Pregnant With The Ruthless Prince's Heir

A Sinking Feeling

"Oh hell no!" Emma stared at the pregnancy test like it had personally betrayed her. Two pink lines. Two freaking pink lines that were about to ruin her entire existence.

She laughed, the kind of laugh that meant she was definitely losing it. "Really, universe? Really? This is your idea of a joke?"

Six weeks. It had been six weeks since she'd fled from Prince Alexander's penthouse like Cinderella, except instead of losing a glass slipper, she'd apparently left with a little surprise growing inside her.

All those weird symptoms suddenly made perfect sense. The throwing up every morning (she'd blamed bad takeout), the exhaustion (she'd blamed her two jobs), and missing her period (she'd blamed stress). Turns out, she should have blamed one incredibly arrogant, devastatingly handsome prince.

"Pregnant," she muttered, sinking onto her tiny apartment's couch. "By a prince who thinks I'm a prostitute. This is fine. Everything is fine."

Her phone buzzed. A text from her brother Jake: Rent's due tomorrow. Are you good?

She wasn't good. She was the opposite of good. She was pregnant, broke, and the father of her baby had literally paid her for sleeping with him.

---

Six Weeks Earlier...

"So," Prince Alexander had said the morning after, his voice colder than her frozen coffee. "What's your rate?"

Emma had been humming, actually humming like some Disney princess, still wearing his shirt. "Rate for what?"

"Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you."

She'd turned around, confused. "I'm sorry?"

"The innocent act is cute, but we both know what you are." He'd pulled out his phone, showing her profile on Elite Companions. Her stomach had dropped to the floor.

"That's not....I mean, yes, I work for them, but...."

"But what? You provide 'companionship services' for wealthy men. Last night was just business, wasn't it?"

Emma had felt her face burn. "You think I slept with you for money?"

"Didn't you?" His eyes were ice cold. "Elite Companions. High-end escort service. You were my date for the charity gala. Do the math."

"I escort people to events! I don't, we don't, that's not what the company does!"

Alexander had laughed, but it wasn't a nice sound. "Right. And I'm sure all your 'dates' end with breakfast in bed."

"Last night was different!" She'd practically shouted it. "I didn't sleep with you because of work. I slept with you because..."

"Because?"

Because you made me laugh. Because you listened when I talked about my brother. Because for five hours, you made me forget I was drowning in debt and responsibility.

But she couldn't say that. Not when he was looking at her like she was something dirty.

"Forget it," she'd whispered instead.

"Here." He'd tossed an envelope on the counter. "For services rendered. Don't worry, I tip well."

Emma had stared at the envelope like it might bite her. "I don't want your money."

"Everyone wants money, sweetheart. That's how the world works."

She'd grabbed her purse and ran. Literally ran out of his penthouse like the building was on fire.

----

Present Day...

Now, staring at that positive pregnancy test, Emma realized the joke was on her. She'd left his money behind, but she'd taken something else entirely.

She stared at the envelope she'd never opened, the one that had been burning a hole in her kitchen drawer for six weeks. The thick black letters seemed to mock her:

"YOU EARNED THIS."

"Yeah," she whispered, one hand moving to her still-flat stomach. "I guess I did."

******FLASHBACK******

The Night That Started It All

"Your Highness?" A waiter practically trembled as he approached, balancing a glass of scotch on his silver tray.

Prince Alexander's mouth twisted into that familiar cold smile. Even here in New York, thousands of miles from his kingdom, people still whispered about the "Ruthless Prince."

Great. Just great.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking the drink. The waiter practically ran away.

Alexander sipped his scotch and scanned the charity gala with bored eyes. Why did I agree to this again? Oh right, diplomatic relations. His father's orders. Show up, smile, write a check, leave.

He was already planning his escape when he saw her.

"Holy shit!"

The woman was stunning. Tall, blonde hair twisted up elegantly, wearing a dress that was basically legal torture in deep emerald green. She laughed at something her date said, and Alexander felt his chest tighten.

Who is she?

He downed the rest of his scotch, already moving toward her before his brain caught up. It didn't matter who she was with. Prince Alexander of Aldoria had never met a woman who could resist him.

