The Prince's Pregnant Mistress. Maisey Yates
she wanted him.
She was like a different woman with him. A woman in love.
It was always so frantic when he was there. Tonight was no exception. They’d finished dinner, a walk through the town, then back to the hotel, where he’d consumed her.
There had been an edge to him tonight, an intensity. Not that she was complaining.
She stretched out on the sheets, curling her toes. She was still recovering. She giggled and rolled onto her side, looking toward the bathroom.
The door was closed, a sliver of light visible beneath it. She sighed heavily, waiting for him to come back to bed.
Waiting impatiently.
Tonight felt different. Significant and special.
She loved him so much. She ached with it. She’d never thought she could feel this way about someone. Never thought someone could feel this way about her.
She was ready for more. She was ready for everything.
The bathroom door opened, and her heart skipped a little. That made her smile. It was ridiculous how giddy she was over him. But then, she’d never let a man close enough to her to have this kind of intimacy.
In her waitressing job she got hit on by men all the time. She just wasn’t...swayed by it. At all. She had been thoroughly disenchanted with men by the time she’d moved out of her mother’s home at sixteen. She’d seen too much. Too much heartbreak. Too much screaming.
Bailey had decided to make her own life, her own future. She’d made it to twenty-one a virgin because she’d been so determined to wait until it was right, until she was ready.
And then she’d met Raphael. Her friends barely believed he existed. She’d stopped talking much about him when all she’d gotten were skeptical eye rolls and Raphael? Bailey, are you dating a Ninja Turtle?
He’d never met them because he was so busy whenever he flew in. And then she wanted him all to herself. So yeah, she was giddy. She had a feeling she always would be.
“Bailey, shouldn’t you be getting dressed?”
She frowned. She hadn’t expected him to say that. She spent the night with him all the time when he came through town. “I thought...well.” She swept a hand over her bare curves. “I’m ready for more if you are.”
“I have an early flight out—I thought I told you.”
He looked grim suddenly. She hated that grimness. It grabbed her by the throat and held her tight, filled her lungs with dread, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. “No. You didn’t.” She forced a smile because there was no point fighting with him if these were their last few minutes together before he had to leave again. “You have to go back to Italy?”
“Yes,” he said, reaching for his pants and tugging them on, covering up his gorgeous body.
She watched him dress the rest of the way, the reverse strip show still arousing even if it had a more depressing ending than the alternative.
His muscles rippled with each movement, his fingers blunt and efficient as he buttoned his shirt. Reminding her of just how efficient they were with her.
“Bailey,” he said again, his tone vaguely...irritated. She couldn’t recall Raphael ever being irritated with her before.
“I’m comfortable,” she said, sighing heavily and rolling out of bed. “There. Now I’m not. I hope you’re happy.” She purposefully wiggled her hips a little bit as she made her way to where he’d torn her dress off earlier. “I hope this survived,” she said, picking it up gingerly.
“I’ll replace it if it didn’t.”
“I’m more worried about what I’ll wear home.” Another sigh escaped her lips. “When are you coming back?”
“I’m not.”
She felt like all the air had been pulled from her body. She just stood there, blinking in the dim light, totally frozen while her fingers went numb and her insides went cold. “What do you mean, you aren’t coming back?”
“I don’t have any more work here in Vail. We’re finished up with our meetings.”
“Right. So. But... I’m here.”
He laughed, a hard, low sound that wasn’t like Raphael at all. “Sorry, cara, that is not enticement enough.”
She was dumbstruck. Completely. And she hated herself for it. “I don’t understand. We just had the nicest date and the best... I don’t... I don’t understand.”
“It was goodbye. You have been an especially lovely diversion, but that’s all it could ever be. I have a life back in Italy, and it’s time I got back to it in earnest.”
Dumbstruck turned into sucker punched. “A life? Are you... Raphael, are you married?”
“About to be,” he said, his tone hard. “I can’t afford distractions any longer.”
“You’re engaged. Of course you are,” she said, words tumbling out of her mouth without her permission. “I bet you...live with her. Of course you only come and visit me every couple of months. I’m such an idiot.” She covered her mouth and stifled a scream. She was too angry to be humiliated. Too wounded to care if she bled all over him. “I was... I was a virgin, and you knew that,” she threw at him. “I told you it was a big step for me!” Angry tears welled in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks.
“And I appreciated the gift, tesorina,” he said, his tone now like iron. “We were together for eight months. It was hardly a fling.”
“It’s a fling if one of you isn’t taking it seriously at all!” A sob rose in her throat, shaking her whole body. “If one of you knew it would end and was sleeping with someone else.” She bent down then, picked up her shoe and threw it at his head.
He dodged it neatly, an Italian swear word on his lips.
She bent again, picking up her other shoe and flinging that at him too. This one hit him square in the chest. He closed the distance between them, grabbing hold of her wrist. “Enough.” He released her as quickly as he’d taken hold of her. “Don’t embarrass yourself, Bailey. Not more than you already have.”
“You should be embarrassed,” she said, her voice shaking. She pulled the dress on, then moved to pick her shoes up. She hadn’t put her nylons back on, but who had the time for that ridiculousness when your heart had just been ripped out through your chest? “You are the one who lied to me.” She sniffed much louder than she meant to, pulling her coat on over the dress, trying to ignore the fact that she was shaking so hard now her teeth were chattering.
“I never lied to you,” he said, his dark eyes burning. “You created the story you wanted to believe.”
She let out a feral growl and rushed past him, heading out the door as quickly as she could, feeling like a disgraced hooker walking out of his hotel room in the middle of the night, wearing high heels and a beautiful dress that she was going to have to burn now.
It wasn’t until she was outside, until the cold wrapped itself around her, overtaking her, that she fell apart. Completely, utterly. She sank to her knees in the snow, sobbing until her throat hurt.
It felt like her life was over. And right now, she did not have it in her to put herself back together.
Three months later
I’m sorry, Bailey. But I can’t have a waitress falling asleep in the kitchen in the middle of her shift. Especially not a fat waitress.
Her boss’s voice played over and over in her head as she trudged back to her apartment. She had been right, that night three months ago when Raphael had broken things off with her. Her life pretty much felt like it was over.
She was so far behind in her classes it didn’t look like she