“Who knows where Beckett is?” Luca shakes his head.
“I’m more worried about Hunter.” Ivy wrings her hands, staring between us. “Did you read the article? He was clearly vindictive and hoping that revealing Margot’s pregnancy would cause her pain. He even said she wasn’t fit to be a mother and took a jab at her sponsorships and brand partners, saying they should drop her.”
“Is he the father?” I try to ask the question casually, even though my throat tightens. The thought of a vindictive, hateful man like Hunter being the father of Margot’s child makes me sick. If he would willingly poison Ivy’s bakery just to spite her, who knows what he would do to his own child.
Ivy barks out a laugh, shaking her head. “I seriously doubt it. Margot wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.”
“So, you don’t know who the father is?”
Ivy shakes her head. “Haven’t been able to get it out of her.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know.” Luca runs his fingers through his hair.
“Let’s stop gossiping.” Ivy sighs, shaking her head. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do about this, and if it affects this whole mess with Beckett in any way.”
“Well, it might make Margot a target. He could see her as a weak point,” I say, lacing my fingers behind my head.
“She won’t want to leave the house.” Ivy chews her lip, sliding her hand into Luca’s. “And this is happening just when she was starting to be herself again. Margot’s been so sad for so long, and just these past couple of weeks, I’ve seen the old Margot come out. She’s been happier. Calmer. She’s actually smiled multiple times.”
Ivy lets out a heavy sigh. My knee bounces up and down, and I glance toward the staircase. It feels wrong to be talking about Margot without her here. We should be comforting her, not outlining our security plans without her.
I excuse myself and stand up. Heading up the stairs, I turn toward Margot’s end of the hallway instead of my own. As I stand at her door, I raise my fist to knock.
I hesitate.
Who am I to offer her comfort? I’m just a guy who’s been living with her for a few weeks. Sure, we’ve kissed—and done a little bit more—but does she actually want to see me?
With a deep breath, I ignore my hesitation and rap my knuckles on the door.
“Yeah?” Margot’s voice calls out on the other side.
“It’s me.” I lean my forehead against the door, praying that she’ll let me in.
When I hear her footsteps on the other side, my breath catches. I lift my head as she opens the door, my heart racing behind my ribs. I stare into her bright, blue eyes, wanting nothing more than to wrap my arms around her and tell her it’ll be okay.
It’s not like me to be this sentimental. It’s not like me to search out someone just to comfort them. I’ve spent my entire life on my own, and it’s never bothered me.
But Margot is different. She’s gotten under my skin, and I need to make sure she’s okay. Her pain feels like my pain, and until I know that she’s feeling all right, I won’t be able to do anything.
“Hey,” she says, opening the door wider.
I step inside, inhaling the scent of her that clings to every surface of her bedroom. She gestures to a plush chair for me to sit and takes a seat at her vanity.
She’s wearing a light blue silk pajama set. The sight of the matching camisole and shorts makes my mouth water, even though I know it’s not the time to be thinking about these things.
What can I say? The woman’s put a spell on me.
The thin, silky camisole looks like it would feel like heaven to touch—and even better to take off.
I watch as she picks up a jar of something, taking a small amount and patting it around her eyes. Her back is straight as a rod, and her chin is high as she stares at herself in the mirror.
“Are you okay?” I ask, not knowing how else to break the silence.
Margot taps the skin around her eyes with her ring finger, not meeting my gaze. “I’m fine. It’s better that everyone knows.” She finally drags her eyes over to mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I wanted you to know about the baby. I would have liked to tell you some other way.” The depth of the pain in her eyes makes me pause.
I gulp past a lump of jagged rocks that has taken up residence at the base of my throat. Shaking my head, I reach across the vanity to put my hand on her forearm.
“I don’t care how I found out.”
“Why are you here?” she asks, holding my gaze. Her eyes are hard. Guarded. Suspicious.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m pregnant with another man’s baby, and you’ve come up to my room to ask me if I’m okay. Why?”
I frown. I can see the walls building up around Margot’s heart, brick by brick, second by second.
“Because I care about you, Margot.” My voice is soft. I can feel her pulse thumping in her arm, sending waves of heat through my hand.
Margot’s eyes drop back down. She takes a finger and traces the edge of my hand, chewing her lip. “How can you care about me if you’ve only known me a couple of weeks?”
“I don’t know. I just do.”
“Maybe you have a savior complex,” she says, almost speaking to herself. “You’re just looking for someone to save, and who better than a pregnant woman with no partner?”
“Maybe I have a Margot complex, and everything you do makes me want to spend more time with you.”
My blonde goddess finally drags her eyes up to mine. They’re filled with tears. I stand up, pulling her up with me and squeezing her into my chest.
“I’m a mess, Dante,” she says into my shirt. “I’m pregnant and alone. I have anxiety, and…” She sighs, stopping herself. “My career is about to fall apart, and I’m going to lose all this. I’m trapped in this life, Your Highness. I’m locked inside it, and I’m looking at a long, long fall down to the bottom. You shouldn’t be spending more time with me. You should be running away.”
“I’m not running away from anything. I’m not afraid of falling.”
