The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 31

Aveline

I drifted awake in the most comfortable haze I'd experienced in years. The bed was impossibly soft, the sheets silky against my skin, and everything smelled faintly of expensive cologne and something purely masculine. Without opening my eyes, I stretched luxuriously, pulling what I thought was a pillow closer to my chest.

God, this felt amazing. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept so deeply, so peacefully.

I nuzzled deeper into the warmth, completely content to drift back to sleep, when something made me pause. A presence. A sense that I wasn't alone.

My eyes snapped open and immediately focused on a figure looming over me.

"JESUS CHRIST!" I screamed, scrambling backwards so fast I nearly fell off the bed.

Orion stood beside the bed in a black silk robe, his dark hair slightly messed from sleep, studying me with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for crime scenes. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable, and he was staring at me like I was evidence he was trying to decode.

"I'm so sorry!" I babbled, shooting upright and trying to smooth down my hair, which probably looked like I'd been electrocuted. "I didn't mean to—I can explain—this isn't what it looks like—"

"Thank you," he said quietly, cutting through my panic.

I blinked at him. "What?"

"You took care of me last night when I had a fever," he continued, his voice warm despite the clinical way he'd been examining me. "You must have stayed to make sure I was alright."

Heat flooded my face. "Oh. I... it was nothing, really. I just—"

"It wasn't nothing," he said firmly. "I remember bits and pieces. You brought down my fever, gave me medication. I could have been seriously ill."

I felt my cheeks burning. The way he was looking at me—grateful, almost fond—made me want to crawl under the expensive sheets and disappear. He thought I was some kind of Good Samaritan who'd selflessly nursed him back to health. If only he knew what kind of thoughts I'd been having while pressed against his unconscious body.

"It was a misunderstanding," I said quickly, scrambling off the bed and trying to put some distance between us. "I heard you... making sounds of distress and I just stumbled in here by accident. I wasn't trying to... I mean, I didn't intend to stay the night or anything like that."

Orion's lips quirked up slightly. "You weren't trying to stay the night. Of course."

He reached out and gently caught my arm, his thumb brushing over a series of red marks on my wrist that I hadn't noticed before.

"I must have grabbed you too tightly when I was delirious," he said, his voice dropping to something softer, almost guilty. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you."

I stared down at the marks—clear evidence of his unconscious grip—and my heart stopped. This man didn't miss anything. Every detail, every inconsistency, every piece of evidence was catalogued in that sharp mind of his.

If I hadn't had these marks on my arm, he would have immediately assumed I'd climbed into his bed voluntarily. He would have thought I was another predatory woman trying to seduce him while he was vulnerable.

The realization hit me like ice water. If he ever discovered what I'd done to him that night—if he ever put together the pieces—I wouldn't just be fired. I'd be destroyed.

Confession was looking more impossible by the minute.

"It's fine," I managed, pulling my arm back. "Really, no harm done. I should probably—"

A gentle knock interrupted me, followed by Mitchell's voice through the door.

"Sir? I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, but Miss Hart is here asking to speak with you. She says it's urgent."

The door opened slightly, and Mitchell's face appeared in the gap. When he saw both of us—me in yesterday's rumpled clothes, Orion in his silk robe, the unmistakably intimate atmosphere of a shared morning—his eyebrows shot up toward his hairline.

"Oh," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "I... I see. Perhaps I should tell Miss Hart that you're... indisposed?"

"No," Orion said, his voice taking on a harder edge. "But first, Mitchell, arrange something special for Dr. Reeves. A proper breakfast, something celebratory. She spent the night caring for me when I had a high fever."

Mitchell's shock was immediate and visceral. He actually stepped fully into the room, his usual composure cracking.

"You had a fever? Sir, you should have called me! You can't just suffer through these things alone!" He hurried toward Orion, immediately switching into worried caretaker mode. "How high was it? Are you still feeling unwell? This is exactly what I mean when I say you need someone—a wife—to properly look after you!"

"Mitchell," Orion said with obvious irritation. "I'm fine. Dr. Reeves took excellent care of me. Now, go prepare breakfast for our guest and tell Miss Hart I'll be down shortly."

"Of course, sir. And Dr. Reeves?" Mitchell turned to me with genuine warmth. "Thank you. Mr. Blackwell has a tendency to push through illness without asking for help. He's fortunate you were here."

I nodded mutely, still processing the fact that Orion had just publicly declared I'd spent the night in his bedroom. By afternoon, everyone in his social circle would know Dr. Reeves had been in Orion Blackwell's bed.

Following Mitchell downstairs, I tried to prepare myself for whatever fresh hell Melody Hart had brought to my doorstep. But when I saw her in the formal living room, perfectly coiffed and dressed like she was attending a cocktail party at ten in the morning, my stomach dropped.

She looked up when Mitchell and I entered, and her calculating gaze immediately took in our comfortable interaction, the way Mitchell was treating me like family rather than hired help.

"Well, well," she said with that saccharine smile that never reached her eyes. "Look how quickly you've learned to work the system, Dr. Reeves. First you charm the child, then you befriend the help. Quite an efficient little social climber."

Mitchell's expression hardened. "Miss Hart—"

"Oh, I'm not criticizing," Melody continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "It's actually quite impressive. Most women take months to figure out how to manipulate their way into a wealthy man's life. But you? A few days, and you're already—"

The sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupted her vicious monologue. All three of us turned toward the grand staircase as Orion appeared, and my breath caught in my throat.

He was devastating in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that emphasized every line of his lean, powerful frame. His dark hair was now perfectly styled, his jaw clean-shaven, and he moved with the kind of predatory grace that suggested he could destroy you financially before breakfast and still look good doing it.

This was Orion Blackwell in his element—not the vulnerable man I'd cared for last night, but the ruthless businessman who controlled vast corporate empires. The man who made Catherine Mills disappear with a single phone call.

His dark eyes locked onto Melody's face with laser focus, and when he spoke, his voice carried enough ice to freeze hell.

"Shut up."