12. Lennon
LENNON
I thought my least favorite part of this pregnancy would be the fallout.
I was wrong. It’s dealing with the fallout without the aid of wine. That’s just unfortunate.
—Lennon’s Secret Thoughts
B loody Americans really don’t know how to make good tea.
The water the hotel has sent up is barely lukewarm when it arrives at my door. Not to mention what they’re calling English breakfast tea isn’t a tea I’d be caught dead drinking in London. I stare at the small porcelain mug, attempting to decide whether it’s even worth drinking before my phone buzzes.
Maria
Do you have an itinerary for today?
Lennon
I’m planning on calling Grace, but other than that, I don’t have plans yet.
Maria
Okay. Should I have the car waiting?
Lennon
No. I’ll let you know if anything changes.
Maria
Copy that.
I pick at the blueberry muffin that came with my mediocre tea, contemplating what I want to say to Grace... I never ended up seeing her the last time I came to town. I had every intention of doing so, but after that night with Maddox and the shambles of the next morning, I just wanted to go home. Not Mornea home, but London home. The home I created for myself far from the glare and the weight of my family.
Not far enough, but as far as I was going to get.
I stare at my phone and wonder what I should say.
And what I can say.
She and Maddox are close.
Nearly as close as my brothers and I are.
I’m not sure it’s fair for me to tell her about the baby.
Not yet. Not until Maddox has had more time.
And considering I didn’t tell her about that night either... well, I guess I’m just not sure about anything. But it’s Grace. The only true friend I’ve ever had.
Grace—one of the few people who truly never wanted anything from me.
She’ll forgive me.
Even if I don’t deserve it.
I pull up her number, but a knock on the door stops me, and my heart plummets.
Maria has a key and would let herself in, and no one else knows I’m here.
No one but Maddox.
Shit. I haven’t even showered yet today.
I consider throwing a sweater on over the tiny camisole I slept in last night but decide against it. Let him look. “I’m coming.”
He knocks again, and I have the urge to yell, calm down , but I don’t and consider the restraint my first win of the morning. The tea might suck, and I may look like hell, but I didn’t threaten to castrate my baby daddy. That’s winning, right?
Good lord. My baby daddy . My mother is definitely rolling over in her grave.
With my hand on the knob, I take a deep cleansing breath and do a fluff of my boobs and my hair. I might not be jumping Maddox Beneventi’s bones ever again, but this might be the only time in my entire life I have bigger than an A cup, and I’m going to enjoy them.
Let him see what he’s missing.
That’s for his reaction yesterday.
And that thought brings a momentary smile to my face as I open the door. Unfortunately, that same smile quickly falls because the persistent ass knocking isn’t Maddox.
“Monty?” I ask, utterly confused by how and why he’s standing in front of me instead of slogging through the woods behind his family’s country home, hunting some poor animal. Confusion is quickly replaced by panic when the anger registers in the tight lines of his face.
“You don’t look like you have the flu.” He walks by me into the hotel suite, stinking like gin and cheap perfume that, no doubt, belonged to his latest mile-high club co-member. “Shut the door, Lennon. We need to talk.”
Anxiety claws its way up my chest.
“What are you doing here, Monty?” I cross the room and throw on that discarded sweater, after all. Maddox may have been allowed to look, but I don’t want Monty’s eyes anywhere on me. Especially when they hold so much disgust.
“I could ask you the same thing, darling . Generally, you don’t country hop when you’re sick with the flu. But we both know you’re not sick, don’t we?”
The curl to his upper lip. The look of revulsion...
It’s worse than our typical disdain for each other.
More.
He knows.
Oh God.
He knows.
How?
I wrap my arms around myself protectively. “I’m feeling better,” I lie, but it falls flat. I’m not fooling anyone. I’m a lot of things. A good liar isn’t one of them.
Monty shakes his head and makes an annoying clucking sound with his tongue. “Such a shitty liar. Try again, poppet—because my sources say you’re not going to be feeling better for another four months.”
He does know.
“I—”
“Don’t bother, Lennon.” The air of arrogance constantly surrounding Monty is thick with condescension today. “How can you be this stupid? Honestly... use a condom. Take a Plan B. Two different sources confirmed your pregnancy before drinks were served last night. Perhaps if you’d used the king’s doctors, you’d have been able to keep it quiet longer, but I’ll bet you don’t want dear Grandpapa to know you’re a lying, cheating, dirty whore.”
I rock backward as if taking a physical hit, and tears fill my eyes.
Not with sadness.
With rage.
No one has ever spoken to me like this before.
“Get out,” I scream and point to the door. “I refuse to speak to you right now.”
But instead of leaving, he gets in my face and grabs my arms, scaring me.
We’ve disliked each other for years, but he’s never touched me in anger before.
We barely touch unless it’s in public, and even then, I attempt to avoid it as much as possible. But this... this isn’t us putting on a show for the public.
I try to pull away, but he yanks me closer, bruising my skin and my pride. “Listen to me, princess.” The word reeks of loathing. The kind of revulsion envy never fails to become. And envy is a Hasting’s family trait because Monty’s family has all the political pull they could ever want, but what they don’t have is royal blood. That’s what they’ll get by marrying their prized pig to a princess. He becomes a prince, and our children become heirs to two thrones.
