All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE'S SECRET SON: BETRAYAL AND BLOODLINE: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

"Do you always retreat down the back hallway when the crowd disperses, or is this reserved for me?"I turned around, startled, ready to let the box of excess name tags I had been sorting drop to the floor. Lucas Knight was against the wall, his hand in his pocket and the other holding a half-full water bottle. His smile was natural, but his eyes, black and stubborn, gripped me like he knew more already than I was willing to share."Not for you, certainly," I replied, sliding the box to my hip. "This is where I get away from the people who inquire of me how I 'became so skilled at logistics.'"He chuckled. "I imagine I can hazard a guess. They speak as if it's some miracle that a woman under thirty with a spine can organize a seating chart."I gave him a deadpan look. "You've met our investor board, then.""Alas."Lucas stepped nearer, not in my way. He wore cologne that was clean-scented, woody, and enormously costly that lingered between us. He looked too calm for a man with five ass

"You didn't mention that your company was sponsoring the reading day," I said, crossing my arms as I leaned against the hallway wall of Willow Creek Elementary.Lucas turned from the display board, grinning like he hadn’t just blindsided me. He looked absurdly out of place in a school hallway—with his pressed charcoal suit, freshly polished shoes, and a leather-bound journal tucked under one arm—but somehow, he still made it look natural.“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he replied, unapologetic.I raised an eyebrow. "Ethan goes here. And it's a reading event. I had to nearly bribe him not to wear a superhero cape."Lucas laughed. "Well, then maybe it's fate.""I don't think fate should arrive at an elementary school in cufflinks.""They were a gift," he said, glancing down at them. "From Victor. He thinks dressing well helps motivate kids."I snorted. "You're going to frighten half of the third grade.I'm looking to impress one of them specifically," he told me, his eyes locking on min

"Sometimes you get the feelin' you were born in the wrong book?"It was a question from Lucas, low and open, as we sat atop his apartment building. It was a few minutes past 9 o'clock, and the city skyline flickered behind us in halting golds and dark navy blues. The air hung with the scent of rain and asphalt. He hadn't glanced my way when he asked it—only looked up at the sky like he was searching for something there that kept eluding him.I bent my knees under me and watched him profiled. He didn't look like the man everyone else saw—no suit, smirk, or witty, cutting humor. Just Lucas, in an old hoodie and jeans, barefoot, with his wavy curls pulled back and shadows in his eyes."Sometimes," I whispered. "But I think I rewrote mine."He smiled to himself—bitter, perhaps. "I've tried. But the ink had dried by the time I signed on the dotted line."There was something in his tone—torn, battered. It wasn't the one the world knew: slick-talking Knight brother who walked into a boardroo

"Close your eyes."I shot Lucas suspiciously as I inched my way carefully out of his car, grasping the door with one hand. "Why?"He was already standing next to me, grinning like a kid about to pull out a surprise birthday cake. "Because you don't trust anyone to lead you. And I need you to trust me for five seconds."I raised an eyebrow. "That's exactly how horror movies start.He laughed, warm and unruffled. "Then good thing I don't have a chainsaw."I closed my eyes finally and sighed. "Five seconds."Lucas gently took my hand, weaving our fingers together. "Okay. No peeking."I let him lead me across what felt like soft gravel, the spring breeze sighing over my skin. Birds were chirping in the distance around us and the distant susurrus of leaves in the wind. It smelled green, fresh, and wild, earthy and early flowers."Almost there," he whispered, his mouth close to my ear. "Okay. open."When I did, I came to a halt.We were in a garden tucked away behind what looked like an old

"Are you saying yes?"Lucas's voice was barely louder than a breath, but it wrapped around the tiny kitchen like thunder rolled in velvet. The spoon I held froze halfway over the pot of stew. I didn't turn to look at him immediately. I just breathed in thyme and garlic and the richness of the question that had hung over us for weeks."Here's what I'm telling you," I replied warily, "maybe we stop dancing around what we already know."I heard the chair move as he stood. Heard the quiet footstep across the floor behind me."You're sure?" he asked, softer now, as if he feared that if he pressed too hard, he'd shatter the moment.I faced him finally, wiping my hands on a dish towel."I know I'm scared," I said, my eyes on him. "But I know I don't want to keep pretending I don't feel this. That I don't feel you. Every time you laugh with Ethan. Every time you listen to me like my thoughts are worth hearing. Every time you appear just because you said you would."His eyes faltered, the spar