When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 109

Ethan

The moment I stepped in, Ella's eyes lit up. "Daddy!" she squealed, her voice hitting me like a shot of pure joy straight to the heart.

I couldn't help but smile as I walked over and gently touched her hair. "Hello, princess," I said, savoring the word. Being called "Daddy" still felt surreal—a title I'd done nothing to earn yet, but desperately wanted to deserve.

I turned to Amelia, deliberately moving closer. Her green eyes met mine, and I caught a flicker of amusement there. Was she laughing at me?

"Dr. Thompson," I said formally, though what I wanted to say was far from formal. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Not at all, Mr. Black," she replied, her lips twitching slightly. "We were just ordering dessert."

I noticed Lucas shift closer to his mother, his body language crystal clear—he wanted nothing to do with me. The rejection stung, but I understood. I was a stranger to him, an intruder in his well-established world.

Meanwhile, Ella was already tugging at my sleeve, eager to show me her Barbie doll. "Look, Daddy! She has shoes that match!" Her enthusiasm was infectious, and for a moment, I forgot the tension in the room.

I was about to respond when Amelia suddenly started coughing, choking on her water. I reached over instantly, offering her a napkin.

"No one's trying to steal it from you," I whispered close to her ear, catching a hint of her perfume—something light and floral that made me want to lean closer.

"I'm fine," she managed, her face flushed.

As we settled into our meal, I felt my grandfather's shrewd gaze bouncing between Amelia and me, then to the children. He was assessing, always assessing. I recognized that look from a thousand board meetings—he was gathering information, forming strategies.

The awkward silence was broken by Ella's innocent question: "Grandpa, why doesn't Daddy live with us?"

The question hit like a punch to the gut. I froze, fighting to keep my expression neutral while my mind raced through a dozen possible responses.

My grandfather, ever the diplomat, answered carefully. "Well, sometimes grown-ups need to live in different places, even when they care about each other."

I caught Amelia's grateful look toward him and felt a twinge of jealousy at their easy rapport.

Determined to demonstrate my value, I began deboning a fish fillet. I placed the perfectly prepared piece on Amelia's plate.

"You need to eat more protein," I said, noticing how thin she looked. Had she been skipping meals? Working too hard?

I turned my attention to Ella, cutting her fish into small, manageable pieces. Her beaming "Thank you!" was worth more than any business deal I'd ever closed.

When I reached over to do the same for Lucas, hoping to bridge the gap between us, his rejection was swift. "I can do it myself," he said quietly but firmly.

I felt the impact of those five simple words like a physical blow. Masking my hurt with a nod, I said, "Of course you can." I recognized myself in his independence and pride, and it both hurt and filled me with an unexpected pride.

After dessert, my grandfather announced his departure, citing an early meeting. Before leaving, he turned to Amelia. "Amelia, please bring the children again. They brighten these old bones."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out two envelopes containing investment fund cards. "For Lucas and Ella," he explained. "It's what I've done for all my grandchildren."

Ella took hers excitedly, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, great-grandpa!"

Lucas accepted his with a polite nod but remained silent. I recognized his restraint—another trait he'd inherited from me.

When my grandfather tried to hand Amelia another envelope, she began to refuse. I intervened quickly, taking the envelope.

"Thank you, Grandfather," I said firmly. "On behalf of my children."

1. After my grandfather left, I shifted slightly closer to her, wanting to bridge the distance. Amelia's expression tightened. 'Move over,' she said, her voice low. 'There's plenty of space.

"What would you like to eat?" I asked, deliberately ignoring her request to create distance. "I like being close enough to take care of you."

Ella giggled and copied me, reaching across the table. "Daddy needs to eat carrots!" she declared, placing a bright orange vegetable on my plate. I ate it dutifully, although I'd always hated carrots.

Throughout the meal, I kept stealing glances at Amelia. Something was amusing her—her eyes would occasionally crinkle at the corners, and she'd suppress a smile. Was she laughing at me? The thought was both irritating and intriguing.

As the evening progressed, Ella climbed onto my lap, demanding a story. The weight of her small body against mine felt right, like a missing puzzle piece finally in place. Lucas, seeing this, frowned and moved closer to his mother.

"Would you like to hear a story too?" I offered gently.

He just shook his head, finishing his chocolate cake with methodical precision.

When it was time to leave, I picked up Lucas, noting the chocolate smeared across his face. "Let's get you cleaned up, little man, " I said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. The gesture felt paternal and right, even as he squirmed uncomfortably.

"Mom, I want to walk by myself," he protested.

His rejection contrasted sharply with Ella's enthusiasm as she clung to my hand. "Daddy, I want you to carry me!"

"Shh, both of you," Amelia cautioned, helping them into their coats and placing small masks and hats on them. I watched her motherly efficiency with admiration—she had this parenting thing down to a science.

In the parking lot, Amelia reached for her wallet, but I stopped her.

"I've got it," I said.

"I don't need the Black family to support me," she replied firmly, meeting my gaze with those determined green eyes.

Her independence both frustrated and attracted me. I helped secure Lucas in his car seat, acutely aware of his continued silence. It hurt, but I respected his boundary—for now.

Ella, meanwhile, wrapped her arms around my leg. "Daddy, can you come home with us?" she pleaded.

I knelt down to her level, my heart aching. "Soon, princess. Soon." The promise felt both hopeful and uncertain.

As Amelia prepared to leave, she surprised me with a moment of vulnerability. "Give me some time," she said quietly. "I'm still figuring out how we fit together in all this."

It wasn't a rejection, but it wasn't an acceptance either. It was a negotiation—and negotiations were something I understood.

I stood in the parking lot watching their car drive away, feeling both emptier and fuller than I had in years. The taillights disappeared around the corner, but the imprint of my children's faces remained vivid in my mind.

"Soon," I whispered again to the empty night. This was one deal I couldn't afford to lose.