Please Be Mine

Chapter Twenty

"Is it true?" The expression on her face killed any hope that the press had been fabricating the story to increase their circulation figures. "You're pregnant?"

"Oh my God—how did they find out? How can they possibly know?"

"Is it true?" His thunderous demand made her flinch.

"Yes, it's true!" Covering her face with her hands, she plopped onto the sofa. "But this isn't how—I mean, I haven't even got my head round it myself." Her hands dropped. "How did they find out?"

"They rely on greedy people willing to sell sleaze." The bite in his tone seemed to penetrate her shock, and she wrapped her arms around her wait in a gesture of self-protection.

"I take it from that remark that you think I told them. And I can see this looks bad, but—"She broke off, her voice hoarse. "It wasn't me. Honestly. I haven't spoken to the press. Not once."

"Then how do you explain the fact that the story is plastered over the front pages of every European newspaper? The palace press-office was inundated with calls yesterday from journalist wanting a comment on the happy news that I am at last to be a father." He frowned slightly, disconcerted by her extreme pallor. "You're very pale."

"And that's surprising? Have you read the thing?" Her voice rose. "It's all right for you. You're used to this. Your face is always on the front of newspapers, but this this all new to me, and I hate it! My life doesn't feel like my own any more. Everyone is talking about me."

"That's the usual consequence of selling your story to a national newspaper."

But she didn't appear to have heard him. Her eyes were fixed on the newspaper as though he'd introduced a deadly snake into her flat.

"It must have been Logan," she whispered, her lips barely moving. "He knew about the baby. He's the only one who could have done this."

"You disgust me." Nick didn't bother softening his tone, and shock flared in her brown eyes.

"I disgust you?" She couldn't have looked more devastated if he told her that a much-loved pet had died. "But you—I mean, we—"

"We had sex." Nick delivered the words with icy cool, devoid of sympathy as yet another layer of color fled from her cheeks. "And you used that to your advantage."

"Wait a minute—just slow down. How can any of this be to my advantage?" Gingerly she reached for the newspaper and scanned the story. Then she dropped it as if she'd been burned. "This is awful. They know everything. Really private stuff, like my dad leaving home when I was seven and the fact that I was taken into foster care, stuff I don't talk about." Her voice broke. "My whole life laid out on the front page for everyone to read. And it horrible!" her distress appeared genuine and Nick felt a flicker of exasperation.

"What exactly did you think would happen? That they'd print only nice stories about you? Nice stories don't sell newspapers."

"I didn't tell them!" She rose to her feet, her tousled hair spilling over her shoulders. "It must have been Logan."

"And what was his excuse? He didn't feel ready for fatherhood? Was he only to eager to shift the responsibility on some other guy?"

Puzzled, she stared at him for a moment, and then her mouth fell open. "This isn't Logan's baby, if that's what you're implying!"

"Really?" Nick raised an eyebrow in a sardonic appraisal. "Then you have been busy. Exactly how many men were you sleeping with a few weeks ago? Or can't you remember?"