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She cleared her throat. ‘There’s something I...need to tell you.’ Her voice was little above a whisper.
He tensed. Then slowly turned and strode to where she’d stopped in the room. His hands remained in his pockets as his gaze raked her from head to toe. ‘So speak.’ His tone was rough, terse.
‘I don’t know how else to say this so I’m just going to spill it,’ she said.
He stared at her. Silence stretched. He quirked an eyebrow.
Heart hammering, Jasmine closed her eyes for a split second and gathered her courage. ‘I...we...’
‘Jasmine?’ he snapped.
‘Yes?’
‘Take a breath and find the words.’
‘I’m pregnant.’
* * *
He was a crown prince. He was allowed a gamut of emotions. Courage under fire. Pride. Anger. Even bewilderment at times.
But Reyes was certain that somewhere in his kingdom’s constitution, there was a clause that said he couldn’t feel blind panic.
And yet that was the emotion that clawed through him once he convinced himself he hadn’t misheard her. Panic and intense, debilitating jealousy.
Stop, he admonished himself. Think for a moment.
But he couldn’t think beyond the naked fact that she’d slept with someone else, was pregnant with another man’s child. That in the very near future she would no longer be in his life. She would belong to someone else.
He turned abruptly and headed for the living room adjoining his bedroom. ‘Come with me.’
She followed. When they reached the set of sofas, he jerked his chin at the nearest one.
‘Sit down.’
‘I don’t need to—’
‘Sit down, Jasmine. Please.’
She sat, crossed her ankles, and folded her hands in her lap. He tried not to stare at the silky fall of her hair. The perfection of her face.
She belonged to someone else.
A piercing pain lanced his chest. He paced to the window, as if the different view would provide cold perspective.
‘Obviously this changes things. You wish me to release you from your obligations?’ The words felt thick and unnatural. Not at all what he wanted to be asking her.
When she remained silent, he turned. Her mouth was parted in surprise. And shock?
‘Umm, eventually, yes. But I’m not doing anything that would risk the baby’s health, so I can see this task through.’ She stopped and bit her lip. ‘If you want me to, that is.’
Did he want a woman he’d made love to, who was now carrying another man’s child, completing her task of seeing him wed another woman?
Dios. When had his life turned into a three-ring circus?
‘Who is he?’ he bit out before the words had fully formed in his mind.
Realising the panic had been totally annihilated by jealousy didn’t please him. Nor did he welcome her confusion.
‘Who is who?’
‘The father of your baby.’ Why did the words burn his throat so badly?
Her eyes widened. ‘The father? You mean you think...’ She shook her head. ‘It’s you, Reyes. You’re the father of my baby.’
He willed the cymbals crashing through his head to stop. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said this baby is yours. Ours.’
Panic. Bewilderment. Panic. Pride.
Elation. Pride. Anger.
‘Mine. Do you take me for a fool?’ he rasped.
‘No, of course not. Reyes—’
‘Or did you think you’d wait until I’d forgiven you before you sprang this happy surprise on me?’
‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she replied. Her bafflement was almost convincing.
‘You know exactly what I’m talking about. Was that the plan all along? To innocently run into me at the embassy in London and plot your way to a higher payday?’
She shook her head. ‘Plans and plots? Next you’ll be accusing me of mind-controlling you into forgetting to use a condom in the shower back in Rio.’
The bolt of shock rocked him backwards. Frantically, he searched his memory.
The shower...no condom...Madre di Dios...
He stared at her, rooting for the truth. ‘The child is mine?’ he croaked.
Her eyes met his. Bold and fierce. ‘Yes. I know my credibility isn’t worth much to you, but believe me when I say that I’d never stoop to such deplorable deception. No matter what.’
He nodded, still reeling. He believed her. But the inherent need to seek the absolute truth pounded through him. The past still had a stranglehold on him he couldn’t easily let go of. ‘You weren’t on the pill?’
