She took a quick sip of her orange juice to gather her thoughts, then nodded. "When you didn't return my calls, I went online to see if there might be another way to contact you. That's how I learned of your engagement to Ariana Ba.s.si. I was so busy with cla.s.ses and morning sickness I hadn't even realized you'd gotten engaged. Once I read the news, I a.s.sumed that was the reason you hadn't returned my calls. I thought it best at that point not to upset your life."

Or her own. While Stefano's engagement hadn't been news in the United States, it was the talk of Europe. Photos splashed over the Internet showed Stefano racing across the palace courtyard, barefoot and bare-chested, to see Ariana the day after he'd returned from Venezuela. They'd become engaged soon afterward. Royal-watchers were mad for Stefano and his aristocratic bride-to-be, a Sarcaccian dressage rider with Olympic ambitions. The media speculated on everything from how long they'd been seeing each other to the most minute details of the planned wedding at Sarcaccia's grand cathedral, a ceremony scheduled to take place two months after Megan's due date.

If the media caught even a whisper of the fact that the royal groom had a secret two-month-old child, it would derail four lives: Megan's, Stefano's, Ariana's, and Anna's. Paparazzi would've been camped outside Megan's small, off-campus apartment in Minnesota within hours, hoping to cash in on the scandal. Once she'd shut down her computer and absorbed what she'd seen, she knew she wouldn't call again.

"Ah." Stefano looked stricken, as if he hadn't considered his engagement to be a factor. But how could he not?

"Stefano, think back to what was happening in your life then. If anyone had learned about Anna, it would've been a disaster."

Stefano scowled, but not before turning toward the window to hide his expression from the rest of the restaurant. "I wish you'd have persisted. Or tried to find another way to reach me. I would have wanted to know."

Could he not see reason? "Stefano-"

"It's all right. I understand why you didn't." He kept his gaze on the street, watching as the balladeer packed his guitar now that the morning bakery crowd had thinned. "You were likely right to keep the information to yourself after making so many attempts. The scandal would have been swift and certain. No child should start life under such a cloud of speculation. And it would only have gotten worse when my engagement ended."

Megan itched to ask what happened with the relationship but couldn't bring herself to pry. Press releases from both the Barrali and the Ba.s.si families issued only three weeks before the wedding date stated that the couple decided to part amicably and that neither family would discuss the matter with the press. Despite Stefano and Ariana's requests for privacy, gossip about the couple continued to fill the media for months, only dissipating after Ariana eloped with a famous Argentinian polo player.

Had Stefano been heartbroken? Or relieved?

During the long nights Megan spent walking back and forth through her small apartment with a colicky baby, worrying about whether she'd be awake enough to make it through her next day of cla.s.ses, she'd harbored a deep-down fantasy about Stefano picking up the phone and calling her to say he'd ended the relationship with Ariana because he missed what he and Megan shared in Venezuela.

Unsurprisingly, that call never came. Megan's mother advised her struggling daughter to simply love the child and trust that the rest would fall into place. She was right, of course. Anna outgrew the colic and Megan finished graduate school and landed a full-time job at the Minneapolis Convention Center. In the meantime, Stefano started to date other women-models, actresses, and women from well-connected European families. Megan's midnight fantasies eventually gave way to reality. She embraced her new career, her growing financial independence, and the ups and downs of life with an exuberant toddler. Then, the summer before Anna started kindergarten, Megan nabbed the position at the Grandspire, which turned out to be a dream come true.

Had Stefano actually called during those difficult weeks and months following Anna's birth, Megan suspected the relationship wouldn't have transcended its status as a brief, heady fling. She and Stefano were from two different worlds, as evidenced by her inability to contact him, if nothing else. His stratified circ.u.mstances weren't ideal for Megan, let alone for Anna.

He'd known it the entire time he'd been with her in South America. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so anxious to see Ariana when he'd returned home.

Stefano faced her again, his demeanor back to the same easiness he exuded whenever he appeared in public, giving no sign that he was thinking of a long-ago broken engagement. "Let me ask the important questions, then. Anna is doing well?"

