Princess's Secret Baby Read online

‘Were they any good, James?’ Leila shouted. ‘Did even one of them come close to us?’

  James said nothing. He wrenched open the door and was met with security. ‘Just in time,’ James quipped. ‘You can escort me down.’

  He got back to his penthouse and paced, his mind racing.

  ‘Well, well.’ Muriel, his daily, who was busy unpacking James’s stuff from his trip to France, smiled.

  ‘Well, well,’ James said.

  He liked Muriel. She was ancient and went about her business noisily, but was very possibly the one woman whose constant chatter didn’t annoy him.

  He flicked through his post that had gathered while he was away as Muriel chatted on.

  ‘More money for me though,’ Muriel said as she fixed him a coffee. ‘Those sticky fingers...’

  ‘It won’t be living here.’ James grinned.

  ‘What, you won’t bring it here on your access visits?’ Muriel said, handing him coffee. ‘Are you going to walk it around the park for a few hours once a week?’ She gestured her head to the delicious view of Central Park. ‘It would be a bit cold in winter.’

  He hadn’t thought that far; all he’d thought was that he didn’t want Leila leaving the country.

  ‘I’ll see it when I visit Leila,’ James said.

  ‘Oh, my ex used to think he could just pop around whenever he wanted,’ Muriel said. ‘I soon put him right.’

  ‘I bet you did.’ James laughed, but when Muriel had gone, he walked around his home, his absolute haven. A child? Here?

  A baby!

  He opened a spare bedroom that he was about to turn into a home theatre and he could not picture a baby in there, screaming its way through the night and wanting its mother.

  He’d hire a nanny, James decided.

  But Muriel had unsettled him. He was actually starting to think this through. By morning he had realised that she could leave at any moment, and with that thought he picked up the phone and was thankfully put straight through without The Harrington’s usual games.

  ‘I want you to move over to The Chatsfield,’ James said. It was the only thing he could think of—at least that way he’d know if she checked out or if her family arrived to collect her.

  ‘Why would I move there when I can stay here?’

  ‘Leila,’ James sighed. ‘You can’t afford to stay at The Harrington. And let me assure you Isabelle’s charity will come at a price—she’s not running a refuge for single moms. Don’t for a minute think her offer came from the goodness of her heart. She’s doing this to dirty my family’s name.’

  ‘You manage that by yourself,’ Leila responded. ‘I’m not leaving here.’

  ‘Leila, I’m not asking you to move into my home. I think this is an excellent idea. I’ll have a suite arranged for you and I’ll send a car to collect you at around lunchtime.’

  ‘I have plans for lunchtime.’

  God, she tested his patience to the limit. ‘Tonight then,’ James said, refusing to budge on this. ‘I’ll send my driver to collect you at eight.’

  ‘I’m not moving out.’

  ‘Will you at least agree to discuss it over dinner?’

  ‘I don’t want to have dinner with you. I don’t want anything to do with you, James.’

  ‘You should have thought about that three months ago,’ James responded. ‘Like it or not we have to communicate. I can call my lawyer and get discussions started or you can meet me tonight and we can try to work things out ourselves.’

  ‘I will only meet with you in the restaurant.’

  ‘Fine,’ James reluctantly conceded. ‘We’ll discuss our private business with half of the hotel watching on. Can you at least try and keep your shoes on this time?’

  He ended the call and looked out to Central Park. The view sometimes soothed him but it didn’t today.

  She’d leave, in his bones he was sure of it, and there was not a thing he could do once she was gone.

  He’d marry her, James decided, even if he’d run from the very idea all of his life.

  As if she’d agree though, James admitted to himself. He could barely get Leila to agree to dinner without threatening her with a lawyer.

  A sudden thought occurred and again he found himself on the phone to Manu, who was completely appalled at the idea he had just had and said that she would have no part in its execution.

  ‘You can’t force her to marry you, James, that’s not fair.’

  ‘She’s pregnant with my child and could leave the country at any moment,’ James clipped. ‘I don’t have time to be fair.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  LEILA LOVED MANHATTAN.

  If she wasn’t dreading meeting with James tonight, if she wasn’t estranged from her family, if her heart wasn’t lonely and heavy, then she would surely be singing as she dressed in the robe of gold she had arrived in before leaving the hotel to go to work.

  Yes, work.

  Leila had known she was in a holding pattern.

  She had known that sooner or later the credit cards would stop, and she had decided that she would not be asking Zayn for money.

  Yes, she was angry at him, yet she loved him.

  He had asked her to trust him; he had promised that she would understand why Sophie had outed her and James if he could just explain.

  She refused to let him.

  Instead a very unskilled princess had attempted to get a job.

  Rejected, disheartened, when her third trial at washing dishes had ended in its usual disaster, Leila had decided to cheer herself up by eating at her favourite Middle Eastern restaurant.

  She had no idea it was incredibly exclusive. Leila simply ate the gorgeous food and enjoyed the gentle background music and then handed over the plastic at the end of her meal.

  ‘Where is the music?’ Leila had asked one day when the restaurant had only been filled with the noise of diners.

