Married For His Secret Heir. Jennifer FayeЧитать онлайн книгу.
too formal. What exactly did one wear to dinner at the palace?
She’d never been in this situation before. Although she was the daughter of the king’s private secretary, she wasn’t the type who received invitations to royal events. And this wasn’t just any party. It was a weeklong series of events. And her mother had taken it upon herself to post an acceptance on Elena’s behalf.
Knock. Knock.
“Come in.”
Her mother smiled as she entered the room. Her long dark hair was pulled back and tucked up at the nape of her neck. Only powder accentuated her natural beauty. “I just wanted to see if you needed any help getting ready.”
“I’m the one who should be asking if you need anything.”
Her mother waved off the concern. “I’m fine.”
“Isn’t Father home yet? I thought he might stay with you while I’m out for the evening.”
The smile slipped from her mother’s face. “I don’t see your father much lately.”
Elena had noticed her father’s increased absence. “What has him so busy?”
“The same thing as always—the king.”
“Oh.” Elena knew from growing up that her father kept his work to himself. And that was probably why he was the king’s most trusted employee. “I’m sorry. I had hoped the king would be back to normal by now.”
“I had hoped the same thing. Nothing has been right since they arrested that murderer. The news hit the king really hard.”
“I’m sure it was quite a shock to learn there was a murderer wandering through the palace all those years.”
Her mother shuddered. “I don’t like to think of it. Your father saw that criminal every day. Just the thought—”
“Don’t go there. It’s all over.” Elena hoped to reassure her. “Father is safe.”
Her mother sent her a weak smile and nodded.
Elena turned back to the full-length mirror. She’d finally settled on a little black dress. It wasn’t anything special. But the black suited her mood. She’d been sullen and reserved ever since her night with Luca. It had been just one more mistake on her part—a total error in judgment.
The only right decision she’d made was agreeing to be the face of one of the world’s hottest designers. The work was now coming in droves. In fact, there were so many requests for appearances and photo shoots that she couldn’t do them all. But once word got out about her condition, it would all end.
She was pregnant with Luca’s baby.
Pregnant. The word still sounded so foreign to her.
She’d always kept track of her cycle—a little tick mark on her day planner. With the hectic schedule of a new campaign, she hadn’t noticed right away that her timely cycle had suddenly drifted off course. But referencing her day planner to schedule future shoots, she’d stumbled across the missing tick mark. Her heart had clenched before panic ensued.
Four home pregnancy tests later, her worst fears had been confirmed. She was pregnant with Luca’s baby. At this point, only Elena and her doctor knew the truth. And for the moment, that was how it’d remain.
“Is that what you’re wearing to dinner?” her mother asked, studying Elena’s black dress. A decided frown came over her face. “Don’t you have something more cheerful?”
For some reason, her mother’s disapproval decided Elena’s attire for her. “I like this.”
“You’re awfully skinny.” Her mother clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “While you’re home, you need to eat more. Thin is nice, dear. But when a man wants to wrap his hands around you and—”
“Mother, stop.” She couldn’t believe her prim and proper mother was talking about a man having his hands on her. It just sounded so wrong to hear her mother talk about sex. Ew!
“Really, Elena. I didn’t think you were a prude, especially with those sexy outfits you model.”
“I’m not a prude. It doesn’t mean I want to talk about—about that—with you.”
Her mother smiled. “I didn’t think people your age were so shy talking about sex.”
“Enough. You’re really making me uncomfortable here.”
“Okay. Okay. I’ll stop.”
“Thank you.”
Ding. Dong.
Elena looked at her mother. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“Not that I recall.”
“I’ll get it.” Elena made a move toward the door, immensely grateful for the interruption.
Her mother held up a hand. “You stay and finish getting ready. I’ll entertain your date.”
“I thought you didn’t know who was at the door?”
“I, ah, just remembered.” Her mother’s gaze avoided hers.
“Really? That’s interesting, because I don’t recall making a date.”
“I know, dear. That’s why I arranged for one. After all, you don’t want to show up at the palace all alone.”
Stunned by her mother’s matchmaking, Elena stood slack jawed as her mother used her crutches to maneuver out of Elena’s bedroom. She even pulled the door shut behind her.
Elena didn’t know what shocked her more—her mother’s agility or the fact Elena had a date that evening and her mother hadn’t even told her the man’s name. At least with her mother doing the matchmaking, Elena knew the man would be honest and a gentleman.
The only problem was Elena didn’t want a date. She was perfectly happy going to the palace alone. This wasn’t the good old days when it was unseemly for a twenty-five-year-old woman to be seen in public without an escort.
She had to put a stop to her mother’s meddling. After all, she’d returned to Mirraccino to take care of her mother, not the other way around.
Elena glanced back at the mirror. She turned, giving a side view. Would anyone be able to tell she was pregnant? She didn’t think so. She wasn’t far along. And so far she’d been able to avoid the dreaded morning sickness. A little nausea now and then and being a bit more emotional than normal were her only symptoms.
She turned away from the mirror and slipped on a pair of platform stiletto heels adorned with crystals. The added height to her five-foot-ten stature always gave her a boost of confidence. The peekaboo toes would give a glimpse of her pedicure. Thankfully, she’d had a nail appointment just before she left Paris. She’d hoped it would lift her spirits. It hadn’t.
She pulled open the bedroom door and headed downstairs. “Mother, I—”
The words died in her throat. There, making chitchat with her mother, was Luca. Her heart lurched into her throat. How could this be? Luca never visited Mirraccino. And yet here he was, smiling and laughing with her mother.
He looked incredibly handsome with his dark hair cropped short on the sides and back while the top was a bit longer. He wore a charcoal suit that amplified his already broad shoulders—shoulders where not so long ago she’d rested her head. She squelched the thought as fast as it came to her.
Sans a tie, the top two buttons of his white dress shirt were unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his tanned chest and the gold chain that held his St. Christopher medal. He’d been wearing that necklace—a gift from his mother—almost as long as Elena had known him. She knew it meant a great deal to him.
He looked like he was ready to step onto a runway in Paris or Milan. He was certainly photogenic enough. He had it all—the