One Night Stand with a Prince: Oops! I Had His Baby!

A Date To Remember

“I don’t know, Lucy, doesn’t this feel a little…” Trailing off, I turned in the mirror again, my gaze trailing uncertainly down the length of my body and back again.

“It’s perfect!” Lucy exclaimed, staring at me as if she were hyping a bride up on her wedding day. “You haven’t gone on a single date since I met you over a year ago, we are going all out! Ain’t that right, Charlie? Got to get you a daddy somehow!” The perky blonde joked, bouncing my giggling baby boy in her arms affectionately.

“He doesn’t need a daddy, Lucy, chill.” I chuckled, still staring at my reflection in the mirror. The red dress possessed every feature I’d stayed away from over the years. It was skintight, short, and low cut. “This dress doesn’t say ‘serious conversation’ it says, ‘buy me a drink and bend me over the bar while I sip it.’ I need something serious, so he listens to the craziness I need to tell him.”

“It’s not craziness, Jules, it’s the truth. He’s the only man you’ve ever had s*x with, so Charles is his son. Just make sure he understands that you don’t want anything from him.” Lucy made it sound so easy. Just state the facts and let the chips fall where they may. But there was so much that could go wrong.

“What if he wants Charles? What if he wants to take my baby, Lucy?” My best friend caught my gaze in the mirror, I watched as the humor melted away to understanding and compassion.

“We talked about this; he has no rights until his name is on the birth certificate. He can’t just take him without being hunted down for kidnapping. Breath, Jules, breath.”

“But Lucy, he isn’t from here, what if he takes Charles, jumps on a private jet and takes off to his far-off country? Oh god, I can’t do his. I can’t even breath.” Rushing to the bathroom I threw the lid of the toilet up, afraid I was going to be sick with the nerves and fear racing through my system.

“You said yourself he tried to pay you off so that you wouldn’t talk to the press, he was worried about his father seeing him in the tabloids.” She shouted from the bathroom, as I stood there with my hands on the wall and my head hanging over the toilet, I heard her footsteps and Charles babbling grow closer. Seconds later Lucy’s head popped around the corner. “So, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Sleeping with a woman isn’t a crime, stealing a child is. If he hates scandal than he’d want to avoid an Amber alert.”

Everything she said made sense, perfect and complete sense. And yet, I couldn’t banish the fear and the butterflies currently trying to fight their way out of my body. “Alright, you’re right. I know you’re right, but it doesn’t chase those fears away.”

“Nothing will, hun. Nothing but the two of you talking this out and understanding one another.” Charles began to fuss, pulling me out of my dark hole of endless ‘what if’s’ and back to reality. Sweeping him from Lucy’s arms I held him tight and kiss the top of his dark head.

“Alright, lets finish getting me ready so this night can start and get over with.” Handing Charles back off to my friend, I took a deep breath and began applying the little make up I planned to wear. Mascara, red lipstick to match the dress, and just a tad bit of eyeshadow and eyeliner for a simple smoky eye. I’d decided I’d leave my hair down and simply sweep it over one shoulder, simple but elegant. Buckling on a pair of moderate black heels and I was ready to go.

“You know where the breast milk and bottles are and have the emergency contact list, and Izzy is downstairs if you need her. Thank you so much for watching Charles last minute, I really appreciate it.” I told Lucy twenty minutes later as I was pulling on a shawl and getting ready to walk out the door.

“Of course, Jules, what are god mammas for?” Opening the door, the petite blonde basically pushed me out of my own house with a smile and wink. “Don’t hurry back, I can stay all night.”

“It’s not like that, Lucy, I plan on being back in a few hours. All this is, is dinner and-.”

“And telling an unsuspecting, incredibly rich, exceedingly handsome man that you’re his baby mamma.” Lucy sung, laughing when I glared at her and raised an eyebrow in warning. “Hey, I never got to ask, what do you think it is he does? Do you think he’s part of the mafia? Maybe he’s a mafia boss!”

“Don’t sound so excited by that prospect! You want the father of my child to be a head of an organized crime family? You aren’t exactly putting my fears to easy, Lucy!” Rolling my eyes as Lucy’s laughter rang out across the lawn, I turned and clicked the button on my keyring to open the garage. “Two hours tops, and I’ll be home.”

“We’ll see about that.” Lucy giggled, shutting the door and slipping the dead bolt in place.

When I slipped into my car and turned the key in the ignition the engine purred to life, vibrations pulsed through the seat putting me a little more at ease. I could do this. I cold tell him the truth. I could do this.

It took about thirty minutes to reach the little Italian restaurant James had texted me the name and address of, and I managed to arrive five minutes early.

The restaurant was small, but I knew this place, I’d read about it in a magazine that reported on where the stars of Hollywood went to grab dinner. A young man no older than early twenties created me at the curb with a smile and opened the door for me, telling me to leave the car running and handed me a ticket that matched the slip he stuck to my key ring.

There was a line out the door and around the corner of the building, and I silently cursed myself for wearing heels when I’d be standing in line for what looked like hours. Maybe I could convince James that we should go somewhere else? I really was hungry despite the butterflies waring in my belly, I needed to be home in two to three hours tops to either feed Charles or pump.

