Heartless Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 2)

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Heartless Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 2) Page 17

by Lilian Monroe


  There’s no resisting now—no stopping me from doing what I’ve been wanting to do since this nightmare started. I drive to the warehouse as the sun disappears over the horizon. I don’t bother locking the car—who knows if I’ll come out of here again?

  When I walk inside, the first fight is happening. I see Nigel approach me out of the corner of my eye.

  “Your Highness,” he says with a nod. “We haven’t seen you in a while. The royal treatment?” His lips tug into a small grin.

  I shake my head. “I’m going in the ring.”

  Nigel’s eyes widen. “But, sir…”

  I pinch my lips and turn my head to the fight happening in the ring. One of the men has his opponent against the ropes, pummeling his ribs mercilessly. The other man’s head lolls from side to side.

  The first man takes a step back and hits the other with a punishing uppercut. Blood splatters out of the other man’s mouth, and shards of teeth go flying.

  He collapses into a heap as victor raises his arms in triumph. The bloodthirsty screams of the onlookers ring in my ears. They cheer as the losing man is dragged away.

  This is where I belong.

  I belong in a den of pain and depravity. My true self is a bloody and battered savage. My heart is black, and my soul is dead.

  I step into the ring before Nigel can stop me, and a hush falls over the spectators for a fraction of an instant. They all recognize me.

  Then, the shouting begins. Their faces snarl at me from the other side of the ropes, and I stare at them blankly. I don’t even care who my opponent is. I don’t care who they are.

  All I care about is suffering.

  And suffer, I do.

  Ravi steps into the ring amidst cheers and screams. I face him, letting my arms hang loose at my sides. For the first time in my history at this warehouse, I’m going to fight back.

  The first punch hits me in the gut and I double over in pain. Ravi hits me again in the ribs, and the agony explodes through my chest.

  I groan, straightening myself up. I can hear the shouts of the crowd, and the pounding of my blood in my ears. I can smell the sweat dripping from everyone’s skin, and the dampness of the warehouse.

  Ravi turns toward me, his nostrils flaring slightly as he stares me down.

  He swings a meaty hand at me again, but I duck under it, landing a blow to his kidney. He shouts, more surprised than hurt. His neck reddens, and his eyes flash with anger.

  I laugh.

  His fist connects with my jaw. I go flying against the ropes, collapsing to my knees as I spit blood and chunks of teeth out. Ravi stands over me, waiting for me to stand up.

  He knows this isn’t over.

  On wobbly feet, I stand before him. Every breath hurts. Ravi grunts and lumbers toward me.

  My fist connects with his ribs, then his jaw, and then he roars and flings me over to the other side of the ring. The crowd is wild around us. Photos are prohibited here, but I see a flash.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Ravi swings at me again. I duck, but not quite fast enough. He clips the edge of my head, sending pain shooting through my temple.

  What is pain, though, when I know that I killed my own mother? What is agony, when Dahlia might die because of me? She’d never have been in my aunt’s crosshairs had I not been seeing her. She probably wouldn’t have been at the castle at all.

  The big man’s punches are nothing compared to the suffering I feel inside. He hits me again, and again, and again. My arms hang limply and I trip over my own feet.

  I know I’ve lost. Blood pours out of my mouth, and my ears won’t stop ringing.

  It doesn’t matter, though. Why would it?

  I gather my strength for one last assault. Launching myself at my opponent, I somehow dodge his first punch and land a blow to his gut. He grunts and I have a split second to punch him again.

  I’m not a trained fighter—that’s Charlie’s thing.

  But I have instinct. I have pain.

  I have nothing to lose.

  With one strong uppercut from my left hand, Ravi stumbles backward. His eyes look dazed—and I laugh. I laugh because I might actually win this fight. I laugh because in my whole miserable life, I’ve never been good for anything.

  Maybe this is my calling—beating another man in a dirty warehouse, while onlookers place bets on how many of my ribs he’ll smash.

