The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 64

Aveline

Monday morning arrived with Ryan bouncing through the academy doors as promised, his face bright with the kind of joy that made my chest warm with satisfaction. But what caught me off guard was his escort.

Instead of Orion's imposing figure, it was Bryce Blackwell who accompanied Ryan to school—the flamboyant grandfather I'd met at the birthday party. Today he was wearing a burgundy velvet blazer over dark jeans, with enough jewelry to stock a small boutique, and that same theatrical energy that made him impossible to ignore.

When he spotted me, his face lit up with genuine pleasure, but there was something in his expression that made my instincts prickle with warning. That calculating gleam in his eyes suggested this wasn't just a casual school drop-off.

"Miss Aveline!" Ryan called out, rushing toward me with his usual enthusiasm. "Great-Grandpa brought me today! Daddy had to work early."

"How wonderful," I said, ruffling his hair gently. "Go find your friends, sweetheart. I'll see you in class."

As Ryan scampered off toward the classroom, Bryce approached with that charming smile that had probably gotten him into trouble for seven decades.

"Miss Aveline," he said warmly, "I wonder if I might have a word with you? Perhaps we could step into your office for a moment?"

Every instinct I had screamed danger. Whatever Bryce Blackwell wanted to discuss, it wasn't going to be about Ryan's academic progress.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Blackwell, but I have a very busy schedule this morning—"

Before I could finish my polite refusal, several teachers from the faculty lounge came rushing out like they'd spotted a celebrity.

"Oh my goodness!" a young teacher gushed, practically bouncing on her toes. "Is that the legendary Bryce Blackwell? The man who charmed half of Manhattan in his heyday?"

Another teacher joined in with obvious excitement. "I heard stories about you from my mother! She said you were the most eligible bachelor in New York before you settled down!"

"Ladies, please!" Bryce said with theatrical modesty, though he was clearly enjoying the attention. "You flatter an old man."

Within moments, I found myself surrounded by a gaggle of star-struck educators who were practically falling over themselves to make room for the famous Bryce Blackwell in our humble faculty office.

"Ms. Reeves, you simply must invite Mr. Blackwell in!" one of them insisted. "We'll give you all the privacy you need!"

Before I could protest, they'd ushered us both into the office and closed the door behind us with obvious glee.

I found myself alone with Bryce Blackwell, feeling distinctly like a mouse trapped with a very well-dressed cat.

"Aveline," Bryce said, settling into the chair across from my desk with obvious comfort, "you don't mind if I call you that, do you? After such a generous gift, I feel we're practically family."

I forced a smile, trying to maintain professional composure. "Of course, Mr. Blackwell. I'm glad you enjoyed the ring."

"Enjoyed it?" Bryce's eyes lit up with genuine enthusiasm. "My dear girl, it was exquisite! The craftsmanship, the quality—I've never seen anything quite like it." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "In fact, several of my lady friends have been asking about it. They're quite envious. I don't suppose... if the opportunity arose... I could commission a few similar pieces?"

I laughed, shaking my head with what I hoped looked like regret. "I'm sorry, but that's not possible. That piece was from Laurent Atelier's newest collection—it hasn't even gone into production yet."

The change in Bryce's expression was immediate and dramatic. His casual interest transformed into something much more intense, his eyes widening with what looked like genuine shock.

"Laurent Dubois from Laurent Atelier?" he repeated, his voice rising slightly. "You mean you know Laurent? The Laurent? Europe's most exclusive jewelry designer?"

I felt heat creep up my neck as I realized my mistake. "Well, we're... friends. Professionally speaking."

Bryce practically leaped from his chair, his hands reaching out to grasp mine with startling intensity.

"My dear girl, you continue to amaze me!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder. "Not only do you make my great-grandson happier than I've ever seen him, but now I discover you have connections to the most sought-after designer in Europe! This is incredible!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, but also deeply uncomfortable. I could feel the conversation heading in a direction I definitely didn't want to explore.

"You're such a remarkable young woman," Bryce continued, his eyes twinkling with obvious delight. "No wonder my grandson is so—"

"Actually," I interrupted quickly, feeling panic rise in my throat, "Mr. Blackwell and I don't get along very well. We're completely incompatible."

Bryce's eyebrows shot up with obvious curiosity. "Is that so? How interesting, because according to Mitchell, Orion has been absolutely miserable since your... disagreement. Haven't eaten properly, barely sleeps, walks around the house like a lost soul. Quite out of character for him, really."

Despite myself, I felt a small flutter of something that might have been satisfaction. The man who'd tried to intimidate me into marriage was sulking like a rejected teenager? Good.

Though from a professional standpoint, it sounded like classic psychological response to rejection—the inability to process being denied something he'd convinced himself he deserved.

"The thing about my grandson," Bryce continued thoughtfully, "is that despite being a complete disaster when it comes to understanding women, he's actually quite a decent man underneath all that corporate intimidation. Not like me in my younger days—he's never been one to chase after multiple women or play games with people's hearts."

I could feel the conversation shifting toward dangerous territory. Bryce's tone was becoming more persuasive, more personal, and I knew exactly where this was heading.

"Mr. Blackwell," I said firmly, cutting him off before he could launch into what was clearly going to be a matchmaking speech, "I'm sorry, but I have to stop you right there."

I stood up from my desk, needing the psychological advantage of height for what I was about to say.

"I'm already married. I cannot and will not become Ryan's mother, and I certainly cannot become your grandson's wife."