Royal Babies. Cat Schield

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      Were her words almost too airy or had he caught a case of severe paranoia from Marcus? ‘It would appear so.’ He watched her from beneath lowered lids.

      ‘So, tell me more about your official business—the schools project.’

      ‘My brother set up the charity—he believed every child deserves access to an education, however basic.’

      It had been a philanthropic side Frederick hadn’t even known Axel had had—one his brother had kept private. Because he had been a good man...a good man who had died—

      Grief and guilt thrust forward but he pushed them back. The only reparation he could make was to continue Axel’s work.

      ‘So, I’m funding and working with a committee to set up schools here. Tomorrow I’m going to visit one of the new ones and meet the children.’

      ‘That sounds incredible—there’s so much poverty here, and yet also such a vibrant sense of happiness as well.’

      ‘Why don’t you get involved? That would be great publicity for the organisation—I could put you in touch.’

      For a second her face lit up, and then she shook her head. ‘No. I’m not modelling at the moment and...’

      ‘I’m not suggesting you model. I’m suggesting you get involved with some charity work.’

      ‘I...I don’t want any publicity at the moment—’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘I... Sam and I prefer our life to be out of the spotlight.’

      This still didn’t make sense. Sunita had thrived in the spotlight, been pulled to it like a moth to a flame. But before he could point that out, the door opened and a waitress appeared with a tray.

      ‘Thank you.’ Sunita smiled as the girl placed the drinks on the table, alongside a plate of snacks that looked to range from across the globe. Tiny pizzas topped with morsels of smoked salmon nestled next to crisp, succulent pakora, which sat alongside miniature burgers in minuscule buns. ‘These look delicious.’

      Once the waitress had exited, Frederick sampled a pakora, savoured the bite of the spice and the crunch of the batter around the soft potato underneath. ‘These are delicious! Sam runs an excellent kitchen.’

      ‘Yes—he and...he has made a real success of this place.’

      ‘You must be proud of him.’

      ‘Yes. Of course.’

      ‘Are you involved with the restaurant?’

      ‘No.’

      He sipped his drink, with its refreshing contrast of sharp and sweet. ‘So what do you do now? Do you have a job?’

      ‘I...’

      Fluster showed in the heat that crept along her cheekbones, the abrupt swirling of her drink, the over-careful selection of a snack.

      ‘I’m a lady of leisure.’ Her eyes dared him to challenge her, but he couldn’t help it—a snort of disbelief emerged. Sunita had been a human dynamo, always on the go, abuzz with energy, ideas and vibrancy.

      ‘For real?’

      ‘Yes.’ Now her fingers tapped on the table in irritation. ‘Why not? I’m lucky enough that I can afford not to work—I pay my own way.’

      An undercurrent of steel lined her words—one he remembered all too well. ‘Just like you did two years ago.’

      It had become a standing joke—she’d refused point-blank to let him pay for anything, had insisted they split every bill down the middle. The one time he’d been foolish enough to buy her a gift, she’d handed it back.

      ‘I don’t like to feel beholden. It’s my issue, not yours. Keep it for your next woman. I pay my own way.’

      Apparently she still did.

      He raised his hands in a gesture of peace. ‘Where you get your money from is none of my business. I just can’t imagine you doing nothing all day.’

      ‘That’s not how it is. I have a very fulfilling life.’

      ‘Doing what?’

      ‘None of your business. You came here to find out why I disappeared. I’ve told you—I fell in love, I’ve settled down, and I want to live my life quietly.’

      Instinct told him there was something askew with the portrait she painted. Tension showed in the tautness of her body; but perhaps that tension had nothing to do with him.

      ‘My chief advisor will be relieved—he is worried there is some mystery around your disappearance that could damage me.’

      For a fraction of a second her knuckles whitened around her glass and then her eyebrows rose in a quizzical curve. ‘Isn’t that a tad far-fetched? To say nothing of egotistically paranoid?’

      ‘Possibly,’ he agreed, matching her eyebrow for eyebrow. ‘But it also seems extremely far-fetched to me that you walked away from your career.’

      ‘Well, I did.’

      Frederick waited, but it appeared Sunita felt that sufficed.

      ‘So you confirm that your retreat and subsequent dramatic change of lifestyle have nothing to do with me?’

      Her glance flickered away and then she laughed. ‘We spent one night together two years ago. Do you really think that your charms, manifest though they were, were sufficient to make me change my life?’

      Put like that, he had to admit it sounded arrogantly self-involved. And yet... ‘We spent more than one night together, Sunita.’

      A wave of her hand dismissed his comment. ‘A publicity stunt—nothing more.’

      ‘OK. Let’s play it your way. I can just about buy it that those weeks were all about publicity for you, but what about that night? Was that all for publicity?’

      These were the questions he should have asked two years ago.

      Her gaze swept away from him. ‘No. It wasn’t. I didn’t intend that night to happen.’

      ‘Is that why you left?’

      It was as though the years had rolled back—he could almost imagine that they were in that five-star hotel in Paris, where they’d played truant from the glitzy party they’d been supposed to be at. Attraction had finally taken over and—

      Whoa! Reel it in, Frederick!

      ‘Yes, that’s why I left. I broke my own rules. By sleeping with you I became just another notch on your bedpost—another woman on the Playboy Prince’s conveyor belt. That was never meant to happen.’

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