He hates me for that, almost as badly as he hates how much he needs me to get it even more. Monty might be a duke, but that’s only because money can buy you just about anything in this world, fancy titles included. But money can’t buy you class or love or a royal bloodline. Not unless you sell your soul, which is what we’ve done. “You are not going to humiliate me or my family like this.”
For the briefest of moments, I think maybe he’s calling off the wedding, and my fury turns to joy before my blood turns to ice with his next sneer.
“I’ll call my mother tonight and tell her to move the wedding date up. We’ll tell the world we were so blissfully in love we couldn’t wait another minute. By the time the bastard comes, they’ll be so feral for a royal baby, they won’t even care that it was conceived before we were married. The world will never know what a filthy whore you really are, and when the kid is old enough, we’ll ship it off to boarding school. Hopefully, it’ll be a girl because no dirty little bastard is getting my title.”
With hatred clouding my vision, I yank my arm free. “They won’t need it. My children will always outrank you. Be careful who you’re calling a whore, Montgomery. Only one of us has slept with the entire court, and it’s not me.” I yell back as fury and fear fight for control. “Oh, and don’t worry, I hear they make a pill for that little... problem of yours. I’ve heard a few women talking about it.”
A pain explodes in my cheek so quickly, I fall to the floor, shocked.
My hand flies to my face as tears fill my eyes, and my cheek throbs in time with my pulse while pain ricochets in my skull.
Monty stands over me, red-faced and furious. “You had one job, Lennon. Look pretty and shut up. That’s it. That’s all you needed to do. But you just had to go and spread your skinny fucking legs for some commoner. Now I’m going to have to raise a mutt as my own.”
I sit up, trying to catch my breath, praying Maria will choose now to let herself in but refusing to placate this miserable shit. “Fuck you, Monty,” I spit back. “He was more of a man than you could ever be.”
I don’t see the kick coming.
I underestimated his cruelty.
That’s my mistake is the last thought I have as my head hits the corner of the coffee table, and the world around me goes black.
* * *
Maddox
R ome and I are sparring at Crucible Saturday morning when my phone starts ringing from the edge of the mat, where it’s tucked inside my hat.
“What the fuck? I told you to keep your shit in the locker room.”
“Funny.” I duck as he throws a jab. “I don’t remember caring.”
We circle each other as Lucky yells, “Less talking. More hitting.”
“Fuck you,” we yell back at him in sync.
The ringing stops and immediately starts up again. “Unless it’s Mom, you better fucking ignore that shit,” Rome threatens like he scares me. Dumbass.
Lucky leans over and looks. “Not Mom.”
I bring my knee up, but Rome blocks it.
The ringing stops.
“Fucking finally,” he mutters right before it starts again.
“Who is it then?” I yell at Lucky as Rome and I lock arms, both breathing heavily. We’ve been going at it hard all morning.
“Lennon,” the shit stirrer tells me like it’s any other day.
“Fuck.”
I make the mistake of looking at Lucky, and Rome takes the advantage and nails me with a right hook. My head swings, and I spit out blood before looking at him. “I’ll give you that one,” I warn and walk to the edge of the mat and squat down to grab the phone.
“Aww... the princess is calling. Maybe she needs a frog to kiss,” Rome taunts, and Lucky laughs.
Assholes.
I miss the call and hit her name to call her back.
It rings so many times, I think she sending me to voicemail before a woman answers.
A woman who’s not Lennon. “You need to come to the hospital.”
“Who’s this?” I ask and look at the phone, making sure I hit the right number.
“This is Maria, Princess Lennon’s head of royal protection. We’re at Kroydon Hills Hospital, and she’s asked for you. But listen very closely to me, you little wise-guy wannabe. I’m watching you, and if you hurt her, even your father won’t be able to save you,” she warns, and I’m so fucking lost.
“Why is Lennon in the hospital?” I ask, and my brothers stop laughing. “Is she okay?”
“That’s for her to tell you. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t even be here, let alone calling you. But she’s asked me to call and ordered me that it can only be you. They’ve taken her for an MRI. She has a private room. Come or don’t. It’s up to you.”
The call ends, and I stare at the phone.
What the fuck?
Rome stands next to me as he rips off his gloves. “We going to the hospital, brother?”
I can’t stop staring at the phone.
“Madman,” Lucky mumbles, and something about the worry in his voice shakes me.
“Shit.” I rip my gloves off. “Yeah. I’ve got to go to the hospital.”
“You want me to drive?” Rome offers as he throws his shirt on.
Lucky stands and grabs his shit. “I can call Dad.”
“No. I’m good. Let me see what’s going on, and I’ll fill you in.” My head spins with all the reasons Lennon could be in the hospital, including the baby.
“Not a chance.” Rome grabs my keys from my hat. “I’m driving. Let’s go.”
“I’m coming too,” Lucky offers.
I shake my head and throw on my shirt. “No. I need you to go open West End. One of us will call you later. Until then, this stays between us.”
I don’t wait for anyone’s response as I rush out of the gym with a million possibilities running through my mind.
And they all stop and start with Lennon.
Lennon... and our baby.