Free Scandal With a Prince by Nicole Burnham

what for lunch.   She’s taken field trips to several of the places she’s studied in history class.   Just last week her entire grade toured the monastery at Montserrat.   And every summer she spends a few weeks in Minnesota with my parents, which allows her to see our extended family and become comfortable with living in the United States.   The variety gives her a sense of independence that I love.”
    “It all sounds wonderful.”
    “It is.”   She gestured to the street, where the guitarist was busy unlocking a bike from a pole outside the bakery so he could ride on to his next stop.   “In fact, just before you walked into the restaurant, I was watching the crowd surrounding that street musician and thinking about how fortunate Anna and I are to live here.”
    “By ‘here’ do you mean Barcelona in general or the Grandspire specifically?”
    Megan paused with a slice of toast halfway to her mouth.   Something in his tone set off her internal alarms.   She returned the uneaten slice to her plate.   “I meant Barcelona in general, but I’ve been lucky with the Grandspire, too.   Anna and I have a two-bedroom suite on the twentieth floor.   It allows us access to the hotel fitness center and pool and the location can’t be beat.   We’re less than a mile from her school and within minutes we can be playing on the beach or sitting down at any of dozens of fantastic restaurants.   We can even walk to our favorite fruit market, to the Gothic quarter, and to several museums.   The list goes on and on.   Why do you ask?”
    Stefano lifted a forkful of omelet, taking his time to chew, swallow, and blot his mouth with a napkin before answering.   “As wonderful as Anna’s school may be, and as convenient as your living accommodations are to tourist attractions, I have to ask: Is a hotel really the best place to raise a child?”

Chapter Seven
    No.   No, no, no.   Bile rose in Megan’s throat.   Stefano was actually questioning her ability to raise her daughter.   But as a prelude to what?
    How foolish she’d been to let her guard down when he asked about Anna.  
    Keeping her voice as level as she could manage, she asked, “What’s your point?”
    “No point.”   He set his napkin in his lap as casually as if they were discussing last night’s fireworks display.   “I simply want to know how my daughter is being raised.”
    His daughter?   Technically, yes.   But….
    This couldn’t be happening.   Arguing for custody—if that was his intent—went against everything she believed about him.   Megan balled her fist in her lap and counted backward from five, just as her mother urged her to do when she was a young girl and lost her temper with a playmate.   Once Megan knew she could keep her tone restrained, she said, “My first instinct is to defend myself by asking who you are to judge my choices.   As I recall, you made mention of your own upbringing more than once during our time in Venezuela, referring to your life in the palace as ‘sanitary’ and ‘controlled.’”
    “My upbringing is immaterial in this—”
    “Please, let me finish.”   She couldn’t allow him to argue her into a corner.   The stakes were too high.   “You said you didn’t truly experience life until you were out of the palace during your gap year project.   It offered you the opportunity to see the world as if you were a typical volunteer rather than a rich-as-sin prince.   That’s what I want for Anna.   I want her to experience all the world has to offer, at her own pace, and make friends from all walks of life.   So if I need to defend my choices to you, well, there’s my defense.   As to living in a hotel, our suite is just as nice as the apartments in any of the condo buildings along the beachfront, which is where many of Anna’s friends live.   She can be at their homes within minutes.”   Megan took the folio from the side of the table, holding it in front of her so