The Billionaire Prince’s Surprise Son by Leslie North

6

“So… this is home.”

Nic couldn’t help but study Summer’s face as they made their way through the doors of his home. It was on the water, with its own private white-sand beach. She walked past the spacious open plan living room, with its floor-to-ceiling French doors. Thankfully they were both off that day, and he’d had one of his housekeepers go to her fellowship housing and fetch their belongings. He saw Summer’s brilliant hazel eyes going wide as she took in the details of his home, Harry balanced on her hip.

He turned, looking at it as if for the first time, wondering what she saw. It was still a mansion, but he’d made sure it wasn’t like the palace. The floors were a warm local hardwood, leading from the foyer to a staircase that lead up to the bedrooms. The foyer opened up to a well-appointed living room, with a conversation pit flanked by slate gray suede couches that faced the gorgeous ocean view. There was a thick rug, a large fireplace that was more for ambiance than utility, a large flat-screen TV. While there were official painted portraits of the royal family up at the palace, here he’d kept framed black-and-white candids of his parents, and his best friends.

He didn’t have pictures of Tom down here, though. They simply hurt too much. Those, he kept private.

Summer, he noticed, was still silent, taking the whole thing in.

“I mean, it’s not the palace,” he deadpanned, “but hopefully we can make do?”

“I like that it’s not the palace,” she mused, then brought herself up short, a look of embarrassment crossing her face. Her cheeks pinkened. “Not that the palace isn’t nice!”

He grinned in return. Damn, she looked good wearing a blush.

“It’s just—the palace was huge,” she said, tucking one of the waves of her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. “And… impressive. Marble columns. Crystal chandeliers. I think there was actual gold on the ceilings!”

He nodded. “Gilding, yes.”

“Gilding, he says,” she muttered, and he chuckled. “No, this is gorgeous, but it’s genuine. Comfortable and beautiful. It feels… more like a home, you know?”

Her simple words struck him like an arrow.

Like a home.

He’d wanted that, the comfort of a home. Funny how, no matter how many designers he’d hired or remodels he’d done, it hadn’t really felt like a home until Summer stood in his living room.

“You’re lucky,” Summer said, with a lopsided smile. “You must love spending time here.”

He shrugged, smiling ruefully as he shepherded Summer and Harry up the staircase. “I haven’t spent a lot of time here,” he admitted. “I tend to spend a lot of time at the hospital. And when I’m not there, I’m usually holed up in my office. That’s over there,” he added, gesturing to the study. It looked like an antiquarian bookstore, compared to the luxurious beach casual downstairs—built-in bookcases and a huge antique mahogany desk. The surface was littered with various proposals and research papers, and his laptop was open.

“I see you haven’t changed,” Summer teased. “Still a workaholic. And a tiny bit messy.”

“Guilty as charged.” He liked her teasing, too. He walked them down the hallway and opened a door. “I… um, hope this works for you.”

The spare bedroom, with an adjoining room and its own en suite bathroom, had been only meant for guests. He had used his royal privilege to have a children’s store stay open late, and he’d paid an exorbitant amount to have a discreet contractor spend most of the night getting the doorway finished and Harry’s bedroom ready.

“Wow,” Summer breathed, walking through the new doorway and seeing the crib, changing table, dresser, all with a jaunty nautical theme. There was an enormous toy box, already filled to overflowing with a number of toys. “This is amazing.”

It was certainly a change from the impersonal area it had been. He didn’t even think he’d been in this room in months, and now a whimsical play area suddenly burst into his world. It was both exciting and jarring. “If there’s anything you want that isn’t there, just tell me, and I’ll make sure it arrives,” Nic promised. “Or if you want different furniture, or anything…”

“Are you kidding? This is—I can’t even begin to tell you how wonderful this is!” She stepped towards him, giving him a quick, impulsive hug as best as she could with a wiggly Harry in her arms. His body tightened at the proximity. It had been years since he’d been able to touch Summer, to smell her unique perfume, like a combination of citrus and some light, clean flower. He nuzzled her hair, just for a second, letting his arm rest around her shoulder until she pulled away, her cheeks flaming again.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

He closed his eyes.

“Is that…?” Summer put Harry down, and he immediately scrambled for the toy bin with a crow of absolute delight.

“My parents,” Nic said, shaking his head. “Now that they know about Harry, you’re probably going to be seeing a lot of them.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Summer said.

“Nicolas?” The question got more impatient.

“We’re up here!” Nic responded, and within minutes, his parents burst into the room. As expected, they gravitated immediately to Harry.

“I apologize for arriving unannounced. We simply couldn’t stay away,” his mother said, giving him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek before zeroing in on her grandson.

“Toy train,” his father said, proudly showing off a wooden model of a steam locomotive he’d brought in. “Think he’ll like it?”

Summer’s sunshiny laugh rang out. “If it’s from you, I think he’d like a cardboard box,” she said, causing his father to join in with his own booming laugh.

“Oh, look at this little man,” his mother said, letting Harry take her by the hand. He was babbling up a storm, handing her toys one at a time from the bin before running in a tight circle, giggling, his laughter so similar to Summer that it made heat pulse through his chest. “He’s so excited! So happy!”

“He’s always been like that,” Summer said, having put the diaper bag down, and she looked around the room. “I imagine Nic was like that, too.”

His mother’s eyes met his. “No,” she said, and a note of melancholy crept into her voice. “Nic was always a serious child.”

