deep breath. “I wanted you here.”
“Why? We won’t have the results until tomorrow? Why did you want me here for the blood draw?”
“I …” The words stuck in her throat. “I needed you.”
His eyes darkened. “I thought you didn’t do need.”
“Well, I don’t usually, but I needed you for this.”
He set his laptop case hard on his desk, his body radiating tension. “I told you that my work keeps me away. I may be royalty, but contrary to what you might think about royals, I have duties to attend. I don’t have less responsibility because I’m a prince … I have more.”
“This isn’t about general neediness,” she said, standing up and planting her hands on her hips. “I wanted some support for a paternity test, which you demanded, by the way. I don’t think that’s very outrageous.”
“I don’t have time to deal with temper tantrums.” His clipped words hung in the silence of the room and she let them, let herself absorb how much they hurt.
She brushed past him and out of the office, her heart feeling as if it was cracking to pieces inside of her. She didn’t know how she’d let this happen. But sometime in the past six weeks she’d done what she’d vowed she would never do. She’d started needing someone. And worse than that, she was almost certain