Confessions of a Pregnant Cinderella

Lazaro had surprised himself by saying, ‘Haven’t you ever done anything totally spontaneous for no good reason but just because you want to?’

He’d also surprised himself with how much he’d wanted her to say yes. He’d expected her to jump at the invitation—as most women would—but she’d seemed genuinely torn.

Eventually she’d said, ‘Okay...maybe.’

And so he’d sat in that hotel bar, waiting for a woman. And for the first and only time in his life he hadn’t known if she’d show up.

And then she had.

He could still recall seeing her standing in the doorway, in skinny jeans and that tatty jumper, half-falling off her shoulder. Holding a slouchy bag. It should have been the moment he’d realised he’d gone a bit crazy, but her long red hair had been down, and tumbling wildly over one shoulder, and an intense hunger had bitten into him so acutely that he hadn’t even been able to stand to greet her.

‘Thank you for that.’

Lazaro broke out of his reverie and saw Skye pushing the now empty plate away from her. He couldn’t recall ever seeing a woman actually finish her food.

‘Where are you staying?’ he asked.

She went pinker and avoided his eye. ‘I hadn’t actually got as far as booking anywhere. I saw a hostel at the train station when I came in from the airport, I’m sure I can get a room there.’

Lazaro’s gaze narrowed on her, his voice heavy with sarcasm. ‘You didn’t plan on staying and you’ve booked no accommodation? Did you even book a return flight? Or were you hoping that perhaps this little stunt might induce me to take you into my bed again, where you could ensure you became pregnant?’

* * *

Skye had been avoiding his eye, embarrassed at having been exposed in her lack of planning for this, but now her head snapped around so quickly she almost got whiplash.

For a long moment she couldn’t speak, she was so incensed. And then she stood up, trembling with emotion. ‘You are the most unbelievably cynical person I’ve ever met. I’m not here to fleece you, or to seduce you, Lazaro. I couldn’t care less about your wealth or your fancy hotel suite—’

‘Apartment.’

‘What?’

‘This is my apartment. I own the hotel.’

‘Oh.’

He owns the hotel. Of course he does.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Skye made a move back to the living area, searching for her bag and coat.

‘Where are you going?’

She found them and picked them up. She turned around. ‘I’m going to go and find somewhere to stay. My return flight is early in the morning—because, as I told you, I’d just planned on giving you this information. Not staying. Leaving. Which I’m going to do now. Goodbye, Lazaro.’

Before she could turn to go Lazaro came and stood in front of her. He was shaking his head.

‘You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here tonight and then we’ll discuss where to go from here tomorrow.’

Skye’s head was feeling fuzzy from tiredness. ‘But I’m due at work tomorrow night...’

‘If you are pregnant with my child—and let’s say I give you the benefit of the doubt until we can prove the baby is mine with a DNA test—then you’ll be staying right here in Spain.’

Skye’s mouth opened and closed. Opened again. ‘That’s crazy. You can’t order me to stay here.’

‘If you’re carrying my child, as you claim you are, then, yes, I have a right to be involved in its future—and in yours too.’

Skye felt panicky. ‘In its future. When he or she is born. Anything could happen between now and then.’

‘And in the meantime you’re going to run yourself ragged waiting on tables, staying in hostels and living in God knows what kind of place.’ He frowned. ‘Where do you live?’