This should be easy, then her date turned around

Alexander stopped dead in his tracks, his blood turning to ice.

Reagan Mitchell?

"Son of a bitch," he whispered.

Reagan freaking Mitchell. The same bastard who'd married his cousin Sophie for her trust fund, then cheated on her with half of Manhattan before taking half of everything in the divorce.

Alexander's hand clenched around his empty glass. He'd been waiting three years for a chance to make Reagan pay for what he did to Sophie. And here was the perfect opportunity, gift-wrapped in a gorgeous blonde package.

This just got interesting.

The woman laughed again, and Alexander's jaw tightened. She had no idea what kind of snake she was with. Reagan would use her, just like he used Sophie.

"Well, not if I can help it."

"Time for some payback," Alexander murmured, straightening his tie.

Reagan Mitchell was about to learn what happens when you mess with the royal family.

And if Alexander got to spend the evening with the most beautiful woman in the room while doing it? Even better.

He started walking toward them, that cold smile spreading across his face.

Game on, Reagan.

The Lines She Fell For

"If beauty were a crime, you'd be serving a life sentence." The voice came from behind Emma, soft and deep with an accent she couldn't place.

Emma felt goosebumps spread across her arms. She turned around slowly, expecting to see another wealthy businessman in an expensive suit. Instead, she found herself looking up at a man who took her breath away.

He was tall and broad-shouldered with warm olive skin. His dark hair touched his collar and had a slight wave at the ends. His eyebrows were thick and dark, framing a face with perfect bone structure. His jaw was square and covered with just the right amount of stubble. His lips were full, his nose straight and strong. But it was his eyes that made her heart skip - they were deep brown, almost black, and seemed to see right through her.

Emma stared at him, completely caught off guard. For a moment, she forgot where she was and why she was there. Then reality came rushing back. She was working tonight, and she couldn't afford to mess this up. She needed this job to keep paying for her brother's college.

Emma blinked and forced a polite smile. "Thank you," she said quietly, turning back to the bar.

Just then, another woman pushed in front of her and got the bartender's attention.

"Oh, come on," Emma muttered under her breath.

"What would you like to drink?" the man asked. His voice was smooth and warm, like honey.

Emma almost smiled despite herself. If this man was at a thousand-dollar charity event, he definitely didn't need a second job. "I'm fine, really. I can wait my turn."

"You were waiting your turn before," he pointed out. "How did that work out?"

Emma glanced at him. "If you hadn't distracted me, I would have my drink by now."

He smiled at that, and Emma felt her heart flutter. "Let me help," he said, placing his hand gently on her back.

The touch sent warmth spreading through Emma's body. She was so surprised that she let him guide her through the crowd without protest. Somehow, he found a small space at the front of the bar and raised his hand. A waitress appeared immediately.

"Good evening, Your Highness," the waitress said with a respectful bow.

Emma's eyes went wide. "Your Highness?" she whispered.

The man's eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched her surprise. "The lady would like to order first," he told the waitress.

Emma's mind was spinning, but she managed to speak. "Mineral water in a champagne flute, please. And a glass of red wine."

"And for you, Your Highness?" the waitress asked.

"Just water in a regular glass."

When the waitress left, Emma turned to face him fully. "Are you really royalty?"

"It appears so," he said with a small smile.

"Are you being mysterious on purpose?"

"No one has ever called me that before."

"Maybe not to your face," Emma said.

He laughed then - a rich, warm sound that made several people look their way. The sound did something to Emma's pulse, making it race. She was glad the crowd was pushing them closer together.

"Who are you?" she asked, her curiosity growing stronger.

"My name is Alexander," he said softly.

"Should I call you Your Highness?"

"No, that wouldn't be right."

Emma looked confused. "But if you're a king..."

"I'm not a king yet," he said, and something in his voice made her think she'd touched on a sensitive subject.

"I'd rather hear my name from your lips than my title," he said. His thumb touched her chin gently, lifting her face so their eyes met. The world seemed to disappear around them.

"I can't," Emma said, though her voice wasn't as strong as she wanted it to be. "I have to go back to my date."

