Page 22 of Betting Her Curves

Of course it hurts because I’ll have to tell him that I’m going back to the States. I’ll make up some bullshit about a new balletcompany offering me a job, and I’ll say that the new troupe is located somewhere remote and undesirable, like the middle of the New Mexican desert, or deep in Appalachia without the comforts of modern living. Then, I’ll bid goodbye to the billionaire, but I’ll never actually get on a plane. Instead, I’m going to hole up in my secret rooms and have the baby on my own, with the staff’s help of course. My child will have a safe place to stay for a few years, and from there, we’ll see. I’m not sure exactly what happens next, but I have to do this because I want to keep my child. There’s no way Patrick would consent to being a father, so I’m not even going to put the question to him.

Quietly, I steal down the hall to my secret suite. The door swings open silently, and I look around. There’s a crib by the wall that I was able to smuggle in with the help of one of the footmen, and Mrs. Sullivan gifted me a baby bassinet that stands by the window. A few of the maids have been sewing up a storm, and already, the white changing table has a few hand-made stuffed animals on it. Tears fill my eyes because these people were strangers only a few months ago, but now, I rely on them like family.

Slowly, I sink down into a rocking chair by the window. Sadness overwhelms my form as sunlight bathes my features because this is what I want, but not really. My ideal scenario would be to live life out in the open, with a burbling baby in my arms and a doting partner who adores being a father. Instead, I’m confined to the shadows while raising my child in secret. No one will know, not even my parents or my sister. Certainly, Patrick will never find out because I can’t imagine the destruction if he does. He would go berserk and tear this castle to pieces if he found out.

A tear trails down my cheek.

What kind of woman does this?the voice in my head whispers.Are you crazy, Ashley? How can you live right under your babydaddy’s nose, taking shelter in his house and eating his food, all the while raising his child? He’s going to find out.

Perhaps so. There is aFlowers in the Atticvibe to my plan, but at the same time, I don’t have a choice. I don’t have a job in the States, and there are zero troupes that I’m aware of looking for curvy ballerinas. I’m a high school dropout, and it’s unclear whether I could even file for unemployment assistance, seeing that I’ve never technically been “employed.” I suppose I could move back in with my parents, but they’re nearing retirement, and looking forward to their golden years. Helping a struggling teen mom while tending to a newborn baby is definitelynotin their future plans.

So here I am, getting ready to take the plunge into the scariest, most devastating chapter of my life. It will be filled with rewards, to be sure, because I already adore my unborn baby so much. A mother’s love is fierce, so much that I’m willing to go down this lonely, unspeakable route.

But more than anything, I wish Patrick were here to walk with me. I wish I could live out in the open, and that we’d peer down into our baby’s bassinet, two adoring parents already in love with our child. I wish that he’d rub my back when it aches with pregnancy, and accompany me to local Lamaze classes. I wish that he could see our child, and how the baby is sure to resemble him with his dark hair, blue eyes, and Irish features.I wish... I wish... I wish...

But wishing is for innocent young girls, whereas real life is for mothers. I’m in the latter category now ... and I’ve already made my choice.

12

Patrick

Ipush open the door and drink in the sight of my beautiful girl. Ashley’s still and silent in a rocking chair, looking contemplatively out the window with her long blonde hair rippling over her shoulders. One hand curves protectively around her tummy, and her expression is serious but also serene. My girl is ready to be a mommy, and that’s my baby in her belly.

The knowledge makes possession surge through my veins.A child.I’ve thought of having a family before, but always discarded the idea. I’m a jet-setting billionaire bachelor, and I’ve fucked women on all the continents, not to mention multiple cities. Ladies have always craved my money, my body, and my attention. I saw no reason to change.

But everything shifted once Ashley stepped into the picture. She’s witty, charming, intelligent, with a laugh that sounds like the peal of bells. Her vivacious personality and ability to makemelaugh are unparalleled, and I’ve found myself doing things that I never do on my own. Walking the fens. Savoring dinner, instead of bolting down my food. Taking the time to appreciate a sunset, instead of immersing myself in the details of the latest corporate takeover. She’s made me into a better person, which is why her actions are so fucking puzzling.

After all, what the hell is the curvy girl thinking? Does she think she can hide while she’s living undermyroof? Does she think that she can be pregnant with my child, and that I wouldn’t notice?Of courseI noticed. I notice everything about my girl’s body, and I saw how her color is often flushed. I see how her breasts have enlarged, and how her nipples are especially sensitive. I see how her pussy is hungrier and wetter, sucking me in as she raises her knees to deepen the penetration. Most of all, I see the sadness in her eyes because she wants this child, and thinks that I’ll make her get rid of it.

Therefore, this fucking hare-brained plan. Ashley thinks she’s going to live surreptitiously within the walls of Castle Droghaire. She’s going to raise my baby in secret, relying on the discretion of my staff to bring her food, water, and supplies for the infant. She’s going to spend years cloistered within these black walls, and my child will never meet his father. What the fuck?Nothinghappens in my castle without my knowledge and assent. I am the Viscount, and this ismyson.

“Ashley,” I growl from my place by the door.

The golden girl startles and then turns to me, her blue eyes wide.

“Patrick,” she stammers, hot circles appearing on her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

I step into the room, shutting the door behind me. The suite has been outfitted as a nursery, but I can still feel a draft within these thick stone walls. The sunlight from the only window is thin and weak, and I grow incensed knowing that this shitty set-up is what she has planned for my child. Rage bubbles in my chest as I stare at her, a vein throbbing at my temple.

“What the fuck is this?” I hiss.

Both hands are on her belly now.

“What is what?”

“What isthis?” I scream, gesturing to the crib, bureau, and cradle. “What the fuck?”

Ashley stands up, her face pale as both hands curve around her burgeoning tummy.

“I will not speak to you when you’re in this state, Patrick. It’s not good for me, and as you can see, I’m expecting. Come back when you’re calm.”

I huff and take a few deep inhales, willing my blood pressure to go down.

“You’re pregnant. And the baby’s mine.”

A hurt look comes over those beautiful features.

“Of course the child’s yours. Who else’s would it be?”

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