Page 80 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

She remained sitting on my desk, those hazel eyes following my every movement. She looked thoroughly fucked—her hair tousled, her mouth swollen from my kisses. I’d never be able to sit at this desk without seeing this image.

“We won’t be needing condoms,” I told her calmly, leaning back in my fancy chair. Unable to keep my hands from her, I brought my palm to her thigh and squeezed. “Because you, Dr. Swan, will marry me and give me heirs.” She stared at me in confusion, shaking her head. “Yes, that’s my condition,” I said coolly while my heart thundered. I was so close to having what I wanted. I couldn’t fuck it up. “I’ll give you a million dollars today, and you’ll marry me. When we leave this office, you’ll go to my home. My bed.”

You and our son will be in my home where you both belong. But I wouldn’t tell her that I knew her little secret. If I knew her well enough, she’d insist her son and sister come along anyway.

She swallowed. “Marry you?” she whispered, blinking in confusion. “But you... Aren’t you married already?”

Jesus, hadn’t this woman looked me up at all? The press deemed me and my brothers the most eligible bachelors on this planet and this woman didn’t even know my marital status.

“Unless you know something I don’t, I’ve never married,” I stated calmly while agitation grew inside me.

“But I thought… y-you already have an heir,” she sputtered.

Okay, now she was really pissing me off. “I do?” I raised my eyebrow. Maybe she’d come clean and tell me about Ares, although somehow I doubted it. “Where is that heir, pray tell?”

“In New Orleans?”

“New Orleans,” I repeated. Then I remembered. My nephew was sitting next to me when we ran into each other. “That’s my nephew. Kostya.”

“Oh.”

I waited for her to say something else. Anything else. I gave her a chance to come clean. My heart raced. I needed my ring on her finger. I needed her in my bed for the rest of our lives.

“Tell me you’ll marry me, and I’ll take care of all your troubles.”

She kept shaking her head, the look in her eyes telling me she’d rather do anything but that. Too fucking bad.

“Can’t you just help me”—she licked her lips and my cock throbbed, eager to have her again—“out of the goodness of your heart?”

I scoffed. My heart. The very same one she shattered. The very same one she’d stomped all over without a second thought.

“No.” For a split second, I saw pain flash through her hazel eyes, but she averted her gaze. A small sigh left her lips, and she started to twist her graceful fingers.

“I can’t marry you,” she muttered.

“Why not? As far as I know, you’re not married.”

“We’re incompatible.” She raised her head, meeting my eyes head-on. “My family is nothing like yours. Your father destroys people. Mine saved people.” My brows furrowed at the odd comment. Why would she care anything about my father? She’d never even met him. Not that her comment was off base though. “We have nothing in common. We never had anything in common. Not six years ago, not today.”

Aside from our son. The knowledge danced through the air. Except she didn’t know that I knew her secret. Or did it not even cross her mind that our son would bind us forever? Unless—

No, it would be impossible for Ares to be anyone else’s son. He was the spitting image of me. I was a rational man, and I’d trust evidence, despite my trust in said evidence having been betrayed once already. But I would get to the bottom of that soon enough.

“We’re plenty compatible,” I told her. “After all, I was just buried deep inside of you, and it seemed to me we fit just right.”

She let out a frustrated breath. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Asshole is my middle name.”Or Ares, like our son, I added silently. It made me wonder whether she knew my middle name or if this was just a lucky coincidence. “You will marry me, or I’ll hand you over personally to the diamond smugglers.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

I shrugged, my pulse racing. She single-handedly managed to raise my blood pressure. “Try me, Dr. Swan,” I gritted.

She stared at me, weighing her options. Of course, she had none. If I’d known she was pregnant six years ago, I’d have dragged her to the altar.

“If we get married, we live separate lives?” She tried to frame her words as an ultimatum, but it wavered just enough to make it a question.

“No, you’ll move in with me.”