CHAPTER FOUR

XAVIER’s POV

It was five o’clock in the morning and I had ejaculated thrice already. I looked at the pretty lady on the same bed with me, I had fucked her so hard in the last few hours, as we explored different sex positions

She was now sleeping peacefully beside me, like all her problems had been solved with the sex we had. I looked at her buttocks humped in front of me and felt like sliding my cock in for another round, but I dismissed that on a second thought, I felt she needed the sleep, so I just rolled to the other side of the bed.

The room had shifted from dark to that specific shade of grey that existed at the border of night and morning. 

Beside me, she breathed slowly and evenly, her dark chestnut hair fanned across the pillow in a way that looked almost deliberate. In sleep she looked nothing like the woman who had fired back at me with sharp eyes and zero patience for pity.

I had no business watching her this long, so I turned my gaze to the ceiling.

I never planned my night like this. Not the bar, not the hotel, not the sex, but it happened anyway. Last night had been an act of pure, uncharacteristic impulse. 

My phone started vibrating against the bedside table. It rang three times, I shut my eyes. Whoever it was could wait. Then it rang again. I reached for it with a curse under my breath.

I looked at the phone, the caller was Arthur, my grandfather. I sat up slowly and answered the call before it could disconnect.

“Grandfather?”

But it wasn’t him that spoke from the other end of the phone.

“Mr. Beaumont.” The voice belonged to Margaret, my grandfather’s longtime housekeeper. “You need to come to the house immediately.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “What happened?”

“There has been… a situation at the estate.”

“What situation?” I asked again

There was a little pause at the other end before Margaret spoke again.

“Your grandfather collapsed during breakfast preparations. The doctor is here, but he insists on seeing you.”

Every muscle got alerted in my body.

“Is he conscious?”

“Yes, but he refused to take medication until you come home.”

I was already standing. “I’m leaving now.”

The call ended and I lowered the phone slowly.

For a moment, I simply stood there. At seventy-three, my grandfather had developed a habit of pretending mortality was something that happened exclusively to other people. He still attended board meetings and still involved himself in charity events.

And even if I was angry at him, I couldn’t stand him being ill or inconvenient, even if he faked it. He was all I have after my father died in a car accident on a business trip when I was fifteen. My grandfather had taken up the fatherly role, even in his grieving state.

I wore my clothes hurriedly, grabbed my car keys and dashed toward the door. Almost at the threshold, I looked back at the woman still sleeping peacefully in bed. I don’t even know her name. She hadn’t asked for mine and I hadn’t asked hers either.

I dashed out of the suite.

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The Beaumont estate was a forty minutes drive from the hotel. The estate sat on twelve acres of land that my great-grandfather had purchased when the city was still deciding what it wanted to be. 

I covered the distance in twenty-six minutes. I drove in through the large iron gates. I left the car on the front gravel and took the steps two at a time, pushing through the main entrance into the wide entrance hall where two members of the house staff stood near the bottom of the staircase.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Sir,” Margaret stepped forward from the corridor to my left. “The crisis worsened and Dr Harlan had suggested he should be moved to the private medical wing immediately for adequate medical attention.

“What do you mean worsened?” I asked.

Margaret looked nervous.

“He collapsed again while waiting for you.”

A curse slipped under my breath. I didn’t wait for another explanation, I headed straight toward the private medical wing on the first floor.

The Beaumont estate was large enough to accommodate almost anything. Grandfather had insisted on building an in-house medical suite years ago after my father’s death.

The door was slightly open when I got to the wing entrance. I pushed it wider. The scene before me doesn’t match the race in my heart.

My grandfather sat upright on the bed, very much alive, hale and hearty.

His face lightened up with smile the moment he turned toward the door entrance and saw me. 

“You look more healthy for someone who dragged me out of bed at six in the morning.” I said as I walked in and sat on the edge of the bed beside him.