Confessions of a Pregnant Cinderella

She sneaked glances at Lazaro as they ate their starter of a light salad. He looked so self-contained. So urbane. She could barely imagine what he must have been like before.

Curiosity got the better of her, and when Almudena had served the main course Skye asked, ‘How did you go from living on the streets to all of...this?’

He arched a brow. ‘You didn’t do your research on the internet?’

Skye blushed again. ‘I didn’t read everything.’

Mainly just the headlines about his billionaire playboy status.

He shrugged. ‘I was noticed one day, outside a museum. I had found a way to get tourists in through a back entrance and was charging them less than the official fee.’ He sat back, cradling a glass of wine in his hand. ‘One of the tourists was impressed with my entrepreneurial skills and it turned out he was a successful businessman, moving to Madrid for work. He offered me a job. I was something of a maths genius, which I think I get from my father’s side. They are a family of bankers. One opportunity led to another and I just made the most of it.’

Skye could understand where his ambition stemmed from now. His tenacious will to succeed.

They ate in silence for a while, and then Lazaro put down his napkin. ‘I’ve arranged for your things to be packed and sent from Dublin—they should arrive here tomorrow. I’ll have to return to Madrid tomorrow. Something has come up with a project I’m working on. I’ll come back at the weekend.’

Skye wasn’t entirely dism

ayed at the thought of some time to get her breath back, away from Lazaro’s disturbing presence. ‘And then we’ll discuss plans going forward?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. Because I’ll need to find a new job—and somewhere to live that meets your exacting standards.’

Lazaro had to admit he was taken aback by Skye’s apparent desire to get back to her life. She wasn’t looking at him as she spoke. She was eating with the same single-minded absorption that she’d had the other night. Unselfconsciously.

She was wearing another shapeless long-sleeved top which, thankfully for his rogue hormones, wasn’t falling off one shoulder. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, the same black skirt she’d been wearing that night in the hotel. Quite possibly the same skirt she wore to work as a waitress. Flat shoes. No make-up. Her hair was down and the setting sun burnished it copper and gold.

She was economical in her movements. Precise. She wasn’t remotely interested in seducing him. And yet he was sitting here, his body in a permanent state of heightened awareness just from being near her. Since she’d stormed into his life the other night he had been constantly on the cusp of full-blown arousal, if not actually aroused. Like this afternoon, on the plane.

He couldn’t deny she had an effect on him unlike any other woman. Take just now, for instance. He rarely, if ever, spoke of his past or his family—with anyone. And yet with little or no provocation he’d told Skye more than most people knew. Only close confidants and the people actually involved knew of his parentage.

They weren’t so dissimilar. He sensed that her life with a single parent hadn’t necessarily been easy. She certainly hadn’t grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth. And she wasn’t looking for hand-outs. Yet. Lazaro had seen too much and was too cynical to trust that Skye didn’t have an agenda. After all, if he proved the baby she was carrying was his she’d be set for life.

Suddenly he felt the urge to push her, to see how she would react. Almudena cleared away the plates and he said, ‘What do you see happening, Skye?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, are you hoping for some kind of permanent arrangement?’

She looked at him as if he was speaking in tongues, but Lazaro didn’t let it fool him.

‘We won’t have a relationship beyond coming to an arrangement for our child,’ he said.

* * *

Skye was fighting to keep her expression neutral even as hurt mixed with pride in her gut. Clearly he hadn’t welcomed the reminder of their explosive chemistry when they’d kissed on the plane. And she certainly did not need to expose her susceptibility again.

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ she replied. ‘I don’t need you to tell me I’m not someone you’d want a relationship with. Clearly I’m not well-connected enough, or beautiful enough. But, I am the mother of your child, and I’m prepared to do what it takes to come to an agreement.’ The feeling of hurt made her add impetuously, ‘For what it’s worth, you’re the last man I’d want to be with. You’re far too cynical and obsessed with social standing and money.’

Skye immediately felt bad—especially when she thought of all he’d been through. She was pathetic. But she couldn’t bear to hurt anyone. Even someone who seemed as impervious to hurt as Lazaro.

He said, ‘If this is a game, Skye, you should know that I don’t respond well to manipulation. You’d be better off laying your cards on the table now, so we can come to an agreement.’

Her sense of guilt dissipated in the face of his cynicism. ‘I don’t play games, Lazaro. I wouldn’t know how. If it wasn’t for this baby growing inside me I’d almost wish I’d never met you, but I refuse to regret the consequences of that night. You’re not the only one who has had their life turned upside down, so if you think I’d sign up for a repeat performance of that night or anything like it then you’ve another think coming.’

Skye stood up and walked off the terrace, passing a stunned-looking Almudena, holding two plates of what looked like dessert. She garbled something in apology and went straight to her room.

Once she was there she paced back and forth, angry for letting Lazaro get to her like that. There was no sense of satisfaction in having got the last word in—she didn’t care for herself, but she cared for their child, who would grow up no doubt held at some remove while Lazaro got on with his super-successful life. It was Skye’s job to ensure their child wasn’t pushed aside and forgotten about.