Prince's Son of Scandal(12)

He nodded, still trying to put the pieces together.

“I know I should have told you sooner, but I also knew that if I carried this baby to a stage where it could survive birth, then I would have to marry you. I don’t want to.”

Her gaze finally came up, striking into him like a harsh winter wind. Bleak.

“I thought if I ever married, it would be for love.” Despondency pulled her brows together and her thick lashes swept down to hide her eyes again. “That makes me sound like a romantic and I’m not. I just don’t want to be something taken on in sufferance. My sister fell in love. I know it’s possible.”

Her elbow came up to rest on the door and she set her teeth on her thumbnail.

“Plus, my life is already high profile. Yours is worse.” Her hand dropped away and she flashed him a look of blame. “Why can’t you be a mechanic or something? Your life comes with even more restrictions than I imposed on myself. Why would I sign up for that? Of course I avoided telling you.”

He certainly wouldn’t live this life if he had a choice, but it struck him as odd that she disparaged his station. Every other woman aspired to be his queen.

“So, yes, I’ve handled this badly. God knows I’ve been informed of that more than once.” She rolled her eyes. “I probably owe you an apology.”

“Probably?” Did she have any idea the damage she had caused by avoiding him?

“I’m not sorry. I will never be sorry that I’m trying to have our baby.” Her chin came up, defiant and fierce, but with deep vulnerability edging her unblinking eyes.

Something stirred in him. Gratitude? How? This baby was a disaster.

As if she read his mind, the corners of her mouth went down. “And I think we’ll do enough damage to each other in the next while that if we start apologizing now, we’ll be peaking way too early.”

Never trust anyone who can’t make or take a joke, his father had told him once. Your grandmother, for instance, had been the rest of the crack.

His grandmother. Yes, indeed, there would be hell to pay and many, many apologies to make.

Before he could fully grasp the scope of impact, a dull buzz emanated from the front of her shirt. “Goodness, an hour gone already?” She reached inside her collar to bring her phone from her bra, voice shaken but trying for lighthearted. “Hola, Henri. I’m fine. Just congratulating the father of my child. Does he look green to you?”

* * *

Trella could ignore the signs for only so long. The nausea churning in her belly, the heart palpitations, the hot and cold sweats. An attack was upon her. Of course it was. This was one of the most stressful days of her life and she was doing everything wrong, making it worse. Maybe she did self-sabotage, the way her brother Ramon sometimes accused, but she would rather eat live worms than admit he was right about anything.

She hated to admit any sort of weakness, because she knew, deep down, that she was weak. There was no hiding it from her family, but few others knew exactly what a basket case she was. That’s why she’d spent so many years sequestered in the family compound. It had provided the security and stability she’d needed to overcome the worst of her issues, but it had kept her pride intact, too.

Ridiculous pride that kept her from admitting she was falling apart to Xavier and his doctor.

Gunter took her blood then her blood pressure, which he noted was elevated. He frowned and began asking pointed questions about her pregnancy.

She clammed up. The truth was, she wasn’t combative as a result of being kidnapped. She’d been born that way, much to her family’s eternal frustration. Her experience only gave her an excuse for it.

At her silence, Xavier turned from the window where he’d been standing in quiet contemplation. “Pass the readings to her specialist. She can determine if further action is necessary and advise a treatment plan. Request her doctor come to Lirona as soon as possible and stay for the duration of the pregnancy.”

“She has other patients,” Trella pointed out.

“None so important as you,” he stated with a humorless smile.

“Flatterer,” she tried, but her own sense of humor was buried beneath an onslaught of sensory overload ticking toward detonation.

“Sir, I’ve performed many deliveries,” the doctor argued. “There’s no need—”

“Sweeten the deal however you must. Our women’s health initiative is due for an upgrade, I’m sure. Expenses won’t be spared.”

