Knocked Up by the Wicked Prince: A Secret Baby Romance

by Monroe, Lilian

  I shake the feeling away—or at least, I try to. It clings to me like a bad smell, sending nausea spiking through my stomach.

  Then, as if responding to the sensation, my baby kicks me right in the ribs.

  I grunt, doubling over.

  “What?” Melissa says, dropping her fork. “You okay?”

  The baby kicks me again, harder. I wince, nodding. “I’m fine. I think my kid is trying to tell me to get it together.”

  “I like your baby already.”

  I smile, grimacing. Patting my stomach, I brace myself as another kick lands. Pressing softly at my stomach, I try to encourage my baby to move away.

  The baby lands one last kick, and then stops moving. I sigh in relief.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

  Melissa grins, and I turn to my plate again. I force myself to eat a few bites, and the nausea inside me settles. Laying a hand on my pregnant stomach, I sigh.

  Once again, my child has saved me. Anytime I falter, he or she gives me strength—even in the form of sharp kicks to the ribs.

  As I finish my food, I scoot back on the floor and lean my back against the couch.

  “Chin up, Margot,” Melissa says, grabbing an unfinished bite off my plate. “It’ll be okay.”

  “I guess it was too much to expect that the Prince would agree to take care of my unborn child.” I smile sadly. “It was fun while it lasted.”

  “Look, Margot, you need to realize that you don’t need him. You don’t need anyone.” Mel stares at me, stretching her legs out and leaning back against her elbows. “You’re honestly the strongest person I’ve ever met. You’ve been the sole breadwinner for your family since you were a preteen. You watched your mother get sick and die. You watched your father leave once you made enough money for him to retire, and you fired your agent when you found out he was a horrible person. You faltered, sure, but you got yourself some help and are now pulling yourself together. You found out you were pregnant and took it in stride.”

  I shake my head. “I feel the exact opposite of strong. A gust of wind could send me into a mental breakdown.”

  “You and me both,” Mel grins. “But seriously, Margot, you need to start feeling proud of yourself. You’ve accomplished so much, and you’ve been treated like shit by so many people.”

  Sighing, I pinch my lips together. “I’ve made lots of mistakes.”

  “You’re thinking of Prince Dante, aren’t you?”

  Chuckling bitterly, I glance at Mel. “How did you know?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. The wistful, sad look in your eyes. The way your hand moved over your baby bump.”

  “That obvious, hey?” I bite my lip. “I should have been honest with him. I should have told him about the baby instead of waiting for it to come out in the media. I should have been honest about Beckett. If I’d have told him myself…”

  “Look.” Mel stands up, moving to sit down next to me. “Stop blaming yourself. You know what I think?”

  I shake my head.

  Melissa tucks her knees in and rests her chin on top of them. “I think Prince Dante’s a coward. He told you he didn’t care who the father was and that he’d be there for you. He told you he loved you. He told you he wanted to be by your side. Why does that suddenly change when Beckett is the father?” she scoffs. “You don’t owe him anything. It’s your choice who you tell about your pregnancy.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Is it, though?”

  One thing I love about Melissa is how fiercely loyal she is. She arches her eyebrows, waiting for my response. In her mind, I’m completely in the right, and Dante is completely in the wrong.

  I sigh. “I think he feels used.”

  “He feels used? Come on.” Mel snorts. “He needs to get over himself.”

  “You don’t think I should have told him about Beckett?”

  “Maybe, yeah. Everything happened so fast between the two of you, though. That kind of trust takes time to build up. You had yourself and your baby to worry about. He shouldn’t have kicked you out.”

  “He didn’t. I left.”

  “But would you have felt welcome if you stayed?”

  I grimace.

  “Exactly.”

  “Mel, I know you’re trying to be nice, but I just…”

  Melissa arches her eyebrows, waiting for me to continue. I can’t find the words, though, so I just shrug.

