by Lynn, Sophia
“Holy freaking shit.” There was a clanking noise and a bit of static as if Betty had dropped her phone. Then her voice was back, loud and clear. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Sarah drove home, barely registering the miles as they raced by. She’d just changed into a baggy yoga top and joggers when her doorbell buzzed. She spied Betty through the peep hole, holding a paper grocery bag under her arm and a bottle of non-alcoholic wine in the other.
“Hey,” Sarah said as she opened the door. She had second thoughts, but it was too late. She’d already spilled the beans.
Betty burst in and plopped the bag on the kitchen counter. She reached in and started whipping things out. “Kleenex because there’s no way you’re not crying over this, ice cream, a bag of extra salty chips to dip in the ice cream in case you’re having a craving or something, and some prenatal vitamins I had in my cupboard. They’re a few months outdated, but they should be good. I thought I was going to go solo once, you know, find a sperm donor and just have myself a baby. But, damn girl, you found the best sperm donor of all!”
Betty took her by the upper arms and gave her a steady look. “I want all the details of how this even happened. You went there to write a story on him and—”
Sarah shrugged. “Ended up in his bed. Repeatedly.”
The breath seemed to go out of her friend’s chest. “I am so jealous of you right now.”
Betty was ten years older, but youthful looking and always full of energy. Sarah had always thought it sad that her friend hadn’t found “the one.” She was such a good person, and so exuberant about finding love one day. Sarah had never really worried about when she’d find true love; she’d been too busy with her career. And now?
“I’m going to be a mother.” The words popped out a little breathlessly.
Betty guided her over to the sofa, propped Sarah’s legs on the coffee table, and covered her with a chenille throw from the back of the couch. Then she pulled Sarah’s hair back into a ponytail and secured it with a tie.
“Why are you putting my hair into a ponytail?”
“So your hair won’t stick to your face when you start to cry.”
Sarah scrunched her nose. “What?”
But Betty was rummaging around in the kitchen and came back with a tray offering two mugs of green tea and two pints of ice cream and spoons.
“So, William Ravenshire and the journalist. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”
“Yeah.”
“And…now you’re pregnant. Sounds like Jerry Springer.”
Sarah laughed, and suddenly the tears started all over again. Betty plopped the tissue box in her lap.
“See? Hair tie and tissues. I knew you’d need them. Have you…have you told him yet?”
Sarah wiped her eyes with a tissue. “I left him a message to call me. That was two weeks ago. I haven’t heard anything since.”
Betty made a face. “Oh, boy.”
“After I left Brixton, we were really good about texting and calling almost every day. And then it was every other day, and then every few days. A few weeks ago, things started to really slow down between us. I know he’s busy, and so am I…but it’s been radio silence since I left him the last message. He’s a king, Betty. What in the hell would he want with me?”
Her friend’s forehead scrunched. “He wanted you enough to take you to bed, repeatedly. The asshole.”
Sarah shook her head. “It wasn’t like that, Bets. I was more than happy to do my part. Trust me. The man is gorgeous, charming, and so real. He made it easy to let my inhibitions down. I knew better, of course, but I did it anyway because, because I really liked him, and damn it, I wanted to.”
Betty patted her knee, her expression serious. “Sarah, there’s nothing wrong with a woman taking charge of her sexuality. You wanted to have sex with him. You did. Done deal. You have nothing to feel ashamed of, and you don’t have to explain your actions to me. Women are allowed to have sex.”
Sarah smiled and wiped her eyes again. “I know. And thank you for not judging me.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t judge you.”
They both dug into their ice cream, eating in silence for a bit. It felt good to tell someone. She had her first doctor’s appointment coming up, and it seemed so impersonal to have her doctor be the only other person in her life who knew about the pregnancy. Though, she didn’t want this getting out all over the place, either. What if the media found out? Her face would be plastered on all the tabloids and social media sites.
“I’m afraid of what people will think when they find out,” she said around a mouthful. “I can already hear the judgements that I did this on purpose for money, or so he’d marry me, or to blackmail him. I’m going to turn into an internet meme that will be around forever.”
“No one has to know who the father is unless you tell them.”
“People will put two-and-two together.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Right now, you’re in fight or flight mode, and you haven’t quite decided which one to stick with. Every worse-case scenario will pop into your mind because you’re still in shock. Hell, I’m in shock, and I didn’t get myself into this.” Betty took her hand. “But I promise you that it will work out. Maybe not the way you’re hoping for, and maybe it will be really hard. But you’ll find a way to have a new normal, with your little prince or princess in your arms.”
She nodded because she couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat. They surfed through Netflix for a while and settled on a documentary about pandas. Anything else was sure to have love and sex in it, and she wasn’t up for the blatant slap in the face.
“Do you think I should pursue paternity?” The thought had crossed her mind, but she had no idea what to do about it. “I mean, even if William doesn’t want to be involved, he could in theory do something to support his child like a trust fund, or college or something.”
Betty pondered this. “I hate to even ask, but are you sure it’s William’s baby?”