As I turned to make my way to the end of the line, grumbling every step about insensitive men who cared nothing for the pain we go through for beauty, a dark SUV, with tinted windows so dark I was sure it was illegal, pulled up. A large man in a black suit stepped out, taking in his surroundings before opening the back door and standing aside. I was curious what celebrity would be dinning in the same building as me tonight, but I gasped in surprise when a familiar face stepped out instead.

“Julianna.” The way my name rolled off his tongue sent a shiver down my spine that I fought to hide. Those startlingly blue eyes swiped up my body in appreciation as James stepped onto the sidewalk, pulling the sides of his dark suit coat together and buttoning them in a way that reminded me of royalty in old films. “Where are you going? The entrance is this way.” He motioned towards the doors to the restaurant, as if the line didn’t exist.

“There’s a line.” Pointing to the obvious hoard of people now gawking at him and the two large bodyguards that had climbed out of the vehicle with him and were now standing behind a short distance away. Lucy’s joke from earlier came to mind, and I wondered if the father of my child actually did work for, or even lead, the mafia. Or least a branch of it, if it worked that way. Honestly, I had no idea how organized crime worked. I wasn’t even sure if mafia was the right word.

“We have a reservation.” James stated simply, holding one hand out for me to take. Blinking in surprise I placed my hand in his, my heart skipping a beat when he tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and led me towards the door, where instead of being told to go to the back of the line the door man opened it with a flourish and a bright smile.

“Good evening, Mr. Kingston, always a pleasure to have you.” The young man stated, holding the door as James swept me inside, his bodyguards following, once pausing to slip what I assumed was money into the doorman’s hand. Mafia bells were going off in my head again.

The hostess was a pretty young woman with dark almond eyes and long thick black hair, her white button up shirt was unbuttoned a little to far down in my opinion for such a classy restaurant. Or maybe that was the jealousy I surprisingly felt course through my system at the way her eyes found and glued onto James as if she knew what was under his expensive looking suit and had no peeling it from him here and now to see it all again.

‘Down girl.’ I thought, ‘you don’t own him.’ Maybe not, but there was a small piece of me that felt territorial of him for reasons I couldn’t fathom. ‘He’s your sons dad, naturally you’d feel a little protective.’ I tried to convince myself, but I knew it was more than that.

“Good evening your high-.” Before the woman was able to finish her sentence James cleared his throat and shook his head sharply.

“Evening Ellie, my regular table please.” James asked, his tone clipped. Ellie gulped down a deep breath, her cheeks flushing as she plastered a bright smile on her lips, seeming to have understood whatever hint it was that James had given.

What was that about? What was she about to say and why was he cutting her off? Tonight was bringing with it more questions, rather than the answers I desperately needed. Who was this man I was now tied to for the rest of my life?

“Of course, right this way.” Ellie chirped a little to happily before leading us through the restaurant. The building was relatively small, so tables were pushed together and there was very little walking room between the chairs. We passed several empty tables, enough that I wondered why the line outside was so backed up, eventually coming to a narrow staircase that led up. I hadn’t even realized the building had a second story.

Since the staircase was so narrow, we were unable to walk side by side, and James insisted I go ahead of him. Thinking the gesture was one of a gentleman, I thanked him and walked ahead, holding on to the railing so I wouldn’t slip on the narrow stairs in my heels.

“No, thank you.” I vaguely heard him whisper as I began to walk up the stairs. Turning to ask him what he meant I blushed and spun back around when I realized his eyes were glued to my ass.

The idea of him staring at me in such a way should have offended me, upset me, made me mad enough to put him in his place. In a way, I did feel those things, but desire flickered to life deep within me as well. The idea that he was thinking of the night of passion we shared sent my heart racing and my palms twitching in anticipation, though of what I couldn’t say, after all, that couldn’t happen again. Could it?

“Here we are, your table Mr. Kingston.” Ellie and James were forgotten momentarily as I took in the scene around me. We were at the back of the building in a room that lead out onto a balcony that overlooked the city beyond. The room only had one table, which was covered in a pristine white tablecloth and was set with glistening plates and silverware, a bottle of what looked like champagne in an ice bucket between the two chairs that were nestled up closely to the set up.

On the balcony was a couch and a few overstuffed chairs where one could sit and watch the city after dining. Add in the low light and the candle flickering on the table and around the room and it was the perfect place for a first date… which this wasn’t.

“Thank you, Ellie, have a good night.” The dismissive words sounded rude to my ears, but the hostess just flashed a big smile and moved back towards the stairs, where I realized his guards hadn’t followed us up.

“Where is muscle one and muscle two?” I asked, glancing towards the empty doorway.

“They aren’t needed up here.” James began, as he stepped closer to me, his hands moving towards my shoulders. My breath caught in my throat even as my brain told me to demand he keep his hands to himself. But instead of taking me into his arms, he slid the shawl from my body and moved to a set of coat hooks on the wall.