  The truth is, I’m heartbroken. I feel silly for thinking that Prince Dante would be there for me, and I’m a little bit embarrassed at how quickly I fell for him.

  Mel wraps me in a hug, pulling away to look in my eyes. “I have an idea.”

  There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes, and I tilt my head. “Uh oh.”

  “Hear me out.” She grins. “The past few months have been all over the place. You need to center yourself. You need to feel like yourself again. You are a gorgeous, strong woman. You’re going to be a mother. Nothing can bring you down.”

  “Okay…”

  Mel nods. “Photoshoot. Pregnancy announcement done your way. I say we go full glam, we hire the best photographer and reclaim this whole story. You need to take control of the narrative.”

  “You sound like Felicity.”

  Melissa laughs. “Maybe she’s right, sometimes. Just imagine getting fully glammed-up, looking gorgeous and glowy with your baby bump on full display. Be proud of your pregnancy. You’ve been hiding away for so long, and that’s caused even more speculation and controversy. Why not just embrace your public image, and show everyone that you’re excited to be a mother?”

  I suck in a breath, already nervous at the thought of going back in front of the cameras.

  “Plus,” Mel adds, “nothing like a good revenge-breakup Instagram post to make a certain sulky prince jealous of how gorgeous you look.”

  Then, my baby kicks again, and a smile spreads across my lips. “Maybe you’re right. A photoshoot could be a good idea. I like the idea of feeling beautiful again and showing people that I’m not ashamed of my pregnancy.”

  “Of course I’m right,” Mel grins. “I’ll call Felicity. I already know she’ll be on board.”

  28

  Dante

  The day after Margot leaves, I see photos of her getting on a plane, and photos of me looking completely crushed. Headlines scream about our breakup, about the baby, about Beckett, about Luca and Ivy’s wedding.

  I toss my phone away, watching the screen splinter and crack as it hits the edge of the bedside table. Wonderful. Groaning, I walk to the balcony and stare out.

  Once upon a time, this view made me calm. The sight of the blue waters, gently swaying palm trees, and clear blue skies made me feel like I was at peace.

  Now, it just reminds me of Margot. How she’d sit out here in the morning to have a coffee. How she looked in the morning sun. How she smiled at me from the balcony, making me feel like the most important man in the world.

  She’s only been in my life a short while, but I can barely remember life without her.

  Theo has spent the past twenty-four hours in a panic. He’s upped security on the palace and grounded all planes in an out of Argyle. The shipping ports are still operational, but under intense security. News channels talk about Prince Beckett’s betrayal on a non-stop loop.

  He won’t find Beckett, though. I know he won’t.

  Our half-brother has spent the last two and a half months evading our searches—why would he be found now? He waltzed onto the private royal beach without a care in the world, knowing everything that we’ve been trying to keep hidden from the public.

  He’s always had the upper hand.

  From the moment he put a baby in Margot’s womb, he’s had the advantage.

  Roaring, I grab one of the balcony chairs and kick it as hard as I can. It skitters across the tiles and hits the balustrade with a dull thud. I pant, wanting to fling the chair off the edge or smash it to a million pieces.
/>
  With a deep breath, I resist.

  Did Beckett plan this all along? Did he somehow set things up so that I would go to Farcliff, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist Margot?

  Paranoia snakes through my skull, injecting venom into my thoughts. I grip the balustrade, staring out at the grounds below.

  Luca and Ivy appear in the corners of my vision, walking hand-in-hand. They stop, and Luca bends down to kiss her lips. I watch as he sweeps his hands over her growing belly, resting his forehead against Ivy’s.

  Bitterness sticks to the back my throat.

  Was I so desperate to get what they have that I fell for Margot? Was this some conspiracy that Beckett has planned from the start?

  Grunting, I turn away.

  I can’t stand the sight of my brother’s love. Even Theo and Cara together make me sick.

  I wish I could go back to the time when I didn’t care about finding a partner, back to a time when I was resigned to spending my days alone.