“Very generous, sir,” the royal physician said more firmly. “I’m sure many Elazarians would benefit, but...” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps such an undertaking should wait until DNA results are received.”

“The results are for the Queen. I’m confident this is my heir. But I do have to inform her. Bella, please advise your brother we’ll be on the move again, but not for long. The palace isn’t far.”

That was when she should have said, I can’t.

She knew what kind of self-care was needed. A quiet, dark room. A sibling holding her hand, talking her down from her mental ledge.

She didn’t say anything. Her stupid, tender pride, knocked to the ground so many times, locked her teeth while the rest of her began a slow collapse.

Now she sat in the back of his sedan, gripping her elbows as the ghouls came for her. It was going to be a bad one. She could taste it. The sheer frustration of not being able to stave it off made her eyes sting. Her mind spun down ever more scary avenues. Dark, harmful thoughts crowded in, feeding the anxiety.

This is my life now.

There would be no escape from the attention. It would be worse. Harsher. More judgmental. All the things she had tried to avoid by keeping her pregnancy secret and withholding the father’s name were going to come true now.

The pressure in her chest grew worse, suffocating her, and even though her specialist had assured her from the beginning that suffering an attack wouldn’t hurt the baby, she was convinced it would, knew it. She was going to lose her baby because she couldn’t control these awful spells.

While Xavier watched her lose everything. He would reject her for being the disaster she was. Even if she managed to keep his baby and deliver it some weeks from now, he would take it from her. He might have her locked away.

She needed Gili. She took out her phone and gripped it so hard her hand ached. Where were Henri and Ramon? They wouldn’t let anyone take her baby. They would always keep her safe.

No. She couldn’t keep expecting them to turn up and save her from herself.

“Why are you breathing like that? Are you asthmatic?”

She shook her head and turned her face to the window, wanting to die because now he’d noticed she was off and was staring at her.

“I’ll ask Gunter if he reached your doctor.” He started to lean forward.

She grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t.”

“You’re flushed.” He touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek then her forehead, making her flinch. “Sweating.”

“It’s nothing,” she lied in a strangled voice, and was both relieved and horrified that her phone began to ripple with the heavenly notes of a harp.

It took two tries to open the call. When her sister appeared, she wasn’t in focus. Tears of homesickness and failure filled her eyes. “Gili.”

“I know, bella,” she sounded equally anxious. “I can feel it. Where are you? Still at the Prince’s chalet?”

“I don’t know.” The realization that she was in a strange land had been stalking her. Admitting it made it real and added to her terror. Her heart was so tight, she feared it was going into arrest. She clutched at the front of her shirt. “We’re driving. How will you find me if we’re moving? I’m so scared, Gili.”

“I know, fillette. Breathe. Count your oranges. I’m coming. See, I’m going through the door. Henri has been tracking you all day. We’ll always find you, you know that. Are you still with the Prince?”

Trella looked up and saw Xavier staring at her like her hair was made of snakes.

It was the most humiliating moment of her life. She couldn’t make it worse by having her sister come to her like she was a child. Couldn’t.

“No.” She turned back to her phone. “You’re married now. You have to stay with Kasim.”

“He understands. I’ve already sent someone to tell him and prepare the helicopter.”

It sounded so outlandish. What other person had family flying in from all corners to save her from imaginary threats?

“No, Gili.” She managed to sound firm, even though turning away her sister felt like plunging a knife into her own chest. “I don’t want you to come. I mean it.”

“Bella,” her sister breathed as though she’d felt the knife, too, in the back.

“I have to learn, Gili. I have to. I’m going to hang up and I’ll call you later—”

“Wait! Let me speak to the Prince. He needs to understand.”

Since there was no way Trella could explain it herself, she pushed the phone toward him.

“It’s a panic attack,” Gili said. “She doesn’t need drugs or a hospital or strangers making her relive why this is happening. She needs to feel safe. Is there a hotel where you can secure a room? I don’t mean book one. I mean secure it.”