Sarah wanted to be mad about that question, but she couldn’t. It was valid, and something everyone would be asking if they found out. “I’m one hundred percent sure.”
“If media scrutiny is something you’re afraid of, pursuing paternity will probably get you more attention than you can handle. Unless there’s a way to keep it on the real down-low.”
Sarah set down her ice cream. “Yeah, I figured.”
“Let’s think about it, see if we can come up with a way to keep this out of the media.”
Sarah shrugged and took a drink of her tea. “He’s made no attempt to reach out to me. I think that’s all the answer I need. I can do this alone. I don’t need my life and career turned upside down because I ask the King of Brixton for a college fund.”
Betty moved closer and put Sarah’s head on her shoulder. “You’re going to be a great mom, Sarah. When’s your doctor’s appointment? I’ll come as your supportive plus-one. We can watch all the gross birthing videos together, and you can lean on my knees while I massage your shoulders like they do in those Lamaze techniques that give off a soft-porn vibe. Hey, I’ve always wanted to deliver a baby.”
Sarah snickered.
William might be done with her. But maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
Chapter Eleven
William
He could barely see straight.
William peeled off his clothes and slipped into the infinity pool outside his office. The warm water enveloped him like a familiar blanket. He sighed and dipped his head back, letting the water flow over him as he floated like a dead man on a raft of clouds. He was utterly exhausted both in body and mind. He’d really wanted to dive into the ocean as soon as he’d arrived home today, but the sun was beginning to set, so pool it was. He’d gone through his meetings on rote, doing what was expected and needed from him, but not extending himself any more. For the first time since he’d taken the throne, his heart wasn’t in his work.
And it was because of Sar
ah. She was always there, on the tip of his mind, ready to command his attention at any moment. If he wasn’t careful, he’d sink into memories of her instead of focusing on the problem at hand. This was the first time in his life that a woman had such an effect on him. Her mind, her body, the way she made him so incredibly comfortable couldn’t be rivaled. He’d been a fool to let her go back to America and not keep up his promise to stay in touch. He was an even bigger fool not to promise her more, like a lifetime together. Responsibilities, as it was for a man in his position, took precedence over his personal life. He could buck against it or find a way to do both. There had to be a way to do both because he missed her. He wanted her.
He needed her.
He’d wake in the middle of the night with the sensation she was lying next to him, but the bed was empty. How many times had he longed to pull her close and lose himself in the pleasure of her body? Too many.
An ache stirred in his groin. With a sigh, he righted himself in the water and swam a few laps. So much had happened at the Swedish conferences. He’d love to tell her about it, get her opinion, listen to her ideas. His plan for the workers’ union crisis had been approved while he’d been away, and tomorrow he’d sign the new deal to keep their biggest industry moving. Despite the toll it had taken on him, these weeks of negotiations and meetings had been successful, and there was no one he’d rather celebrate that with than Sarah Jones.
It had been way too long since they’d spoken, and that had been his fault. She’d probably stopped trying because she thought he didn’t care anymore. He’d chosen his life over hers.
He finished his swim, dried off, and redressed before going back inside the palace. Though he felt refreshed, the walls seemed to close in on him a bit. He trotted to his private quarters, eager to call Sarah. It was early there, and he hated to wake her, but he needed to hear her voice. He didn’t realize until just then how deprived he’d felt without it. He was starving to hear her laugh. He dialed, disappointment going through him when it went immediately to voicemail. She must have her phone turned off.
“Sarah, it’s William. Please call when you get this.”
He hung up before he spilled his heart out. Like by telling her how much he’d missed her and wanted her to come back to Brixton, even if it was just for a weekend, but maybe forever. Disgruntled, he undressed again and slipped into bed knowing full well he wouldn’t sleep.
The next morning, he had a hurried breakfast and a morning meeting, then realized he was halfway through his day and still hadn’t heard from Sarah. He called again, but it went to voicemail once more. Checking the time, he realized she was probably wrapping up work for the day. He sent her a text, call me, please. By evening, he still hadn’t heard back. He tried once more. It rang this time but ended up again in voicemail.
William left a short message just as Asher knocked and let himself into William’s office. He was formally dressed and fiddling with a cufflink. Looking up, Asher’s mouth gaped.
“Did you forget about your engagement tonight, Your Highness?”
William frowned. “Apparently so.” He wasn’t in the mood for any more engagements. He wanted to slip away to his suite and let his mind loose and wait in case Sarah called. In all the days he’d been too busy to breathe, he hadn’t realized just how much he missed her. Now that he had time, it was almost crushing how much he wanted to hear from her.
“Dinner at the Regions with the French Ambassador.”
“Ah, right.” Damn. It was something he couldn’t miss.
“Shall I have Maria come up and help you dress?”
William waved him off. He didn’t want to attend the dinner, and he certainly didn’t need someone to help him get dressed. “No. I’ll be down shortly.”
Asher’s eyes narrowed, his lips parting as if he had something else to say. Instead, he made a quick bow and left. William watched him go. Something was up with his nephew lately. He’d always been odd, but his behavior had been even more off than usual, almost as if he were hiding something. Going to his suite, William dressed in his huge walk-in closet. He was adjusting his tie when his phone rang.