  I wallow for a week, while everyone else rushes to try and find Beckett.

  Margot doesn’t contact me, and I don’t contact her. I get a new phone, but it mostly stays untouched on my bedside table.

  Then, a couple of photos start appearing everywhere I look. Every internet news website, every newspaper, every celebrity blog.

  Margot stares back with a protective hand over her little, twenty-two week baby bump and a soft smile on her lips.

  She looks fucking gorgeous, and my heart breaks all over again. Whenever I look at a screen, her beautiful face stares back at me.

  She’s not wearing hair extensions, and her bump is exposed for the camera. She looks completely unapologetic, and I can’t help but feel like she did it for my benefit.

  I don’t need you, Margot screams through the photos. I’ll be fine without you.

  For the first time since she left, my anger fades. The roaring of rage quiets down in my ears, and another voice speaks up.

  Maybe I was wrong.

  It’s a bitter pill to swallow, and one I’m not quite ready to accept—but everywhere I look, there she is. Beautiful. Strong. Proud.

  Alone.

  Then, the voice gets louder: I should be by her side. She shouldn’t need to be facing this on her own.

  Didn’t I tell her that I didn’t care who the father was?

  I turn away from the photos, shutting all my screens down and forcing myself to stay off the internet. I can’t look at her. I can’t face the shame of abandoning a pregnant woman just because of my own sick vanity.

  So, I cling on to the idea that Beckett masterminded it all. Margot must have been in on it. She must have plotted with Beckett to bring down Luca and her sister. She’s vindictive and jealous, and she tricked me into loving her.

  I have to believe those horrible thoughts, because the alternative is admitting that I was wrong. The alternative means that Margot is on her own in Farcliff, facing the birth of a child fathered by an attempted murderer. The alternative means I’m the lowest, most cowardly excuse of a man to ever wander this earth.

  I let my anger grow louder again. I let bitterness rise up in my throat, and the sound of my own pride drowns out any other thoughts.

  29

  Ivy

  Luca is tense. Margot is gone. Dante is angry. King Theo is worried, and the entire Kingdom is in turmoil.

  And me?

  I waddle around and try to keep it together. I talk to my twins day and night, singing softly to them to try to soothe my own worries. I make my way to the kitchens and bake late into the night, just to distract myself from the troubles that surround me.

  About a week after Margot leaves, I’m in the kitchen making my signature cinnamon buns. When I start dicing the apples for the filling, the knife slips and slices across my finger. Wincing, I bring the finger up to my mouth as blood beads over the cut.

  “Damn it,” I whisper to myself, walking to the sink. My hands are trembling and my breath is shaky.

  This isn’t what I expected when I got married to Luca. Somehow, I thought that getting married would make things easier, but everything just seems to be falling apart more and more.

  Letting water run over my cut, I drop my shoulders and let out a sigh.

  Everything is upside down. Luca doesn’t want me to go back to Farcliff until Beckett is found, but I feel like I should be with my sister and my bakery. The twins assure me that Spoonful of Sugar is in good hands, but that bakery was my first baby.

  Glancing down at my growing belly, I let out a sigh.

  I just hope Beckett is found before my babies are born. In my heart of hearts, I know Luca is right about staying here. I need him by my side, and he needs to be in Argyle for his family.

  Pulling out my phone, I dial Margot’s number.

  “Hey, Poison,” she answers, using Luca’s nickname for me.

  I smile. “Hey, Margie.”

  My sister chuckles. “You know, it used to really bother me when you used my real name, but now I kind of like it.”

  “It reminds me of Mom.” Tears start to sting my eyes. I turn the water off and wrap my finger in a clean towel, leaning on the kitchen counter.

  “Me too,” Margot answers. Her voice sounds small, and I hear her sigh over the phone. “A lot of things remind me of her these days.”

  “Are you okay? I wish you were still here.”

  “I’m not welcome in Argyle, Ivy.”

