Page 48 of The Prince's Pregnant Secretary

“Yes?”

“Is this Prince Alaric Van Ambrose?”

The cultured yet snooty feminine voice immediately set him on edge. Disdain dripped through the phone.

“Who’s calling?”

“My name is Temperance Clemont. My son was married to your wife.”

She practically spat out the wordwife. His entire body tensed. What little Clara had shared about her former husband and her in-laws had left him with the impression that Temperance and Stanley Clemont had spoiled the hell out of their one and only child, rendering him a useless human being who had tried to exert a childish control over the woman he should have revered. Every time he remembered Clara’s face, the sadness and shame when she’d revealed Miles’s behavior in the minutes leading up to his fatal accident, he wanted to strangle the man for daring to lay a hand on her.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Clemont?”

“It’s not what you can do for me, Your Highness, but what I can do for you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for melodrama, Mrs. Clemont. I understand your history with my wife is not a pleasant one, but I have no interest in dredging up the past.”

“Even if a scandal could rock everything you’ve built for your country?”

Anger started to burn deep in his chest.

“I don’t take kindly to threats.”

“I’m not threatening,” Temperance replied coolly. “I’m merely sharing valuable information.”

“That your son died because he was drinking and made the poor decision to drive?”

Silence followed his bald statement. He didn’t feel the least bit guilty. The woman had somehow manipulated Clara into thinking it was her fault that Miles had died when she had raised him to never take responsibility for his own actions.

“My son died because of Clara.”

The ice in Temperance’s voice could have frozen hell.

“Clara had nothing to do with it. If you’re saying she’s responsible because she didn’t stop him from driving—”

“Clara’s responsible because she was in the car with Miles when it crashed. The police found her fingerprints on the wheel.”

Clara woke in a pleasant daze. She reached out, her hand brushing the empty space beside her. Disappointment filled her when she opened her eyes and realized she was alone. Who would have guessed how quickly she would get used to sleeping next to and waking up with her husband after sleeping alone for her whole life?

She stretched her arms above her head, wincing as her muscles burned. She hadn’t meant to share her feelings with Alaric last night. But when he’d looked at her with such tenderness, when he’d been frightened for her and the baby, she hadn’t been able to stop the words from flowing.

She slowly got out of bed and headed toward the sunken hot tub. As the tub filled with warm water and relaxed the parts of her body that ached from their night of amorous lovemaking, she finally acknowledged the truth she’d been trying to deny: she needed to tell Alaric everything. All she was doing was delaying the inevitable. He deserved the truth, had deserved it before they’d said their vows. She in turn needed to trust what he had said last night before he’d claimed her body with his own, that they wouldn’t lose what they had created.

It wasn’t until she was getting dressed that she saw the light blinking on her phone. A quick check showed that the text was from Alaric. Her grin dimmed a bit as she read the brief message.

Please come to my office when you’re awake.

She checked her reflection in the mirror, smoothed her hair and headed down the hall. Not the sweetest of messages after the night they’d had. But he was still working very hard on the deal with Switzerland. Who knew what catastrophe he could have potentially woken up to.

She knocked on the door to his office.

“Come in.”

Unease whispered across the back of her neck as she opened the door and saw him standing by the window with his back to her, his hands tucked into his pockets. Just two weeks ago Alaric had opened the door for her at the palace. “Things have changed,” he’d said.

Had something else happened?

Stop being negative.

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