Chapter 3: Velvet and Vows
The private lounge door shut with a heavy, muffled thud, sealing them in the scent of old leather and jasmine. He didn’t release her arm. “Start talking.” “Let go of me, Michael.” Her voice was low, but a tremor ran beneath it. He guided her, not gently, toward the deep velvet drapes, his other hand still resting possessively on the curve of her stomach. “You don’t get to disappear with my child,” he said, the words a gravelly whisper against her temple. She turned her face away, her profile etched the midday light streaming from the lounge windows.
She pulled her wrist free, the heat of his grip lingering on her skin like a brand.
"I wasn't trying to run away with your child," she said, the words rushing out as she finally looked up at his face. His expression was unreadable, all sharp angles and shadowed eyes. "But that... what happened... that wasn't normal. We were both drugged."
She hugged her coat to her chest, a feeble barrier. "And it's not fair to ask you to take responsibility for something you didn't ask for." The truth of it, spoken aloud, seemed to hollow her out. She forced her chin up. "I can raise my child on my own."
The silence between them thickened, charged with everything unsaid. "We can work something out," she finished, her voice barely above the whisper of the jazz record. "If you want to see the baby."
He didn't move. He just studied her, the intensity of his gaze mapping every flicker of fear and defiance on her face. The hand that had been on her stomach hung at his side, fingers flexing once.
"So that's your play," he said, his tone dangerously flat. "You unilaterally decide what's fair. You make the choice for both of us." He took a single step closer, invading the space she’d just claimed. "You don't get to do that."
"It's my body." "It's my child." The correction was instantaneous, absolute. He watched the color drain from her pale olive skin. "The tea wasn't an invitation, Lexi. But this," he said, his gaze dropping pointedly to her midsection, "is a consequence we both share."
He turned and walked to the low table, popping the cork from the champagne bottle with a subdued sigh. He didn't pour it. "You're not raising it on your own." He finally looked back at her. "We're getting married."
The statement landed in the quiet room like a physical object. "You're out of your mind," she breathed, her mahogany eyes wide with pure shock. "That's not a solution."
"It's the only one that works." His voice held no romantic pretense, only cold, brutal logic. "My family needs an heir. You're carrying it. This solves everything neatly." He finally picked up a glass, swirling the pale liquid without drinking. "Think of it as our final mediation."
Lexi shook her head slowly, a sad, disbelieving motion. “Michael, we don't even know each other. Not really.” Her voice softened, fraying at the edges. “And a marriage… that’s a big deal.” She looked at him, her mahogany eyes pleading with his sky-blue ones. “Listen, we can raise the baby together. Joint custody and all.” She took a shallow breath, her hands unconsciously cradling her belly. “We don’t need to be married for that.”
He watched her, his expression unmoved by her quiet appeal.
“That’s the messy, difficult version,” he stated, his tone leaving no room for debate. He set the champagne glass down with a definitive click. “Drawn-out lawyers, public schedules, competing households.” He took a step toward her, his shadow falling across her. “I won’t have my child living that way.”
“You’d rather have them live in a lie?” she shot back, her defiance returning in a flash. “A marriage of obligation? Just like the one you were avoiding with Bianca?” The name hung in the air, a sharp, accusatory thing.
Michael’s jaw tightened, a muscle feathering along his temple. “This is different.”
“How?” She pressed, her voice rising. “Because now there’s a transaction?” He closed the final distance between them, his presence overwhelming the scent of jasmine. “Because now it’s my responsibility,” he said, his voice low and final. “And I handle my responsibilities directly.” He looked down at her, his gaze tracing the faint tremble in her lower lip. “We’ll get to know each other. Starting now.”