Accidentally Pregnant With The Billionaire Heir

EMILY

The silence in the grand dining room is absolute and suffocating.

Celia Wolfe sits at the far end of the long mahogany table. She waits for my answer. She just delivered a perfectly constructed corporate trap. She wants me to weigh in on the Ultimate Power Laboratory and the search for the Star Core Meteorite. She wants me to either publicly disagree with my husband or publicly expose my own ignorance.

I need exactly five seconds to formulate a neutral, completely noncommittal response.

I reach for the tall crystal glass resting near my fruit plate. The glass is filled with chilled milk. I bring the crystal rim to my lips and take a slow sip, intending to use the simple action to buy myself a moment of processing time.

But the intense, predatory stare radiating from the matriarch completely ruins my coordination.

The cold milk hits the back of my throat at the exact wrong angle. My airway seizes instantly.

I drop the crystal glass back onto the table. The heavy base clatters loudly against the wood. I bring both of my hands up to my mouth, coughing violently. The sudden spasm tears through my chest. I gasp for air, my eyes watering from the harsh, burning sensation in my windpipe. I try to suppress the loud hacking noises, completely mortified by my own lack of physical grace in front of the most terrifying woman in Asuir City.

Alistair reacts with the speed of a trained combat operative.

He does not hesitate. He reaches across the table and grabs a crisp white linen napkin from the silver holder. He leans toward me, his broad shoulder pressing directly against my arm.

I expect him to simply hand me the fabric. I extend my shaking fingers to take it.

He bypasses my hand entirely.

Alistair cups my jaw with his left hand. His long fingers curl gently around the edge of my chin, holding my face perfectly still. He brings his right hand up. He completely ignores the linen napkin. Instead, he uses his bare thumb to wipe a stray drop of white milk from the very corner of my mouth.

The physical contact is an absolute shock to my nervous system.

The rough, thick callus of his thumb drags slowly across my bottom lip. The skin there is still incredibly sensitive and slightly swollen from his aggressive, drunken assault just a few hours ago. The heat radiating from his hand transfers directly into my skin, burning like a branding iron.

I go completely, totally rigid.

My coughing fit stops instantly, overridden by a massive spike of pure adrenaline. My heart rate accelerates into a frantic, chaotic rhythm. I stare at him, my dark eyes wide with absolute disbelief. The space between us vanishes. The sharp, intoxicating scent of his bergamot cologne completely swamps my senses. He does not pull his hand away immediately. His thumb lingers against my mouth for a fraction of a second longer than strictly necessary.

A furious, scalding blush ignites across my cheeks. The heat travels rapidly down my neck, staining my pale skin bright red. I am entirely paralyzed, caught in a terrifying mixture of embarrassment, shock, and a treacherous physical warmth that I absolutely refuse to acknowledge.

CELIA WOLFE POV

The silver serving spoon hits the polished hardwood floor with a loud, ringing crash.

I turn my head sharply. Greyson stands near the antique mahogany sideboard. The usually immaculate, flawless head butler stares at the scene unfolding at the dining table. His mouth is slightly open. He completely forgot his rigorous professional training, dropping the expensive silverware in pure, unadulterated shock.

𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

I cannot blame him. I feel a sickening, heavy pit forming directly in the center of my stomach.

I look back at my grandson. Alistair Wolfe is a ruthless, calculated machine. I molded him to operate the Zeus Group with zero emotional attachments. He terminates thousands of employees without a second thought. He dismantles rival syndicates with cold, sociopathic joy.

He is currently cradling the face of a lower-class girl from the slums of Asuir City.

He wipes her mouth with his bare hand. The action is incredibly intimate. It is not a performance designed to irritate me. I know how to spot a calculated manipulation. The look in his dark eyes is entirely genuine. It is a look of soft, dangerous, possessive affection.

He loves her.

The realization hits me like a physical blow to the chest. The contract marriage is a total sham. He is not using her as a biological incubator to secure the family dynasty. He actually fell in love with a woman who possesses absolutely no aristocratic pedigree, no wealth, and no political connections.

I feel genuinely nauseous. The thought of this girl holding the strings to the Wolfe Empire is completely repulsive. I intended to corner her with my questions regarding the Ultimate Power Laboratory. I wanted to expose her lack of education and humiliate her into submission.

But fighting a gold digger is entirely different from fighting a genuine romantic bond. If I continue to attack her directly, Alistair will completely sever his ties with me. He will burn this estate to the ground to protect her.

I lose all interest in the interrogation. The game is over for today.

I place both of my hands flat on the table and push my heavy chair backward. I stand up, smoothing the front of my severe black dress.

"I am suddenly feeling quite unwell," I announce, my voice sharp and entirely devoid of warmth. "The stress of this corporate discussion is triggering a severe migraine. I will take the remainder of my breakfast in my private quarters. Greyson, escort me."

The butler snaps out of his stunned paralysis. He bows deeply, rushing forward to offer his arm. I turn my back on the sickening display of affection and begin to walk toward the grand double doors.