Megan nodded, unable to elaborate as their waiter approached the table with breakfast. The scent of freshly-made omelets and hot b.u.t.tered toast filled the air as the young man set their meals before them. He arranged each plate with extra care, his posture rigid as he did so. Megan forced herself to stay quiet, though she was dying to offer him rea.s.surance. He was clearly anxious to impress the prince. Sensing the waiter's nerves, Stefano set aside the hotel information folder to offer his compliments on the meal and the quick service. Once the waiter departed, Megan said, "That was kind of you. You have a talent for putting people at ease." People other than her.

"If I were really talented, they wouldn't be uneasy in the first place." Stefano gestured for Megan to go ahead and eat, urging her to tell him about Anna between bites. "You mentioned last night that she's in fourth grade?"

"Yes. She attends an international school here in Barcelona and loves it. Her teachers and cla.s.smates come from all over the world." Megan couldn't help but share Anna's enthusiasm for the school. "It's a unique experience. She has new stories to tell me every night about things that happened to her and her cla.s.smates-who did well on a spelling test, who told a funny joke, who brought what for lunch. She's taken field trips to several of the places she's studied in history cla.s.s. Just last week her entire grade toured the monastery at Montserrat. And every summer she spends a few weeks in Minnesota with my parents, which allows her to see our extended family and become comfortable with living in the United States. The variety gives her a sense of independence that I love."

"It all sounds wonderful."

"It is." She gestured to the street, where the guitarist was busy unlocking a bike from a pole outside the bakery so he could ride on to his next stop. "In fact, just before you walked into the restaurant, I was watching the crowd surrounding that street musician and thinking about how fortunate Anna and I are to live here."

"By 'here' do you mean Barcelona in general or the Grandspire specifically?"

Megan paused with a slice of toast halfway to her mouth. Something in his tone set off her internal alarms. She returned the uneaten slice to her plate. "I meant Barcelona in general, but I've been lucky with the Grandspire, too. Anna and I have a two-bedroom suite on the twentieth floor. It allows us access to the hotel fitness center and pool and the location can't be beat. We're less than a mile from her school and within minutes we can be playing on the beach or sitting down at any of dozens of fantastic restaurants. We can even walk to our favorite fruit market, to the Gothic quarter, and to several museums. The list goes on and on. Why do you ask?"

Stefano lifted a forkful of omelet, taking his time to chew, swallow, and blot his mouth with a napkin before answering. "As wonderful as Anna's school may be, and as convenient as your living accommodations are to tourist attractions, I have to ask: Is a hotel really the best place to raise a child?"

Chapter Seven.

No. No, no, no. Bile rose in Megan's throat. Stefano was actually questioning her ability to raise her daughter. But as a prelude to what?

How foolish she'd been to let her guard down when he asked about Anna.

Keeping her voice as level as she could manage, she asked, "What's your point?"

"No point." He set his napkin in his lap as casually as if they were discussing last night's fireworks display. "I simply want to know how my daughter is being raised."

His daughter? Technically, yes. But....

This couldn't be happening. Arguing for custody-if that was his intent-went against everything she believed about him. Megan balled her fist in her lap and counted backward from five, just as her mother urged her to do when she was a young girl and lost her temper with a playmate. Once Megan knew she could keep her tone restrained, she said, "My first instinct is to defend myself by asking who you are to judge my choices. As I recall, you made mention of your own upbringing more than once during our time in Venezuela, referring to your life in the palace as 'sanitary' and 'controlled.'"

"My upbringing is immaterial in this-"

"Please, let me finish." She couldn't allow him to argue her into a corner. The stakes were too high. "You said you didn't truly experience life until you were out of the palace during your gap year project. It offered you the opportunity to see the world as if you were a typical volunteer rather than a rich-as-sin prince. That's what I want for Anna. I want her to experience all the world has to offer, at her own pace, and make friends from all walks of life. So if I need to defend my choices to you, well, there's my defense. As to living in a hotel, our suite is just as nice as the apartments in any of the condo buildings along the beachfront, which is where many of Anna's friends live. She can be at their homes within minutes." Megan took the folio from the side of the table, holding it in front of her so she'd appear to be going over the hotel information with Stefano. It also helped cover the fact her hands were shaking. "She's a bright, curious, and well-adjusted girl, Stefano. She's had the opportunity to see more of the world than I ever believed possible and she values what she's learned from experiencing other cultures. She's lived exactly the kind of life you'd want for her. She's healthy and she's happy. So am I."

