She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 16

In the top-floor executive suite of Aegis Group.

Luther wore a crisp white dress shirt, the top three buttons casually undone. A cigarette rested between his lips as his silver lighter flared to life. He took a drag, his tone dripping with sheer indifference. "Are they moved in?"

Lori stared at her boss. She rarely saw him this dangerously relaxed. He was usually the picture of aristocratic restraint. It seemed Mr. Sanford had a lot of pent-up energy lately.

Lori nodded. "Yes, sir. They're all settled. Annie is incredibly sweet. She resembles her mother, of course, but there's definitely a strong likeness to you as well."

"Is that right?" Luther offered a deceptively mild smile.

A shiver ran down Lori's spine, and she wisely kept her mouth shut. She had planted the seed; that was enough.

Luther tipped his chin toward the door, dismissing her.

Once he was alone, he finished the cigarette in slow, deliberate drags, buttoned his collar back up, and headed to his next meeting.

...

It was dead of night by the time he finally returned to the penthouse.

The moment he stepped through the door, the subtle, elegant fragrance of calla lilies hit him.

He flicked on the lights, illuminating the massive space. The apartment had undergone subtle but striking changes. A striking blue ceramic vase sat on the entryway console, holding a fresh arrangement of white lilies. A layer of sheer white fabric had been added behind the heavy, dark curtains, softening the room's harsh edges. Even the severe espresso mugs on the dining table had been swapped out for delicate English bone china.

And right next to them sat a little two-handled toddler cup.

It obviously belonged to the kid.

Luther's dark eyes narrowed slightly.

After staring at it for a long moment, he walked into the gleaming kitchen for some ice water.

Opening the refrigerator, he found rows of neatly prepped containers—handmade ravioli stacked in perfect order, alongside a tiny, adorable container of alphabet pasta. The fruit and dairy sections were fully stocked. It felt shockingly domestic.

He had anticipated that having Hilda here would be somewhat inconvenient. He hadn't expected it to feel like *this*.

It was almost suffocatingly cozy.

He twisted the cap off the bottle, tipped his head back, and downed half the freezing water in one go.

Since the kid wasn't his, he didn't even bother glancing toward the nursery. He went straight to the master suite.

But a sudden, sharp wave of anger flared in his chest. He grabbed her delicate shoulders and pinned her down, crushing his mouth against hers in a suffocating kiss.

Startled from her sleep, she struggled for a second before recognizing his scent. She stopped fighting, murmuring against his lips, "I don't want to get pregnant."

Technically speaking, they were both essentially inexperienced. But neither of them realized it.

Luther traced the line of her jaw, his voice dropping into a rare, dangerous softness. "Did you buy these, Hilda?"

He tossed the small box onto the pillow next to her head.

Humiliation flushed her cheeks, and she turned her face away.

Luther braced his weight on one arm, staring down at her. His face was flushed with heat, a visible pulse ticking in the taut cords of his neck.

Hilda closed her eyes. She looked as fragile as a branch trembling in a storm.

Perhaps he was still desperately clinging to the idea of saving his 'final step' for Jolie, because despite the explosive tension, he stopped. Just like on their wedding night, he didn't actually claim her.

When it was over, Hilda kept her face buried against his neck, listening to the frantic, heavy pounding of his heart.