<b>Chapter </b><b>53 </b>


    -HUNTER-


    “A little to the left.” I direct, watching Vincent struggle with the string of lights. “No–my left, not yours.”


    Vincent grunts, stretching to hang the lights along the cabin’s wooden beams. “Since when did you be such a perfectionist about decorations?”


    “I’ve always been a perfectionist,” I reply, adjusting a vase of wildflowers on the dining table.


    The cabin smells of pine and thesagna baking in the oven. Outside, theke sparkles in thete afternoon sun, visible through the floor–to–ceiling windows.


    Everything looks perfect–which is exactly what I wanted.


    Vincent steps down from thedder, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I still can’t believe Hunter Reid is decorating a cabin for his maid’s birthday.”


    I shoot him a re. “She’s not just a maid.”


    “Oh?” Vincent raises his eyebrows. “What is she, then?”


    I turn away, busying myself with straightening the already–straight ce settings. “She’s an employee who deserves recognition.”


    “Right.” Vincent’s voice drips with sarcasm. “That’s why you’ve spent thest three hours obsessing over every detail of this surprise party. That’s why you personally selected her gift. That’s why you keep checking your watch every five minutes.”


    “I’m not “I nce at my wrist automatically, then curse under my breath when I realize I’ve proven his point.


    Vincentughs, dropping onto the couch and stretching out his legs. “Man, you need to getid. Badly.”


    “Thanks for the professional assessment,” I mutter, moving to check the cake in the refrigerator for the third time.


    “When was thest time?” Vincent presses, enjoying my difort. “Six months? A year?”


    Im the refrigerator door. “That’s none of your business.”


    “That long, huh?” Vincent whistles. “No wonder you’re wound so tight.”


    “I’ve been busy.”


    “You’re always busy.” Vincent grabs a beer from the cooler we brought. “You know, your manhood might actually stop working if you don’t use it asionally.”


    I roll my eyes. “I assure you, everything is in perfect working order.”


    “If <b>you </b>say so.” Vincent takes a long swig of beer. “Though I bet it would spring right to attention for a certain hot maid.”


    The image of Celine shes through my mind–her soft curves beneath that uniform, her full lips, those wide brown eyes looking


    up at me. Heat rushes through my body, and I turn away before Vincent notices my reaction.


    “This is a professional gesture,” I insist, adjusting a pillow on the window seat. “Nothing more.”


    14:57 Fr, <b>11 </b>Aug


    <b>Vincent </b>snorts. “Keep telling yourself that.”


    I step back, surveying the cabin. The lighting is perfect–warm and intimate without being too obvious. The table is set with fron china and crystal <b>sses </b>I had delivered this morning. Small wrapped packages wait on the coffee table.


    This is stupid, I should be at the office, finalizing the Hong Kong deal. I should be doing anything but standing in myke cabin, fussing over birthday decorations like a lovesick teenager


    “You know,” Vincent says, his voice suddenly serious, “It’s okay to admit she gets to you.”


    I say nothing, moving to stand by the window. Outside, the trees sway gently in the breeze, their reflections dancing on the calm


    water.


    “She scares me,” I admit quietly, my back to Vincent..


    I hear him sit up. “The maid scares you? Hunter Reid, terrified of a five–foot–nothing single mom?”


    “Yes.” I turn to face him. “Because I find myself… pushing boundaries when I’m around her. Wanting things I shouldn’t want


    Vincent nods slowly, no longer teasing. “And the kid?”


    My chest tightens. “He scares me even more.”


    Vincent studies me for a long moment. “He looks so fucking much like you, Hunter. It’s uncanny.”


    I say nothing, unable to deny what we both see.


    “Why haven’t you done a DNA test?” Vincent asks the question I’ve been avoiding since Celine walked into my house with that child. With those familiar blue eyes.


    I run a hand through my hair, turning back to the window. “Because I already know the answer, dude,” I say finally.


    “I know, and yet I don’t know what to do with them both. I might hurt them. And they might end up hating me.”


    The silence stretches between us, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall


    “Do you think she doesn’t hate you now?” Vincent asks gently.


    I shrug, trying to appear more casual than I feel. “It’s better that way.”


    “Is <b>it</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>


    Before I can answer, my phone chimes with a text. I pull it from my pocket.


    Caroline: ‘On our way. Be there by 7. She has no idea. You owe me BIG TIME for this.


    I check my watch again. Just over an hour before they arrive


    “Caroline’s bringing them at seven,” I tell Vincent, suddenly feeling nervous.


    “Plenty of time <b>for </b>you to chicken out,” he teases, but his eyes are kind,


    I shake my head. “I’m not backing out.”


    “Good” Vincent stands, pping me on the shoulder, “Because I think you both deserve answers


    “I don’t even know if she remembers that night,” I admit. “She was pretty drunk,”


    Vincent raises his eyebrows. “And you weren’t?”


    I grimace, remembering the pounding headache, the fragmented memories. “I was drunk enough to forget protection. Not drunk enough to forget her.”


    “The m


    mysterious one–night stand that’s haunted you for years,” Vincent muses. “And now she works in your house. With your son”


    “<b>We </b>don’t know for sure he’s-”


    “Cut the crap, Hunter,” Vincent interrupts. “That boy is a Reid through and through. He has your eyes, your chin, even that scowl you do when you’re concentrating.”


    I can’t argue with that. I’ve seen it myself Caesar’s thoughtful frown when he’s building with blocks, the determined set of his jaw when he’s trying something new. My traits in miniature.


    “What are you going to do?” Vincent asks.


    Irun my hand over the smooth wood of the dining table. “I don’t know yet.”


    “Well, you’ve got about an hour to figure it out,” Vincent says, ncing at his watch. “Want me to make myself scarce when they arrive?”


    I nod gratefully. “Caroline will stay for cake, then take Celine’s friend and Caesar back to the city. I told her I needed to discuss something work–rted with Celine.”


    Vincent smirks. “Smooth. And when it’s just the two of you alone in this romantic cabin?”


    “It’s not romantic,” I protest, even as I adjust the dimmer switch to lower the lights slightly.


    “Right.” Vincent heads for the door. “I’ll pick up some more ice and take the long way back. Give you time to prepare whatever speech you’re nning,”


    After he leaves, I stand alone in the quiet cabin. Thesagna smells ready, I check it, then set it on the counter to cool. Perfect


    timing.


    I move through the space, touching each item we’ve <b>prepared</b>. The birthday cake with its chocte frosting. The champagne


    chilled in the ice bucket.


    The small stack of presents–art supplies I researched obsessively, each item the highest quality avable.


    And the envelope. The one I still haven’t decided whether to give her.


    Inside, the results of the DNA test I had done weeks <b>ago</b>. Not with Caesar’s DNA–I couldn’t bring myself to take something from him without permission,


    But with mine. Proof of my bloodline, my gic markers. Everything ab would need topare with Caesar’s DNA if Celine agreed to the test.


    If she wanted to know the truth as badly as I did.


    Chapter <b>53 </b><fn478e> Checktest chapters at Find1Novel</fn478e>


    I tuck the envelope into my jacket pocket, still undecided,


    My phone buzzes again.


    Caroline: ’30 minutes out. She’s wearing the ck dress I told you about. Try not to drool


    I take a deep breath, straightening my shirt. Thirty minutes until I see Celine. Until I face the questions I’ve been avoiding for <b>years </b>


    Until I finally meet the woman who’s be so much more than just my maid.