Lahat ng Kabanata ng In Bed With My Fiancé’s Father: Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

KANE’S POVThe fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway felt like needles in my eyes. I hated this place, I hated hospitals. It had more to do with the smell of death, the hushed whispers of people losing their grip on life, and the underlying scent of bleach trying to cover it all up. I adjusted the collar of my designer jacket, checking my reflection in the glass of a vending machine. I looked tired, but the hunger keeping me upright was one hell of a stimulant. Olivia…I couldn't stop thinking about her no matter what. Even though she'd done me dirty.Whored herself and got pregnant by my father before I could even apologize for my mistake.I do wish I could say I hated her. I did some times. But I wanted it to be everytime.A breath left my lungs as I pushed open the door to the VIP suite, my heart doing a pathetic little skip at the thought of seeing Olivia in her scrubs. I’d planned it out, I’d look remorseful, maybe even shed a tear. Then maybe she could continue keeping t

OLIVIA'S POV I felt the heat climb from my chest to my cheeks, my heart skittering at the gravelly edge in Lucious’s voice. I took a step back, clutching the warm towel like a shield. “Oh? And what exactly are you craving, then?”Lucious didn’t answer immediately. He just slowly eyed me with dark, hungry eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk that promised trouble. Then he beckoned me with a flick of his fingers. “Come here. Come here and I’ll show you exactly what kind of hunger it is.”I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head even as my pulse thundered in my ears. “Absolutely not. I'm not coming any closer. Wash that face and get in the shower. I’m going to bring you something to eat.”I turned and bolted before he could snag my waist again, my laughter echoing off the marble walls of the suite.I returned with a rice dish the I'd helped the experimentwith earlier. And by experiment, I mean he he wouldn't let me do anything so I just followed him around, yappin

LUCIOUS’S POVI woke up restless. Old habit. Thirty years of boardrooms and power plays had rewired my body clock into something merciless — didn’t matter how good the night before had been, 5 AM always came for me like a debt collector.I lay still for a long moment, not wanting to move.Olivia was tucked against my chest, breathing slow and even, one hand curled loosely under her chin like a child. The amber glow of her LEDs had dimmed to almost nothing. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city was just beginning its slow, grey exhale before dawn.My hand was still resting on her stomach.I felt it then — faint, barely there. A small flutter, like a fish turning in still water.I stopped breathing.It happened again.I pressed my palm a little firmer, carefully, and waited. The flutter came a third time and something cracked open in the center of my chest — something I hadn’t felt since I was young enough to still believe the world was fundamentally good.“That’s you,” I whisp

KANE’S POVI stood in the middle of my apartment staring at the blank screen like it had personally insulted me. Which, in a way, it had.Enough. That was all he gave me. One word, clipped and deliberate, designed to do exactly what it did — leave me standing still while he moved.Classic Lucious Grant.I tossed the phone onto the couch and went to the window, jaw tight.The city was fully awake below me, indifferent and grinding, and I was up here replaying a four minute phone call like it contained a code I needed to crack before noon.Don’t contact Jonah.That was the part that wouldn’t sit right. Not the instruction itself — I could follow it, I had enough self control for that. It was the urgency underneath it. The way his voice had shifted, almost imperceptibly, from Lucious Grant the unmovable to something that bordered on — and I almost didn’t allow myself to complete the thought —Concern.My father didn’t do concern. He did strategy. He did calculus. He did the long, cold as

KANE’S POVI didn’t say much on the ride back.Neither did my father.The city moved past the windows in streaks of light and we sat in the back of his car with about twelve inches of leather seat between us and about fifteen years of everything else. The driver had the partition up. Good man.I kept the folder on my knee with my hand flat on top of it like it might try to leave.Six weeks.I turned the number over in my head, examining it from different angles the way you probe a sore tooth with your tongue. Six weeks to sit still and play a role in someone else’s game while my own pieces collected dust on the board. Six weeks of watching Jonah Levine breathe the same air as me and knowing what I knew about him and doing absolutely nothing with it.The thought made my skin crawl.But the alternative — Reeves had been clear enough about the alternative without ever actually spelling it out, which told me he was good at his job in the specific way that the best people always are. He ha