Yes, I Have a Child with the Villain

Adrian Grant carried her upstairs. As he stopped in front of the door to unlock it with his fingerprint, she stirred dazedly in his arms.

He looked down. Caroline Whitman was awake.

"You certainly have good timing."

The man’s voice came from above, his tone hard to read.

Caroline Whitman replied instinctively, "Are we home?"

As she spoke, the lock let out a soft CLICK. Adrian Grant carried her into the entryway.

Caroline Whitman instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. Adrian Grant leaned down to accommodate her, and with a gentle loosening of his hand on her waist, he set her steadily on her feet.

The moment her feet touched the ground, they were pressed close together, their warm breaths mingling, chests touching.

The motion-activated light in the entryway clearly illuminated their outlines.

Caroline Whitman quickly pulled her hands away and took two steps back, creating distance between them. She hurriedly bent down to change her shoes and said,

"Why didn’t you wake me up before coming up?"

"I tried. You didn’t wake up."

Back home, Adrian Grant undid the top two buttons of his collar and headed for the kitchen.

A moment later, he returned to the living room with two glasses of warm honey water. Standing in front of her, he offered one and said nonchalantly,

"I don’t know if I should feel honored that you let your guard down so completely around me, or worried that you’d be the same way drinking with someone else—passed out cold in their car."

Caroline Whitman took the honey water. She had no comeback for the first part of his statement; now that he mentioned it, she realized she really was that trusting of him.

As for his "worried hypothetical," she took a sip and disagreed. "A scenario like that would never happen."

"I wouldn’t drink with people I’m not familiar with."

Adrian Grant casually offered an example. "That night you got tipsy on your business trip in Floria—were you drinking with someone you knew well?"

"I was. What about it? That was my cousin. It’s rare for me to be in Floria, so he took me out for dinner."

"What’s wrong with that? Am I not allowed to have dinner with my cousin?" But Caroline’s focus wasn’t on the dinner with her cousin; it was on something else entirely.

She set down her glass and leaned back on the sofa, her brow furrowed. "If you hadn’t kept asking me all those questions, would I have ended up drinking that much?"

Adrian Grant: "Weren’t you the one who started asking them?"

Caroline Whitman was left speechless. "..."

’She had, in fact, started it.’

But remembering he was the first person she’d seen play Truth or Dare that way, she couldn’t help but snipe, "Who knew you’d be such a poor sport? If you weren’t going to answer, why even agree to play in the first place?"

Adrian Grant: "I didn’t expect you all to focus on such personal questions. I thought we might discuss something more... tangible."

Caroline Whitman shot him a sidelong glance. "By ’tangible,’ you don’t mean asking about everyone’s company profit margins, do you?"

Adrian Grant remained noncommittal.

"...???"

Caroline Whitman: "Wait a second. Don’t you think a company’s profit margins are the real privacy issue here?"

Adrian Grant: "So, if you don’t think those questions are private, why didn’t you answer them?"

Caroline Whitman muttered under her breath, "If you weren’t going to answer, it wouldn’t be any fun for me to be the only one talking."

Adrian Grant just smiled faintly. "To me, those are private matters. I’m not in the habit of sharing my personal life with the public."

’The public?’

Caroline Whitman’s dark eyes blinked. She repeated the word to herself, instinctively sitting up straighter. Her mouth moved faster than her mind as she asked bluntly, "So if it’s not in front of the public, you’ll answer?"

"Hmm?" Adrian Grant didn’t immediately grasp her meaning.

"If it’s not in front of the public, would you answer those questions? Like now, just between you and me," Caroline Whitman pressed, driven by some strange impulse.

Perhaps it was the late hour, or the warm, yellow glow of the living room lamp, but the man’s sharp, distinct features seemed so much softer to her now, not harsh at all.

She stared at him, and she thought she heard the faint, ghost of a chuckle from Adrian Grant.

"Go ahead and ask. What is it you want to know?" he said, his voice casual. He took off his glasses and set them aside, tilting his head to look at her.

In truth, Caroline Whitman was still clear-headed. Her tolerance for alcohol wasn’t fantastic, but it wasn’t terrible, either. At the very least, she wasn’t at the point of blacking out.

But clear-headed or not, her thought process had slowed considerably, to the point where her mouth was now moving faster than her brain.

Case in point: by the time her brain registered what she had just said, it was already too late.

But hearing Adrian Grant’s response, she figured, ’Well, I’ve already come this far. Might as well ask.’

"Anything at all? Even your company’s financial situation?"

Adrian Grant hadn’t expected that to be her first question. He was amused. "Is that what you want to know? Our financial reports are disclosed to the public regularly. You can look them up if you’re curious. Or would you prefer I recite them for you?"

Caroline pursed her lips. ’That’s true,’ she thought. ’Financials for publicly traded companies are disclosed regularly, so asking is a waste of time.’

So, she went on the offensive again, confirming, "So you’ll answer all the questions from earlier tonight?"

"Such as?"

Adrian’s calm composure in turning the question back on her instead of answering unexpectedly made Caroline lose her nerve.

Right now, all she could feel was the heat rising in her cheeks.

’Back in the private room, she could ask those questions without batting an eye, completely shielded by the group. She was just playing the part of the designated interrogator.’

’But now, stripped of that cover, raising the subject again changed its very nature. Before, it was for the group; now, it was for her own selfish reasons.’

Adrian took in her rapidly shifting expressions, inwardly amused. ’He never would have guessed a person’s mood could be so volatile, challenging him one second and turning into a complete chicken the next.’

"What’s the matter? Can’t get the words out? Should I swap that water for some liquid courage?"

Adrian’s teasing voice filled her ears.

His taunt was all it took for Caroline to bristle. She wasn’t sure if the flush on her cheeks was from the alcohol or from his goading, but she was fired up.

She immediately launched into the barrage of questions the group had hit him with in the private room.

"How many relationships have you been in?"

"None."

Caroline was surprised by his answer—and even more surprised that he had actually given one.

"Still have your first kiss?"

"No."

Her heart clenched at his answer, and she blurted out, "When?"

"The night of Grandfather’s birthday banquet this year," Adrian Grant stated calmly.

"..."

The embarrassing memory flooded her mind, and Caroline suddenly felt like she was sitting on pins and needles.

She thought she had forgotten all about that night, but now that he had brought it up so directly, she was utterly mortified.

At that moment, she was incredibly grateful that Adrian Grant hadn’t answered any of their rapid-fire questions back at the party.

’Some private things really shouldn’t be shared with the public.’

Seeing her fall silent, Adrian asked considerately, "Is that all?"

Caroline nodded, affecting a calm demeanor. "It’s late. I’m going to bed."

But as she stood up, a warm hand closed around her wrist.

"Alright then. My turn."