Bound By Their Nine-Month Scandal (The Montero Baby Scandals 3)

“It’s also the only way I’ve ever been able to connect meaningfully with my family. My father especially, but my brothers, as well. I’ve always been a detriment on a social level, but I held up the Montero reputation in scholarly circles. Advanced it even, which my mother appreciates. To a point.”

“Does your father?”

She didn’t say anything. After a moment, she sighed. “My father isn’t equipped to appreciate gestures. I wonder sometimes if he felt like I did as a child, or if he’s on a spectrum of some kind. He’s a genius and he genuinely doesn’t care about social niceties. Somewhere along the line, he concluded very logically that a lack of diplomacy would hold him back so he married my mother to take care of that for him. She never talks about her childhood. I only know there was a title and little else, which means she holds very tightly to the life they’ve built together.”

“And sacrificing her daughter in order to maintain that life is justified?” He clenched his teeth with repulsion.

“She doesn’t see it that way. She thinks she was finding me the sort of partner she has, one who has worked with her to build a life that benefits all of us. I’m part of that team, Angelo. I had one job—to reset the family reputation. And I completely fell apart. The worst part is, all this distress and guilt I’m wallowing in? Completely useless. They don’t care that I feel sick about it. They’re not happy or sad or anxious or furious. They’re inconvenienced.” She flung out a hand, trembling all over. “They’ll get over it while I’ll live the rest of my life with this grating knowledge that I let them down. Now you want me to be some sort of princess bride and I’m going to fail at that, too.”

“No, you won’t. Come here.” He had to hold her, she was shaking so badly. He moved into the closet and gathered her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, soothing her trembling body with a gentle massage of her back and petting her silky hair. “Cry if you need to.”

She rubbed her face into his chest as she shook her head. “I never cry.”

Because she wasn’t allowed to? Hell, he had shed a tear the first time he’d had four figures in his bank account. Last night, as he had held her soft, naked body against him, he’d let his hand rest on her stomach and his throat had closed up. His chest was tight listening to her struggle right now.

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She held on to him at least, trusting and warm, letting him rub her spine and try to comfort her.

“I won’t make you be something you’re not. I promise you,” he said into her hair.

“But that’s the problem,” she groaned. “I agree with you. I don’t want our baby to look back and think I was embarrassed. I want him or her to feel loved.”

He drew in a sharp breath, stunned by how deeply her words pierced his heart. His lips against her hair turned into a kiss of gratitude.

“Thank you for that,” he said, profoundly moved. “I was treated like blasphemy. Sent to boarding school so I wouldn’t be seen or heard. I need this baby to be welcomed and accepted.”

“I do, too.” She lifted her face, mouth quivering. “I mean, beneath all the angst of planning a wedding and photos and distress at how my parents reacted, I’m really excited.” She blinked matted lashes. “Insanely excited.”

“Me, too.” He cupped her jaw, such tenderness welling in him that he could hardly breathe.

She melted into him and he had to let his mouth settle over her unsteady smile.

Her clothes quickly wound up on the floor next to his, but she didn’t seem to mind having to search again later.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THEIR PHOTO WENT VIRAL.

“I don’t understand,” Pia said, trying not to have heart palpitations two days later as they were traveling back to Valencia. “How are we still trending? Are you that famous?”

“In the gaming community, I’m afraid so,” he said dryly.

“Because of your chip? My father invented one of the first lightweight, scratch-resistant metals for laptops. No one is excited in that community.”

“Before our chip, I was one of the public faces in gaming, promoting championships and color commentating.”

“I read that in your bio when I first looked you up.” She frowned, still confused by this. “You really run tournaments like any other sport industry? Why would people enjoy watching other people play video games?”

“The same reason people who play beer league football also like to watch the World Cup. They follow players’ careers and enjoy watching great plays by their favorite teams. They root for them to win.”

She shook her head. “I don’t follow sports. I may never fully comprehend that mindset. Why are your fans so suspicious of my motives?” Gold digger. Outsider. She threw her phone down. “Are you a gamer? How did you become involved in it?”

“Chance.” He set aside his own phone as their flight attendant brought their breakfast. “I stumbled into one of the early e-sport tournaments by answering an ad to help move equipment. I connected with a player who had flown in from America to work the event hoping to find a sponsor, but he was terrible at networking. Didn’t like to take the initiative. I got us a meeting that wasn’t successful, but it went well enough that when he heard I was homeless, he offered his sofa if I could get myself to LA. His house should have been condemned, but I worked on a freighter for a month, then worked under the table to help with rent. On my days off, I figured out how the promotion side of gaming works. When you’re hungry, you hustle. I was starving.”

She blinked. “Why were you homeless? Was this after you left boarding school?”

His face blanked, perhaps regretting he had shared so much. “My tuition was halted when I was fourteen.”