He took a moment to absorb her words. She thought he'd acquiesce...until he opened his mouth. "But your job-"

"What about my job?" Her voice held more snap than she'd like, especially given that more guests were drifting into the restaurant, but a quick look around ensured that she hadn't been overheard. In a more rational voice, she asked, "What is your concern?"

He eyed her as if unsure what to make of her jumpiness. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's my understanding that work like yours, developing conference and event facilities, is transient in nature. Once a venue is up and running, with a stream of bookings to ensure future income, you move on. So even if Anna has all the benefits you claim, they're not permanent."

She took a deep breath and told herself that he was asking so many questions out of concern for a child rather than to attack her. "You're not wrong. It's rare in my industry to be in one place as long as I've been at the Grandspire. And I'll be leaving soon. A full-time sales force is taking over the bookings now that the facilities are complete." At his smug look, she continued, "However, I applied for this position when Anna was young specifically because the project was so extensive it would keep me in one location for several years. My success here sets me up to search for another position, one in which I hope to remain until Anna graduates from high school."

"But you don't know where?"

"Not yet. I'm looking for a situation that fits both my career goals and what I want for Anna." He didn't sound like he was asking out of curiosity about where she'd live, but accusing her of failing to plan ahead. She shut the folio, then smiled across the table as if they were nearing the end of a successful business meeting. "I know this is. .h.i.tting you out of the blue, so I'm trying to be patient with your questions. But my job is no different than many others, across a number of industries. Every so often, I have to move. In fact, many other jobs would require me to travel for days or weeks at a time. This doesn't. I'm available for Anna whenever she needs me. So if you're insinuating that I'm not raising her properly, a child you don't even know-"

"That's the problem, isn't it?" His eyes shone as he leaned closer. "I don't know her."

His simple declaration left her stomach in knots.

"Maybe," she admitted.

Yes.

If he knew Anna, if he caught her sneaking a joyous cartwheel in one of the hotel hallways or witnessed the pride on her face when she earned an A on an exam, he wouldn't have doubts. Megan wouldn't be compelled to justify her parenting decisions as if arguing before judge and jury. Tears stung her eyes at the sight of the emotion in his, but she fought them back as yet another group entered the restaurant for breakfast.

"I can't know that she's happy, Megan. h.e.l.l, I don't even have a clue what she looks like." He glanced toward the new diners, who were being seated only a few tables away, then straightened slightly in his chair. Careful to keep their conversation discreet, he said, "Look, what's done is done. No matter what the circ.u.mstances, whatever the reason Dagmar failed to inform me of your calls-something I plan to investigate, by the way-all we can do is move forward. That's why I needed s.p.a.ce last night, to come to terms with this and think of how best to move forward. That means getting to know Anna. You said no last night, but I think it's important that I meet her as soon as possible."

"I don't know if this is the best time for her." Everything was happening too fast. After years on their own, suddenly there would be another voice-a strong, male, and royal voice-in their lives. Perhaps for a weekend, perhaps on a regular basis, but either way, it would be a drastic change.

"If not now, then when? It won't get easier for any of us." He paused. "Does she know about me?"

Megan gave a slight nod.

His lower lip flinched in surprise. "Does she know I'm here in Barcelona?"

When Megan shook her head, Stefano exhaled. "What have you told her?"

Between sips of her coffee and bites of omelet, Megan explained briefly how Anna learned of her parentage. "It's not that I don't want you to meet her. I do. But knowing on a cerebral level that you're her father and having you physically show up in her life are entirely different things. Before I introduce you, I need to prepare her."

