King's Unknown Black Baby Daughter(5)

By: Ciara Cole

“See you in a while, Mother,” he’d said while hugging his petite-figured mother goodbye. Since Matias had inherited the throne after his father had passed away from a heart attack months ago, his mother had grown more slender.

“Diviértanse, Son.” Have fun, she said. “Make sure you bring back a queen.”

Even now while behind his desk in the aircraft and going over the details of his stateside trip with his assistant, Matias still couldn’t get his mother’s words out of his head. She’d sounded only slightly teasing, causing Matias to wonder whether to take her seriously or not. As the only son, the pressure had always been on Matias to settle down. Though he made time to date between official commitments, it was never anything serious. Why had his mother made such a comment about marriage?

Matias would have in turn loved to quip that it wasn’t exactly raining Catholic princesses in America. With a family tree boasting six centuries of kings and queens, Matias had no doubt his mother wanted a blue blood bride for her precious son the king.

Matias began to feel a certain cramped sensation despite the more than spacious leg room available in the aircraft. Six months ago Matias had inherited the throne. It would have been only a matter of time before his mother and the greater royal family started putting pressure on Matias to get married and produce heirs. Why was he so surprised?

A slight huff escaped his lips. Matias had never been a commitment kind of guy. Over the last few years, he’d allowed his name to be linked in the press with a few paramours, either supermodels or daughters of Spanish nobility. He was far from ready to shed his playboy image, and he certainly wasn’t in the market for love.

For now, he was more focused on promoting Spain’s commercial and economic interests both home and abroad. Women were dispensable to him. No one had ever really made an impact enough to warrant keeping around for long. No, he’d never been with anyone truly memorable.

Except…there had been one woman.

An American tourist, Viv, whom he’d met while she was traveling through Spain on her own.

Suddenly Matias felt a reminiscent smile cross the lips he had poised to sip on a glass of vintage liquor. The sleeves of his pale blue shirt were folded up to his elbows, showing off perfectly toned arms. For the first time, his expression seemed lightened while he let his mind wander through memories from ten years ago.

Genevieve Hopeton, or Viv as she’d preferred to be addressed, had been one of the most beautiful women Matias had ever laid eyes on. She’d had chocolate skin, beautiful brown eyes, luscious lips. Damn.

It was kind of coincidental how they’d met—Matias had been blowing off some royal steam by doing a cliff jump at a local but secluded spot, and a minute after he’d dived in, so had she.

They’d chatted in the water, jointly explored a few caves, and then swum back to the shore together.

One thing had led to another, and soon they had been dining and drinking and having wild, erotic sex at midnight on the beach under a full moon. Matias had enjoyed the fact she didn’t know who he was; she’d simply appreciated his company as a regular guy she had met.

They’d been lovers for two whole weeks in the summer…and then it was over.

Matias had never gotten the chance to explain to Viv the truth about who he was. In his heart, he had always meant to do so but had been awaiting the right time. Too bad things never turned out the way he wanted.

Did he ever wish he could go back to that last day? Yes, he did. He pictured waking her up, confessing that he was the crown prince of Spain, and begging her to come back with him to his family’s royal estate.

Matias pushed such thoughts of regret away. Just like he had reminded himself many times before, it was pointless to ponder the “what ifs” that could never be.

“Sir? Sir.” Matias stirred at the sound of that voice and the hand shaking him gently awake.

He quelled a groan. He realized he must have drifted off. “Okay, okay. I’m up,” he said, stretching slightly.

“We have arrived in New York, Your Majesty,” his assistant said.

Indeed they had. Matias unbuckled his seat belt, stood up, and picked up his suit jacket. Already lined up at the entrance of the aircraft was the Air Force Spanish Royal Guard, awaiting the king to alight.

Matias never welcomed much ceremony on his arrival. A few paparazzi maybe, but not any of the media frenzy his counterparts in the British Royalty were known for. It wasn’t his first official visit to the States as king, and besides, he’d attended graduate school in NYU, so he more than knew his way around. He was looking forward to enjoying his stay without turning heads overmuch.