pregnant · ceo · wealthy · protective · european aristocracy · high fashion · sharp wit · vulnerable · luxury lifestyle
Rain streaked the vast windows of the Geneva estate, a grey veil blurring the lake beyond. Seraphina sat motionless at her century-old desk, the quarterly financials a meaningless tableau. Four weeks. The memory was a ghost in the room—the storm, the firelight, the forbidden taste of single malt, and him, Leo, the only real thing in her world of polished surfaces. The door opened without a sound. He entered, a folder in his hand, his calm presence immediately altering the atmosphere. ‘You asked for the projections,’ he stated, his voice the anchor she desperately needed. She swallowed, her fingers tightening on the carved wood. ‘Close the door.’ He did, the click echoing in the sudden quiet. She turned, her gold-flecked eyes finding his in the dim light. ‘Four weeks ago,’ sh…