Confessions of a Pregnant Cinderella

She looked sheepish. ‘Sorry. My feet are killing me. But I can find a spot to sit down—honestly, don’t worry about me.’

This was such an unusual conversation for Lazaro to be having, because generally he was at these things on his own, or the women he brought were clinging to him like limpets—so much so that he’d find himself ending the date early due to claustrophobia.

‘No,’ he said, surprising himself. ‘I’m done too. Let’s go.’

He guided Skye out of the thronged room and down into his private boat. The trip back up the canal to the palazzo was made in silence. Lazaro found the silence...peaceful. He felt the tight knots inside him loosening.

He sat back and observed Skye, who was looking into the buildings as they went along. ‘What are you thinking?’

She glanced at him and then away, looking embarrassed. The moon cast her features in a milky glow, highlighting her pale beauty.

‘I always wonder about who lives in these kinds of places. My life was so nomadic I always wished I lived somewhere. I envied families for the everyday rituals they take for granted...’

A tightness formed in Lazaro’s chest. ‘I used to stand outside the houses of my parents...they lived near each other, in an exclusive part of Madrid. I’d watch them come and go. I’d wonder what it must be like, to know where you were from. To be accepted.’

He could feel Skye looking at him, but he couldn’t look at her. At those huge blue eyes.

‘What those people did to you was shameful. Inhuman. They don’t deserve to know you.’

Her voice was low and he could hear the emotion in it. An unfamiliar sensation eased the tightness in Lazaro’s chest. Empathy. Something he’d only ever experienced before with his close friend Ciro. It was disconcerting to experience it with a woman, when his own mother had abandoned him as a baby and his lovers had always seen him as an object of either lust or wealth.

* * *

Skye looked at Lazaro but he was looking ahead. He didn’t respond to her words.

Just thinking of how his family had treated him made her so angry. Especially his mother, who had nurtured him for nine months. The thought of having this baby and then giving him or her away made Skye feel sick.

The boat pulled in at the steps leading up to the palazzo. Skye couldn’t help the lingering sadness she felt to think of Lazaro’s words. She couldn’t look at him for fear of him noticing. But he seemed locked in his thoughts as they returned to the suite.

When they went into the main salon she took off her shoes with a silent groan of relief. Lazaro took off his jacket and draped it over a chair. He undid his tie, unknotting it so it hung open rakishly.

Skye felt exposed. A little raw.

She said, ‘I think I’ll go to bed. It’s been a long day.’ She’d almost forgotten that they’d got married only that morning. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Lazaro was undoing his top button. ‘What is it, Skye?’

She looked at him. Damn her too-expressive face. She tried to look as bland as she could. ‘What’s what? I’m just tired.’

He shook his head and walked over. ‘It’s more than that. You were animated earlier, and then you disappeared, and since then you’ve looked...melancholic.’

Skye shrugged. ‘Maybe I’m just not good in those situations.’

‘Skye...’

She looked at him, and eventually she said, ‘Fine. There was a woman in the bathroom...she wasn’t very nice.’

Lazaro frowned. Skye went and sat down on a nearby couch, her legs too weary to keep standing under Lazaro’s exacting gaze.

‘What did she say to you?’

Reluctantly Skye answered. ‘She accused me of trapping you and said I was set for life and that you’d be back on the scene soon.’

Five years, if not sooner, according to the pre-nuptial agreement.

Skye felt a pain near her chest.

Lazaro’s face turned hard. ‘What did she look like?’