Confessions of a Pregnant Cinderella

He could recall sneaking into art galleries when he was a teenager, standing transfixed in front of massive majestic canvases. He could imagine that Skye had done the same thing. Both of them had been on the margins of society for different reasons. And yet she didn’t seem to be consumed by greed for what she might have missed out on as her birthright.

‘Your father could be a millionaire,’ he pointed out.

She shrugged, unconcerned. ‘He could. Equally he could be a pauper—or dead.’

Lazaro sat back. ‘Are you really telling me you couldn’t care less?’

She looked at him. ‘I don’t deny I’d like to know who he is...maybe even talk to him...but as for what he has? That means nothing to me. Because it’s who you are underneath that counts.’

Lazaro might have thought she was messing with him if she hadn’t sounded so genuine. ‘A nice sentiment,’ he said. ‘But somehow I don’t think it’s that simple.’

She looked at him, a fork full of Almudena’s signature paella halfway to her mouth. She actually managed to give him a pitying look.

‘Maybe some day you’ll find that your cynical world vi

ew isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’

Lazaro watched her eat and thought to himself that that was highly unlikely.

* * *

They finished the meal in a surprisingly convivial silence. Skye said thank you to Almudena when the woman cleared away the plates and brought some sweet pastries and coffee.

When they were alone again Lazaro said, ‘There’s something we need to discuss.’

Skye sat up straighter. ‘Yes...there is. I know you’re not happy with where I’m living in Dublin, but maybe I can find a new place and then—’

Lazaro was shaking his head. ‘You’re not going back to Dublin.’

Skye felt frustration rise at his matter-of-fact tone. ‘What are you proposing, then? To leave me here and drop in when it suits you?’

To have mind-blowing sex? snarked that little inner voice.

Skye ignored it and said hurriedly, ‘Or maybe you’re going to set me up somewhere that’s conveniently on the sidelines of your life with your child?’

Lazaro looked at her. ‘If you think you’re someone who can be easily sidelined then you do yourself a disservice.’

That kept Skye quiet. She didn’t think he’d meant it as a compliment. She had the distinct impression that he wished she was more easy to sideline.

‘So what are you suggesting?’

Lazaro stood up and walked over to the wall that separated the terrace from the gardens. She couldn’t stop her gaze roving over his broad back and down to the slim waist and powerful buttocks. He turned around and she shifted her eyes up, feeling a guilty burn under her skin.

‘What I’m suggesting is that we get married. It’s the only viable option right now.’

It took a second for his words to sink in, and when they did Skye shot up from her chair. ‘Is this because we had sex?’

‘It’s because you’re pregnant. And until we can prove irrefutably that I’m the father the world believes that I am.’

Something suspiciously like hurt lanced Skye. ‘But you still don’t?’

His jaw clenched. ‘It’s not that I don’t—just that I’m not naïve enough to believe something I can’t prove.’

Skye walked over to the wall, but kept a distance of a few feet between her and Lazaro. ‘I’m not going to marry you—that’s a preposterous suggestion.’

‘Is it? Really? The fact is that we had a night together which has resulted in consequences that will affect both our lives for decades to come, and we need to face those consequences. Together.’

The implacable tone of his voice, and the way he seemed to be prepared to sacrifice himself for the sake of keeping up appearances, even while resenting her for it, sent panic into Skye’s gut.