She couldn't believe she'd agreed so easily, and before talking to Anna, but how could Megan object when Stefano's request seemed so reasonable?

"All right," he said. "Talk to her tonight. We can have lunch tomorrow and keep it relaxed and informal. I don't want Anna to be frightened or uncomfortable."

"Tomorrow?" Megan swallowed hard. When he said as soon as possible, he meant it.

"I a.s.sume her wonderful school doesn't hold cla.s.s on Sundays?" He flashed a wry grin, then popped the last bite of toast in his mouth. "I'm already in town. Staying a day or two longer won't raise any questions. My family and staff will a.s.sume I decided to extend the business trip through the weekend to visit with Ilsa. It wouldn't be unusual for me to arrange to see her or some of my other friends while I'm here. However, if I return to Sarcaccia and then make an unscheduled trip back to Barcelona, my family and staff will ask why. For the time being, I prefer we keep this to ourselves."

"Ilsa?" Was she supposed to know an Ilsa?

"I'm sorry. I a.s.sumed you were introduced at some point last night. Ilsa Jakobsen was the woman with me on the roof. You may have seen her in the bar when Mahmoud brought you over. Tall woman, red dress, hard to miss."

"Oh, yes. I remember her." Hard to miss was a colossal understatement. Six-foot beacon of s.e.xuality would be a more apt description.

"Ilsa is my sister's best friend. Her date for last night's party was, shall we say, overly focused on the c.o.c.ktail portion of the evening. I stayed close to her to ensure he wouldn't behave in a manner he'd later regret. Ilsa's like a younger sister to me. Family." He picked up his coffee cup. Seeing that it was empty, he set it back on its saucer. "In any event, I believe discretion is paramount and having friends like Ilsa in Barcelona provides a convenient excuse for me to stay."

The knot of tension that had twisted Megan's gut eased slightly. She wanted to attribute her relief entirely to Stefano's willingness to keep a meeting low-key and his desire to shield Anna from the public eye. However, a not-so-small part of her thrilled to learn he had zero romantic interest in the stunning brunette from the previous night. Knowing Stefano had watched over Ilsa because he worried for her safety reinforced Megan's opinion that the Stefano seated across the table from her now wasn't so different from the Stefano she'd met in Venezuela. Protective, sensitive, caring.

Truly, a prince.

"It feels odd talking about Anna when I don't even know what she looks like." Stefano's voice was quiet enough she had a hard time hearing him now that there were people chatting only a few tables away. "If I may ask...do you have a photo of her?"

The gentleness of the request tugged at her heartstrings. She supposed if they were going to meet tomorrow, showing him a photo today was the least she could do. "I don't think anyone would find it unusual if I handed you my phone during our meeting, do you?"

When he shook his head, she fished the phone from her bag, tapped the screen to bring up the pictures, then handed it to Stefano, trying to ignore the heat of his fingers as they brushed hers.

At his intake of breath, Megan smiled. "She's beautiful, isn't she? Her hair isn't quite as dark as yours, but it has your texture, very wavy and thick. And she has your eyes. Not just the color or the ring around the iris, but there's that same hint of mischievousness constantly lurking there. I have to watch it with her."

Stefano's attention remained riveted on the screen. "Is this recent?"

"Day before yesterday." She'd snapped it while Anna had been sitting at the kitchen counter showing off a batch of brownies she'd made with her grandparents. The late-afternoon sunlight streamed in through the suite's windows and hit Anna so perfectly Megan had pulled out her phone to capture the moment.

"I have a daughter." A mix of astonishment and joy tinged his words, as if he hadn't quite believed until that moment that Anna was real, and that she was his. He stared at the screen for a few more seconds before asking if he could look at the other pictures on the phone. As he flipped through them, smiling at some, carefully studying others, he asked, "Has she missed having a father? Or is there someone else who's been a male role model for her?"

