Page 92 of The Duke's Virgin

She could have laughed in my face when I’d suggested she’d been out to get money from me.

Instead, she’d just looked…wounded.

Pushing the memory from my mind, I leaned forward and focused on the pretty black woman on the screen. That hurt too. She had a hand resting on the ripe swell of her belly as she gestured to a media screen featuring a picture of Stacia, one that had clearly been taken at some sort of charity ball. The woman’s pregnant belly made me think of Stacia’s words.

I’m pregnant.

You’re the only man I’ve ever been with.

The memories were like acid, and every day, the misery got worse instead of better.

Now, listening to the reporter on air talk, I thought I might be sick.

“Sources close to the family report having corresponded with her via email, but nobody has talked to her or received so much as a text or phone call in two weeks, Matthew. Many of them are very worried, and nobody is sure where she’s gone or if she’s even safe.”

Matthew, a blue-eyed brunet with a too-white smile that looked out of place as he nodded at the other woman, responded, “Erica, their concerns are quite understandable. We’ve contacted the NYPD, of course, and they tell us there’s no cause for concern, but clearly, there is, wouldn’t you think?”

“According to one source I spoke with, Ms. Harden simply doesn’t want to talk to anybody.” Erica’s hand shifted slightly, and I found myself staring at her belly yet again, entranced.

Was Stacia starting to show?

Wasshe safe?

What if something had happened? Nobody would even know—

“Are you going to stop staring at the fucking TV and do something?”

The sound of Geraint’s voice jerked me out of a hypnotic daze so complete, I hadn’t even realized he was in the room. Swinging my head around to look at him, I spotted him in the chair sitting at an angle to mine, just over a meter away. He held a glass of wine in one hand, and it was down to the last few sips. There was a bottle on the table between us, and a glass, untouched, sat next to it.

Trying to ignore his comment, I asked, “Is that for me?”

“Yes. As I said to you nearly thirty minutes ago, how about we watch something bloody and stupid and relax?” He sipped his wine, eyes narrowed on my face. “You grunted at me and just kept staring at the television. Clearly, you didn’t even hear me.”

“My mind is elsewhere.” I grabbed the wine and tossed it back.

“I noticed.” He swirled the rest of the wine in his glass before draining it and reaching for the bottle. After pouring more, he leaned back and studied me. “Let me guess…it’s somewhere in America, am I right?”

I glared at him, not realizing until it was too late that I’d given away more than I’d prefer.

Geraint saw my reaction and scoffed. “No point in hiding it, Luka. I’ve been sitting here all this time watching you bite your nails to keep from trying to call her.” He looked pointedly at the phone I’d left on the arm of the chair.

I’d lost track of how many times I’d reached for it.

Geraint arched his brows. “I had a bet with myself. I lost, but you could still call her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I finished the wine, but instead of pouring more, I rose and went to the sidebar, searching out a bottle of brandy.

I splashed into the wine glass, much to Geraint’s horror.

He shuddered as I turned to him and tossed back a healthy swallow. “That’s barbaric.”

It was. I didn’t care. I needed something stronger than red wine.

“You are out of your mind over her,” he mused. “I thought I saw something between you two at Aeric’s birthday party, but I wasn’t certain. Now? Oh, I’m quite certain.”

The expression in his eyes had me fighting the urge to look away. I didn’t allow myself to do so, but it didn’t help.

Geraint rose, putting his wine down. I tensed as he crossed the room to me, stopping just an arm’s length away.

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