  My victory is short-lived, though. A laugh is still on my lips when Ravi’s eyes snap back to me. I don’t even see the punch coming until his fist connects with the side of my head.

  In the split second before I pass out, I hear a crunch. I feel the sweetest, most beautiful agony I’ve ever felt in my life, and I feel free.

  I’ll never be a doctor. I’ll never atone for my sins. I’ll never forgive myself for what I’ve done. This, right here—this brutal, savage beating—this is the true essence of my soul.

  In that instant, I receive everything I’ve been looking for. Physical pain to match the suffering in my heart, punishment for my bad deeds, and finally, freedom from my own mind.

  I fall into the darkness without another thought and without any hesitation. I welcome the abyss, and I hope I never wake up.

  35

  DAMON

  Sad that our finest aspiration

  Our freshest dreams and meditations,

  In swift succession should decay,

  Like Autumn leaves that rot away.

  —Aleksandr Pushkin

  36

  DAHLIA

  I OPEN MY EYES. I’m alone.

  You’d think that I would panic in this situation—that I might worry about why I’m lying in a hospital bed, with tubes sticking out of my arms and machines clicking by my bedside.

  I don’t panic, though.

  Taking a deep breath, I feel completely at peace.

  Damon loves me. He knows about the baby, and he loves it, too. I let my hand slide over my stomach as a smile stretches my lips.

  It takes great effort to move my arm. My body feels weak—so, so weak. I try to adjust myself on the bed, groaning at the effort.

  My mother and three aunts come crashing through the door.

  “Dahlia!” Theresa exclaims. “You’re awake!”

  My mother falls on top of me, covering me in kisses. I do my best to lie there and breathe, until my aunts pull her off me. Her cheeks are wet and her eyes are shining.

  “I thought we’d lost you,” she sighs.

  “Well, if you smother her like that, we might lose her again,” Aunt Helen chides.

  “Oh, stop.” Aunt Margie smiles at me. “Good to see you, kid.”

  “You too.” My voice is raspy. I smile with great effort. It’s like my muscles are just remembering how to move again. “How long… What…” I inhale with difficulty. I can’t even think of the right words. It feels like my mind has been scooped out of my head, and there’s nothing left in my skull.

  Theresa takes my hand and squeezes it. “It’s been…” She glances at the clock. “One hundred hours, almost exactly.”

  “That’s…” I frown. Math is hard. “Four days?”

  “Just over,” Margie says. “Four days and four hours—and don’t we know it. Worst four days and four hours of my life.” She’s got her hands on my feet, massaging them gently. My mother has my other hand in hers, and Helen is stroking my calf.

  “I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus,” I groan.

  “You had an anaphylactic reaction to a bee sting,” Theresa explains. “I didn’t even know there were bees out in the winter.”

  “Honeybees don’t hibernate,” I say, and then frown. How do I know that? I don’t remember being stung by a bee.

  “I blame that Malerie—that witch,” my mother spits. Her cheeks turn bright red and she shakes her head. “It’s her fault. She did this. She could have killed you!”

  “Shh, Tabitha,” Margie says. “Dahlia has just woken up. Don’t upset her.”

  “I’m fine,” I c
roak. I don’t sound fine, or feel fine, but I say it anyway. My mother trembles in her seat, squeezing my hand and stroking my face.

  I take a deep breath and reach back into my mind to try to remember what happened. My last memory is of calling Damon from the lab and telling him I would be baby Charlie’s godmother. I frown, trying to remember anything else.

  It’s a complete blank.

  “Where’s Damon?”

  My aunts and mother all exchange loaded looks. My chest squeezes, and the machine next to my bed starts beeping. A nurse appears in the doorway.

  “Everyone out!” She motions to my aunts and mother. “Out, out, out!”

  “I’m staying.” My mother’s lips sour.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” I say, “really.”