  ‘We’re trying to find someone,’ Habib the waiter had said.

  It turned out that they just had!

  Now, each day from eleven till three, Leila played her beloved qanun. She had been shocked at first by the pittance they paid her, but was enjoying herself all the same.

  Now the tips were growing and they had asked her to consider working at night, but Leila, too nervous to walk alone at night, had declined.

  Leila worked through her shift and smiled when she saw her tips and then headed as she always did to Central Park.

  Oh, she loved it there. She would walk around a lake or simply sit on a bench with her coffee. It was wonderful hearing the laughter and chatter as she sat there and pretended that she belonged.

  ‘You’re so young to have three children,’ Leila said one day as a woman who looked like a teenager came and sat on the bench beside her and watched her children play.

  ‘They’re not mine.’ The young woman smiled. ‘I’m their nanny.’

  ‘Nanny?’ Leila checked.

  ‘I look after the children while their mother works.’

  ‘Oh!’ Leila thought for a moment. ‘Does she pay you to look after them?’

  ‘Not very much,’ the nanny grumbled.

  She could do this, Leila decided as she walked back to the hotel. She could work and support her baby and she was going to tell James the same thing tonight.

  He could carry on just as he had been, the louse.

  The nannies all watched and sniggered as a very beautiful woman in robes of gold let out a bellow of rage and kicked a tree.

  Bastard!

  She shouted it in her own language and would say it in his tonight when they met.

  No way, no way did she like him anymore.

  No way would she ever let him near her.

  No way did she still want
him.

  And Leila reminded herself of that as she dressed to meet him that evening and chose a dress in red. She put on red sandals that were very high, but she chose them not for their colour, more because there were straps around the ankles so they might be difficult to take off when temptation hit.

  She had fallen in love that night, and not only had he simply left her lying in bed, he had shamed her over and over after he’d left.

  ‘We’ll send someone to collect your luggage,’ the receptionist said when she rang to inform Leila that Mr Chatsfield’s driver was here.

  ‘I’m not checking out,’ Leila said.

  She meant it. Leila would rather the embarrassment of a mounting unpaid debt than being kept by James.

  Leila glanced at the magazine cover with him and his tart on it simply to remind herself that the man she had met that night had been with others since then.

  She imagined for a brief moment the future, explaining his salacious ways to their child.

  She didn’t even nod to the driver; instead Leila sat in the back of the limousine and decided to put some lipstick on.

  For two reasons.

  One, she remembered that he didn’t like it on her.

  Two, the name matched her mood, Leila told herself—she had pride.

  ‘Why have we stopped?’ Leila asked as the car came to a halt near Times Square.

  ‘Mr Chatsfield’s orders,’ the driver said, and Leila followed his gaze. The square, always busy, had a large crowd gathering where the driver was looking and they were all pointing up at a sign and Leila looked up.

  There were red hearts popping out but just as she went to read the words they disappeared and the image of a smiling James appeared. He was holding a ring and was down on one knee.

  Leila felt sick.

  The words were back now.

  Marry me, Leila.

  Never.

  As simply as that, her decision was made and Leila went to get out of the car.

  ‘Unlock this door,’ Leila said to the driver, but he ignored her. ‘You will unlock this door now,’ Leila said, anger and panic mounting. ‘That is a royal order.’

  But instead of following her command, the divider slid closed and music came on instead.

  No, she would not marry a man who had left her bed and jumped straight into another’s. No way would she marry a man who only wanted her because she was pregnant. She had lived her life in a world without love and there was no way she would do that to either herself or her child.

  Leila took a cleansing breath and tried to slow down her breathing. They would talk it through, Leila decided. There was no need for marriage; she had spoken with mothers at the park who raised their children alone.

  They would come to the arrangements she had heard of.

  Yes, she would speak to him, calmly, logically, and she would not throw a shoe this time.

  Why was there a crowd outside The Chatsfield? Leila briefly wondered. Why were there photographers and people cheering as the door opened and she stepped out from the car?

  Why was the red carpet covered in rose petals? And why was James walking out of the impressive entrance and making his smiling way towards her?

  She wanted to turn and run but she could not, for to do so would publically reveal that it had been a one-night stand, not just to her people but later to their child.

  It would insinuate she had been there only for sex.

  Which she had been, Leila told herself.

  No, that wasn’t quite true, for she had been about to turn tail and run until she had seen James smile.

  She stood on the carpet, trying to block out the shouts and cheers and the flashing lights of the cameras.

  There was that smile she had fallen for, only she didn’t welcome it tonight.

  There was the man whom her body adored, for it wanted to run to him. Her shaking legs wanted to run to the shield of his arms, but her anger with him meant that she fought it as he walked towards her and finally came to a stand.

  ‘Leila,’ James said in a very clear voice. ‘You are the only woman for me, I know that...’

  She wanted to vomit.

  For the past twelve weeks she had been brilliant at it, yet it wouldn’t happen now.

  She wanted to stand before the man who was holding out a ring and vomit at his feet. Yet her cover had been exposed and she was back to being a princess again, which meant she knew how to behave in public.

