Pregnant With The Devil’s Heir.

Chapter 1.

Elsie.

The gates swing shut behind us.

The air instantly smells like freshly cut hedges. Someone has planted flowers along the stone driveway, though I can’t tell what kind. Whatever they are, they probably cost more than my monthly rent.

I look down the driveway. Cars in black, silver and deep blue are lined on both sides of it.

I start counting them as I always do when I’m nervous.

I’m somewhere around fifteen when my mother nudges my elbow.

“Chin up,” she murmurs in a way that’s supposed to be encouraging, but it isn’t.

The driveway alone is longer than the street I grew up on. Lights run along the edges, glowing softly in the dark. At the end of it sits the house—no, mansion. It has three floors and tall windows that are blazing with light.

A few guests are still arriving and Valets move quickly between cars.

My mother smooths the front of my dress without asking. “Stand straight.”

“I am standing straight,” I answer, almost snapping at her. Rather than responding, she just fixes one of my straps and gives my shoulder a small push forward.

The house belongs to someone named Hargrove. I only know that because my parents have mentioned his name three times today, always in the same careful tone.

Inside, the noise hits first. There are voices, laughter and music floating around my ears.

A waiter passes with a tray of champagne and I take one automatically, sipping it while looking around the room in awe.

The ballroom is bigger than I expected. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, scattering light everywhere. People cluster in small groups, talking quietly. No one raises their voice, and everyone looks comfortable.

The women wear dresses that probably cost more than my car. Their jewelry is simple but still definitely expensive.

I glance down at my own dress. It’s Ivory silk with thin straps. My mother picked it out. At th store it looked elegant but here it just looks… obvious, like I tried too hard.

“Elsie.” My mother appears beside me again. I didn’t even hear her walk over.

She taps the stem of my glass lightly. “Drink.”

“I just got it.”

“You look stiff,” she says, tilting her head and staring at me oddly.

“I’m fine,” I respond, forcing a smile.

“You look uncomfortable.”

“I am uncomfortable,” I respond, holding back the eyeroll.

She smiles at someone across the room while she says through her teeth. “Fix your face.” Without another word, she’s gone back to meet the other ladies.

I take a sip of champagne. It’s good, really good, which makes me more aware that I don’t belong here because my parents can’t afford this sort of food stuff.

I drift toward the edge of the room.

There’s a fireplace along the far wall, tall enough that someone could probably stand inside it. A man stands beside it, speaking with another guest. He has silver hair and dressed in a dark suit. He glances in my direction, looks away, and then glances back.

I look away quickly and pretend to be interested in the painting above the mantel.

A few minutes later I check again, and he’s still looking. My father finds me not long after.

He looks me over briefly, then he glances around the room. “You look lovely,” he says at last.

“Thank you,”I answer, giving him a small nod.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes.”

His eyes move past me just for a second. When I follow his gaze, it lands on the silver-haired man near the fireplace.

My father looks back at me and smiles. “Good,” he says.

His hand rests briefly on my arm as he adds, “Don’t disappear tonight.”

Then he’s gone. I stare after him.

A waiter walks by and my mother replaces the champagne in my hand with a fresh one.

I don’t even remember finishing the first.

The man by the fireplace moves closer sometime during the evening. It’s not directly though, just gradually, taking a step closer at intervals as he stops and talk to other guests.

At some point I hear someone say his name. “Aldric.”

I raise my head and see that he’s only two groups away. When our eyes meet, he lifts his glass slightly as a polite gesture. His smile is small but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

I turn away.

“He’s been watching you.” My mother is here again, smoothening my hair away from my face. I shrug her hands off.

“I noticed,” I answer, taking another sip from my glass.

“He’s very well connected,” she chips in sweetly.

Something in my stomach tightens.

“Mother—”

“Drink your champagne, Elsie, stop fretting.” Her voice stays pleasant but her eyes don’t.

I nod and drink.

Around half past ten the front doors open again and a man walks in. He is tall, dressed in a dark suit and has dark hair.

He doesn’t pause or look around the room, but people notice anyway. Conversations dip and someone nearby steps aside without realizing it. The man keeps walking.

A woman in a red dress intercepts him halfway across the room. She’s very beautiful in a sharp and classy way.

She touches his arm and he looks down at her. She says something near his ear and then she hands him a glass. There is a familiarity between the both of them and I wonder if she is his wife, or sister. I look away, setting my attention on someone else.

By eleven, the chandelier lights blurs slightly and I blink. For a moment it looks like there are two chandeliers, and then three.

I grab the edge of a console table.

How much did I drink?

Two glasses? Three? But three glasses usually does not get me drunk.

“You should lie down.” My mother’s hand appears at my elbow again, her voice cutting off my train of thoughts.

“There’s a bedroom upstairs,” she says. “Second door on the left.”

“I’m fi—“ I start to protest but she says sharply.

“Elsie.” Her hand presses against my back firmly, nudging me towards the stairs.

“Second door on the left. Go.”

I nod my head, looking back at her and shooting her a tight smile before heading to the staircase.