Flicka nodded.“He’s said all that, too.”
“There’s more,” Max said, but he didn’t look up at her. His dark curls fell around his face, curtaining his gaze.
“Of course, there is,” she muttered.
“He needs heirs, two of them. An heir and a spare, because there always needs to be a useless spare hanging around, waiting in case the heir should die.” Maxence’s tone was a little dry when he said that. “He wouldn’ttouch you. He wouldn’t ask that of you. He said it could be done medically. Now I know why he said it.”
“Two children.” Her brain processed the words, but the thoughts seemed to bounce off her mind. Such a concept couldn’t be real. “He wants me to get pregnant and produce two children for him.”
Maxence said, “You would have primary custody of them, if you wanted. He would need to see them. Therewould need to be pictures and official portraits with all of you. If you don’t want primary custody, you can switch that arrangement. They would need to live primarily in Monaco, at least until they were old enough to matriculate to Le Rosey school at the age of five.”
She would never ship off a kid of hers to that boarding school or any other. “Interesting.”
Maxence nodded, though he staredat his legs. “You would lead separate lives in every way. He wouldn’t quibble if you wanted to take lovers. He would stay entirely away, make no comments, have no opinion. You would have to be discreet and not confirm anything. His only caveat is that you could not bear any other man’s children, only his. There would be penalties in the contract if you got pregnant by someone else, and you’d haveto do something about it. Youcouldn’thave children by anyone else.”
So, ultimately, her body would belong to Pierre because he would decide when and if she would have children, and she could only have his. She wouldn’t have the right to make that most primal decision about her own body.
Revulsion shook her.
Maxence said, “Pierre said there would be a written contract. Your lawyers would beinvolved. I don’t know what else would be in there.”
The tea sloshed in her stomach, and the dry scrape of the cookie made her feel ill. “He should call the Pope and get an annulment.”
“The Pope said he wouldn’t consider an annulment until the two of you were separated for at least three years.” Maxence finally looked up at her. “I can’t believe he wanted me to try to convince you to do that.I feel sick.”
Flicka grabbed at any light conversation she could think of so that she wouldn’t vomit on his shoes. “I’m surprised you came back from Africa to do it for him.”
“I was in Monaco.”
“Are you no longer working in Africa?” she asked, trying to think of words to say. Her head was buzzing.
Maxence took her hand and held it in both of his. “No, I came back from Africa to say goodbyeto my uncle.”
She was distracted by Pierre’s terrible offer, but she curled her hand around Maxence’s strong fingers. “Is he going somewhere?”
“He didn’t tell you about Uncle Rainier, did he?”
“Tell me what?” she asked, still staring at the scrolls in the carpeting.
He let go with one of his hands and lifted her chin gently so that she looked into his dark eyes. “Flicka, Prince Rainier theFourth is dying. He’s had a stroke, a massive one, and he’s being kept alive on life support. That’s why Pierre is desperate, because Rainier is going to die very, very soon. His body is failing, even with the machines.”
Flicka blinked, trying to comprehend. “So, Pierre is the Prince of Monaco now.”
“No, he’s not, not yet. Rainier is still technically alive, for now. The next Prince will needto be declared within a week of Rainier’s death, though the coronation will be later, of course. If you’re not there, and if the sentiment is that Pierre has been divorced, he won’t be selected by the Council of Nobles no matter what Rainier’s wishes were. Pierre will lose the throne of Monaco. And then, as you said, all will be circles and chaos.”