The question left Stefano's mouth in a casual manner, but Megan wasn't fooled; he'd carefully considered it. Was his real concern for Anna and the influences she might have had over the last few years? Or was he attempting to determine whether Megan had any serious relationships in the last decade? Megan considered her answer just as carefully. "Anna saw a lot of my parents while I finished graduate school and worked at my first job in Minneapolis. She still sees them often and is quite close to my father."

"That's good." Stefano's gaze remained fixed on the phone. What Megan saw in his clouded expression revealed more than words could ever say.

"All these questions aren't really about Anna's upbringing, are they?" she asked softly. "You might not have seen me in years, but you knew me well enough then to believe that I'm a good parent. This is about you."

That drew his attention from the phone. "How so?"

"You feel cheated. You've missed out on her life, so now you want something to pick apart-her schooling, where she lives, whether or not she has a male role model-to feel as if you have something of value to contribute to her upbringing. Maybe to feel as if you haven't suffered a loss by not knowing her." His expression remained stoic as she spoke, making Megan more certain of herself with each word. She reached across the table to put her hand over his. "It's all right. It's human nature."

Stefano didn't respond. Instead, he slid the phone from his hand into Megan's, then shifted his gaze to indicate that their waiter was crossing the restaurant, heading for their table.

She pulled back and returned the phone to her handbag before picking up her fork to polish off the last few bites of her omelet as if they'd been discussing nothing more than the weather. As the waiter collected their plates and Megan signed for the meal, a large group of diners that included several high-profile guests who'd attended last night's event appeared at the entrance to the restaurant. No doubt they would ask to be seated close to the prince if they spotted him, which meant little time remained to discuss Anna.

Once they thanked the waiter and he returned to the kitchen, Stefano placed his folded napkin on the table and looked at Megan, his features unreadable. Instead of addressing her theory, he asked when he could speak with her next.

"I'm not sure. I need to talk to Anna first. Will you be staying at the hotel again tonight?"

"I've already extended my reservation." He circled the table, his movements smooth and controlled, to pull out her chair for her. Once she'd stood, he took the folio from the table. In a businesslike voice just loud enough for nearby diners to hear, he thanked her for the information on the hotel's facilities. He finished with, "I believe your business card is enclosed if I'd like to get in touch about booking a private event?"

At her nod, he angled his head so only she could see his lips and mouthed, "Tomorrow, then. Lunch."

Chapter Eight.

She was right, d.a.m.n it.

He'd entered the restaurant ready to launch an all-out a.s.sault, but within seconds Megan had completely disarmed him. The body-hugging dress that made her glow, the sweet smile as she'd watched the street performer, unaware that she herself was being watched, the open expression that said Stefano could ask her anything he wanted and expect an honest answer...she'd left him absolutely nothing to attack. And when she'd responded to his pointed questions with the observation that Stefano felt cheated, that he wanted to know he could contribute something to Anna's life, a life nearly ten years gone already, he'd pinpointed his deepest fear, realizing it before he'd done so himself. Her point was reinforced by the ebullient girl smiling at him from the screen of Megan's phone, holding out a plate of brownies with obvious pride at having baked them herself. His chest had constricted so powerfully at the sight of those large green eyes and flushed cheeks it was as if the air left not only his lungs, but the entire room.

He not only had a child, he had a child who didn't know him or need him. Apparently the mother of that child didn't need him either.

He leaned against the sofa cushions and stared out the windows of his hotel suite, unseeing. Anna was healthy and happy, unlike so many of the children he met during his years of public service. He'd never forget the faces of those kids, particularly one little boy with whom he'd played cards during a hospital visit when he was only a child himself. The boy died only days later, leaving Stefano shaken, but thankful for his own health and the health of his siblings.

He should be grateful to know Anna enjoyed what seemed to be an idyllic childhood.

Rather than feeling relief, it galled him that Megan could see things about him he couldn't always see for himself. At the same time, her simple observation made him want her all the more. He put his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes against the conflicting emotions, attempting to process what had happened over breakfast.

