“I don’t do repeats,” I say casually. “If we’ve met, it’s best forgotten.”
She blinks, staring long enough to let the insult sink in, and I turn away before she can retaliate.
She’s not my type, never was. Too sharp at the edges; too curated. Too not-April. Christ. I take a slow sip of my drink. My tie feels tight. It’s been like this ever since the boat. Ever since waking up beside her, hearing her sleepy voice threaten to sue me for breach of contract. I’ve been stuck in the memory like sap. Her legs tangled with mine. Her hair fanned out on the pillow. The way she looked at me when I told her the truth about Natalie. It shouldn’t matter.Sheshouldn’t matter; yet, I can’t stop thinking about her.
Then I seehimacross the room, smug as ever, talking to someone I don’t recognize. Aidan Snow. We make eye contact. I lift my glass in a mock-toast, and he returns it with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Fucker. He’s circling, I know it. Circling in the way a vulture circles a carcass. Before I can stalk over and make a scene, I feel a brush of fingers along my sleeve. Karen. Of course. She steps close to me, her eyes hard and bright, but her smile is sharp enough to cut glass. “You know,” she says, “I wasn’t sure until now.”
I don’t look at her. “Sure about what?”
“Who it is, but now…now I know. It’s April Swan. I saw her at the Four Seasons a few weeks ago. I wasn’t sure it was her then.” She tuts softly. “Of all the women, Anthony.”
“Don’t,” I say, still not facing her. “Not tonight.”
“You’re the CEO of a billion-dollar empire. She’s your employee. A young employee. It’s inappropriate at best.”
I finally glance at her. “You mean like how your sister was fucking a married man in our penthouse while I was flying home from Tokyo?”
She flinches, just barely. “Don’t speak about Natalie like that.”
“Why not? You said yourself that she wouldn’t want this.” I take another sip, letting the burn hit. “Well, Natalie doesn’t get to want anything anymore.”
“You really don’t care, do you?”
“Not about her. No.”
Karen’s lips tighten, and she steps even closer, her voice low and cold. “I will inform the board. This, whatever this is, is a breach of conduct. It’s a liability. You’re gambling everything on?—”
“Go to hell,” I snap, turning to face her fully now. “They’ll all be behind me. And you know it.”
She stares at me. “You’re not untouchable.”
“No,” I agree. “But you sure as hell aren’t the one who’s going to touch me.”
She doesn’t answer. Just walks away with a stiff spine and a tight jaw.
I exhale slowly and force myself to recenter.
A few minutes later, I find Joseph Brant near the garden terrace, sipping whiskey with the kind of casual detachment that only comes from having outlived multiple hostile takeovers.
“Anthony,” he says, giving me a nod. “Looking sharp.”
“Joseph.”
He gestures with his glass. “So. How’s the heir hunt going? Find yourself a suitable partner yet? Wife on the horizon?”
My stomach clenches. Wife? I keep my expression neutral. “Working on it.”
“Good man,” he says with a laugh. “You’ve got time. Just don’t wait too long. The board’s already started whispering.”
“I’m aware.”
We talk a little longer. I warn him about Karen, and he tells me he’ll have my back. But the wordwifekeeps hammering at the back of my skull like a fire alarm. I excuse myself, step aside, and pull out my phone. I open the scanned version of the trust paperwork from my email and scroll until I find what I’m looking for. There it is. Clear as fucking day.
Heir and spouse, legally recognized.
The blood drains from my face. How the fuck did I miss that? How!? This entire time I’ve been focused on getting her pregnant, controlling the narrative, and keeping the board at bay. All the while, I missed one of the most important conditions of the trust. I need an heir and a wife. I need both to meet the requirements of the trust.
Oh, April… God. How am I supposed to tell her this? How do I even begin? She might already be pregnant. I can’t just let her walk. I now have to sell her on not just birthing my kid, but tying herself to me irrevocably for long enough to keep the board off my back. She’s not just giving me a child. I have to ask her to give me everything else, too.
