<b>Chapter </b><b>158 </b>
-HUNTER’S POV-
PLAYLIST SUGGESTION: “Do you better – slowed + Reverb” by Rohan.
The wheels of the ne had barely touched the tarmac before I was reaching for my phone, scrolling through the messages I had forced myself not to check during the five–hour flight from London.
Three missed calls from Vincent. Two texts from Caroline. Nothing from Celine.
The absence of her name on my screen made my chest tight in a way that had nothing to do with cabin pressure.
I pulled my cap low and slipped on my sunsses as I made my way through the terminal, dragging my suitcase behind me.
Five days in London had felt like five years, every business meeting stretching endlessly as I thought about home.
About her.
About the child growing inside her that I still couldn’t quite believe was real.
The arrivals area was packed with families and taxi drivers holding signs, but Vincent’s was impossible to miss.
In bold ck letters: “WELCOME HOME ASSHOLE.”
Several families stared at him like he had lost his mind, while a group of young women near the coffee stand were practically drooling.
Vincent himself lookedpletely unbothered by the attention, leaning against a pir in his designer jeans and perfectly styled hair like he was posing for a magazine shoot.
I pulled my sunsses down just enough to give him a withering look.
“Really?”
His grin was unashamed. “What? I thought it was weing.”
I snatched the sign from his hands, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the nearest waste bin. “Let’s go, dummy.”
“Ouch. Five days in London and youe back even more charming than when you left,” Vincent said in that cocky tone I had missed more than <b>I </b>cared to admit.
He fell into step beside me as we headed toward the exit.
“So, how was the trip? Please tell me you at least gotid while you were there. All that British ent action had to be good for something.”
“Vincent.”
“What? I’m just saying, you’ve been wound tighter than a…”
“Shut
up
and get the car.”
Heughed, pulling out his keys with a flourish. “Your chariot awaits, Your Grumpiness.”
The “chariot<b>” </b>turned out to be Vincent’stest acquisition—a bright red Ferrari that screamed for attention <b>from </b>three blocks away
I stared at it in disbelief. “Couldn’t you have brought a normal car?<b>” </b>
“This attracts thedies better,” he said, running his hand along the hood like he was caressing a lover. “You should try it sometimei Might help with that permanent scowl you’ve got going on.”
“I don’t scowl.”
“Right. And I don’t have devastatingly good looks and incredible charm.”
I squeezed myself into the passenger seat, my knees practically touching my chin. “How do you even fit in this thing?”
“Carefully.” Vincent slid into the driver’s seat with skillful ease, then reached over and squeezed my bicep.
“Have you been working out? You feel more solid than…”
I pped his hand away so hard it made a sharp crack in the confined space. “Don’t touch me.”
The genuineughter that burst out of me surprised us both.
It felt good tough, to fall back into the easy rhythm of our friendship after five days of Stressful business meetings and carefully crafted
negotiations.
“There he is,” Vincent said, starting the engine with a roar that turned heads on the sidewalk.
“I was starting to think London had turned you into one of those polite British gentlemen.”
As we pulled into traffic, Vincentunched into what sounded like a prepared speech about how well he had taken care of “my woman and
son” while I was gone.
He went on about Caesar’s intelligence, his curiosity, hispleteck of resemnce to my “brooding, overly serious personality.”
“I hope you haven’t been teaching my son any of your nonsense,” I said, though I was smiling despite myself.
“Nonsense? I’m molding my future godson into a properdies‘ man. Starting early is key to sess in these matters.”
“He’s three years old, Vincent. He hasn’t even started kindergarten yet.”
“Exactly. The earlier the better. You can’t start building charm too young.”
We fell intofortable silence for a while, the familiar sights of Manhattan streaming past the windows. But the closer we got to the penthouse, the more my anxiety ramped up.
“How is she?” asked finally. “Celine. Has she been okay? Did you notice anything… strange?”
Vincent nced at me from the corner of his eye. “She and the baby are in perfect health, ording to Dr. Martinez. <b>You </b>can stop worrying<b>.</b>”
“I can’t help it.”
“I know. But seriously, Hunter, calm down. Everything’s fine.”
Something in his tone made me look at him more closely. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. Why would you think……”
“<b>Vincent</b><b>.</b>” <b>My </b><b>voice </b>dropped to the tone I used in boardrooms when I wanted answers. <b>“</b>Spill. What <b>happened </b><b>while </b>I was poi
He was quiet for <b>so </b>long I thought he wasn’t going to answer. When he finally spoke, his usual cockiness was gone.
<b>“</b>Okay, look, I’m going to tell you something, but you can’t freak out, all right?”
My entire body went rigid. “Just tell me.”
“Caroline ran into Celine at the shopping mall the day you left for London. Caesar mentioned that they had seen your mother while you were
away.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. My mother. She had contacted Celine while I was three thousand miles away and unable to protect
them.
“What did she want?” The question came out low and dangerous.
“I don’t know. Caroline said Celine seemed fine, so whatever happened, it couldn’t have been too bad. And the fact that Celine didn’t mention it to you when you called probably means….”
“It means she’s keeping secrets again.” My hands clenched into fists in myp. “I thought we <i>were </i>past this.”
“Hey.” Vincent’s voice was gentler now.
“Maybe she just didn’t want you to worry while you were handling business in London. You know how she is–she tries to protect everyone else from drama.”
But I knew my mother too well.
Eleanor Reid didn’t make social calls, especially not to women she considered beneath her son’s notice. Whatever she had said to Celine, whatever she had done, it hadn’t been harmless.
