She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 17

Luther took a moment to catch his breath. He glanced down at the woman still trembling in his arms. Her body was unbelievably responsive to him.

A sharp wave of disgust washed over him. She must have learned how to be this enticing from someone else. While he was gone, she had probably spent countless nights tangled in the sheets with that man.

The thought made his eyes darken. He shoved her aside and walked into the bathroom to wash up alone.

Hilda lay there, listening to the heavy spray of the shower.

After a long while, she pushed herself up with shaking arms. She quickly cleaned herself up, found a fresh set of sheets in the linen closet, and changed the bed.

As for the ruined set, she felt too embarrassed to leave them for the housekeeper, so she carried them to the laundry room and scrubbed them by hand before tossing them into the hamper.

Luther was leaning against the doorframe when he finished. Watching her finish the chore, he threw out a cold remark. "It's a completely normal part of being married. You're acting like you have something to hide, Hilda."

Hilda didn't say a single word.

They laid back down on the massive bed. He didn't touch her again.

...

The next morning, Luther woke up to the feeling of something impossibly soft brushing against his hand. His instincts immediately told him it wasn't Hilda.

He opened his eyes to find the kid she had dragged into his house lying on his chest, staring at him with wide, curious eyes. Her little face was as flawless as a doll.

It was a damn shame she wasn't his!

Luther couldn't muster a single ounce of affection.

When he didn't say anything, the little girl blinked her massive eyes and asked in a sweet, soft voice, "Are you my daddy?"

Luther let out a low, noncommittal "Mhm."

Annie immediately deduced: Daddy isn't very talkative.

At preschool, she listened to all the other kids talk about their dads, and of course, she desperately wanted one too. Especially since her daddy was so handsome and lived in a place that looked like a magical castle.

Eager to please him, she dragged her favorite plush bunny over and offered it to him, rubbing her little hands together, waiting for a compliment.

Luther stared at the toy. He was internally repulsed. But he managed to pat it awkwardly twice.

Then he asked, "Where's your mother?"

Annie beamed up at him. "Mommy is making breakfast!"

At nine o'clock, the three of them arrived at the Sanford Estate.

As Hilda stepped out, Luther reached into the backseat and lifted Annie into his arms. The four-year-old was undeniably adorable, and the sight of her completely short-circuited Luther's parents.

His mother, Eleanor, was so overwhelmed she could barely form a sentence. "Luther?"

Luther held the girl easily, offering a perfectly composed smile.

"This is my daughter with Hilda."

"Her name is Annie Cassidy."

"Mom, doesn't she look exactly like me?"

Eleanor's eyes instantly filled with tears. She had always known her son resented Hilda, and since he didn't care for her, Eleanor hadn't paid her much mind either.

But a child? A child this old? That little face, that flawless glow—it was a carbon copy of the Sanford bloodline.

She started to babble, overwhelmed with emotion. "Why is her last name Cassidy, then?"