Too antsy to sit, Angela stood in front of the coffee table and faced both of her parents. “There is no other way to say this except to say it bluntly. I’m pregnant.”
Stunned silence filled the room. Both of her parents stared at her.
“Nothing to say?” she asked carefully.
Tessa blinked, looked at her husband, and then looked at Angela. “Well, I’m not sure how to react. Is this something that you’re happy about?”
“I–I’m not sure. Part of me is excited and another part of me feels overwhelmed. I never thought that I would be a single mother, and I certainly didn’t plan to have a baby. I found out today, and I’m still digesting the idea of being pregnant.”
She touched a hand to her stomach and her father’s gaze followed the movement. He pushed down the foot rest on the recliner, sat up straight, and leaned forward.
“I didn’t know you were dating anyone seriously. Who’s the father?”
Angela licked her lips and glanced at her mother. “You’re not going to believe me when I tell you.”
She told them the whole story of how she had met Andres in Zamibia and the fact that they had carried on a secret relationship after he came to the States to do business with her company.
“Well, that was certainly unexpected,” Martin said. “A prince? An actual prince? How did you manage to keep this a secret?”
“Through careful planning,” Angela replied.
“And what does he say? Or have you not told him yet?” her mother asked.
“I haven’t told him yet,” Angela admitted.
“But you do plan to tell him, don’t you?”
“At some point.” Angela ambled over to a corner cabinet that held the awards in business and music her father had accrued over the years.
“But…?” Tessa prompted.
Angela faced her parents and folded her arms over her abdomen. “But I don’t know how and I don’t know when. Against my better judgment, I looked him up recently and the announcement has been made. Andres will be the new ruler of Estoria, and not only that, he’s already started…” Her voice faltered. “Started the selection process for a wife. Rumor has it that he went to see a member of the royal family in Spain.”
She swallowed down the pain in her chest. She should have never gone online to search for news about him, but in a moment of weakness she looked into what he was doing.
Tessa came toward her and put an arm around her shoulders. “If you don’t tell him you’re pregnant, you’re not in this alone. Your father and I will be there for you.”
“Wait a minute now. We are going to be there for her, but she has to tell him about the child.” Her father’s voice was firm.
“I do plan to tell him, I just…”
Her mother’s arms tightened around her. “You don’t have to rush into anything. You still have time. How far along are you?”
“Nine weeks.”
Her mother rubbed her back, which helped Angela relax.
“You have plenty of time.”
“He has a right to know, Angela,” her father said.
“I know.”
“He may want to be a part of that child’s life, even if he’s married to someone else.”
Angela nodded numbly.
“That’s enough talk about this,” her mother said. “I have pound cake and coffee. Let’s get some of that and relax and think about the positive. I’m going to be a grandmother, you’re going to be a grandfather. We’ll deal with the rest later. Agreed?” She looked from one to the other.
Angela nodded to appease her. “Agreed.”
“Good. I’ll be right back.” Tessa disappeared from the room.
Martin patted the area her mother had vacated, and Angela walked slowly to the sofa and sat down.
“Whatever decision you make, you know your mom and I will be there for you. You’re my baby.” He took her hand in his.
Having two supporting parents was a godsend, and frankly, she’d been able to count on them all her life. It was comforting to know that wouldn’t change now.
“A twenty-nine-year-old baby,” she said, with amusement in her voice.
“And don’t you forget it.” Martin chuckled and squeezed her hand. “I want to make sure you’re okay. Are you?”
“I will be. Thank you,” Angela whispered.
24
Angela walked from the parking lot toward the front of the Myers-Gomez building. Work was even more of a chore nowadays. Everything she did was now a chore that she didn’t look forward to. She wished the day was already over.
Her footsteps slowed when she saw a bunch of people standing outside. Some carried microphones, and others held video cameras.
What in the world was going on?
Frowning, she walked slowly toward the group with the intention of going around them.
Then someone yelled, “There she is!”
All of a sudden, the reporters swarmed toward her like a group of geese, pushing microphones into her face and yelling questions. Angela flinched and pushed her hands up to ward them off.
“Is it true that you’re the secret lover of Prince Andres of Estoria?”
“Is it true that you’re pregnant with his baby?”
What?
Startled, Angela froze before she caught herself and made an effort to bolt through the crowd with her head bowed low. The group didn’t let her pass and crowded more tightly around her. She was locked in, scarcely able to move. She elbowed through them with her head ducked as questions came at her from the right, left, front, and back.
“No comment! No comment!” she screamed.
She kept moving, unable to take more than small steps that kept her progress painfully slow.
Closer to the building, she heard a voice yell, “Let her in!”
She looked up and saw Carl, the security guard, coming through the door. “Let her in!” he yelled again.
His burly body plowed through them, and he shoved a particularly aggressive woman out of his way and yanked Angela into the atrium by the wrist. He threw an arm around her shoulders and used his towering frame as a shield, escorting her to the bank of elevators out of the view of the reporters and curious onlookers who openly held up phones to videotape the ruckus.
