Page 91 of Beautiful Secrets

But when I turn and open the door, Mika’s standing in the hallway, one hand raised like she was about to knock.

I glance back at Sarah just in time to see her shove her hand behind her back, hiding the pregnancy test, but judging from the expression on Mika’s face when I straighten, she already saw.

Mika shakes her head, her eyes bright with the threat of tears.

“I wasn’t snooping,” Sarah blurts out. “I just…I happened to see it in the trash.”

Mika’s eyes slide back to me.

I stare at her for the longest time, doing my utmost best to sort out the string of irrational thoughts suddenly filling my head.

How the hell could I have thought—even for a second—that this girl is an innocent little flower. Virgin mouth? She probably sucks a new dick every month, how the fuck would I know? Besides, the only women who are that good in the sack are the ones you don’t want to fuck twice—because it’s obvious you got lucky the first time by not getting syphilis.

“Who’s your baby daddy?” I ask her.

Sarah gasps softly. “Cole, you can’t—”

“It is okay.” Mika holds up a hand, and then glances down the hall. “Can we talk alone?” This with her eyes on me.

Sarah hurries past us, pausing for a second beside Mika to push the pregnancy test back in her palm and whisper, “Congratulations…I think,” before disappearing into the hall.

Mika pulls the door closed without looking behind her, and then leans her back against the wood. Blocking me in, I guess, in case I decide to do a runner.

How the tides have changed.

I lift an eyebrow at her. “Someone I know?”

She nods, visibly swallows. “This is not—”

“Nah, I’m getting a much clearer picture.” I grab my jaw, scrape nails over the short bristles that always develop later in the day. “That shit you were telling me about your father marrying you off, that was all bullshit wasn’t it?”

“What?” Her eyes could melt fucking steel. “I did not lie.”

“I find it hard to believe Daddy Dearest would marry you off if you were preggers with some other guy’s kid. Or is your fiancé the one who knocked you up?” I narrow my eyes at her. “Is that why you have to marry him, huh? You break it, you buy it?”

She tries to slap me, but this time I catch her wrist. And then I tug her close.

“That is not what happened,” she says, her words dripping venom.

“I’d ask you to clarify, Mika, but honestly, I’m done with your lies.” I take her by the shoulders and move her aside as gently as I can before grabbing the door handle.

She makes a sound, something like a choked sob. I squeeze my eyes closed.

Christ, I can’t handle a woman crying.

I turn the knob, determined to get the fuck out of here before the waterworks begin, but then she grabs my arm. Not the one she stuck a letter opener through—although she might as well have, because when she speaks, it’s like she’s stabbing me right in the fucking guts.

“I was raped. Three weeks ago.” Her voice catches. “I did not know I was carrying. Only when I see test, then I know.”

My chest is too tight to speak, but I push out the word anyway. “Who?”

“He…he is not the man I am to marry,” she says. “And that is the only thing that will matter. To them, I am a whore. A fucking whore. That is all they will see.”

I turn slowly, utterly reluctantly.

Her eyes are wide. So fucking pretty. But I’m done trying to guess what she’s feeling. What she’s thinking.

That test is real. But what about her story? She has every reason to gain my sympathy—I am the only person standing between her and a new, happy life.