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Page 124 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession

“I didn’t want to say anythin’, but I see yer worried sick and—”

“Where the fuck is he, Twigs?”

“He’s in Prague as we speak, love.”

“Prague?”

Where the hell is that even? Somewhere in Europe, it must be.Maybe he’s got another business meeting…

Twig taps on his phone for a minute, then shows me a photo. “Ye know this woman?”

Recognition hits. She’s very beautiful. Long, blonde hair, exotic eyes, and you could cut glass with those cheekbones. I swallow a wave of nausea. “I’ve seen her from somewhere.”

“Might’ve been on social media or the telly? She’s Elsa Larsson. A Czech runway model.”

“Okay? I don’t know any runway models.” I wait for the rest of the awful news to come.

“He’s been at her place since yesterday.”

I release the breath I didn’t realize that I was holding. I know the question is stupid considering Twiggy’s line of work. What used to be my line of work as well, but I have to ask. “And how do you know this?”

“I hacked a few cams, one right by her street it picked up somethin' about half an hour ago. Both of them goin' in her house."

I keep my breathing even. "How did you know he would be with that woman?"

I started keepin’ tabs on her a few weeks ago after spottin’ a pic of both of them. I knew ye and Ethan were an item, and I wanted to sniff out what the deal was, so I set up some alerts from paps and tracked any shots of yer boyfriend and Elsa.”

I feel too warm all of a sudden. I need to stop listening, but like an addict for pain, I want to hear it all. So, I breathe through the cramps and keep listening silently.

“It’s not their first meet-up, either. They’re sneaky about it. Met-up a few times in Munich and once in Stockholm. It's just mostly blogs and pap alerts. This is the first time I’ve done any hackin' so don't know if he goes to her place a lot,” he continues. But if you want me to do proper diggin' just say the word love."

“I see. No, I think I've heard enough.” She's blonde.

“Er, there’s a wee bit more. She has twin babes. About eight months old.”

I throw off the blanket and leave the bed.

“Bonnie, I’m not sayin' they’re Ethan’s, but—”

“I’ll hazard a wild guess. Midnight black hair, right?” I grab my backpack.

“Bonnie…”

“I need the bathroom, please.” I push him out of my way, rushing to the adjoining master bath just in time to dry heave into the sink. Nothing comes up. Must be the anti-nausea doing a phenomenal job. Still, I can’t stop gagging and hiccupping. After it becomes obvious that nothing is coming up, I close the door softly, shutting out a concerned Twiggy, and get the test kits out, tearing through them with my teeth.

I pee on both at the same time, my heart pounding.

The next few minutes of pacing confirm what I already knew in my heart.

I’m pregnant.

And his Czech model already has his twins. No wonder he’s so good with Lily Rose. He’s a father. His twins are eight months old. He’s not going to want another baby now.

I’m such a fool.

Collapsing on the bathroom floor, I can’t hold in the sobs.

I don’t notice when Twiggy pulls me from the bathroom floor, holding me until my hiccoughs stop.




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