"Is that what you really want?"

Emma felt torn. Part of her wanted to stay and talk to this mysterious prince, but she had responsibilities. "I have obligations," she said, not moving away from him.

"Let me tell you what a real date would be like," Alexander said. "First, I would send you to the best boutique in the city. You could choose anything you wanted - a beautiful dress, elegant shoes, jewelry that sparkles like stars. Whatever your heart desired."

Emma listened, caught up in his words.

"Then my driver would take you to the finest hotel's penthouse suite. You'd have the whole afternoon to get ready, to pamper yourself, to rest so you'd be ready for the evening."

"Ready for what?" Emma asked quietly.

"At eight o'clock, I would come for you personally. We'd go to dinner at a restaurant I'd reserve just for us. No one else would be there. We'd talk, laugh, dance like we were the only two people in the world. And then, before midnight, we'd go back to your hotel room, where I'd spend the night showing you how beautiful you are."

Emma closed her eyes as images filled her mind. Silk sheets, soft lighting, gentle hands, whispered words. It sounded perfect, like something from a fairy tale. But Emma had learned not to trust fairy tales.

"What happens the next morning?" she whispered.

Something changed in Alexander's eyes - surprise, maybe respect. "The morning would be a new day," he said quietly.

"And?"

"And I would be gone. You wouldn't see me again."

Emma felt her heart sink. There it was, the truth. One magical night, then nothing. At least he was honest about it. Most men would promise to call and never do.

"Thank you for being honest," she said, stepping back slightly.

"I don't make promises I can't keep."

"That's something, I suppose." Emma picked up her drinks from the bar. "Well, Alexander, this has been... interesting. But I really do need to get back."

She started to walk away, but his voice stopped her.

"Wait."

She paused but didn't turn around. "What?"

"I don't even know your name."

Emma felt her heart do a strange little flip. For a moment, she almost turned back to tell him. The way he said it, with such genuine interest, made her want to share more than just her name. But she caught herself just in time.

"Maybe that's for the best," she said softly, still not looking back.

"Is it?"

She could hear the smile in his voice, and it made her decision even harder. "Yes. It is."

Emma forced herself to walk away, her heart pounding with each step. She could feel his eyes on her as she moved through the crowd, but she didn't look back. She couldn't afford to.

When she finally reached her table, she glanced over her shoulder. Alexander was still standing by the bar, watching her with those dark, mysterious eyes. Even from across the room, she could feel the pull between them.

Emma realized she was in much deeper trouble than she had thought.

Sweet Revenge

If there was one thing Emma had to give this stranger credit for, it was his brutal honesty. Most men would have lied and promised her the world.

Emma looked around quickly and saw that Reagan's back was turned to her. "Thank God," she whispered. Her hands were shaking from everything Alexander had just said, and from the panic of almost being caught talking to another man.

If Reagan reported this back to the agency, she would be fired for sure. And she couldn't afford to lose this job.

Where else could she find work like this? Elite Companions was different from other escort agencies. They had one iron rule - no sex between clients and staff. Ever. It was what made Emma feel safe taking these jobs without worrying that some creepy guy would expect extra services at the end of the night. And it paid ten times more than anything else she was qualified to do.

"I can't go home with you," Emma said, and her voice was full of sadness because part of her really wanted to. "Please just forget we ever met. I have to go back to my date."

She turned and walked straight back to Reagan, trying to ignore the way Alexander's eyes followed her every step.

Ten minutes later, Reagan waved her over. "Emma, be a doll and get drinks for me and the guys," he said without even looking at her, like she was some kind of servant.

Emma's jaw tightened, but she forced a smile. "Of course. What would you like?"

As she made her way back to the bar, she could feel Alexander watching her again. Sure enough, he appeared beside her like a shadow.

"Is this what you think a date should be like?" Alexander asked, his voice full of disapproval. "What kind of men have you been wasting your time with?"

"You don't know the half of it," Emma muttered before she could stop herself.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Then let tonight be the night you stop settling for less."

"We already talked about this. I'm not going anywhere with you, Alexander."