Sarah!
He hurried to the bedside table to answer it. Realizing at the last second that it wasn’t her, he threw his phone on the bed unanswered. Concern tickled the back of his mind. She hadn’t responded in any fashion, and that seemed unlike the Sarah he thought he knew. Cracking his laptop, he scrolled to the Future Magazine website and clicked on the reporters’ profiles. His chest clenched, worried that he’d find her image erased from the site. What if she’d quit or had moved on?
There she was, her golden, smiling face looking back at him. Her title had been changed from Junior Reporter to Lead Journalist. He smiled, melancholy and pride taking him over when he looked into those beautiful eyes. He missed her, to the deepest reaches of his soul. Returning to the phone, he called her once again. It was too much, all this calling. But he couldn’t help it. He left another voicemail, hung up, and went downstairs to dinner.
Just a few more hours until he could hide away in his bed and dream of her.
***
Two hours, seven phone calls, and fifteen text messages, and he still hadn’t heard from Sarah.
William peered out his office window into the beautiful sunshine glinting off his pool. He couldn’t leave things like this; he had to see how she was doing. In his mind, something had happened to her. He’d even called her number at Future and had gotten her voicemail there. Either she was avoiding him, busy, or had moved on without letting him know. He hoped it wasn’t options one or three.
He imagined them swimming in the pool, her laugh surrounding him, her sleek body under his hands. A thought worked into his mind, made his heart race. Could he? Of course, he could. He was the king; he could do whatever he wanted. He and Sarah had exchanged addresses as well as phone numbers. He pulled it up in his contacts list.
A renewed sense of urgency went through him. Turning to his desk, he dialed Asher. “Cancel all my appointments for the next forty-eight hours.”
“Sir?” His voice was slightly panicked.
“Thank you, Asher. Also, I’ll require the plane immediately and a car to meet us when we land at LAX.”
The line went dead, and Asher hurried into the office a moment later. William took a slow breath through his nose, not wanting to deal with his nephew right now. Asher’s face was scrunched with expectancy. “Is something happening, sir?”
William cleared some things from his desk. “Personal business. Please make my arrangements as I ordered.”
Asher’s expression darkened, but William wasn’t going to play along. He didn’t care if he had Asher’s approval; he didn’t care if he had anyone’s approval. He had a bag to pack and a surprise visit to make. He’d track Sarah down if he had to, just to clear the air between them so he knew if she was okay. And to ask if she still wanted him. If not, he had to know so he could put this behind him. Brushing past his nephew, he went to his rooms and packed a small bag. Grabbing a few other essentials, he wasted no time getting ready. The sooner he got out of here and landed in California, the better.
Asher was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, just as William suspected he would be.
“Is a car ready?” He trotted past Asher, who spun to follow him.
“Yes, but… William. You’re going to her, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“But you have no security. No arrangements for your safe arrival in America. You simply cannot just arrive and expect to be protected.”
“It’s your job to arrange that. I expected you’d already arranged to have security meet me at the plane.”
“William, please…”
He spun, and Asher nearly ran into him. Tension worked up William’s body, his neck feeling hot. He was often irritated with his nephew but rarely outright angry with him. But he was right now. Weeks of having his nephew breathe down his neck and scrutinize his involvement with Sarah was
bubbling to a head. He’d had enough.
Taking a breath through his nose, William centered himself. “Why do I have a feeling you’re trying to stall me?”
“I’m not.” Asher’s face turned red, his eyes suddenly blazing as if he couldn’t hold back. “She’s not worthy of you, for God’s sake! You’re a king, and she’s an, an American bimbo.”
William’s fingers curled. “You’d best watch yourself, nephew.”
“You’re not thinking clearly. You’re not taking this seriously. What will your mother say? How will this look to—”
William narrowed his eyes. “Enough!”
The two men glared at each other. William smoothed his tie and bit back what he really wanted to say. This wasn’t the time, nor was he going to give in to anger. “You will do as I ask. That’s your job. I don’t want your opinions, is that clear?”
Asher shifted his weight and looked to the side. “Yes. Perfectly.”
He went outside, annoyed that Asher was still on his heels. They hurried down the steps, the driver taking William’s bag before opening the back-passenger door.
“William,” Asher sputtered. “When will you be back?”
He didn’t respond, simply got in the car and called out at the driver to go. The more space he could put between him and Asher, the better. His heart raced, all his protective instincts on high alert thanks to his nephew’s aggressive attitude toward Sarah. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. It was no secret that Asher disliked Americans in general, but his opinion toward Sarah was inflammatory. The look on his face when he’d spoken about her had raised all of William’s red flags.
Something was at play.
Taking a few minutes to calm down, he grabbed his phone. Brows knitted, he wondered just what Asher might be up to. William scrolled through his text messages, seeing nothing unusual. He turned to his call list and thumbed through days’ worth of numbers. There were so many, but none from Sarah. He was about to put his phone down when he saw it.