Swiping them away, I force a smile and turn to face them, hoping they'll drop it, but Rebecca scowls at me in her motherly way she shows concern. "Now you listen, young lady. I'm old enough to know when something's off, and you, dear girl, are not okay. Tell us what's wrong." She folds her hands neatly in front of her as my chest deflates and I glance at Sara, who offers her only sympathy—a look of apology.
It's gone far enough, and I need support. And not only that these women have wisdom beyond their years. I don't know how to tell Roman about the baby, but I do know that if I run, he'll chase.If he doesn't let me go willingly, I'll be forced to tell him. And without him telling me that I can go, I will have no choice but to confess or run.
Either way, I'm doomed to be caught in this secret. I can't carry this on my own anymore.
The only way to share a secret so damning is to spit it out so that's just what I do. "I'm pregnant," I say. "It's Roman's." Then I watch their faces shift from shock to mortification and then acceptance before I continue. "He told me tonight that he's planning to announce Sofi or Sabine as his wife because he wants to take over my father’s business…" My eyes are still full of tears, but I blink them back.
Sorin looks at Sara sternly and barks, "Hallway. Now."
"She already knows," I mumble hastily. "Sara's known for two weeks…" I reach for her and she starts moving toward me. "She's brought me bread and listened to my heart breaking."
Sorin turns back to Sara, who stops beside me and holds my hand. I never thought when I came here that I'd make a friend so dear to me, but I have. I can't imagine life without her, but it looks like soon I'll be moving on, if I get my way. I owe so much to her for the comfort and support she's given me.
"Two weeks?" Sorin sounds upset. "You've both known for two weeks and neither of you told me the truth."
"I asked her not to say anything, so don't be angry with her." I feel the weight of her disappointment, but it doesn't make me regret not telling her.
"I don't care what you asked her. If you'd told me when it happened we could've taken care of it immediately. Before itbecame this…" She huffs and shakes her head. "We can still do that. We'll call the doctor like I suggested, and Roman will never?—"
"Take care of it?" I feel my chest squeeze. "You mean kill my baby…"
"I mean resolve it before?—"
"I'm not killing my baby, Sorin. That's not a conversation we're having." I can't believe she'd bring that up. And for what? To make sure Roman isn't disturbed? They think he's so amazing. I know it can’t be to protect me. It's ludicrous to think I'd have an abortion to hide this indiscretion.
"Then you have to tell him." Sorin runs a hand across her hair and squeezes her bun as she glances at Rebecca in fear. "If he finds out that the staff knew and nobody told him, it won't be our jobs we lose. You heard what happened to that fighter. You heard the screaming. Sara kept this from him for two weeks, Mila—two weeks. Do you understand what he could do to her for that?"
I don't think Roman is the monster they think he is, and I don't believe for a second that he would harm Sara. Fire her, maybe, but I think he keeps physical punishment for his fighters, not his house staff. Still, he'd be angry, and she doesn't have any other place to go. I can't do that to her. Sorin is right. He must be told.
"I'll tell him," I say. "Tonight—after his announcement. Once he's said whatever he's going to say and chosen whoever he's going to choose, I'll tell him everything." My hands are shaking just thinking about it, but it doesn't mean my plans have to change. Roman will have a new wife to prepare for. He has no time for a child. He's too busy, anyway. If he lets me leave, I willvanish without a trace and he won't ever have to be bothered by it.
"Tonight," Rebecca says sternly.
"Tonight. I promise."
Sorin doesn't seem happy, and the emotional support I thought I was going to get from them slips through my fingers. Sadly, I'm so used to it, I let it go and suck in a deep breath to calm myself. At least it's not Vera and her hysterics.
"If he doesn't know about this come morning, I'll be forced to tell him." Rebecca, the oldest of them, seems sad as she makes her pronouncement. I imagine it hurts her to have to do it, and I never wanted to disappoint them or let them down.
"I understand."
Sorin unfolds her arms and picks up a makeup wipe from the vanity and comes back and dabs at the redness around my eyes. "We need to fix this before the car gets here," she says. "Sit down."
I sit at the vanity and Sorin re-blends foundation around my eyes while Sara finishes the last few pins in my hair and nobody speaks. It's as if a wet blanket has been draped over our conversation and doused any connection or rapport we have.
When they finish fixing me up, they walk me down the hallway to the foyer. Roman's waiting at the bottom of the staircase in a black suit with a black tie. He's fixed his hair and his jaw is freshly shaved. He sees me and his eyes roam down over the dress and back up, and his face softens around his mouth and eyes. His chest puffs out ever so slightly, and I look down awayfrom his face. I can't stand to see him looking so incredible knowing he will go home on someone else's arm.
"Leave us," he says to Sorin, Sara, and Rebecca without looking at them. They disappear down the hallway and he waits until they're gone to move.
He comes to meet me and takes my hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to my knuckles. "You're stunning," he says, and it's so warm and full that I believe him.
"Alana did well with the dress." Deflecting his compliment is the only thing I can do. To allow myself to feel like he wants anything from me, or sees anything in me, will only make the pain worse.
"I'm not talking about the dress." He steps closer, and I feel his body heat wrap around me. Then his free hand finds my waist and pulls me against him. His mouth drops to my neck, lips brushing the skin below my ear, and my eyes flutter shut as my body leans into him before I can stop it.
"Rome." I put my hand on his chest and push gently. "We'll be late to your own gala." Pushing him away is the last thing I want to do. I want to get lost in this moment, the sensation, the magic of it all. I am Cinderella, and this is my ball, but he is not my prince.
"I own the gala. It starts when I walk in."
