Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband!의 모든 챕터: 챕터 151 - 챕터 160

‘Cary’s saying the baby isn’t his and has demanded a DNA test, but that can’t be done for at least another four weeks. And it’s not like he can manhandle a pregnant woman out of the building, so he’s basically stuck with her for now.’‘I wonder what his fiancée has to say about all this,’ I mused.‘That’s what I want to know too,’ Portia said. ‘But I don’t even know who the poor cow is. I suppose we’ll all find out when the wedding’s officially announced.’Lochlan’s voice cut through the speculation. ‘I may be able to answer that.’Portia and I swivelled our heads to look at him.‘Her name is Elizabeth Forbes,’ he stated. ‘She’s an acquaintance of mine. Her family is based on the Wirral, but she works here in London.’Portia’s eyes lit up. ‘How close an acquaintance? Do you think you might get an invitation to the wedding?’Lochlan gave a single nod. ‘It’s a distinct possibility.’Portia clapped her hands together with gleeful, uncontainable schadenfreude. ‘Brilliant. Can I be your plu

‘We can do that next time,’ I said, looping my arm through his as we walked towards the taxi rank. ‘This is my treat. A proper apology for standing you up twice.’We took a cab to the restaurant, and I watched him glance around the elegant, Art Deco interior with open, appreciative curiosity.We were seated at a plush banquette and ordered. I went for the seared scallops followed by the roasted monkfish. Leo, after a moment of visible hesitation scanning the prices, chose the duck liver parfait and the ribeye steak. I selected a bottle of Sancerre.‘So,’ I asked, after the wine had been poured. ‘How did the exhibition go? Did you manage to sell your painting?’He took a sip of wine, his expression turning wry. ‘Nope. Not a single bite. It’s like my art has a force field around it that repels buyers. A talent for invisibility, that’s my real gift.’‘Someone will recognise your talent eventually,’ I said, the words feeling pathetically inadequate even as I said them.‘Yeah, maybe,’ he sa

Roy shrugged, his eyes on the road as he pulled away from the kerb. ‘No idea. Boss just told me to pick you up and drive you to the office. But it must be urgent, judging from his tone.’I pulled out my phone and tapped on the V-Link icon. It was the secure intranet we used to access files remotely, login via fingerprint or password.I was pretty damned sure I hadn’t so much as glanced at it since stepping out of the office that afternoon.I burst into Lochlan’s office twenty minutes later, slightly breathless and feeling decidedly un-normal. ‘Boss? What’s happened?’Lochlan was sitting behind his vast desk, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. ‘We caught the anomalous activity in time. Sit down. We need to reset your credentials and review the access logs.’The head of IT, a severe-looking woman in her fifties named Brenda whose stare could probably freeze a running processor, held out a hand.I wordlessly handed her my phone, feeling like a chastened pupil in the principal’s office.

He struck a pose, patting his stomach. ‘Ignore the belly, just focus on the face. Look at the aristocratic profile. Don’t you think my son takes after me?’My grip on the pepper spray tightened. ‘Who the hell is your son?’‘Why, Lochlan, of course.’‘What?’ The word came out as a squawk.‘Um,’ he said, his confidence faltering for the first time. ‘Aren’t you his girlfriend?’I lowered the spray a few inches. ‘No, I’m not. He’s my boss.’‘I knew that,’ he said. ‘But I thought… well, guess I thought wrong.’‘What made you think I’m his girlfriend?’ I asked.He swept an arm around the living room. ‘This is his place. I thought since you obviously have access to this place, you must’ve moved in with him.’‘What, no. This is… yeah, boss, I mean, Mr Hastings, did live here, but he’s moved out. He’s given this corporate flat to me.’‘Corporate flat?’ he repeated, a chuckle bubbling in his voice.‘Yeah, it’s a company perk. Why?’‘Nothing, dear. Nothing at all.’ He chuckled again.‘Can I ask w

Roy drove me to the heliport at Battersea with the serene focus of a man who considered navigating London traffic a form of meditation.I, on the other hand, was vibrating with a low-grade, surreal anxiety.One moment I’m contemplating which earrings scream ‘I’m a fun, normal person who won’t embarrass you in front of your wealthy relatives’, the next I’m being whisked towards a private airfield because a billion-pound fan has broken in Wales.The corporate life, I reflected, was never dull.It was, however, deeply weird.Minutes later, I was buckling myself into the butter-soft leather seat of an AgustaWestland AW139 that probably cost more than my entire neighbourhood.Lochlan was already there. He’d traded his usual Savile Row armour for a thick, charcoal cable-knit jumper and a heavy, waxed jacket that looked like it had been inherited from a particularly stylish fisherman.He looked… rugged. Practical. Competent.It was an outrage, frankly. A man shouldn’t be allowed to look that