And in her place—like some cruel twist of fate—was Zayn.
The Crown Prince of Lativa.The man she’d tried to forget.The man who had both thrilled and terrified her.Now, he stood there in her living room, holding her baby.Holding him with a natural ease, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.
It shouldn’t have looked so right.
It shouldn’t have felt so dangerous.
He wasn’t just royalty.He was the royalty.The heir to the Lativan throne.The most powerful man she’d ever met—powerful enough to break her heart, her life, and her future if he chose to.
And yet, there he was, cradling the only thing in the world she truly couldn’t survive losing.
Their son, she corrected silently, the truth slicing through her like a blade she’d been dodging for nearly a year.The guilt that followed was crushing, pressing against her lungs until it was hard to pull in air.
Forcing her grief over losing her best friend into a locked corner of her mind—because lingering there was too raw, too dangerous—Azlyn focused on the more immediate problem: figuring out who had been shooting at her.Stepping out of the shadows, she crossed the blindingly white marble floor in silence and lowered herself onto the matching sofa opposite Zayn.The room was beautiful in a cold, deliberate way, its perfection far too pristine for the conversation she was about to begin.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Zayn’s eyes had been tracking her since the moment she’d re-entered the room.
“For what?”he asked, voice low.
“For not telling you about Griff.”
Azlyn looked down at their son, who was currently devouring his bottle like it owed him money.Her chest ached—physically, emotionally.This was one of the feedings she typically breastfed, though she supplemented with formula for his mid-morning and mid-afternoon bottles.Morning, noon, and bedtime were hers… if he didn’t wake her up five times between midnight and sunrise.
“Why didn’t you?”Zayn asked.
Azlyn didn’t answer right away.She could’ve blamed the distance—he was literally halfway across the world.But that would be a lie.She could have found a way.
She could also say she didn’t think he’d want to hear from her again after their fight.
Another lie.
The truth?She’d wanted him to come back.She’d wanted him to apologize.She’d wanted him to beg.
“I’d love to offer a brilliant excuse,” she said with a tired sigh, raking her fingers through her tangled hair.“But really, it just comes down to pride.”
One dark eyebrow lifted.
Azlyn shrugged.“After our last fight, I didn’t want to bend.I didn’t want to give in.I didn’t want to be your mistress—tucked away somewhere far from your family.Hidden.Convenient.I told myself I was protecting my independence, but in the end…” She looked down at Griffin.“My pride kept you out of our son’s life.For three months.That wasn’t fair.I’m sorry.”
Zayn stared at her for a long moment, unreadable.
They’d only had a single weekend together.One wild, passionate, sleep-deprived weekend filled with laughter, conversations that ran late into the night—and a whole lot of tangled sheets.
“I should have told you I was pregnant,” she added.“But I was scared.And my stubborn pride got in the way.I didn’t want to admit...well, a lot of things.”She laced her fingers together and forced herself to stop talking before she tumbled into full-blown confessional mode.
“I should have contacted you,” he said quietly, his deep voice still carrying that seductive weight she remembered far too well.“I thought about it.”
That admission stopped her cold.She turned to him, searching his expression.Her heart beat hard against her ribs.What did she want?For him to care?For him to still want her?
But how could he?They barely knew each other now.
“Why didn’t you?”she asked softly.
He offered a brief, almost reluctant smile—but it faded as quickly as it appeared.“Because you made it very clear you weren’t coming to Lativa.”
Azlyn winced.“You asked me to give up everything.”
