Pregnant With The Ruthless Prince's Heir

Pregnant With The Ruthless Prince's Heir

Craig Frost

5.0
Comment(s)
98
View
17
Chapters

One night of revenge. Two pink lines. A kingdom's future hanging in the balance. Emma was just the bait, hired to escort his enemy, never meant to fall into Prince Alexander's bed. But when the ruthless "Ice Prince" discovers her job, he pays her like a whore and shatters her heart. Six weeks later, she's pregnant with his twins. Now she's trapped in his palace while his vengeful ex plots her death and his cousin wants the throne. Alexander doesn't trust her, doesn't believe her, but he can't let her go. Because sometimes the biggest mistake becomes the only thing worth fighting for. He destroyed her. She's carrying his heirs. Now they must choose: love or power?

Chapter 1 A Sinking Feeling

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.

Continue Reading

You'll also like

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

Huo Wuer
5.0

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book