Page 103
Story: Sexting the Billionaire
"No," I say quickly. "People will notice if we both disappear at the same time."
He nods, though reluctance is evident in his posture. "At least come back inside. It's too cold out here for—" He stops, caution replacing his natural instinct to protect.
"For a pregnant woman?" I supply, unable to suppress a smile at his sudden self-censorship.
"I was going to say 'for someone wearing silk,'" he counters smoothly, though his eyes betray him.
The moment stretches between us, charged with everything we can't say in this public setting, everything that's changed in the past twenty-four hours.
"I saw an obstetrician today," I say quietly, checking to ensure we're still alone. "I have an appointment next week. They'll do an ultrasound."
Roman goes very still, something raw and vulnerable flashing across his face before he masters it. "An ultrasound," he repeats. "We'll be able to see..."
"Not much yet," I caution. "It's early. But yes, we'll see... something. Evidence."
"I want to be there." The words come quickly, almost urgently. "If you want me there."
The request touches something deep inside me, a tender place I didn't know existed until now. "Of course I want you there."
Relief softens his expression. "Good. That's... good."
Another wave of dizziness washes over me, stronger this time, making me sway slightly on my feet. Roman steps forward immediately, his hand catching my elbow to steady me, professional distance forgotten.
"That's it," he says, his tone brooking no argument. "We're leaving."
"Roman, we can't?—"
"Watch me." His voice drops lower, that authoritative CEO tone that usually irritates me but now feels strangely reassuring. "You're pale as a ghost, Cassie."
As if to prove his point, the world tilts alarmingly, darkness creeping at the edges of my vision. I grip his arm, suddenly grateful for his solid presence.
"Okay," I concede. "Maybe we should go."
Roman doesn't waste time with "I told you so." Instead, he guides me back inside with a hand at the small of my back, discreetly signaling to Henri with his free hand. We make our excuses to the host, Roman citing an early meeting, me pleading a migraine. If anyone notices we're leaving together, they're too polite to comment.
In the car, I slump against the leather seat, exhaustion hitting me with unexpected force. "I didn't think it would be like this," I murmur, eyes closed against the city lights flashing past.
"What?" Roman asks from beside me.
"Any of it. Pregnancy. Leaving events early. You taking care of me." I turn my head to look at him, finding his gaze already fixed on my face. "You're not what I expected, Roman Kade."
"Is that good or bad?" he asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.
"Good," I decide. "Surprising, but good."
We ride in companionable silence for several blocks before Roman speaks again, his voice thoughtful. "I was thinking about names today."
The admission catches me completely off guard. "Names? Already?"
"Too soon?" he asks, a touch of uncertainty creeping into his voice.
"No, I just..." I struggle to articulate my surprise. "I didn't expect you to think about that yet."
"I think about everything," he reminds me. "Planning is what I do."
"And what names are you considering?" I ask, curious despite myself.
"For a girl, Eleanor," he says. "After my mother."
He nods, though reluctance is evident in his posture. "At least come back inside. It's too cold out here for—" He stops, caution replacing his natural instinct to protect.
"For a pregnant woman?" I supply, unable to suppress a smile at his sudden self-censorship.
"I was going to say 'for someone wearing silk,'" he counters smoothly, though his eyes betray him.
The moment stretches between us, charged with everything we can't say in this public setting, everything that's changed in the past twenty-four hours.
"I saw an obstetrician today," I say quietly, checking to ensure we're still alone. "I have an appointment next week. They'll do an ultrasound."
Roman goes very still, something raw and vulnerable flashing across his face before he masters it. "An ultrasound," he repeats. "We'll be able to see..."
"Not much yet," I caution. "It's early. But yes, we'll see... something. Evidence."
"I want to be there." The words come quickly, almost urgently. "If you want me there."
The request touches something deep inside me, a tender place I didn't know existed until now. "Of course I want you there."
Relief softens his expression. "Good. That's... good."
Another wave of dizziness washes over me, stronger this time, making me sway slightly on my feet. Roman steps forward immediately, his hand catching my elbow to steady me, professional distance forgotten.
"That's it," he says, his tone brooking no argument. "We're leaving."
"Roman, we can't?—"
"Watch me." His voice drops lower, that authoritative CEO tone that usually irritates me but now feels strangely reassuring. "You're pale as a ghost, Cassie."
As if to prove his point, the world tilts alarmingly, darkness creeping at the edges of my vision. I grip his arm, suddenly grateful for his solid presence.
"Okay," I concede. "Maybe we should go."
Roman doesn't waste time with "I told you so." Instead, he guides me back inside with a hand at the small of my back, discreetly signaling to Henri with his free hand. We make our excuses to the host, Roman citing an early meeting, me pleading a migraine. If anyone notices we're leaving together, they're too polite to comment.
In the car, I slump against the leather seat, exhaustion hitting me with unexpected force. "I didn't think it would be like this," I murmur, eyes closed against the city lights flashing past.
"What?" Roman asks from beside me.
"Any of it. Pregnancy. Leaving events early. You taking care of me." I turn my head to look at him, finding his gaze already fixed on my face. "You're not what I expected, Roman Kade."
"Is that good or bad?" he asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.
"Good," I decide. "Surprising, but good."
We ride in companionable silence for several blocks before Roman speaks again, his voice thoughtful. "I was thinking about names today."
The admission catches me completely off guard. "Names? Already?"
"Too soon?" he asks, a touch of uncertainty creeping into his voice.
"No, I just..." I struggle to articulate my surprise. "I didn't expect you to think about that yet."
"I think about everything," he reminds me. "Planning is what I do."
"And what names are you considering?" I ask, curious despite myself.
"For a girl, Eleanor," he says. "After my mother."
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