Just twenty-four hours ago, he a.s.sumed he'd be spending this moment aboard his family's airplane, high amongst the clouds on the short flight to Sarcaccia. He'd planned to use the time to prepare notes for his upcoming meeting with the head of Sarcaccia's transportation department, making it clear which projects he felt needed immediate funding in order to draw more tourism to the island nation. Tourists didn't like renting cars, he'd argued more than once, and they would skip Sarcaccia in favor of other Mediterranean vacation spots if they were compelled to deal with both the cost and logistics of renting a vehicle. With enough tourists pouring money into the island, the updates to the current ma.s.s transit system would eventually pay for themselves. And the improvements wouldn't simply benefit those locals who made their living from tourism. The entire population would profit. The system upgrades would provide employment for several hundred engineers and construction workers in the short term. Then, once the upgrades were complete, it would allow for the opening of his country's new conference center, providing even more employment. Daily commuters would have more choices, roadway traffic would flow more smoothly, and parking wouldn't be such a ha.s.sle on the narrow, cobblestoned streets of Sarcaccia's congested city centers.

Now he wondered if he'd make the Monday meeting. No doubt if he called and asked for a delay, his father would hear about it. Once again, his parents would say nothing, but their disapproval would be apparent. None of King Carlo's children seemed able to satisfy their father's ambitions for them. The king worried they didn't care enough for their small country to ensure its future. Not because they didn't work hard, but because they hadn't worked hard and provided him with heirs. He'd view Stefano's extended stay in Barcelona as further evidence of his son's disregard for the country's future.

Stefano laughed aloud at the irony of it.

All he'd ever wanted was for his life to have meaning, a meaning derived from true accomplishment rather than his dumb luck at being born into the Barrali family. It was why he'd so loved the days he'd spent in Venezuela and why he'd grown to appreciate them more and more with each year that pa.s.sed. Yes, he'd met Megan there. She'd shown him what was possible in a relationship; he'd learned that a woman could be attracted to him without caring a whit for his t.i.tle or fortune. But Venezuela also gave him the chance to do soul-satisfying work out of the spotlight, where the months he spent digging a trench for a water line, moving pipe, and teaching villagers how to maintain their new water pumping and filtration systems weren't caught on camera. He was able to help people for the sake of helping, and he could do it on his own daily timetable rather than as part of some scheduled royal duty. If he wanted to spend an extra hour perfecting the water flow on a particular valve, he could do it. No keepers lingered at his side urging him on to the next event on his calendar. Seeing a young girl's face alight and knowing it was because he'd given that girl's family access to clean water, rather than because the girl had a prince visiting her village, made Stefano happier than he'd ever been.

To this day, it gave him a deep sense of fulfillment knowing that girl and her family would never again fight illnesses caused by contaminated water.

After Venezuela, he'd hoped military service would give him the same sense of accomplishment. He'd partic.i.p.ated in a few sea rescues while part of a helicopter crew, but the satisfaction of a job well done was short lived, about as long as it took for the chopper to land. The subsequent news coverage felt awkward as he became the story, rather than his team or the people they'd rescued. He'd decided when he finished his service that he'd find a way to make a lasting contribution, something that would help hundreds, if not thousands, of people in a practical way, and in a manner that wouldn't necessarily become fodder for the evening news.

It was what drove him to focus on Sarcaccia's transportation system over the last few years. In it, he'd discovered a way to bolster his country's tourism industry and overall economy, but to do so out of the spotlight. While chopper rescues made for exciting television reports, transportation meetings did not. The pursuit brought him enormous satisfaction.

Yet those very efforts were often overlooked as his parents pushed him to find a woman they deemed suitable, one like Ariana, and to start a family. Only three or four months ago, his mother introduced him to yet another wealthy, single woman at a charity function. His mother mentioned at the time that while it was lovely Stefano wanted to improve the country's infrastructure there were hundreds of people qualified to undertake such a task, yet only he and his siblings could continue the royal line and ensure Sarcaccia's throne stayed in the Barrali family. He'd given his mother a pat response, as always, then flirted with the woman enough to satisfy his parents, but not so much as to lead the woman to believe in the possibility of a relationship.

Some days, he wasn't sure whether it was a good or a bad thing that his work wasn't recognized.