Prince Nadir's Secret Heir(3)

By: Michelle Conder



So Nadir had chosen the highway and his father had disowned him. It was one of his old man’s specialities—turning his back on anyone who displeased him—and Nadir had said sayonara and left to make his own way in the world. And it had been a relief because it helped him forget the role he’d inadvertently played in his mother and sister’s deaths. It was also the last time he’d let his father manipulate him. Nadir had no doubt that not changing his will to reflect Zachim as the next leader had been a deliberate move on his father’s part. But he wouldn’t win.

Memories surged and Nadir cursed and rocked to his feet. He stared out of the window as a stream of sunlight broke through the clouds, casting a golden hue on the Houses of Parliament. The colour reminded him of Imogen Reid’s long silky hair and his mood headed further south as he thought of her once more. She was another loose end he had yet to tie up, but at least with that one he had tried.

Frustrated with the way the day was turning out, Nadir thumbed through the messages his PA had sent to his palm pilot, his eyes snagging on one from his head of security.

A sixth sense—or more a sick sense—told him his day was not about to take an upward swing just yet.

‘Bjorn.’

‘Boss-man.’ His head of security spoke in a soft Bostonian drawl. ‘You know that woman you asked me to track down fourteen months ago?’

Damn, he’d been right and every muscle in his body tensed. ‘Yes.’

‘I’m pretty sure we found her. I’ve just sent through an image to your handheld for you to check.’

Gut churning, Nadir pulled the phone from his ear and watched as the face of the beautiful Australian dancer who had haunted his thoughts for fourteen long months materialised on the screen. Fifteen months ago he’d met her at the Moulin Rouge after he and Zach had found themselves in Paris at the same time.

His brother had claimed he could do with seeing something pretty so they’d headed to the famous dance hall as a lark. Nadir had taken one look at the statuesque dancer with hair the colour of wheat and eyes the colour of a freshly mown lawn on a summer day and four hours later he’d had her up against the wall in his Parisian apartment with her incredible legs tightly wrapped around his lean hips. Then he’d had her on his dining room table, under his shower, and eventually in his bed. Their affair had been as hot as the Bakaani sun in August. Passionate. Intense. All-consuming.

He’d never felt such a strong pull to a woman before and even though his brain had warned him to back away he’d still made four consecutive unscheduled weekend trips to Paris just to be with her. Right then he should have known that she was trouble. That their affair was unlikely to end well. Little had he known it would end with him finding out she was pregnant and her claiming the child was his. Little did he know that she would then disappear before he’d have a chance to do anything about it.

Likely she’d disappeared because she hadn’t been carrying his baby at all but still, the thought that he had fathered a child somewhere out in the world and didn’t know about it ate away at him. A flush of heat stole over him. He didn’t know what her game had been back then but there was no question that she had played him. He just wanted to know how much—and why. ‘That’s her. Where is she?’ he bit out harshly.

‘Turns out she’s in London. Been here the whole time.’

‘Any sign of a child?’

‘None. Should I ask? I’m sitting inside the café she works at now.’

‘No.’ A welcome shot of rage pumped through Nadir’s bloodstream, priming his muscles. It looked as if today was the day he was being given a chance to rid himself of all the irritating issues in his life and now that he thought about it that could only be a positive thing. A faint smile twisted his lips. ‘That pleasure will be mine. Text me your location.’

* * *

‘That guy looking at you is giving me the creeps.’

Tired from lack of sleep due to her teething five-month-old daughter, Imogen stifled a yawn and didn’t bother turning towards the back of the room even though she knew who Jenny was referring to. He was giving her the creeps as well and not just because of his hard looks. She recognised him from somewhere but couldn’t think where.

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