If she continued to be with James, the entire future of Gabriel’s reign—and indeed perhaps her own—might be in jeopardy.
“Let me ask you another question, Princess Isabella.”
The way he said that made her spine crawl but she didn’t correct him. Only her friends called her Bella and this man was not in that group. A shame since she’d hoped he would become her father-in-law someday. That dream had rapidly evaporated under his onslaught.
She nodded, too miserable to figure out how to make her voice work.
“What if she’s not the only illegitimate child out there?”
God, he was right. The reality of it unleashed a wave of nausea through her stomach. James had made no secret of his playboy past. Since she’d never sat around in virginal white gowns either, it hadn’t troubled her. Until now.
She very much feared she might throw up.
“If you weren’t aware of the baby, you also probably aren’t aware that her mother is here in Playa Del Onda visiting James.” Mr. Rowling leaned forward, apparently oblivious to the hot poker he’d just shoved through Bella’s chest. “I know you’d like to think that you’re special. James has a particular talent with women. But the fact of the matter is that he still has very deep feelings for the mother of his child. Their relationship is far from over.”
“That’s not true,” Bella gasped out. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t that naïve. “Anyway, James is in England.”
The pitying look Mr. Rowling gave her nearly stopped her heart. “He’s been back in Alma since yesterday.”
“I trust James implicitly,” she shot back and cursed the wobble in her voice. She did. But he’d come home from England and hadn’t called and his silence was deafening. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
Mr. Rowling pursed his lips. “I’m simply making sure you are aware of what you are getting yourself into by refusing to see the truth about James. I have your best interests at heart.”
She doubted that very much. But it didn’t negate the accusations he’d brought against James. Her throat burned as she dragged breath into her lungs.
No. This was propaganda, plain and simple. She shook her head again as if she could make it all go away with the denial. “I need to talk to James.”
“Of course,” he agreed far too quickly. “I’ve said my piece. But before I go, please note that Will is still open to honoring the original marriage agreement.”
With that parting comment, Mr. Rowling followed the butler out of the salon, leaving Bella hollowed out. She crawled onto her bed to lie in a tight ball, but nothing could ease the sick waves still sloshing through her abdomen.
Lies. All of it was lies. James could—and would—straighten all of this out and then they’d deal with the issue of his illegitimate child. Somehow.
Except he still didn’t answer her call. Twice.
This silence...it was killing her. If he was done with her, she deserved to hear it from him, face-to-face. Not from his father.
She had to know, once and for all. If he wouldn’t answer the phone, she’d go to his house.
* * *
The Montoro town car had long been on the list of instantly admitted vehicles at the Rowling Mansion gates, so the driver didn’t have to announce Bella’s presence. As Mr. Rowling had said, James’s green Lamborghini sat parked in the circular drive of the Rowling mansion.
Bella climbed out of the car, her gaze fastened to the Lamborghini, her heart sinking like a stone. James was home. And hadn’t called. Nor would he answer his phone. The truth of Mr. Rowling’s revelations burned at the back of her eyes but she refused to let the tears fall.
James would explain.
A woman’s laugh floated to her on the breeze and Bella automatically turned toward the gazebo down the slope from the main drive. It was partially obscured by foliage but James was easy to make out. Even if she couldn’t plainly see the watch on James’s arm, Will didn’t live here, and neither would he be at his father’s house in the middle of the work day when he had a company to run.
The dark haired woman sitting in the gazebo with James faced away from Bella, but she’d bet every last euro in the royal treasury it was his former girlfriend. It didn’t mean anything. They were probably talking about the daughter they shared. Patrick Rowling wasn’t going to ruin her relationship with James.
Bella had come for answers and now she’d get them.
Feeling like a voyeur but unable to stop herself, she moved closer to catch what they were saying but the murmurs were inaudible. And then James threaded his fingers through the woman’s hair and pulled her into a scorching kiss.