Page 2 of Claiming His Baby At The Altar

The prosecution team entered. Amongst them strode the tall figure of Alejandro Ramos, suave and gorgeous in a navy suit and tie and grey shirt. Today, he was clean shaven, his thick dark hair cropped short.

The last thing Flora expected was the jump of her heart into her throat at his appearance.

She placed her trembling hands on her belly and breathed deeply, telling herself the jump of her heart was only to be expected considering the last time she’d seen him had been when he’d passionately kissed her goodbye.

Much better was the spike of hatred that came when he sat amongst the prosecution lawyers on the prosecution bench. The spike pierced her to see him as one with them. In England he’d be nothing more than a witness.

Look at me, she silently urged him.

The smooth-looking man seated beside him whispered in his ear. Ramos tilted his head to hear more clearly then nodded with a grin.

How could he smile when he was condemning his best friend to decades of imprisonment?

Look at me.

The Justice of the Peace entered the court from his private room at the back.

An order was called out. Everyone rose to their feet.

The Justice took his seat and indicated for everyone to follow suit.

Flora, her stare fixed on Ramos, stayed standing.

Look at me, you bastard.

As if he could feel the weight of her stare, he turned his face up to the gallery. To her.

Flora had chosen her clothing that morning with care. She’d selected a simple, short-sleeved cream summer dress with tiny buttons running its length that fitted snugly over her form. She’d wanted nothing that could detract the eye from the huge swelling of her stomach.

For the briefest of moments Ramos’s eyes locked on hers then flittered away as if he hadn’t seen her.

A wave of longing crashed through her, as unexpected and as frightening as the jump in her heart at the sight of him had been, but she swallowed hard and remained standing.

Barely a beat passed when she caught the sudden stillness in his frame.

Slowly, he turned his gaze back up to her.

Clenching her teeth tightly in an attempt to keep any emotion from showing on her face, Flora pointed both forefingers at her belly.

If he was looking closely enough he would see the bulge where their child had just kicked her.

If the situation weren’t so desperate and heartbreaking, Flora would have found much amusement in the first hour of the trial. The leading prosecutor rose and made his opening speech, not a word of which she understood as it was all conducted in French. Ramos would have understood but she was willing to bet not a single word penetrated his head.

The supremely confident, arrogant man who’d walked into the courtroom looked shell-shocked. Poor diddums. Her heart bled for him. It really did.

Only when the prosecutor sat back down did any animation show on his handsome face, and he whispered into the ear of the man beside him, who in turn whispered down the line until the whispers reached the prosecutor, who got back up and shuffled over to Ramos. The pair of them whispered frantically between themselves. The whispering culminated in Ramos scrawling onto a piece of paper that was immediately handed to the Justice, who read it, rose to his feet, addressed the court, and then swept back into his room.

The buzz in the courtroom as everyone filed out was strong enough for Flora to feel it on her skin. The excitement coming from the press box and the many glances being thrown her way told Flora her stunt hadn’t gone unnoticed. It couldn’t be helped. She’d tried everything else.

Rather than join the exodus, she stayed seated and closed her eyes. The muscles on her face hurt from the tight, unmoving position she’d held them in and, now that she relaxed them, emotions she’d contained just as tightly rose to the surface and threatened to choke her.

Rubbing her belly, she concentrated on breathing in and out. Something was going to happen and she needed to be calm and in her zen zone to cope with whatever that something would be.

Would Ramos decide to ignore her obvious pregnancy just as he’d successfully ignored her these last eight months? Ignore was the wrong word. He hadn’t ignored her. He’d ghosted her. He’d seduced her, kissed heradiosand then cut her dead.

Or would he acknowledge her pregnancy but think it a jest? Or assume another man was the father?

She would put nothing past him.

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