Page 80 of The Duke's Virgin

Holding my gown, shoes, and what remained of my pride, I hurried out and headed to the elevator.

One of my shoes fell, but I didn’t bother to grab it.

Two men had been standing outside Luka’s doors. Bodyguards, I assumed.

One of them called to me as I jabbed the elevator’s down button, but I didn’t look back.

The doors opened instantly, and I darted inside, hitting the button for the lobby before the bodyguard could reach me.

I was getting the hell away from there. I’d go by the restroom on the lobby level and change there. The front desk could either send the throw back up to Luka’s room, or I’d pay for it. I had cards in my purse. I was tempted to just sail out while wearing the damn thing, but Luka just might try to claim I’d stolen it.

My eyes burned, tears threatening, but I shoved them down.

I couldn’t cry.

Not yet.

Twenty-Eight

Luka

“I thinkI’ll go back to the palace now.”

Like hell,I thought. Catching her arm as she strode by, I whirled her around, glaring at her. “I want a fucking answer!”

“I’m pregnant!”

I felt like she’d struck me, straight in the gut.

“I can’t drink the champagne because I’m pregnant! Okay?” She jerked away, twisting easily out of my grip. She squared her shoulders and firmed her jaw, glaring at me.

I couldn’t figure out the look in her eyes, but at the moment, I was having a hard time even understanding my own thoughts.

I’m pregnant.

All the pictures I’d seen over the past few weeks, her with Emmett at another New York charity function. Them at a party. A baseball game. Laughing at a gala to raise funds for the Bronx Zoo.

I’m pregnant.

I heard my own voice asking her, “Is there any reason you can’t come back to my hotel with me?”

Had it even been two hours since I’d asked?

She’d saidno,and I’d been ecstatic and not just because I’d soon be buried balls-deep inside her again, but because of whatelseit could mean—it meant she couldn’t be serious about Emmett. Not really. She might be dating him, but if they were serious, she wouldn’t sleep with me.

That was what I’d thought.

How fucking wrong I’d been.

“You…” Unable to keep looking at her as I gathered my thoughts, I stared at my feet. My heart hammered in my ears, blood rushing, roaring like one of the Formula One engines I loved so much. All I wanted now was blessed quiet—and about a thousand miles between me and this woman I’d become so obsessed with.

Lifting my head, I stared at her. A part of me committed each feature to memory while another started mentally castigating myself for what happened this evening. I couldn’t blameonlyher, either. I’d asked her to come to my hotel. I’d stabbed my own best friend in the back.

“Get out,” I said, so disgusted with us both, I couldn’t think straight. Sohurt, I wanted to puke.

Behind me, Stacia spoke, and damn her, she actually had the nerve to soundstunned. “What?”

“I’ll take some of the blame here.” I looked back, and again, the beauty of her, of her soft blue eyes, the curve of her jaw, the elegance of her cheekbones, struck me like a fist. “I knew you were dating Emmett, which was why Iaskedif there was any reason you couldn’t come back to my hotel with me—if it was serious between you two, I would havethoughtyou’d consider him a reason. Ababydamn well should have been a reason. At least inmymind. And I know him well enough to say that Emmett would consider a baby a good fucking reason not to come to my room with me. But I was stupid and wanted you enough to think that maybe things weren’t serious between you two, that you’d be honest with me. Clearly, I was wrong. But I’ll rectify that mistake.”

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