The Dreaming Of... Collection. Оливия Гейтс
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tensed. Then, without a word, he left her room.
Jasmine collapsed on the bed, her hands fisted at her sides. Ten minutes passed as she stared into space. Reyes had forgiven her for what she did in Rio. Which meant, she could leave once she’d finalised the task he’d set her. And once she’d told him about the baby.
She had to leave. The longer she stayed around him, the more she yearned for things she had no business yearning for. As for the baby, parents hashed out living arrangements every day. She was sure they could come up with an arrangement that suited them both.
So why the hell were her eyes brimming again at the thought of returning to London on her own?
Shaking her head, she forced her thoughts aside and dealt with the email to Reyes’s royal press secretary. Once it was done, she went to the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her hair. Taking a little bit of pride in her appearance bolstered her confidence. And for what she was about to do, she needed all the armour she could muster.
Her knock on his suite next door received a deep-voiced response to enter. She’d never seen the inside of Reyes’s suite and stopped a few steps after entering.
Decorated in bold swathes of black and white, the luxurious space was dominated by a king-sized bed with four solid posts made of cast iron.
The carpet was stark white and contrasted stunningly with the black velvet curtains. The design was bold, masculine and oozed quiet sophistication.
‘Did you come to admire the décor?’ Reyes said from where he stood at the window, gazing at the Parisian skyline.
Once her eyes fell on him, she couldn’t look away. Dear God, she was like a crazed moth, obsessed with this particular flame. A flame that didn’t belong to her.
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?’
‘No. I didn’t need to be.’
He paced in a tight circle. ‘When did you find out?’ he asked.
‘I did the tests an hour ago.’
She pulled three pink-and-white sticks from her jeans pocket and held them up.
Reyes forced himself to move. He took them, examined them. And slid them into his own pocket.
Somehow their presence finally hammered reality home.
He was going to be a father.
Jasmine wasn’t carrying another man’s child. She was carrying his.
Elation.