  She hesitates, and I try to smile at her.

  My mother sighs. “We’ll be right outside.”

  I nod, and the four of them leave. I let out a deep breath, and the nurse smiles at me.

  “Overwhelmed?”

  “Very.”

  “Well, you’re in Farcliff Royal Hospital. We’ve been monitoring you since you came in, and everything seems to be okay. We’d like to run some tests now that you’re awake. The doctor will come and see you in a little bit. Does that make sense?”

  I nod.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Dahlia Raventhal.”

  “Good. Date of birth?”

  I tell her. The nurse runs through a few basic questions and is satisfied when I remember them all.

  “Do you remember the bee sting?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t remember anything that happened before this,” I say, motioning to the bed. “I just remember being at college that day.”

  “Sometimes, during severe trauma, memories are lost.”

  “Will they come back?”

  “Maybe,” the nurse says. “Often, they do. Sometimes, fragments come back. Sometimes, the mind just erases the trauma completely. The doctor will be able to answer your questions. For now, I want you to rest. Can I get you anything?”

  I shake my head. She leaves the room, closing the door behind her. I hear a bit of commotion outside the door, and I’m able to deduce that she won’t let my mom and aunts back in.

  A few minutes later, the nurse returns with some water and a little cup of apple juice. “We’ve been feeding you through that tube for the last four days,” she explains. “Still, I thought you might like a drink.”

  “Thanks.” I watch her wheel them to my bedside. She nods to me and starts walking away when I stop her.

  “Can you tell Prince Damon that I’m okay?”

  The nurse’s eyebrow arches the slightest bit.

  “Please,” I beg.

  She nods slightly and slips out through the door. I lay there for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. The baby’s fine. I’m fine.

  I need to talk to Damon.

  Turning my head to the bedside table, my eyes land on the drinks she brought. I gulp them down so fast the liquid doesn’t touch the sides of my mouth. The juice tastes like the sweetest nectar I’ve ever had and I drink it in mere seconds, and then I fall back into bed with a sigh.

  My stomach hurts from drinking so fast, but I can’t bring myself to be upset about it. I’ve never enjoyed water and juice as much as I enjoyed those.

  Just as I’m wiping a few stray drops of water off my hospital gown, there’s a knock on the door. A doctor comes in, and she runs through the same basic questions the nurse had. She explains what happened to me—from the bee sting, to the anaphylaxis, to the coma.

  “Your tests so far have been clear, but we’d like to keep you for observation. Were you aware that you’re pregnant?”

  I nod.

  “Okay. Who is your doctor?”

  I inhale sharply and shake my head. “I don’t have one.”

  “You’re about two months on, Dahlia. You should be having regular doctor’s visits.”

  “I know. It’s… complicated.”

  The doctor nods and jots down a note. “The father?”

  “Prince Damon of Farcliff,” I answer, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible.

  The doctor looks up sharply and stares at me for a moment. “You’re sure about that?”

  I nod. “Can I get my phone please? I’d like to call him.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She puts her pen in her front pocket and slips the chart down into the slot at the end of my bed. “Get some rest.”

  I nod, and she leaves. This time, my family is allowed to come back in. My father is here now, his face lined with worry. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He throws his arms around me and sobs into my neck. My eyes prickle, and I comfort him as best as I can.

  My three aunts and my parents stay with me until I fall asleep again, and they take shifts through the night as well. I’m never alone for a moment. When I wake up again in the morning, Theresa smiles at me.

  “Hey, kid,” she says with a smile. “You look better today. You’ve got some color.”

  “I feel better,” I say, tilting the hospital bed up to a seated position. My aunt fusses with my pillow and when I’m comfortable, I take a deep breath. “Theresa, where’s Damon?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not sure, dear. We went to the castle and got your phone,” she says, motioning to the side table. “Try him.”

  My aunt gives me a moment of privacy, and I try calling him three or four times. It rings out every time.

