Lone Prince (Royally Unexpected #7) - Lilian Monroe Page 0,69
tell me?
That hurts more than I can say, but I put on my best, professional face and thank the man for the information. I glance around the tiny office, thinking only of Wolfe.
There, on the desk, where we made love. How he scraped his teeth across my neck and drank me in with those eyes full of fire. The window where we stared out at falling snowflakes, feeling blissfully in love and unaware of the bombshell that would hit us.
All the while, I was carrying his child.
And he’s gone without a word.
It…hurts. Aches down to my marrow.
Slumping down in a chair, I drop my head in my hands. Logically, I know this is the right decision. If I stay, I force the Prince to either deny his connection to me or make it official.
I don’t want to enter a relationship with someone under those circumstances. Even if he wanted me to become part of this family, I wouldn’t want to feel like it was forced. Isn’t that just a recipe for disaster? The perfect place for resentment and bitterness to grow?
By leaving, I remove that choice. I make sure my child is protected from the reporters who just want a headline. I can live life on my terms. I can keep my business.
My little, safe life in Farcliff.
Empty.
Loveless.
Meaningless.
Tears fall down my cheeks as I sit in the office that Wolfe organized for me, and I feel like a complete failure. All I wanted from life was to never be a burden to anyone else. I wanted to stand on my own two feet—but it feels like all I’ve ever done is make a mess of every relationship I’ve ever had.
The hinges on the door squeak as someone pushes it open. My eyes widen when I see the Queen standing in the doorway. She’s wearing a deep blue boatneck dress, with her hair twisted into a sleek bun. Her eyes are sharp, bright aqua. The Queen steps inside the office, her presence filling the room from wall to wall.
I scramble to my feet, dropping into a curtsy and doing my best to wipe the tears off my cheeks.
“You can sit down,” she says softly.
Confused, I glance at her. Every image I’ve seen of her, she looks hardened and cold. She stands with her spine straight and her lips pinched—but now, in person, she looks soft. She’s shorter than I thought she’d be, reaching only to my shoulders, even in heels. I do as she says, sliding back down onto my chair. The Queen takes a seat across the desk from me, crossing her feet at the ankles and folding her hands on her lap.
She tilts her head, studying me. “You’re carrying Wolfe’s child.”
I gulp. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Sighing, the Queen leans back in her chair. Her eyes drift over my shoulder to stare out the window as I fidget in my seat. Even though I’ve spent the past six weeks with the Prince, I still don’t know how to act around other royals. I have a feeling the insolent flirting I did with Wolfe won’t exactly go down well with this monarch.
The Queen doesn’t seem to notice my squirming. She stares out the window, the light angling through it in a way that makes her pale skin glow like moonlight. With platinum blond hair and pale blue eyes, she looks like a Nordic ice queen. Still as a statue, the sight of her makes my mouth turn dry. Tilting her head, she studies me. “When I was growing up, my best friend was Abby Mansfield.”
“Wol—His Highness’s fiancée?”
The Queen dips her chin down. “She was kind, and soft, and funny, and her death shocked us all.”
“I’m so sorry,” I reply quietly, shifting in my seat.
“She was pregnant, too.”
My eyes snap to the Queen’s. “With his child?”
She nods. “No one knew until they did the autopsy.”
“I…I’m so sorry.” The world is spinning. Wolfe lost his fiancée and his first child that day? They both died in his arms. Oh, no—he never told me that. So the pain in his eyes when I told him about our baby…
“Wolfe took it hard.” Her eyes never leave mine. I try not to fidget as another bombshell is lobbed at my poor, broken soul. The Queen lets out a long breath, pinching her lips into a smile. “He almost seemed like himself these past few weeks. I thought…” The Queen shakes her head, not finishing her thought.
She pushes herself to her feet, and I scramble to stand. The