Confessions Of A Pregnant Cinderella. ABBY GREEN

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      They’d had sex twice that night, actually. But Lazaro wasn’t about to issue that reminder, because those X-rated memories were far too vivid and recent as it was.

      He saw a dull flush rise up under her pale skin and felt a corresponding jump in his pulse. His blood was running hot, but he told himself it was anger, not lust.

      He looked at the small pale hand that rested over her still flat belly. It was almost impossible to accept the revelation that she was pregnant. With his child.

      As someone who had been abandoned at birth by his own parents, and who had been thrown around the foster care system most of his young life, he had a jaundiced view of the bond between parents and children to say the least. And yet the thought of her having that scan without him made him feel disturbingly conflicted. As if he’d missed out on something.

      He’d always vowed that if he did have children he would do his best by them and not abandon them. He would give them a better life than he had known. But he certainly hadn’t expected to have to think about it yet.

      Even with Leonora he would have expected at least a few years to elapse before they talked about children.

      He was still reeling from what had happened. The sudden and swift fall from grace.

      Ha! sneered an inner voice. He’d come close to grace—that was all. Maybe it was something that would elude him for ever. Like the ultimate acceptance he craved.

      He’d gone after Leonora but she’d disappeared, and he’d known it would be futile anyway. She’d told him it was over, and in her world that kind of public humiliation couldn’t be forgiven. It really was over. And so he’d come up here. To try and deal with the situation. With her.

      Skye put her bag and coat down at her feet. She straightened up and her expression was contrite. Before he could stop himself Lazaro was struck again by her natural beauty. The scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Innocent.

      She said, ‘Look, I promise I didn’t intend to tell you like this. I really believed it was the only way. I didn’t mean to upset your fiancée.’

      Lazaro didn’t believe this faux sincerity for a second. ‘She’s not my fiancée any more. The engagement is over.’

      Skye seemed to go even paler. ‘If she loves you then maybe you can work this out—’

      Lazaro emitted an involuntary laugh and held up a hand, stopping her words. ‘Love? There is no such thing as love. We weren’t marrying for love. That’s not how this works.’

      Skye looked genuinely perplexed. ‘Then what were you marrying for?’

      He shrugged minutely, this line of questioning making him uncomfortable. ‘Because it made sense. Because she would have helped me to get where I need to be and I would have helped her.’

      ‘That sounds so…cold.’

      ‘I would have said efficient, myself. Marriages based on such nebulous notions as love rarely last.’

      Hesitantly she asked, ‘Were you together when we…met?’

      ‘No. It happened…just afterwards.’

      Lazaro felt even more uncomfortable when he recalled how the intensity of his experience with Skye had left him feeling hungry for more, but also very wary. He was not looking for grand passion in his life. He was looking for acceptance and respect. And he needed a woman who would help him achieve it. A woman from his father’s world and the right side of it.

      Leonora Flores de la Vega had already been on his radar—he’d seen her at a few events and had always been intrigued by her aloof manner. The way she always seemed slightly apart from the crowd. It had resonated with something inside him—perhaps the part that was still ostracised despite his success.

      But he had to concede now that meeting Skye had spurred him on to ask Leonora out. As if that night with Skye had spooked him. Made him realise that he had a voracious hunger inside him that he’d never acknowledged before. He’d wanted to forget that he’d acted totally out of character for a moment. Put their extraordinary chemistry down to a fluke happenstance.

      But it hadn’t been a fluke because he could feel it again now. An inexorable pull to this woman. A sizzling in his blood. A growing urgency to touch her again. Damn her.

      ‘Oh.’

      Skye looked away for a moment and the irritation he was feeling at this woman’s effect on him showed in his curt response. ‘What does that mean? Oh.’

      With visible reluctance she looked at him again. ‘Well… I’m very different to her. You looked good together. I can see why you chose her to be your wife.’

      It was as if she could see into his mind. His skin prickled. She was right. Skye O’Hara couldn’t be more different from the very tall and svelte Leonora. But her petite curvy body and fresh-faced prettiness had a far earthier appeal to his libido than Leonora’s cool elegance. Leonora had never connected with that part of him.

      In fact Skye was like no other woman he’d ever been with, and yet she’d been the one with whom he’d connected most viscerally.

      She said, ‘Well, maybe this has done her a favour. Everyone deserves to be loved.’

      Inexplicably, Lazaro felt an ache deep inside him. He quashed it brutally. ‘Don’t be so ridiculously sentimental. You caused this to happen by interrupting a private and exclusive gathering.’

      ‘Not that private or exclusive if the press were there,’ she pointed out.

      Lazaro ground his teeth. ‘We are not here to debate the issue.’

      She bent down then, and picked up her bag and coat. ‘No, we’re not. I came to tell you that I’m pregnant, and now that I have I’ll leave.’

      She moved as if to walk out and then stopped, looking around at the maze of doors leading off in different directions.

      She turned around, sheepish. ‘Can you tell me the way out, please?’

      Lazaro shook his head, as much in negation of her question as to check if he was hearing her correctly. But she looked deadly serious.

      Remembering how quickly she’d slipped out of his grasp once before, he went over and caught her arm, leading her over to a sofa, saying grimly, ‘You don’t get to deliver a bombshell, wreck my engagement and then walk out the door like nothing’s happened. Sit down. You’re not going anywhere.’