Chapter 5: The impossible Offer

Maya

By the time Monday morning arrived, I had accepted that I wasn't going to find sleep anytime soon. .

The entire weekend had disappeared in a blur of restless nights and unfinished thoughts. Every time I closed my eyes, I found myself back in the private lounge, hearing Brian whisper my name and feeling the warmth of his hand against my body as our body moved together. 

No matter how many times I reminded myself that he hadn't been fully aware of what he was doing, the memory refused to lose its sharp edges.

One question refused to leave me alone. Did he remember?

If he did, why hadn't he said anything?If he didn't… Why did that disappoint me more than it should?

The alarm finally dragged me out of bed. After getting ready, I did the only thing I knew how to do.

Go to work and pretend nothing had happened.

The elevator carried me to the executive floor, and I caught my reflection in the polished doors. Makeup hid most of the exhaustion, but not enough to fool Emily.

"Maya."

I looked up as she approached with two coffees.

"I figured you'd need this."

She placed one on my desk before studying my face.

"You look like you've been negotiating with insomnia all weekend."

I managed a small smile as I wrapped my hands around the warm cup.

"I think insomnia won."

"I knew it." She leaned against the edge of my desk. "Too much work, or are you finally going to admit you've been worrying about something?"

I looked down at the coffee instead of answering.

If anyone asked me what was wrong, I wouldn't even know where to begin.

Emily let the silence linger for a moment before sighing.

"You know where to find me if you ever decide to talk."

"I know.”

She squeezed my shoulder before heading toward her office. That's one thing I love about Emily, she knows when to push and when to give space. 

I had barely opened my calendar when the elevator doors opened again.

Brian stepped onto the executive floor as though nothing had happened. His charcoal suit was as immaculate as ever, his posture straight, his expression calm as employees greeted him on his way past.

"Good morning, Alpha."

"Morning, sir."

He acknowledged each greeting with a nod before his eyes met mine.

"Good morning, Maya."

"Good morning, Mr. Silverman."

His voice was steady. His expression unreadable.

There wasn't the slightest sign that Friday night existed anywhere in his memory.

He disappeared into his office, leaving me staring at the closed door.

So… He really didn't remember.

The thought should have relieved me, Instead, it left an ache I couldn't explain.

The morning settled into its usual routine until a junior accountant stopped by my desk with paperwork.

"I heard the Council gave Mr. Silverman one year to produce an heir," she whispered. "Otherwise they'll strip him of the Alpha title."

The words settled heavily in my chest.

Before I could ask another question, my intercom buzzed.

"Maya."

"Yes, Mr. Silverman?"

"Would you come into my office?"

"Of course."

I straightened my blouse before knocking once and stepping inside.

Brian stood beside the windows overlooking Manhattan.

"Close the door."

I did.

He remained silent for a moment before turning toward me.

"I've made a decision."

I waited.

"The Council has given me twelve months to produce an heir. Whether I agree with their methods is irrelevant. The deadline exists."

He picked up a file from his desk.

"I want you to research surrogacy agencies. I need complete confidentiality, experienced medical teams, and a proven legal record. Narrow the list to the best agencies and arrange consultations."

He slid the file toward me.

"I'd like the report before the end of the week."

My fingers tightened around it. Of all the conversations I'd imagined having after Friday night, this wasn't one of them. He wanted me to find the woman who would carry his child.

"I'll begin immediately."

"Thank you."

Neither of us moved.

The silence stretched until I finally spoke.

“Anything else” He asked, 

"It seems they've forced you into making a choice you never wanted."

"They've forced me to make the decision sooner. I won't marry for politics," he continued. "And I won't choose a mate simply to satisfy the Council. Surrogacy is the most practical solution."

Practical. Maybe for him.

For me, it was impossible not to picture another woman sitting where I stood now, carrying his child while I arranged appointments, answered calls from doctors, and watched someone else become part of the future I'd quietly dreamed about for three years.

I lowered my eyes before he noticed anything on my face.

"Is something on your mind?"

His question caught me off guard.

"I was wondering..."

He waited.

"How do you trust someone you've never met with something this important?"

"It won't be based on trust alone. There will be contracts."

"But contracts don't guarantee people won't change."

His gaze remained steady.

"No. They don't."

The office fell quiet again.

"I don't expect this to be easy," he said. "I simply don't have another option."

I looked down at the folder in my hands.

Maybe he didn't. But I did.

The thought arrived so suddenly it stole my breath.

"What if you didn't need an agency?"

He frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You said trust matters."

"Yes, it does."

"Then you already have someone you trust."

His expression changed ever so slightly.

"Maya..."

"I know your schedule. I understand your responsibilities, and I know how important protecting your heir will be. You wouldn't have to worry about confidentiality or someone using your child against you."

He didn't interrupt.

My pulse hammered in my ears.

"I know this sounds unexpected..."

I managed a nervous smile.

"But if all you need is someone you can trust..."

I swallowed.

"...then you don't need to keep looking."

He stared at me, saying nothing.

For the first time since I'd started working for him, I couldn't read what he was thinking.

I drew one slow breath before the last of my courage disappeared.

"I'll do it."

The words hung between us.

"I'll be your surrogate."

For several long seconds, Brian simply looked at me.

The silence in the office felt louder than anything either of us could have said.