Victoria padded into the living room that morning, catching sight of McNeil at the open-n kitchen, carefully preparing breakfast.
She moved soundlessly across the carpet, bare feet sinking into the plush fibers. Still, McNeil spotted her reflection in the ss backssh and turned, his gazending on her bare feet with a faint, disapproving frown.
"Why aren''t you wearing shoes?"
Victoria nced down, unconcerned. "I like it."
She liked the easy freedom of it.
McNeil let out a quiet huff ofughter. "No one else is home, so should I expect you to start skipping the rest of your clothes, too?"
She ignored him, and he didn''t seem bothered by her eye roll. Instead, he poured a steaming ss of milk and handed it to her.
"Here. Drink some milk. Breakfast is almost ready. I''ll heat it up for you. The eggs are fresh off the pan. I''ve got both American and European breakfast options- just pick whatever you want. The fridge is fully stocked."
He opened the fridge as if showing off a treasure trove; it was packed to the brim.
With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, McNeil looked nothing like the high- powered CEO he usually was-except for the designer shirt, which was the only reminder. His normally immacte hair was a bit tousled this morning, giving him an unexpectedly domestic, almost husbandly air.
Victoria stifled a yawn. McNeil moved as if to steady her, but she sidestepped.
"I''m pregnant, not an invalid. I can walk just fine without help."
He ignored her sharp tone, set out breakfast at the table, and then disappeared into her bedroom.
Victoria opened her mouth, wanting to ask what he was doing in there, but when she saw him return with a pair of slippers in his hand, she lowered her head and started eating.
"Put these on. It''s not summer yet, the floor''s cold, and you need to take care of yourself. If you get sick, you can''t take medication easily while pregnant-you''d need injections. You have to look after your health."
He knelt down right in front of her, under the watchful eyes of the housekeeper and security guard, gently cing her foot on his knee while he slipped the slippers on, one hand bracing her ankle.
The housekeeper looked on, eyes full of envy, while Victoria tried to pull her foot away, but his grip was firm. The housekeeper covered her mouth, stifling a giggle.
Victoria''s face darkened. She quickly shoved her feet into the slippers, refusing to look at McNeil.
"Any ns after breakfast? Maybe a stroll downstairs? You can''t just lie around all day."
She speared a soft-boiled egg with her fork and tasted it-surprisingly good-but she had no interest in his suggestion.
"Nope."
This apartment was big enough to tire her out just walking a couple ofps. Besides, she had no desire to bump into neighbors downstairs and have them assume McNeil was her husband. The less people misunderstood, the better.
McNeil caught the look of disgust on her face, his eyes dimming, but he said nothing. He quietly cleared the table after she finished eating.
Victoria got up, heading for her room before he could try to dote on her again. “I can walk by myself. I''m not helpless. Just make sure lunch is ready on time— don''t bete."
With that, she left the table and wandered back toward her bedroom.
Passing the chaise lounge, she muttered to herself, wishing she hadn''t opted for an open kitchen-the kitchen and living room flowed together, and McNeil''s presence spoiled her enjoyment of the view.
McNeil watched her retreat, something gentle flickering in his eyes. But then she mmed the bedroom door right in his face, vanishing inside. His expression instantly clouded over.
By noon, lunch was ready, every dishid out perfectly.
The doorbell rang. The housekeeper answered, and one after another, a dozen
men filed into the apartment. McNeil''s face turned thunderous.
Lyndon caught sight of McNeil, and his handsome features darkened as well.
"What are you doing here?"
The rest of the men looked at McNeil in surprise, quickly picking up on the tension as Lyndon''s hostility became obvious.