“What the hell was that?” Angela asked, her voice shaking.
Carl’s gaze was sympathetic. “They’re all here for you. They’ve been here since I arrived this morning and tried to get in, but we kept them out. If I’d known your number, I would’ve called to warn you.”
“Thank you,” Angela replied. She was shaking, but at least she was safely inside the building.
The security guard nodded and left her to return to the front of the building.
Instead of taking the elevator to her office on the tenth floor, Angela took the elevator to the fifth floor instead. She stepped off and with a quick glance found the public restroom.
She went in and saw that it was empty. She stared at her face in the mirror. Her eyes looked particularly wild, and heightened color tainted her cheeks.
Panic seized her, and she remembered another time when she’d been hounded by the press. She suddenly felt faint, so overcome she started hyperventilating. She dropped her messenger bag and purse to the floor and, clutching her tight chest, staggered into the end stall and dropped onto the seat. She placed her head between her knees and breathed deeply to keep from passing out.
They knew. Angela squeezed her eyes shut.
Somehow, these people knew about Andres and the baby. But how? The only person she’d told was her parents. She hadn’t even told Dahlia yet.
Eventually, she calmed enough to take slow, cleansing breaths. She lifted her head. She had to find a way to function for the rest of the day, for the sake of her job and that of her clients.
Angela picked up her belongings and took the elevator up to her floor.
“Good morning,” she said to the male receptionist when she stepped off.
“Good morning.” Was it her imagination, or did he look at her funny? How many of her co-workers knew what was going on?
Slowly, she made her way to her office and shut the door. After about fifteen minutes of trying to work, she had to stop. Her head throbbed, and though she hated taking painkillers, she’d have to today because she suspected this headache wasn’t going away anytime soon.
She decided to make a cup of tea. It wasn’t her usual beverage of choice, but the thought of a steaming cup of Earl Grey was suddenly very appealing.
She went to the door and opened it but stopped short when she saw her boss standing on the other side, his hand raised as if he were about to knock.
“Edgar.”
“Can we talk for a minute?” he asked.
“Sure. Of course.” Angela smoothed her hands down her skirt and led the way back into the office. She stood beside her desk and waited. “How can I help you?”
He pursed his lips. “I normally don’t care what happens in the private lives of my employees,” he began. “But there seems to be commotion around your personal life. Care to talk about it?”
She took a deep breath and exhaled silently. “I suppose you’re talking about the reporters downstairs?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know why they’re here. I’m not involved in anything newsworthy.”
“You’re not dating a European prince, a former client, from Estoria?” He arched a brow.
Her shoulders dropped in defeat. “I was, but not anymore. There’s really no reason for them to be outside.”
“So the fact that you’re pregnant with his child is irrelevant?”
Dammit. Angela briefly closed her eyes. “I’m really sorry about this, Edgar.”
“Maybe you need a break from work for a while—”
“No!” Without work, she didn’t have anything except plenty of time to think about Andres. “I’ll get this sorted out, I promise.”
Edgar tucked a hand into his pants pocket. “This is not a good situation, Angela. You’re one of my best consultants, so you do understand that we run a business here, a very profitable business with clients who won’t look too kindly on this type of…sensationalism around our company. Reporters with cameras and microphones lurking around the door is not a good look.”
“I understand, but I promise you, this problem will go away very soon.” She didn’t know why she said that. She had no proof that would be the case. “And to put your mind at ease, I assure you, what happened downstairs will not affect my work.”
“I’m not concerned about your work. I’m concerned about the negative press that will result, which could affect our company,” Edgar said in a grave tone. “First thing in the morning, these reporters have already been very disruptive. You know as well as I do that some of our clients value their anonymity, and we could lose business if our clients—and future clients—see the kind of nonsense I saw out there this morning. And staff…” He huffed. “They shouldn’t have to fight that mob to get to work. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” Angela said quietly.
“Good. Then handle it. If you don’t, I have to give you time off to get your affairs in order. Because we can’t allow this to continue, are we clear?”
“Yes, we’re clear.”
25
This was a nightmare. It had to be nightmare.
Angela took a deep breath as she faced her reflection in the bathroom mirror at work.
In a few short days, both her personal life and work life had fallen apart. One embarrassing headline proclaimed that she was set for the next eighteen years, as if she’d gotten pregnant on purpose. Some employees, including her good buddy Livia, became standoffish. They seemed uncomfortable with her newfound notoriety and the effect it had on the firm. Others hovered around, coyly asking questions to get more information about her fling with a royal. When she refused to give them any information, they eventually went back to their desks.
Then, a few days ago, she’d been taken off a major project at the request of one of the clients and was fairly certain she would be removed from others. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the details about her past relationship with pop artist Liam resurfaced, and now she was seen as an upwardly mobile femme fatale who sank her claws into unsuspecting rich men to milk them of their money. How ironic, considering she prided herself on her independence.