Letting out a sigh of relief, or disappointment depending on which voice in my head you listened to, I gripped my little black purse like it was my life anchor, watching James as he moved across the room with enough grace to make me envious. No one should be able to move with such elegance, especially not a man of his stature and build, it was adding to this annoyingly perfect image I was starting to form of him in my head. Stopping beside of the chairs James pulled it out and turned to me expectantly.

Sliding into the chair brought me closer to him then I should be with my emotions in such turmoil, proof of which was evident when his fingers gently brushed the bare skin of the back of my neck as he pushed my chair in. My breath caught again, my lungs refusing to do their job for the moment. I prayed I wouldn’t blush every time he looked at me or touched me, because if this was my response every time he was near, co-parenting was going to be exceedingly difficult.

“So, what brought on the invitation to dinner?” James asked, sliding into his own chair and lifting the bottle of champagne to pour us both a glass of the glittering liquid.

Did I just jump in and admit everything right off the bat? Or did I play it cool and try to find out more about him first? What it he was a terrible person? What if he hated children? What if he didn’t believe me? Oh god, what if he was in the mafia?

Sharing a nervous smile, I reached for the glass he’d just filled for me, mentally kicking myself when I realized my hand was shaking. Alcohol would help, right? Just as the glass touched my lips, I paused and pulled it away. Alcohol. I was breastfeeding. I knew the pediatrician had told me one drink wouldn’t hurt him, but between the pregnancy and caring for a newborn, I hadn’t had any opportunity to drink. Not to mention that if memory served me right, drinking was what led to Charles, and I’d only had three glasses of wine that night. Better not to push my limits again.

“Is there something wrong with the champagne?” He asked anxiously, brows drawn together as he watched me closer than I was comfortable with. After a nervous chuckle I took a small sip of the bubbly beverage and placed the glass back on the table.

“Nope, it’s good.” Glancing around the room I waited a moment for my nerves to calm before turning back to James and gesturing to the room. “I’ve read about this restaurant in magazines, but this place having a second floor is something that has never been mentioned.”

“That would be because this is my private dining room, and no other guests are ever allowed up here.” The way he said it, stating the fact as if it didn’t sound complete insane had me blinking at him in surprise.

“How is that? Do you own this place?”

“No,” he laughed, the throaty sound sending another shiver down my spine. “The owners family came into finical troubles years ago and I helped them. Instead of them paying the loan back, I asked to be allowed to build my own dining area and it always be kept reserved for me.”

“Are you in the mafia?” The words slipped out before I could stop myself, a hand flying up to slap across my mouth in shocked horror. James wore an expression of utter bewilderment as he stared back at me, his own blue orbs growing wide. “I am so sorry, I should not have said that, I mean, asked that. I have no right to ask what you do for a living.” I muttered, wishing the floor would open and swallow me right then and there. Though, another part of me was anxious for the answer. For what the answer to this question would mean for my son’s future.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t mind sharing my work with you. I hate to disappoint you but, no, I’m not in the mafia. I own a simple and boring old company that is completely legal and up to date on its taxes.” The twinkle in his eyes and the slit curve at the edge of his lips told me he was being honest while simultaneously picking at me.

“Well, that’s good to her.” I said, picking up the menu to partially block my face as he continued to watch me, making me squirm uncomfortably in my seat. I got the sense he was waiting for something, though I wasn’t sure what it could be.

“Well, you asked a rather frank question, may I now return the favor and ask one of my own?”

Thinking over his question for a moment I decided it was only fair. I had asked a rather rude question, demanded really, the least I could do as return the favor.  Refusing to look up, I reread the section labeled ‘Pastas’ for the third time without retaining a single dishes name.

“Of course, ask whatever you like, Mr. Kingston.”

“James, please call me James. After all, we do share a child.”

I froze, my eyes refusing to leave the menu as what he said sank in. He knew. He knew about Charles. But how?

Placing the menu slowly on the table, I reached up and wrapped my fingers around the stem of my flute of champagne and brought it to my lips. Screw it, I needed a little liquid courage now.

“Is that for the best? What with you breast-feeding and all?” His tone had changed, where before he’d been polite or even flirty, now his words were laced with steel. He knew about Charles, and he was not overly happy about it, though if it was about my son or the fact he hadn’t known I couldn’t know.

“The doctor said a glass was fine, and I get the feeling this conversation would normally require an entire bottle…”

“Or two.” He agreed, those amazing blue eyes, so much like my little princes, were now icy as they gazed back at me.

“What do you want with him? With me? If you knew about Charlie, why bring me here? Why not tell me when we ran into each other?” The way his smirk edged up and one brow raised, had me rethinking my questions and coming to another revelation. “We didn’t run into each other, did we? You knew I was there; you planned the meet up.”

The last part wasn’t a question, it was a statement, an accusation. If he’d been keeping an eye on me, if he knew about Charles, why had he waited so long to come forward?

“Yes, I did orchestrate the ‘bumping into one another’ so that it would seem natural, and you would be at ease. As far as why I brought you here, it was so we could speak in peace and quiet, where I knew others would not be able to overhear.” James leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he drew closer. “As for what I want with you, that depends on your answer to my next question.”

“And what question would that be?” I demanded, hardly believing the turn the night had taken, and it had only just begun.

“Marry me.”