She just stares.
My jaw clenches as irritation aboutthatentire situation creeps in, but I force it down. “That trust requires a blood heir to remain in the event of my death, and it requires one before I turn fifty. If I do not meet that deadline, the board will have the right to dissolve my portion of the company. And they absolutely will because they arevultures, April. I do not deal well with unleashed vultures. Do you understand?”
She looks at the papers, then up at me as I lean forward over my desk. Not a single sound comes from her mouth.
“Answer me.”
Her body flinches. “No,” she says, but there’s a little bite in her tone. “I don’t understand. Why would they?—”
“Dissolve my shares? Take me off the board? Remove my claim on Voss & Bartley? Because it’s more profitable for them. They would have control and divvy up the profits every quarter without having to beg for scraps. Because theywantit. This is business, and business at the top is never pretty. It’scompetitive.”
Her mouth snaps shut, forming a hard line.
“I am forty-eight,” I continue, lowering myself to my elbows as I stare her down. “My wife is dead. I don’t want to remarry. I don’t want a random woman who can’t keep her mouth shut to have my kid. I don’t want ascandal.”
Her exhale is shaky, her fingers twisting together in her lap.
“I need an heir. Not a wife, not a family. Just a child. A child with my name, my blood.”
The silence between us blooms thick, too heavy in the large room. Her eyes widen as I imagine the pieces starting to click for her, her shoulder tensing and her fingers stilling. Her back presses against the chair like I might devour her whole. Then shelooksat me, really looks, doing that goddamn searching thingagain where it feels like she’s trying to flay back each layer of skin until she gets to the meat.
“You’re healthy,” I continue. My voice drops as I let my gaze scan down her body before bringing it back to her face. “You’re discreet.Loyal.” Her cheeks turn beet red, followed by the tips of her ears poking out through wavy blonde strands. “You understand discretion better than most people in this building.” Her throat works, swallowing heavily, and I can’t stop myself from picturing how that would feel beneath my palm. “And now… I know you’ve at least thought about it. Fantasized about it.”
Her fingers wrap around her triceps like she’s folding in on herself. Even through the mortification I can see spreading across her face, she looks so goddamncute.
I push up from my elbows, staring down at her from the other side of my desk. “You can keep your job,April. If you help me with this.”
She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t move.
For once, the sharpest tongue on this floor, maybe in this building, is speechless.
Her face shifts through a dozen emotions: shock, anger, betrayal, and humiliation all warring with each other. But I see the flicker of heat, too.How did I miss that before? Was that always there?
“You…” she starts, her mouth staying open for a second longer as she tries to find the words, but then closes it again.
“I want you to have my kid,” I deadpan. “If that wasn’t clear.”
“It was… c-clear.”
I round my desk again, stopping in front of her, watching as she continues to go through emotion after emotion, her gaze lingering just a little too long on the buckle of my belt before her neck slowly cranes back.
God, she looks good beneath me.
“There would be benefits,” I add, jutting my chin at her to bring her eyes fully to mine. “Payment. Security.”
“You’re—you’reinsane,” she breathes. “You’re fucking insane.”
I shrug and rest my ass against the desk again. “If I’m insane for wanting to keep my company, then sure, yes, you’re correct,” I say, resting my palms behind me on the wood. “But if we’re throwing the word around so loosely, then I’d wager you’re insane for considering it right now.”
She pushes up out of the chair abruptly, half-swaying on her heels, the chair scraping back half an inch. “I can’t—I can’t deal with this,” she mutters, stepping around the leather wingback and bee-lining for her office.
I don’t stop her. I don’t follow her. I don’t need to.
Instead, I watch her as she practically stumbles into her office, grabs her bag from the desk, and flees out the door.
Chapter 5
April