She didn’t know for sure who the “source” in the articles was but suspected it was her sister. Seeing the words “obnoxious,” “arrogant,” and “hoity-toity” in the news—words Rebecca had used to refer to her in the past—made her think that. Rebecca would do anything for money, and Angela suspected that she must have overhead the conversation with her parents and sold the news to the tabloids. She’d since disappeared, but Angela was certain she’d be back when the money ran out.
Angela had taken to wearing disguises and donned oversized sunglasses and a blonde wig as she prepared to leave work for the day. These extreme measures were, unfortunately, necessary. She arrived at work much earlier and left later nowadays, in disguise, to avoid the reporters, but she wouldn’t be surprised if they caught on to her trick. She ordered in lunch or had a co-worker bring her a sandwich when they returned from their own meal. She was practically trapped in the Myers-Gomez building because the media hounds wouldn’t go away.
“You got this,” she said to her reflection.
She rolled her neck and exited the bathroom with her messenger bag over one shoulder, and her purse and car keys in hand. She dreaded the trip home because she didn’t have a home anymore. She couldn’t go to her parents’ because the press hounded them there, and for the past few days she’d been renting a one-bedroom apartment, thanks to Airbnb. She’d temporarily abandoned her house after the press discovered where she lived. Mr. Jefferson had called one night to check on her, and after confirming she was all right, she hung up before she burst into tears.
A wave of apprehension tightened her body as the elevator landed on the first floor. She was going out the back as another precautionary measure. She wondered how much longer she’d have to put up with the reporters until they lost interest and moved on to the next hot topic.
Cold air hit her face when she exited the building. Her stride faltered and she tensed when movement to the right caught her eye. To her dismay, she recognized one of the reporters walking briskly toward her.
“I just want to talk,” he said. He’d obviously been waiting out there for a while and needed to keep warm, so like her, he was buttoned up in a coat and wore a scarf around his neck.
“No comment,” Angela said firmly, but her voice trembled. Why didn’t they leave her alone?
Another reporter approached from her left and a photographer stepped out of his car and started snapping pictures. They’d figured out her plan. Tears filled Angela’s eyes as panic beat into her chest.
“Just a word, Ms. Lipscomb,” the female reporter called out. Blonde hair streamed behind her as she rushed toward Angela.
“Go away! Leave me alone!” Angela screamed.
She hurried down the stairs, but in her haste missed her footing. She twisted her ankle on the bottom step and stumbled, arms flailing as she tried to regain her balance. At the last moment, before she sprawled across the pavement, two strong hands grabbed her and held her upright.
“Get back!” said a firm male voice with a Spanish accent.
Andres!
Angela looked up into his grim face and gripped his arm.
He wasn’t looking at her. He glowered at the people who had been trying to accost her. As she watched, Ollie and three other bodyguards created a barrier between them and the media hawks.
Andres hustled her away.
“Prince Andres, wait! Do you have a comment about your relationship with Miss Lipscomb?”
“I only have a few questions! Your Highness!”
He guided her to a limo about a hundred feet away, which she
hadn’t noticed before because it had been out of her line of sight when she exited the building.
She glanced back and saw that the four guards remained in position as human shields and didn’t allow any of the media to follow her and Andres.
She kept up with Andres’s brisk steps as best she could, and when they arrived at the car he swung open the door and they piled in. He pulled her into his arms and she slumped against him.
“Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously. He grasped her shoulders.
Angela shook her head. She couldn’t utter a word. She was relieved but still terrified. Her lips trembled.
“Angela,” he said in a harder tone. “Are you hurt?” He removed the sunglasses and looked into her eyes as if searching for the truth.
“No,” she said in a weak voice.
She felt utterly helpless in that moment, and when he pulled her into his arms and squeezed her tight, she held on just as tight, taking strength from him.
“You’re safe now.” He rubbed her back, soothing her trembling body against his. “Go. Now!” he barked at Gustave.
They pulled away from the curb and Angela closed her eyes. She had no idea where they were going but knew Andres would take care of everything.
Andres left the cockpit after giving the pilots new instructions. He’d told Angela he wanted to take her away from Atlanta, and she hadn’t put up a fight.
He entered the living room in time to see her take a cup of warm tea from the flight attendant with a soft “Thank you.”
The past week had clearly taken a toll. She looked exhausted. He would have come sooner if he’d known, but he’d stopped keeping tabs on her when she requested he leave her alone. He only found out what was happening because the story about her being pregnant with his baby had reached Europe and the ears of the palace PR team.
She had removed the wig and wore her long, dark hair smoothed over one shoulder. After a warm shower, the flight attendant had given her toiletries and the comfy cotton pants and long-sleeve shirt she now wore. She sat with her legs curled up on the sofa, waiting for Andres’s appearance.
Princess of Estoria (Royal Brides Book 2) Page 14