“As long as she and the baby and Caesar are fine, there’s nothing to worry about,” Vincent continued.
“I moved them to your penthouse like you asked. The security there could keep out a small army.” <fn302f> Updates are released by Find~Novel</fn302f>
“You think I’m overdoing it.”
“I think you’re being cautious. There’s a difference.” He pulled into the circr drive of my building.
“Your mother might be maniptive, but she’s not going to blow up your penthouse again just to make another point.”
“You don’t know her like I do.” I thought about Sophia and how a constant wave of doubt and criticism made her believe she didn’t belong <b>in </b>my world.
“She pushed Sophia away with nothing but words and perfectly timedments. She’s capable of more than you think.”
Vincent parked and turned to face me fully. “Then act nice when you go up there. Don’t walk in looking like a man who’s been sentenced <b>to </b>death. Go see your family.”
The word hit me square in the chest.
Family.
That’s what they were now, wasn’t it? Celine, Caesar, and the baby we’d made together.
I pulled my suitcase from the back seat, then leaned down to Vincent’s open window. “Thank you. For everything. <b>I </b><b>know </b><b>taking </b><b>care </b><b>of </b><b>them </b>
<b>5 </b>
?
66<b>% </b>
wasn’t your responsibility.”
“They’re important to you, which makes them important to me. Besides,” his cocky grin returned, “Caesar’s going to make an excellent wingman in about fifteen years.”
“Get out of here before I change my mind about thanking you.”
“I’m going, I’m going. Got some prettydies waiting for me to bury myself in their……”
“Vincent.”
Heughed and peeled out of the driveway with the kind of dramatic ir that only he could pull off.
I was adjusting my sunsses when I caught sight of a strange figure sitting at a café across the street. Thedy was staring directly at me. but when our eyes met, she quickly looked away.
Something about her seemed suspicious, but I couldn’t ce her. After a moment, I dismissed it and headed inside.
“Good evening, Mr. Reid,” Henry the valet said as I passed through the lobby. “Wee home.”
The security guards nodded respectfully, but I barely acknowledged them.
My mind was already upstairs, with Celine and Caesar and the thousand questions I needed to ask about my mother’s visit.
The elevator ride to the penthouse felt endless.
I had had cameras installed while I was gone…discrete ones that Vincent had assured me were state–of–the–art.
1 checked the hallway one more time before punching in my security code.
The door had barely closed behind me when I heard her voice from the bedroom.
“Vincent? Is that you?”
I stood frozen in the entryway, my arms crossed, leaning against the wall as Celine appeared in the doorway.
The sight of her knocked the breath clean out of my lungs.
She was wearing a silk nightgown that seemed to flow like water over her curves, the deep blue fabric making her skin look radiant.
Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and there was something different about her–a glow that hadn’t been there before I left.
The pregnancy. She was showing now, just barely, but enough that the silk clung to the subtle curve of her belly.
When she saw me, her face lit up with a smile so genuine and beautiful that it undid every defense I had built during the flight home.
“Hunter.” My name was <i>a </i>whisper on her lips.
I pushed myself off the wall and crossed the room in three long strides, my hand immediately going to her cheek. <i>Her </i>skin was soft and warm, and she leaned into my touch like she’d been starving for it.
“I missed you,” she breathed.
My other hand found her waist, pulling her against <i>me</i>, and I could feel the small changes in her body—the fullness in her breasts, <i>the </i>slight roundness of her belly where our child was growing.
Five days. Five fucking days, and I had nearly lost my mind missing her.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmured, my thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. “So fucking beautiful.”
Her breath hitched, and I could see the pulse fluttering in her throat. The silk nightgown left little to the imagination–the swell of <b>her </b>breasts, the curve of her hips, the long line of her legs.
My body responded instantly, blood rushing south so fast it made me dizzy.
I wanted to ask about my mother.
Wanted to demand answers about what had happened while I was gone. But right now, with Celine warm and soft in my arms, nothing else
mattered.
“I need you,” I said, my voice rough with five days of pent–up desire. “Right now.”
Her eyes darkened, pupils dting as she looked up at me. “Hunter…<b>” </b>
I backed her toward the wall, my hands sliding down to grip her hips.
The silk was so thin I could feel the heat of her skin through it, and when she arched against me, I nearly lost what little control I had left.
“Papa!”
Caesar’s voice rang out from the bedroom, followed by the sound of small feet running across hardwood floors.
Celine and I sprang apart just as he came barreling into the living room, his dark hair messy from sleep, wearing dinosaur pajamas that were too big for his small frame.
“Papa! You’re home!” Heunched himself at my legs with the kind of trust and zeal that made my chest tight.
t scooped him up, breathing in his familiar scent of baby shampoo and innocence. “Hey, buddy. Did you miss me?”
“So much! Uncle Vincent taught me how to y poker, and Mama made pancakes that looked like cars, and we watched movies about robots<i>!</i>” His words tumbled over each other in his excitement.
Over his head, I caught Celine’s eye. She was smoothing down her nightgown, her cheeks flushed with desire and embarrassment.
But there was something else in her expression. Something that looked almost like guilt.
My mother’s visit. Whatever had happened, whatever Eleanor had said to her, it was written all over Celine’s face.
The questions I had been avoiding crashed back over me all at once.
But Caesar was chattering about his week, and Celine was looking at me with <i>those </i>wide, trusting eyes, and I realized that whatever storm wasing whatavaraama my mother was ying it could <b>wait </b>until morning
Righ
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<i>in </i>five