Nic felt his throat choke. It was Tom, he remembered—Tom was the happy one, the bright one. The one who loved life, even at such a young age.

The flood of emotion hit him unexpectedly. Watching Harry brought up memories he’d long forgotten, hitting him harder and faster than he could prepare for. “Does anybody want lunch?” Nic asked, his voice gruff. “I’ll, ah, pull something together. No, you two stay here with Harry,” he added, when his mother’s sympathetic expression made it seem like she was going to volunteer to help. He tried to soften it with a joke. “I know he’s who you came to visit, anyway.”

“Darned straight,” his father said, and his mother laughed.

Nic took the opportunity to flee, heading down the stairs, through the living room, into the large, gourmet kitchen. His personal chef wasn’t aware—yet—of the two new occupants that had just moved into the house. He’d have to make sure that Harry had the right kinds of foods on hand. What did toddlers eat, anyway?

He frowned. He wasn’t quite sure what they’d be able to manage in the way of lunch, for that matter. After a few minutes searching, he pulled out various odds and ends, setting up a charcuterie board and a cheese platter with some crackers. He added some caviar, some honeycomb, and decorated the board with a sprig of rosemary.

“Wow,” he heard a voice behind him, and turned to find Summer leaning against one of the marble countertops, her arms folded as she watched him assemble the snacks. “If this doctor gig doesn’t pan out, you could have a shot at being a decent chef.”

“I’m good at arranging things on a plate,” he clarified, and was rewarded with one of her smiles. “And re-heating. But actual cooking? Not so much.”

“Guess that’ll be my job, then?”

He shook his head. “We’ve got a housekeeping staff, and a personal chef. They keep the fridge stocked and prep dinners. They also do laundry.”

“Now that’s how you win a woman,” she joked. “It’s not about the gilded ceilings. It’s the laundry service.”

“Stick with me, and you’ll never have to fold again,” he joked.

She shook her head. “You think you’re kidding, but trust me. You are not going to believe how much laundry one little boy can generate in a week. Between full-contact eating, diaper accidents, and his unfailing ability to find mud and play in it, it’s enough to make you weep.”

Nic’s smile shifted as amusement made way for admiration. “You’ve done a fantastic job with him,” he said. “It’s obvious how much you love him, and how hard you’ve worked to keep him healthy and happy.”

“He’s my heart,” she said simply, shrugging. “It wasn’t always easy, but it was worth it.”

Nic stepped closer to her. “You’re amazing.”

She was wearing a simple baby blue top with a scoop neck, and a pair of jeans that looked comfortably sexy, hugging every curve. Her cheeks glowed pink under his praise, and she tucked a wayward lock of hair behind one ear before her hazel gaze met his.

In so many ways, she looked just like the vibrant, compelling woman he’d been drawn to so long ago, that night they’d saved a child’s life. But over two years had passed. In that time, she’d held up under the pressures of being a single mother and a doctor with not only grace but a radiance that attracted him even more.

He knew that it was going to be difficult. He’d already felt stretched thin as it was, juggling his medical practice and his royal duties. But the least he could do was make the effort to be there for his child—and get to know Summer again, without any lies between them. Show her that he was trying, and that he wanted to be a part of their lives. Somehow be as good a father as she was a mother.

If there’s even a way I could somehow manage that…

“I guess it’s a long way from being a Crown Prince,” she murmured, looking away.

He tilted her chin up to look at him. “You are amazing,” he repeated, making sure she was looking into his eyes for emphasis. “I am in awe of you.”

Her full lips curved into a smile. He wanted to kiss her, more badly than he could remember wanting anything.

Small steps.

Reluctantly, he lowered his hand and took a deep breath. “Would you like to go to a gala with me?”

She blinked. “Um… a gala?” she echoed. “For what?”

“The expansion of a national bank,” he said. “It’s at the end of next week. I know we’re taking things slow, but I thought it might be nice. If you’d accompany me, I mean.” He paused. “Only if you want to?”

She bit her lip. God, she was killing him. He forced himself to put his hands in his pockets. “This may be a surprise,” she said ruefully, “but I’ve never been to a gala before.”

“It’s just a fancy word for party,” he said, trying to put her at ease. “There’ll be appetizers and champagne, and a bunch of people in formal wear making small talk.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” she said, with a nervous chuckle. “How can I resist?”

“It’d be a chance to get to know each other a bit,” he added, feeling strangely nervous himself. “Not at the hospital. And not just in terms of Harry, although I want to spend time with him, too.”

“It has been a while since I’ve had a night out,” she admitted. “I feel a little guilty saying that.”

“Don’t. You deserve a break, too,” Nic said.

“I don’t have anything that dressy…”

“Let me worry about that.” Nic was looking forward to buying her something pretty—something that she’d enjoy. He wanted to spoil her. He got the feeling she’d had precious little spoiling in her life.

“And I guess I’d have to see if Alma can work overtime…?”

“Nonsense. No need to get a babysitter,” Isabella interjected, walking through the doorway. Frederick trailed behind with Harry riding his shoulders, crowing and tugging his hair. “We are more than happy to watch the baby whenever you like.”

Nic watched as Summer laughed helplessly. “I guess… yes?”

He wanted to crow himself. He was overjoyed. And nervous. Thrilled and overwhelmed.

And most of all, he was determined to not screw this up.