"Is it because you'd rather stay with him?" Alexander gestured toward Reagan's table. "Or because I was honest about what would happen the morning after?"

Emma felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. "A little of both," she admitted.

"I don't believe you. Not about the first part." Alexander's voice was low and intense. "I've been watching you all night. There's no spark between you two. Nothing like what happened when I touch you."

Emma swallowed hard. She had never felt anything like what she felt when Alexander touched her. It was like electricity running through her whole body.

"I wish you would stop watching me," she said quietly, though that was a complete lie. Even from across the room, his gaze made her feel like she was on fire.

"I can't stop watching you as long as you're in this room," Alexander said simply. "I will watch you, and I will want you. All I'm asking for is tonight."

His directness took Emma's breath away. "Alexander," she said weakly, "you have to stop this."

"When it's so obvious that we both want the same thing?"

She couldn't deny that, so she stuck to her original excuse. "I'm here on a date, and I'm not going to ditch him for someone I just met. That's not the kind of person I am."

Instead of arguing, Alexander simply put his arm around her waist and guided her away from the bar.

"Hey!" Emma protested. "I have to order their drinks!"

"Their drinks?" Alexander's voice was sharp with anger. "You're fetching drinks for his entire group?"

"It's just a few drinks. No big deal." Emma tried to sound casual. "I offered to help."

Alexander clearly didn't believe her lie. He called over a waitress and had Emma tell her what drinks to bring to Reagan's table.

Then he led Emma further away from the crowd, toward the edge of the room where floor-to-ceiling windows lined the wall. Thick gold curtains framed each window. As they approached, a security guard bowed and stepped aside.

Another guard pressed something, and Emma realized the windows were actually French doors. They opened onto a narrow balcony that wrapped around the Manhattan high-rise. The view was breathtaking.

Emma felt overwhelmed by the beauty spread out before her. The city lights twinkled like stars below them.

"I can't stay out here long," she said, even though she was fighting a losing battle. Part of her really did want to go home with him, even if it would only be for one night.

"Why are you so determined to stay with him?" Alexander asked. "Is it serious between you two?"

Emma hesitated. "No, it's not serious."

"Then why waste your time with someone who treats you like hired help?"

"That's none of your business." Emma's voice was pleading now. "Alexander, we just met, and here you are talking about... about sleeping together."

Alexander laughed, a warm sound that made her heart skip. "I'm talking about spending a beautiful night together."

Desire shot through Emma like lightning. She wanted that more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. But how could she?

"What about tomorrow night?" she asked breathlessly. "We could have a proper date."

"No. It has to be tonight."

"Why does it have to be tonight?" Emma asked firmly.

Alexander's eyes grew dark and possessive. "Do you think I could stand watching you go home with another man? You'll be mine tonight, Emma. Not his."

Emma knew she should tell him that she wasn't anyone's property. She was her own person with her own choices. But the way he said it made her stomach flutter with excitement.

"I don't want to upset Reagan," she said, shaking her head.

Alexander's eyes flashed with anger. "A man who treats you like a waitress deserves to be upset."

"I'm serious," Emma said. "We can't be seen leaving together."

"Tell him you're not feeling well and need to leave. I'll follow later. Go outside - my car will be waiting out front. I'll tell my driver to expect you."

Emma felt a shiver run down her spine. This was really happening. There was no going back now.

She pulled out her phone and found Reagan's number. Her fingers shook as she typed: "I'm so sorry, but I'm not feeling well. I didn't want to interrupt your conversation or risk making you sick. Thank you for a lovely evening."

She hit send and looked up at Alexander. "Done."

"Good girl," he said with a smile that made her knees weak.

As Emma headed for the exit, she didn't see Alexander's expression change completely when he spotted Reagan across the room.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" Alexander muttered to himself, his voice turning cold as ice.

He had been waiting for this moment for a long time. The perfect opportunity to make Reagan pay for what he had done to Sophie. Alexander had fantasized about punching that pretty boy face. But now, seeing how Reagan had treated Emma like some kind of servant, Alexander wanted to do much worse.

This was going to be even sweeter than he had imagined.