  For the first time since I woke up, real worry starts to twist in my stomach.

  37

  DAHLIA

  I THINK the nurse in my room almost passes out from shock when Queen Elle strides through the door. Elle throws her arms around me and holds me tight.

  “Oh my gosh, Dahlia! You scared me.”

  “I’m fine,” I smile. “Have you heard from Damon?”

  “Is he…”

  “…the father?”

  Elle nods.

  “Yeah,” I chuckle. “Like two peas in a pod, you and I.”

  “I remember a time that you were very high and mighty about using protection,” she grins. “Look at you now—just as pregnant as I was.”

  I laugh, and my face feels like it’s creaking from the effort. Elle plonks herself down in a chair and looks around the room. “I’m glad you’re awake.” When she looks at me again, her eyes are shining with tears. “I was scared.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she says, waving a hand. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

  “I don’t know. Not telling you about me and Damon?”

  Elle grunts, nodding. “Why didn’t you?”

  “I was scared.”

  The Queen chuckles and shakes her head. “What do you have to be scared of, Dahlia? You basically helped me survive through my last year at college. I’m happy that you and Damon are together—it means we’ll always be close.”

  “It’s not like we’re married,” I smile sadly. “He’s not answering his phone.”

  The door to my room flies open and the two of us jump. It’s Elle’s security detail chief. He bows.

  “Your Majesty, it’s the King’s brother, Damon.”

  “What about him?” I sit up. My heart starts thumping and the machine next to my bed starts beeping. Elle puts her hand on my arm to comfort me.

  “He’s downstairs, in the emergency department, ma’am.” The agent looks from me, to Elle, and back to me again.

  “I’m coming.” I push myself up and promptly collapse back onto my bed.

  “Stay there, Dahlia,” Elle insists. “I’ll find out what’s going on.”

  I try to lift myself up again, but Elle puts her hand on my shoulder—not that I could move, anyway. My head is already spinning just from trying to sit up. There’s no hope that I’d be able to use my legs right now, or be upright for any length of time.

  Damon is hurt, though, and I need to know what’s going on.
/>
  This is my fault. I should never have pushed him away. I shouldn’t have hidden the baby from him. I should have faced my fears and been honest with him from the start.

  Elle squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay? Stay calm.”

  Easier said than done. Elle strides from my room and I’m left alone again. I lie back in bed, breathing raggedly. Staring at the ceiling, tears prickle my eyes.

  There’s only one thing I know for sure, now—that I love Prince Damon. I’ve loved him for weeks. Months, even. I’ve been carrying his child, and I’ve been too chicken to tell him about it.

  My cowardice makes my cheeks burn with shame. I feel like a fraud. I pretend to be a carefree, happy girl, but I don’t have the courage to live my life as honestly as I should.

  I don’t even have the courage to tell the man I love how I feel.

  And now? What if I never get the chance?

  My father pokes his head through the door. He smiles sadly at me and sits at the side of my bed. “I sent your mother and your aunts back to the castle,” he says. “Didn’t want you to be too crowded.”

  He threads his fingers into mine and I nod. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You love Prince Damon?”

  I sigh. “Yes.”

  My father nods. “Good.”

  “What’s going on? Is he going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know, kiddo. I hope so.” He squeezes my hand and takes a deep breath. “He was found at the entrance to the hospital. He was dropped off by someone, probably. We don’t know who. He looks like he’s been beaten badly.”

  My heart breaks. My lip trembles and I try to contain my tears. I know where he was, and I know what he did.

  He asked for that beating.

  My father wipes a tear from my cheek. “He stayed at the hospital almost the whole time you’ve been here. Your mother wouldn’t let him in the room.”

  My father glances at me and shakes his head, his lips tugging in a slight smile.

  “Maybe it’s because I’m a man,” he continues, “but I felt sorry for him. I could see what he was going through. He loves you too.”

 

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