Page 85 of Pretty Secrets

She goes ballistic. “There’s a tampon. In my vagina. It’s been there for a week, and I can’t get it out! Please.”

“Are you a patient here?” the receptionist asks. She peers between me and Edie, and I raise my sunglasses to the top of my head. “Listen, if you’ll just help her, I’ll pay for the expenses.”

The girl’s eyes widen, gaze zeroing in on my face. I make sure I’m wearing that cocky smile the paparazzi always capture. “Prince Oliver?”

I lift my finger to my lips, and Eden groans, slamming her foot down on my own. “I think I’m going into shock…” Her eyes roll, and the nurses rush me forward as I grab a basically limp Eden.

They help her into a room, leaving me with the bewildered receptionist. Now, Eden’s priority is to keep them away from her vag, which is why I hear her “come to” in the other room. “Tell me how to get it out.”

I peer at the starstruck receptionist, who’s still staring at me. I give her a wicked smile. “Love, do you have a room more private for me to wait? The photographers have been hounding me, and I don’t think carrying a girl into an obstetrician’s office will do well for my reputation.”

She gasps. “Oh, of course. Here. Right this way.”

As I’d hoped, she leads me into the records room. The office itself is quite quaint, almost like a house they remodeled into an infirmary. The records room is cramped, with one computer in the corner and a line of filing cases.

“Don’t touch me!” I hear Eden yell. My hackles rise, but I know it’s part of the charade. She’s probably huddled in the corner of the room. I better make this quick.

“She sounds like she’s a lot of work in there. Just my luck to come across her, huh?”

“You’ve definitely earned some brownie points, I think.”

The smitten look on her face unsettles my stomach, but Eden growling quickly captures my full attention. “Just tell me!”

A feminine voice responds, “If you’d let us examine you…”

“They might need help…” I suggest.

The receptionist slowly nods, still grinning at me like a lovesick child. “You’re probably right,” she giggles. “I’ll be back. Don’t move.”

She runs from the room, closing the door behind her and leaving me by myself. I check the room for cameras first, and then move to the filing cabinets when I find none. Everything is meticulously labeled, and I have no problem finding the drawer that holds the girl’s file according to her last name.

Scanning through the other manila folders, I break into a grin when I find the one I’m looking for. I pull it out, spreading it open on top of the others. The very first paper has a lab name in the upper right-hand corner andPaternity Test along the top. I yank my phone out, take a picture, and then flip through the rest of the contents, taking a few more pictures just in case, before placing the folder back into the drawer and shutting it.

Eden makes more of a ruckus in the other room, and I casually lean against the cabinet, smirking to myself when Eden growls, “You don’t need to touch me to help me! Who are you, Nurse Ratchett? Are you about to Kathy Bates me? This is so unprofessional.”

The next thing I hear is a door banging. And...that’s my cue. I open the door to the records room and step out to find Eden clutching her stomach. She winks at me, and then limp-runs from the office.

Adrenaline courses through me as she exits, leaving the nursing staff flummoxed in her wake.

“She had a set of pipes on her,” one nurse remarks in frustration.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurt, making myself known. “I thought she’d let you help.”

“We should call the police,” the other nurse suggests. “She may have been on something.”

I make a disgusted sound in the back of my throat like that’s probably what the issue is. “You know, I’ll just pick her up and drop her off at the hospital. No need to get anyone involved.”

The receptionist nods eagerly, but I’m sure she’d agree with anything I say. “That’s so kind of you.”

“Kind is my middle name,” I smirk.

“No, it’s not. It’s Henry,” she says, giving me a coy smile.

I give it back to her. “You got me there.”

“Who are you?” one of the nurses asks, looking at the two of us like we’ve grown three heads.

The receptionist widens her eyes at her co-worker. “You don’t recognize him? It’s Prince Oliver.”

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