her, aren’t you?” one of them said. “The girl dating Qadir. He’s delicious. I like him the best. What’s he really like?”
Maggie wondered if she was standing there with her mouth hanging open from shock. These girls had recognized her from those stupid tabloid pictures? Was it possible?
“Oh, hi,” she said, feeling like an idiot. “He’s really nice. Friendly.”
“How did you meet?”
“I work at the palace.”
The other girl sighed. “I wish I could get a job there. My mom says I’m not the type to do real work, but I could do something.”
Her friend smiled. “He’s the best. You’re so lucky. Come on. We need to get to school.”
They waved and left. Maggie walked around to the next aisle, where she picked up some bandages she didn’t need. When she was sure the girls were gone, she returned to the first aisle and bought three different pregnancy kits. Then she went to the front of the store and paid for them.
What she didn’t see was the third teenage girl lurking behind, her cell phone held high, camera at the ready. As Maggie fished money out of her wallet, the third girl started snapping pictures.
Twenty-four hours later, Maggie sat on her sofa trying to decide which was worse—the fact that she was pregnant, or the picture in the paper showing her buying the pregnancy kits.
And the speculation that the child was Qadir’s.
Chapter Eight
Maggie couldn’t believe it. There was her picture and she was clearly holding the pregnancy kits. Who had done that and how? Who walked around with a camera all the …
A cell phone, she thought as she sank onto the sofa and held in a groan. Those girls. Was it possible?
She looked at the grainy picture and realized it was more than possible. It had happened.
She didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Remembering that last night with Jon, she knew it had to have happened then. But why did she have to be pregnant? Now? Like this?
She covered her face with her hands, ashamed, embarrassed, confused. This couldn’t be real. She was asleep and she would wake up and be grateful that—
Someone knocked on the door. She didn’t want to answer, but knew she couldn’t hide out in her suite forever. She would have to face Qadir. She winced, thinking about how all this was going to effect him. What must he think of her?
She stood and walked to the door, then sucked in a breath and pulled it open.
She’d been hoping for Victoria. Instead a handsome prince stood in her doorway.
“I see by your expression you’ve seen the morning paper,” he said calmly. “May I come in?”
She stepped back, then closed the door behind him. Heat burned on her cheeks. She had no idea what to say. She’d never planned on getting pregnant in the first place, let alone drag him into the mess, with people assuming the child was his.
“I feel horrible,” she said, knowing she should be the one to start the conversation. “I had no idea about this. You have to believe me.”
“I do.” He looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable. “Jon is the father?”
She nodded. “There was one time, a few weeks ago. I was feeling lost and alone and things just got out of hand.” She pressed her lips together. Okay, not the whole truth, but she was afraid to have him think even less of her by explaining it all in detail.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said. “Not that, not the pregnancy. We don’t love each other. He’s with someone else and I’ve moved on.” She was more sure of that by the day. “I can’t believe I’m pregnant.”
Qadir looked at her. “You’ve taken the test to be sure? There is no mistake?”
“I wish there was. I didn’t just take one test, I took three of them. I’m pregnant.”
She waited for a reaction. An immediate statement that their deal was over. Maybe even orders to leave the country. But when he said nothing, she didn’t know what to think. Worse, she couldn’t look at him.
Maybe he was waiting for her to just pack her things and go. Her previous life hadn’t prepared her for a situation like this. Everything was awkward enough, but his royal status added a whole new level of embarrassment to the conversation.
“This creates a complication,” he said at last.
Despite everything she smiled. “You do have a talent for understatement.”
“Jon will not be expecting you to be pregnant.”
“Probably not.” She drew in a deep breath. Okay—fine. She could be the one to say it. “Look, I know why you’re here. You want me to understand that with things being the way they are, our deal is off. I get that. In your situation, I’d feel exactly the same way. But I’d really like to finish the car. I can do a beautiful job and being pregnant isn’t going to make me any less skilled. To be honest, I need the job. I don’t have health insurance and once I start to show, no one is going to want to hire me.”
She felt panic flaring inside of her but refused to give in to it. Under the circumstances, she felt slimy enough just begging for her job. If she had any pride—or money in the bank—she would simply walk away. If it was just her, she would. But she now had a baby to think of.
A baby?
She pressed her hand to her stomach. No way. There couldn’t be life growing inside her. She couldn’t sense it. She didn’t feel any different. Shouldn’t she have a maternal connection or at least a clue?
“Do you want to leave?” he asked.
“What? Of course not.”
“I have not suggested you should go.”
“But I’m pregnant.”
He nodded. “And people will assume the child is mine. What does it say about me that I let you leave the country?”
Maggie sank onto the sofa. She hadn’t thought about that. “You’ll have to issue a statement or something. Tell them it’s not your baby. Some kind of official denial. People will think badly of me rather than you.” Which she hated, but how could they get around that?
“Who will believe the child isn’t mine?” he asked. “We have been seen together.”
“Only for a short time and the baby not being yours is the truth.”
“Why would that matter?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Good point, she thought, feeling alone and confused. Since when was truth a priority when it came to gossip?
“I’ll tell the truth,” she said slowly, hating that she would be known as a slut in public. “That I was with someone else. You’re off the hook.”
“You don’t want to do that,” he told her. “You will not enjoy the attention.”
“I agree, but what choice is there? You’re not taking the blame for this. You can’t be the bad guy. I’m responsible.”
“I’m the prince.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“None of this would have happened if I hadn’t asked you to lie on my behalf. I’m the one who put you in the public eye.”
“I went willingly.” She’d sold her soul for money. Her father would be so disappointed with her.
Before she could give in to that blow, the door to her suite opened and King Mukhtar swept inside. He held the paper in one hand.