How can I explain to her that she’s everything I never knew I needed? How can I tell her that I’ve never met anyone who is so brave, so strong, and so perfect in all her flaws? She makes me realize everything I’ve been missing by hiding myself away from the public. She makes me feel like there’s so much more life to live, if only I could gather the courage to reach out and grab it.
How can I tell her that after only a couple of weeks, I feel like I’m already falling for her?
Words aren’t enough. Even if I knew the right ones to say, I wouldn’t be able to speak them with the tightening in my throat. Instead, I take my finger and gently tilt Margot’s chin up toward me.
When I press my lips against hers, she lets out a soft whimper. Her body is tense, and for a painful moment, I think she’s going to pull away. I’m going to lose her before I even had her to begin with.
Instead, though, Margot’s lips part and she melts into me. The walls she’s been building come crumbling down, and my heart beats with hers.
16
Margot
When Dante kisses me, nothing else seems to matter. Not the baby growing inside me, not the death of career, not the fact that his half-brother is the father of my child.
Not my illness, or the fact that I’m looking down the barrel of a long, painful future.
The only thing that matters are his hands on my waist, his lips on mine, and the growing need in the pit of my stomach.
Thoughts disappear from my mind. Tension evaporates in my body, and the only thing that exists is the pleasure that Dante promises.
Pleasure that I haven’t experienced in a long time.
Pleasure that I’ve even denied giving myself.
Taking my hand, the Prince leads me over to the big four-poster bed. He lays me on top of the goose down blanket, his eyes running down the length of
my body.
Everywhere he looks, little bursts of electricity erupt over my skin. Goosebumps sweep over me from head to toe. The Prince slides his hand over the silky fabric of my pajamas, groaning as he feels my pebbled nipple.
Pulling the neckline down to reveal my breast, he drops his mouth to taste it. As soon as his warm tongue swipes over my nipple, a gasp escapes my lips.
Fire rushes down my spine, swirling around my stomach and teasing between my thighs. It only takes one touch for Dante to make me feel alive again.
Maybe I’ve denied myself pleasure because I knew he would come into my life. Maybe, deep down, I knew there would be a Prince to come save me from this life I’ve been imprisoned in. All these years that I’ve avoided pleasure happened to make this moment all the sweeter.
All this time, I’ve been waiting for him. My Dante.
Laying kisses down over my breasts, my chest, my collarbone, the Prince moves back up to kiss my lips. He claims them, his small bit of stubble scratching my skin as he peppers me with kisses. Every sense is heightened. Every nerve ending is screaming for his touch, his lips, his everything.
I run my fingers over his shoulders and down his sides, pulling his shirt off over his head. Trailing my hands over his body, I exhale as I feel the warm, hard muscles his clothes have been hiding.
Even the sight of his chest makes my pulse hammer. I gulp, my mouth watering at the bulge in his pants.
When I reach for his belt buckle, Dante chuckles. He pushes my hand away, dragging my own camisole off over my head. Pinning my arms above my head, he crushes his lips to mine. He lays claim to my mouth, and I love every second of it.
Spreading my knees, I roll my hips to feel the hardness of his shaft.
An ache grows between my legs. An emptiness that only he can fill.
With both my wrists held in one of his hands over my head, the Prince sweeps his other hand down my body. I gasp when he tugs my nipple, sending another wave of shivers tumbling down my body. Heat sparks between my thighs as my need grows more intense.
When the Prince slips his hand under my silk pajama shorts, I sink my teeth into his shoulder. He groans when he feels my wetness, not hesitating to slip his fingers inside me.
Gasping, I arch my back.
Pinning me to the bed, the Prince teases me with his fingers. I say he teases me, because I already know that fingers won’t be enough for me tonight.
Even when heat builds in the pit of my stomach, and he moves to pleasure my clit. Even when his fingers dance like magic between my legs, and when his hot breath washes over my skin. Even when he bites my earlobe, driving his fingers deep inside me and touching a spot inside me I didn’t even know existed.
When my body trembles and an orgasm crashes into me, leaving me limp and broken on the bed, I still know it won’t be enough.
Dante slips his fingers out of me and drags them across my lips.
“Taste yourself,” he commands in a hoarse whisper.
I suck his fingers inside my mouth, tasting my own orgasm on them. I swirl my tongue around as the need inside me crests.
As soon as he releases my wrists from his grasp, I flip Dante onto his back. I’m shaking as I unhook his belt and shimmy his pants down his legs.
Tearing my own shorts off, I straddle the Prince. His hard, gorgeous shaft pulses against me.
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, looking up at Dante’s face. Hooded, dark eyes stare back at me. With my hands braced on his chest, I can feel his heart hammering behind his ribcage. I rock my hips, gasping as his cock nestles in my slit.
I’m torn between desperately wanting him inside me, and needing this moment to last. Right now, the only thing that matters is pleasure. I have no anxieties and no circling thoughts. I have no crushing weight on my chest, and no dread seeping into my soul.
I just have pleasure, cradled in the pit of my stomach, ready to be unleashed.
Reaching down between us, I angle the Prince toward my opening. His lips drop open, his hands moving to my thighs.