  ‘You,’ James continued his, for something that should surely be personal, rather loud speech, ‘and our baby mean the world to me. I have never been happier than when I am with you. Like all couples we’ve had our ups and downs but I’m hoping,’ James said, and then he hesitated and Leila frowned because she knew he was faking that he was possibly about to cry, ‘in fact, I’m praying...’ James dropped to his knees and held out a ring and she stood with poise.

  Wait for it, James thought.

  Just wait till that television crew was ready.

  Yep, now they were.

  ‘Princess Leila of Surhaadi, and forever my princess, please give me the honour of making you my wife. Leila, will you marry me?’

  She stared back at him, into his chocolate-brown eyes, and he was so bloody assured that he didn’t even blink.

  He knew as well as Leila did that she had no choice but to say yes.

  ‘It would be my honour,’ Leila suitably answered, and not just the crowd outside went wild. It was if the whole of Manhattan erupted, for in Times Square they had been holding their collective breath but started cheering when the news flashed up.

  SHE SAID YES!

  James placed the ring he had today chosen on her rigid finger and, as he stood, she gave him a loving smile. But her golden eyes flashed fire as he moved in to kiss her and then a smiling Leila moved her head.

  ‘I hate you,’ Leila whispered to his ear as their cheeks met the other’s.

  ‘I don’t care.’ James pulled back and smiled into her eyes and then sealed their fate with a very slow, very deep kiss, as the crowd sighed in pleasure.

  It was done.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘YOU BIT ME...’ James accused.

  They were in the elevator, heading up to his suite, and James was wiping her lipstick from his mouth and trying to fathom that she had bitten his tongue, and worse, thanks to his gathered crowd, he hadn’t been able to react.

  ‘If you put your tongue in my mouth, then know it shall get bitten,’ Leila said, tossing her hair in his face. ‘Every time. And that wasn’t a bite, that was a mere warning.’

  They stepped off the elevator and walked hand in hand, smiling to the butler, who opened their door.

  ‘Where’s Leila’s luggage?’ James asked him.

  ‘There was no luggage.’ The butler responded in concern because James had been very specific with his instructions.

  ‘I am keeping a room at The Harrington,’ Leila sweetly explained.

  ‘There’s no need for that, darling.’ James smiled to Leila and then spoke to the butler. ‘Arrange for it to be brought over now, please, but don’t bring it up till tomorrow. My fiancée is tired...’

  ‘Your fiancée,’ Leila said as the door closed on them, ‘is furious. What the hell was that about, James? You forced me to say yes, you gave me no option but to say yes...’

  ‘How many options did you give me?’ James demanded. ‘I had to find out via the media that I was going to be a father. You told your brother rather than me...’

  ‘I told my brother because I didn’t know what else to do and I wanted him to help me.’

  ‘Well, he handled things brilliantly,’ James sneered.

  ‘I have already apologised for that,’ Leila said. ‘I wanted him to sort this out but...
’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t want that anymore. I know that I have to be responsible for my baby.’

  ‘Well, guess what,’ James shouted. ‘So do I!’

  There was silence, just the sound of their breathing, and then James told her how it would be.

  ‘I’m not asking for the rest of your life, Leila. I don’t want to be stuck in a loveless marriage any more than you do, but I am going to be there for my child. I’m not having him over for some bloody access visit, or worse, you taking the baby back to Sur...Sur...’ He could think of nothing worse than a child in a country whose name he had only heard of yesterday, one he couldn’t now pronounce.

  ‘It’s called Surhaadi!’ Leila shouted. ‘But now, thanks to you, I am not welcome there.’ That wasn’t strictly true, Leila knew. She hadn’t been welcome in her home for twenty-four years, but she was too angry with James to stick to strict facts.

  ‘Leila, your parents shall forgive you and when they do...’

  ‘I was never intending to return there,’ Leila said. ‘I ran away, James, remember?’

  ‘Well, I’m not taking that chance,’ James said. ‘I want seven years.’

  ‘Seven?’ Leila frowned. ‘Why seven?’

  ‘Give me the boy till he’s seven...’

  ‘It might be a girl.’

  ‘I meant,’ James gritted, ‘that I want input during my child’s formative years.’

  He had thought about it. All night James had thought about the coldness of his own upbringing, the constant pressure. He wanted nothing like that for his child. He could barely stand the thought of his child knowing the pressure of being royal. Even if she didn’t go back, what if she met someone else? He thought of how his father had been with his half-brother, Spencer, over the years, and no, James did not want some step-parent raising his own.

  ‘We’re going to do the right thing by this baby and the right thing is marriage.’

  ‘There will be no sex in this marriage,’ Leila hurriedly told him, sure that would put him off.

  ‘Pity.’ James shrugged. ‘Because despite the terrible deflowering of precious maiden Leila, despite the fact your brother seems to think I forced you, that you were some poor little martyr lying there as big bad James coaxed you, the fact is you loved it, you wanted it and you pleaded for it.’ He watched the colour burn on her cheeks. ‘But you know what, Leila? Don’t worry about sex—it’s the furthest thing from my mind right now.’