Page 62 of Beauty and the Daddy

Then I collapse onto the bed where Luca claimed me so thoroughly just hours ago, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer solutions.

Pregnant with the baby of a man who lied to his own brother about my condition. A man who's already told the world I'm carrying his child when I didn't even know it myself.

The irony would be funny if it weren't so terrifying.

I must have drifted off, because the next thing I know, the door creaks open.

"Belle? You okay?"

I shoot up, heart slamming. He's standing in the doorway, suit jacket off, tie loosened. His eyes lock on mine.

And just like that, every ounce of blood drains from my body. Because if he looks too close, he'll know.

"Yeah. Totally fine," I lie.

My throat's all dry. I fake a smile. But inside?

I'm a girl in trouble, and my secret's ticking louder than a bomb.

"You sure, baby?" His brow furrows. "You look pale."

"I'm fine," I lie straight through my teeth, forcing a smile that makes my cheeks tremble.

Luca's eyes narrow. I need to get my shit together, fast.

"Just tired from all the sightseeing," I add casually. "Rome is... a lot."

Luca nods slowly. "Well, we fly back tomorrow morning."

Thank God. I need to get out of Italy and figure out what the hell I'm going to do about the tiny Moretti currently setting up shop in my uterus.

12

BELLE

Three days back from Rome, and I've mastered the art of silent vomiting. If they gave Olympic medals for stealth morning sickness, I'd be draped in gold.

Bathroom tiles bite my knees as I finish today's performance, shower running full blast to drown out the sound. My throat burns, but at least my secret's safe for another day.

"Belle?" Sofia's little voice calls through the door. "Are you okay? Bruno wants to know."

I flush the toilet and rinse my mouth.

"Coming, sweetie!" I call back, splashing cold water on my face. I open the door to find Sofia and Bruno waiting.

"You don't look good." She frowns. "Your face is the color of my gray crayon."

No arguments here. I know how I look, and the kid doesn't miss by a mile. Best I can do is give her the next best truth.

I laugh, ruffling her hair. "I'm just tired from our trip. Italy is in a different time zone, remember?"

"Uh-huh." She stares right up at me, those cute little eyes like buttons she wants to stitch on me.

"Hey, listen up," I say, crouching down to her level. "How about we make pancakes for breakfast? I promise not to burn them this time."

Her face lights up. "With chocolate chips?"

"Is there any other kind?"