“Margot,” he whispers.
“Yeah?”
I don’t wait for an answer. I can’t wait. Dropping my hips, I spear myself with him. We both moan in unison, his fingers sinking into my flesh as I curl my hands into his shoulders.
My body screams for him. Our bodies slam together as the energy becomes frantic. Wild. Animalistic.
The Prince doesn’t say anything. He grunts, pulling my hips closer as he drives himself inside me. I ride him, laughter bubbling up inside me as pleasure mounts in my veins.
It’s never felt like this before.
Never so intense. So needy. So fucking good.
Everywhere his hands touch, sparks fly. The Prince moves his hands from my thighs to my ass, spreading my cheeks wide as he drives himself deeper inside me.
I moan, gripping the headboard as our movements become frenzied. The Prince slaps my ass before rocking himself inside me harder.
I let go.
I let go of everything that’s ever held me back, everything that’s stopped me from feeling pleasure, everything that has kept me locked away in my own towering fear.
My orgasm crashes into me like a high-speed train. It annihilates me, splitting me in half as the Prince drives himself inside me.
I think I scream. I don’t know.
All I know is that my fingers leave deep, red scratch marks on the Prince’s chest. His cock fits perfectly inside me, like it was made to be there. Heat explodes inside me, making my body arch and convulse as another scream rips through my throat.
When I feel the Prince’s cock get harder, another wave of pleasure crashes into me. He splashes his seed inside me, and I give myself to him completely.
Mind, body, and soul.
When it’s over, I collapse on the bed beside him. My hair splays out around me and I rest my arm against my forehead. My chest heaves, and my entire body trembles and twitches.
Prince Dante lays a palm on my thigh as he tries to catch his breath.
Little tingles flow through my veins, making my body twitch with the after-effects of my orgasm. I roll onto my side, trailing my fingers over Dante’s chest.
Sighing, I shake my head. “That was nice.”
“I’m just getting started,” the Prince grins. He pulls me closer, laying my head on his chest. Closing my eyes, I listen to his heartbeat and let calm and happiness overtake my spirit.
As I lay there, listening, there’s only one thought on my mind:
I wish Dante was the father.
17
Dante
Waking up next to Margot is a pleasure I never knew I was missing. Her head is resting on my chest, with her fingers twitching gently as she dreams. I lay a kiss on her golden hair, sighing.
Before coming to Farcliff, I was content in my quiet, isolated existence. I thought I was happy.
I had no idea what was missing from my life. I never imagined that I could want to spend time with someone else as much as I want to with Margot.
She stirs in my arms, sighing softly. Smiling at me, Margot stretches out and rolls onto her pillows.
“I had such a good sleep.”
“Same.”
“Haven’t slept that well in years.”
“Must be the orgasms,” I grin.
Margot laughs. “Must be. Wouldn’t mind another one,” she grins.
“That can be arranged.”
“You’ve created a monster,” she laughs, wrapping her arms around me. “Look what you’ve unleashed.”
I growl, and Margot lets out another giggle.
I never knew I could love hearing someone laugh as much as I love hearing it from Margot.
“Hold on,” she says when I move to kiss her. “Morning breath.”
I watch her pad to the ensuite bathroom to brush her teeth. When I hear the shower turn on, I get out of bed and join her.
We fit so well together. Both of us appreciate comfortable silence. We don’t have to talk
. I hate going out to drink and party, and Margot doesn’t do any of those things. We’ve slipped into each other’s lives so effortlessly, it’s easy to forget the things that loom just ahead.
Her baby, for one. Am I really ready to have a child in my life? Is it crazy that I’m really considering it?
Seeing Ivy and Luca be so joyous about their own twins makes me itch to have that for myself.
Besides the baby, though, there’s Beckett to worry about. We still have no news on his whereabouts, and he could pop up at any time and try to hurt Luca.
Then, there’s Hunter. Margot’s agent has a bone to pick with her, and judging by the interview he gave last night, it sounds like he’s out for blood.
I’m willingly inserting myself into all those problems.
For what, though? Why would I do that?
As soon as I push the bathroom door open and see Margot smiling at me from the shower, I have my answer. I’m doing it for her.
Joining her under the stream of water, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into me so her back rests against my chest. Running my hands over her stomach, my heart thumps at the thought of the life that’s growing inside.
As Margot puts her hands on top of mine, it feels like everything in my life clicks into place.
I want her. I want the baby. I want to take all the publicity and the cameras and the invasions of privacy if it means I get to hold Margot in my arms at the end of the day.
It hardly makes sense to me—she represents everything that I’ve avoided since I was a kid.
But the heart wants what the heart wants, and I want Margot LeBlanc.
Spinning in my arms, Margot slides her hands up to tangle into my hair. She pulls me down and kisses me tenderly. Steam billows around us and the shower pours down onto us.
Our hearts beat against each other, and I feel whole.
I’m walking on air for the next week. Margot and I don’t go out much. Her publicist puts out a statement acknowledging her pregnancy, but we stay out of view of the cameras. We don’t watch television, and our phones stay locked away in a drawer.
Knocked Up by the Wicked Prince: A Secret Baby Romance Page 9
