Page 37 of Secret Baby for my Off-Limits Fiancé
She clenches her jaw. I can see the gears turning in her head, trying to find a way out of this conversation.
Always the runner.
I draw closer, enough to notice the evening air is thick with the scent of her, something warm, feminine, and utterly intoxicating. It’s a mix of sweet citrus and something floral.
“Look, what happened the other night was a—"
"Mistake." She says it fast, like she had the word ready on the tip of her tongue, like she’s been preparing for this conversation.
But there’s something off about the way she says it, too sharp, too rehearsed. Like she’s saying it more for herself than for me.
I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. "Right. A mistake." The words taste bitter, but I let them sit between us. "It can't happen again."
She nods, too quickly. "Of course not."
I should leave it at that. Should turn around and walk away, let the whole damn thing fade into nothing. But I don’t. Because she won’t look at me.
Her arms are crossed, nails digging into the bare skin of her upper arms, and she’s staring somewhere past my shoulder, like eye contact might shatter whatever fragile wall she’s trying to put between us.
Then, she sighs.
“Why does it even matter? I heard about Eva, and if she wins and takes your land, what happens then? Our whole arrangement falls apart anyway.”
I still at the mention of Eva.
“How do you know about that?” I keep my voice carefully measured.
She looks away. “News travels fast.”
I don’t buy it. But before I can press further, something tugs at my pant leg.
I look down.
The little boy.
His big, brown eyes blink up at me, curious and bright.
“Wanna play?” He holds up a small toy car.
The simple request knocks the air out of my lungs.
Layla tenses. “Vincent, sweetheart, let’s not—”
“I’d love to.” I crouch down. If nothing else, this buys me more time.
She’s hiding something, something big. And I’m going to find out what.
Vincent beams and hands me the car. “I love cars.”
I chuckle, flipping the toy in my hand. “That so? When I was a kid, I used to race cars all over my house. Drove my parents crazy.”
“Races! Vroom…”
“Yes. And now I have a grown-up car that goes very fast,” I point to my Porsche GT3 RS trying to impress the boy.
“Wow.”
We start racing the tiny cars along the pavement, and for a moment, it’s easy. Natural.
