Chapter 4

The Night We Should’ve Never Had

The storm came without warning.

One minute the sky over Manhattan was calm, and the next, thunder cracked across the clouds like a warning shot. The gala had ended, the limo was waiting, but Lucas didn’t say a word to Amelia during the drive back.

The silence between them was no longer cold—it was electric.

Amelia sat stiffly in her seat, heart racing from the encounter with Gabriel. His words haunted her. Lucas doesn’t do anything without a reason. He was right. There was something Lucas wasn’t telling her. A deeper motive. A hidden card. And it terrified her.

But what terrified her more… was the way her body responded when he was near.

⸻

By the time they returned to the penthouse, the storm was in full force. Rain lashed the windows like wild fingers trying to get in. Lightning lit up the skyline in jagged flashes.

Amelia headed straight to her bedroom.

At least, she meant to.

“Don’t go,” Lucas’s voice cut through the hallway behind her. He was standing in front of the fireplace in the main living room, loosening his tie, watching her with unreadable eyes.

She turned slowly. “What?”

“Come here,” he said, simply. No emotion. No warmth.

She hesitated, the sound of thunder crashing outside her only company.

“What is this, Lucas?” she asked. “You kiss me in front of the media, humiliate me in private, and then summon me like… like—”

“Like you’re mine?” he finished for her, his voice low, dangerously calm.

She flinched.

He stepped closer, the shadows of the dimly lit room flickering across his face. “Do you know what people said tonight, Amelia? That I married a nobody. That you were a desperate gold digger who’d do anything to get into my bed.”

She looked up at him, trembling. “Isn’t that what you think too?”

His jaw flexed. “I thought that. Until tonight.”

Her breath caught.

Lucas ran a hand through his damp hair and exhaled slowly, as if trying to wrestle something inside himself. “When Vanessa cornered you, I watched you hold your ground. You didn’t crumble. You didn’t cry.”

“I wanted to,” she admitted. “But I couldn’t give her the satisfaction.”

He stepped even closer, so close she could smell his cologne—cedar, spice, and something dangerously masculine. “You’re stronger than I thought, Amelia. Stronger than I wanted you to be.”

“Why?” she whispered, voice trembling. “Why does that scare you?”

Lucas looked at her like she was unraveling everything he tried to keep buried. “Because I don’t want to feel anything for you. I made you my wife for one reason. Business. A deal. Not… this.”

“This?” she echoed, heart thudding.

Lightning streaked across the sky again, illuminating the conflict in his eyes. Pain. Anger. Lust. Fear.

Then, suddenly—he kissed her.

His mouth crushed hers in a moment of weakness that felt like it had been building for weeks. Fire roared through her veins as her hands flew to his chest. She should’ve pushed him away. This wasn’t part of the contract. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

But she didn’t.

She kissed him back.

Harder.

Desperate.

She needed to forget everything—her broken family, her secrets, the lies swirling in her chest—and he was the only thing that made her feel like she existed.

Lucas groaned against her lips, backing her up toward the fireplace. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her into him like she belonged there. Her breath hitched as his mouth left a trail down her jaw, her throat, her shoulder.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, voice thick with restraint.

But she couldn’t.

She didn’t want to.

Because in that moment, she wasn’t his maid, or his fake wife, or his chess piece.

She was just… his.

⸻

They didn’t make it to the bedroom.

They made love right there—on the plush rug in front of the fire, the storm outside mirroring the storm inside them. Every touch was electric. Every moan, forbidden. Every breathless gasp, a confession of a desire they could no longer deny.

Lucas’s control cracked.

Amelia’s walls shattered.

And somewhere between the thunder and the heat, something irreversible happened.

⸻

Morning came slowly.

Amelia woke first. The fire had died down. The storm had passed.

And beside her, Lucas lay still, one arm draped across her waist, his face softened by sleep.

She watched him quietly. How different he looked like this. No suits. No cold words. No armor.

Just a man.

But then he stirred.

The moment he opened his eyes and saw her watching, the softness vanished. His walls went back up like armor being snapped into place.

He sat up and reached for his shirt, the silence between them heavier than ever.

“Lucas…” she said gently.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” he said flatly.

Her heart dropped. “You don’t mean that.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood and buttoned his shirt, avoiding her gaze.

“Was I just another deal to you?” she asked, voice small. “Even last night?”

“No,” he said, and for a second, she saw something flicker in his eyes. Something real. But he buried it just as quickly. “But it changes nothing.”

He walked out of the room without looking back.

⸻

Three days passed.

Lucas didn’t mention that night again.

He was colder. Sharper. Like he was punishing himself—or punishing her—for what happened. Amelia kept her distance, trying to understand what it meant. But nothing made sense anymore.

Until she started feeling… off.

At first, it was just dizziness. Then came the nausea. The pounding headaches. And the overwhelming fatigue that wouldn’t go away.

On the fourth day, she stood in the hallway mirror and stared at herself.

Something was wrong.

Or maybe… something was beginning.

Her hand flew to her stomach as a wave of nausea hit her again.

She rushed to the bathroom.

⸻

Ten minutes later, she stood frozen in place, three pregnancy tests lined up on the marble counter. All of them read the same thing.

Positive.

She was pregnant.

Pregnant for the man who bought her.

Pregnant for her boss.

Pregnant for her husband in name only—

Who swore nothing between them would ever change.

She clutched the counter, knuckles white.

What would he say?

What would he do?

⸻

Later that night, Lucas returned home from a late meeting. He found her waiting in the living room, holding the test in her hands.

He glanced at it. Then at her. His face was unreadable.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, barely above a whisper. “It’s yours.”

For a moment, time stopped.

Lucas stared at her.

The air in the room grew thick. His fists clenched. His expression didn’t change—no smile, no frown. Just stillness.

But his eyes…

His eyes gave him away.

For the first time since the contract, something sparked behind them. Not fear. Not anger.

Hope.

And maybe—just maybe—joy.

But he masked it fast, turning away as if he couldn’t afford to let her see it.

“I see,” he said simply.

“That’s all?” she whispered. “You see?”

He hesitated.

Then, in a voice low and restrained, he said, “I’ll make sure you and the baby have everything you need.”

Amelia’s heart twisted.

But even as he turned his back again, she noticed the way his shoulders relaxed. The way his steps were just a little lighter.

And the ghost of a smile… he tried so hard to hide.