Lone Prince (Royally Unexpected #7) - Lilian Monroe Page 0,60
myself in my room, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the carpet.
Think, Rowan.
I’m keeping the baby. That, I know. I already love it, even though it’s probably the size of a seed. A smile drifts over my lips as I think of my own mother. She must have felt this way about me, too. It’s the reason she went to look for my father in Farcliff. It’s the reason she worked herself to death to provide for me. It’s the reason she never complained about it.
She loved me in a way I didn’t understand. Like only a mother can.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath. Dark, insidious thoughts creep into my frazzled mind. My past grins at me, reminding me that things don’t always turn out the way we hope. My father didn’t want me. He already had a family. Will the Prince want this baby? Am I doing exactly what my mother did with me? Subjecting myself to the kind of difficult life I saw her fight—and lose?
I think of the past four weeks, and how the Prince’s eyes soften every time he glances at me. How his fingers drift over my skin, sending shivers flowing through my very core. The way he looks at me feels…real.
What if he wanted this baby, too? What if royalty wasn’t a wedge between us? We could…We could have a family.
Curling up on the bed, I tuck my knees into my chest and let out a long breath. For one night, I allow myself to hope things will work out. I hope the Prince will feel as good as I do. I hope this baby will have a father.
For one night, I ignore my past. I ignore the blaring warning signs that tell me this isn’t a normal situation, and things might not work out for me and my child.
When I get up in the morning, the sound of the doorbell strikes fear in my heart. No one comes to this house, especially not this early in the morning. Is it the Prince? Did he find out about the baby? Did Eyvar say something? Or the doctor?
My grandmother calls out from her bedroom, “Who’s that?”
“I’ll get it,” I shout, shuffling down the creaking wooden floors to the front door.
I open it to an army of reporters shouting my name, cameras and microphones shoved in my face. They assault me, snarling and snapping their teeth at me like bloodthirsty beasts.
Screaming, I slam the door. My hands tremble as I lock it, fumbling with the latch until it finally snicks. I lean against the door, sucking in a deep breath.
What in the…?
Do they know about me and the Prince?
Scrambling for my phone, I type in a random string of keywords that might bring up what I’m looking for. Nord news Prince Wolfe.
My face pops up on the screen, and my stomach falls out of my ass.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, no, no, no.
My hands tremble. My grandmother calls out from her room. My ears ring, this high-pitched whine that drowns out everything else. What the hell is going on?
Horror ices my veins as I read article after article about myself. Exposés about my life, my history, my business. A timeline of my trip to Nord, and frighteningly accurate theories about how my romance with the Prince began.
And, most damning of all, a picture of me outside the doctor’s office, with a zoomed-in insert of the pamphlet in my hand, the word pregnancy emblazoned on it in bold, black letters.
They know. Everyone knows. The whole world knows that I’m pregnant with the Prince’s baby—and I didn’t even get a chance to tell the Prince myself.
The doorbell rings again, followed by a knock on the door. Grandma shuffles to her bedroom door, poking her head out. She has a silk scarf over her head and sleep still clouding her eyes. “What’s all that about?”
My eyes are wide with terror. I open and close my mouth. “I… I…” I stammer, shuffling toward her. “Reporters.”
“What do they want?”
I glance at the entrance, watching as someone’s shadow tries to peer through the skinny window beside the door. “They want me.”
Grandma stares at me, confused. Sighing, she hobbles past me and heads for the kitchen, mumbling something about needing a cup of coffee. I follow her blindly, accepting a mug when she hands it to me. Am I even supposed to be drinking this? I feel so incredibly unprepared for pregnancy. For motherhood.