Big Bad Boys A Romance Collection - Penny Wylder Page 0,167

wait until I know if it's a girl or a boy. Phade isn't sure if he wants to know, he's leaning toward being surprised. I'm going to need to know. I won't be able to wait. I'm antsy to name our child, to call him or her something other than “the baby.”

Brushing my fingertips against the fabric as I walk by, I head for the exit. My head is down, checking my email on my phone. Most of it is spam. The rest I'll respond to later or tomorrow. But nothing is an emergency.

Thumbing the screen, I push through the doors, and I'm suddenly swarmed by a hoard of people. Flashes are going off, there are microphones being stuffed in my face, and questions getting thrown at me from every direction.

“Is it true? Are you pregnant?”

“Word on the street is it might not be Phade's, can you prove it's his baby?”

“What?” I ask, to everyone and no one at the same time. Twisting my head side to side, I can't focus on one person. They're all moving, corralling me like I'm a wild horse. “What's going on?”

“Do you have a name yet?”

“Can you tell us if the rumors are true? Is this really going to be Phade's fourth child with a different woman?”

My head is spinning trying to keep up with the questions, trying to hear them all, and understand how they found out about the pregnancy to begin with.

Do I answer honestly? Do I give them the truth?

How do they know?

I didn't tell them, and I know Phade didn't say anything.

I was only browsing the clothes, not buying anything. It didn't even seem like anyone in the store recognized me, so who the hell slipped this information to the paparazzi?

From my count there are three people that know; Phade, myself, and. . . Daniel.

No. Daniel wouldn't do this. He wants the baby gone. He wants it kept quiet.

Claudia? Does she know?

“Sylvia, do you know—”

“I'm sorry, I can't do this,” I say, cutting off the reporter. Taking a wide step, I try to force open the circle of bodies that have me trapped.

No one moves.

“Excuse me, let me through.” I'm not fucking around. My voice is stern as I lift my arm and attempt to push the human curtain aside.

The wall tightens, holding me captive. I can feel my chest start to grow heavy. It's getting harder to breathe, the air is thinning, and I'm starting to hyperventilate. Placing a hand on my chest, I try to push through again.

“I need to get by, please move.”

But no one is listening to me. They're all still jabbering off questions about the baby and Phade, his past sexual experiences and other unknown children running around the world.

I can't breathe. My body is hot, sweat is dripping down my temples and I'm taking shorter, shallow breaths. My eyes start to fill with water, the tears fall effortlessly because I have no power to stop them.

“Sylvia, do you know. . .”

“Sylvia, did he ever. . .”

“Sylvia, what are you. . .”

The questions keep coming and my head starts to spin. The world around me is moving, the ground beneath my feet feels like it's about to open and swallow me whole. I'm sick to my stomach, and if one of these people doesn’t move, they might even become a target of the vomit rising in the back of my throat.

“Get out of my way,” I say, my voice nonexistent to the onslaught of louder reporters.

Without warning, I feel a firm hand on my arm. Torn from the hoard, I tumble sideways and fall into Claudia.

“You all right?” she asks, her eyes scanning my face.

Wiping my cheeks, I take in a deep breath and nod. “Yeah, I'm okay.”

Standing up straight, she waves a hand and yells, “Go! Get the hell out of here! She's not answering any of your questions!” Claudia grips me by the outside of my arms, pulling me in protectively, and walking me quickly away from the reporters.

They're all still yammering questions, trying to stay with us as Claudia opens the door to her car and stuffs me inside.

Turning to the reporters she growls, “Don't you have anything better to do than harass people? Get a life, leaches!”

Claudia drops into the front seat and slams her door shut. She looks over at me and her eyes turn from hard to remorseful. “I'm so sorry, Syl, for avoiding you like I have been.”

“I get it. You like Phade, and you made that clear,