Page 64 of The Duke's Virgin

Emmett sat down next to me, and I stirred, trying to smile at him.

He pushed a drink into my hand, and I curled my fingers around it, the cool, frosty condensation a welcome relief. My first sip was tentative, but my belly welcomed it, so I took another before lowering it, holding the chilled glass between my hands.

“Want one of these nachos?”

Emmett held the dish closer to me. The scent of peppers, spicy meat, and cheese rose to fill my nostrils.

I slammed the glass of lemon-lime soda down so hard it splashed out. Bolting upright, I took off from the group, although I had no idea which way. I didn’t make it to a bathroom.

I made it to the hallway outside where the rooftop bathroom was, and the sight of the line there made it clear I wouldn’t have any chance of making it inside.

But a server caught sight of me, and she must have recognized the look on my face. She caught my arm, swung me around, and nudged me into a hall I hadn’t even seen.

“There, baby…right there…” She nudged me toward a garbage can, and I bent over, just in time, emptying my stomach. I wretched several times more before the spasms mercifully stopped.

I straightened slowly, head pounding, saliva pooling in my mouth.

The server, a tall, skinny woman, her dreads pulled into a regal looking crown, stood there. She had a glass of light gold, sparkling liquid in her hand. “Ginger ale. Try it. It might help.”

I took the glass and sipped mechanically. “Thank you.”

“Better?”

I looked at her, embarrassed, but thankful. “I don’t know yet.

“You don’t look so glassy-eyed.” She pursed her lips as she studied me. “You’re not drunk, that’s obvious. Did you eat something that upset your belly?”

“No.” I blanched at the thought and added, “My friend had some nachos and just the smell of it…” I gulped hard, the memory almost as fresh as the experience.

“Oh, honey.” She laughed and patted my arm. “I remember those days. Take another drink, give it a few minutes. Those first couple of months can be a pain.”

Not thinking about what she said, I did take another sip.

Those first few months…

Just as Emmett came around the corner, I realized what she meant. And I realized something else, too. I’d missed my period.

“Son of a bitch,” I breathed to the kind server. “I’m pregnant.”

Emmett’s eyes popped wide.

Twenty-Two

Luka

Accepting a glass of wine,I tried to focus on the conversation drifting around us, tried to focus on the woman I’d been partnered with for the night.

Her name was Violet Bourne, the daughter of one of my father’s oldest friends and a member of one of the oldest noble families in Europe with ties to the British monarchy.

I had no doubt that my mother had at least something to do with this particular seating arrangement. She’d dropped what I believe she’d assumed were subtle hints about the young woman. While my mother had many skills andcouldbe subtle, match making and subtlety didn’t go well when she tried to pair them together.

“How is your friend?” Violet paused, then added, “The Formula One racer, Emmett?”

The question was the only one Violet had asked that generated any interest from me all night, although I’d feigned it anyway.

“He’s doing better, thank you.” I gave her a brief nod. I hadn’t talked to him much, but we texted a few times a week. He’d called a few days ago, and although I felt like an ass, I kept the conversation brief, claiming I was supposed to be taking a conference call with a diplomat who didn’t even exist.

Talking to him was hard right now. As much as I wanted to, I hadn’t let myself ask about Stacia, or what was going on between them. Just trying to keep things feeling…normalbetween us was proving to be harder than I’d thought.

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