  “Of course you are. You’re my sister. Dante would come around… He’s just a man who had his pride hurt.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Beckett.”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything,” I answer.

  “It was only one time,” Margot says. She groans, and I hear some rustling as if she’s moving to sit or lie down. “The night that I OD’d, I felt so lonely, and he was there…”

  “And Dante thinks you planned the whole thing?”

  “Yeah. He said he thought I was using him, that I just jumped from one brother to the next.”

  “Ugh,” I groan. “Men.”

  Margot laughs. “You’ve changed, Ivy. You’re talking like a grizzled divorcée, not someone who met the love of her life and married him in a tropical palace.”

  “Well, yeah,” I laugh. “But still.” I take a deep breath. “I saw your pictures online. You look great.”

  “That was Mel’s idea,” Margot replies. “She said it would help me take control of my image and my pregnancy again.”

  “And did it?”

  My sister is quiet for a moment. I can sense that she’s holding something back from me, but I don’t know what. As we listen to each other breathing on either end of the phone, my chest squeezes.

  We’ve been so close for so many years, but still so distant from each other. I didn’t know she was lonely or unhappy. I just thought she was living the dream.

  Peeling the edge of the dishtowel off my finger, I see that the bleeding has stopped. Margot still hasn’t said anything.

  “Hey, Margie,” I start softly.

  “Yeah?”

  “You know I love you, right? No matter what? And I don’t think for a second that you were using Dante. I could see you were happier than you’ve been in years when you were with him.”

  Margot lets a sob out so quietly that I hardly hear it. She inhales, and I imagine her nodding. “I love you too, Ivy. I got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay,” I answer, my heart sinking when I hear the phone click.

  Something is definitely wrong. My sister has always kept up the appearance of being happy, even when she wasn’t—but something has changed. Her brightness has dimmed.

  Glancing at my half-finished cinnamon buns, I grab the dough and pop it in the refrigerator. Scooping the diced apples into a container, I put them beside the dough and wipe down the counter before heading up to my bedroom to sleep.

  That night, I toss and turn so much that in the middle of the night, Luca asks me if everything�
�s okay. I mumble something in response and force myself to sit still, finally falling asleep for an hour or two just as the sun comes up.

  Bleary-eyed, I wake up to the smell of coffee. Luca sits on the bed beside me, pushing a strand of hair off my forehead.

  “Morning, gorgeous.”

  “Hey,” I smile.

  “I want to show you something today.”

  “Right now?”

  Luca nods. He smiles, but it’s not his usual broad, open smile. His eyes look tired, and he squeezes my hand before standing up.

  I get dressed quickly, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and gulping down the scorching-hot coffee. I don’t even have the energy to think about not drinking it. The doctor said a coffee once in a while was okay. Luca must have known I’d need it.

  My husband slips his hand into mine and leads me out to the palace grounds.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see. I haven’t been here in years, but somehow it feels like the right time to go there.”

  Luca leads me to a small dirt path at the back of the castle. As it winds up through the palace grounds, my pulse quickens.

  Luca is quiet, his steps hurried. I glance up to see Luca’s brows drawn together and his lips pinched in a thin line.

  I think I know where we’re going.

  When the path starts winding upward, it feels like one of the first days we met, when we jumped off the cliff into Farcliff Lake together. When everything was exciting and new, and when I first started falling in love with him.

  The path narrows, and I let Luca take the lead. I can see the tension rippling across his shoulders. I wish I could run my fingers over their breadth, soothing his troubled spirit.

  Instead, I just follow.

  Luca speeds up, racing through the trees to scramble up the final rocky outcropping to the flat patch of land on top of the cliff. He turns to help me up over the last rocks, putting a protective arm across my back to help me up the rest of the way.

  When I get to the top, a warm breeze whips around me. I take a deep breath, inhaling the salty, fresh ocean air, closing my eyes and letting the moment settle in.