Page 62 of His Secretly Pregnant Cinderella

The woman who had left her feeling scarred and tragic, but who had also... Given life to her. It was so complicated, and there was part of her that wanted to understand the complication as deeply as she could.

She didn’t have her phone.

Everything had been left at the wedding. And she knew that meant seeking out Constantine.

She walked up the stairs, wood planks that seemed to float in midair, held there by taut wire, and stood on the landing for a long while, looking out the vast windows at the jewel bright sea below.

She did not know how she had come to be in this place. A waitress who had wanted little more than to survive, a woman who had been so desperate not to repeat the mistakes of her mother. But she had. It was only because the man was wealthy and insisted on claiming his children. That was the difference.

It made her feel... Shamed.

Because she wasn’t better than her mother, she had made an easier mistake, fallen into a happier accident.

She had been ruled entirely by her desires the night that she was with Constantine for the first time. And she hadn’t behaved much better since. She had not resisted him at all when he had taken her down on the yacht deck. She had resisted him at no point. She had seen him, and she had wanted him. She had thought nothing for the future.

She heard the door open, and as they were the only two people on the whole of the island, she knew it was him. She went toward the sound, down a long corridor that stretched over the first floor, a suspension bridge that lent itself to the open-air feeling of the house.

And then it was closed off, a few doors leading to other rooms undoubtedly. And around the corner, she met Constantine. It was strange, to be in this enclosed place where there were so many other open spaces. And seeing him like this... She could barely breathe.

He was not wearing a suit, but he had put a shirt on. A white one, only buttoned up partway. She took a visual tour of his masculine beauty. All of that skin and black chest hair.

He was truly a stunning specimen of a man. And oh, how she wanted him. Even now, grappling with these hard truths.

The whims of fate. Accidents.

Her own lack of superiority.

“I need to call my mother,” she said.

“I see.”

“All of my things are back on the mainland. I don’t have my phone.”

“Do you know her number?”

She did. Only because her mother had had the same number since Morgan was a child.

“Yes.”

“You may use my phone.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“I spoke to my father.”

She winced. “And?”

“He is not happy with me. That much is certain.”

“I’m certain he is unhappy with me too.”

His face took on a strange, serious cast. “No. His dissatisfaction lies wholly with me. Trust me.”

She blinked, feeling emotion pooling at the corners of her eyes. “I am complicit in what happened between us. If they are angry at you...”

“He thinks it would be best if my mother didn’t know the truth. And I have thought about it, and I think that is perhaps for the best.”

“Constantine... How can we possibly keep this to ourselves?”

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