When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 49

Amelia

While I was at the hospital, I carefully positioned the ultrasound wand over the young woman's rounded belly, watching as the grainy image of a seven-month-old fetus appeared on the monitor. The baby's profile was clear - a perfect little nose and a tiny hand curled near the face. I couldn't help but smile.

"There's your little one," I said, turning the screen so both parents could see better. "Everything looks perfect - size is right on target, position is good, and that's a strong heartbeat."

The mother's face lit up with wonder as she watched her baby shift slightly on the screen. Her hand instinctively moved to caress her belly, a gesture I'd seen countless times but one that never failed to touch me.

Her boyfriend, however, checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes. "Can we speed this up? I have a meeting downtown in forty-five minutes."

I kept my professional smile fixed in place, though internally I wanted to smack him with my clipboard. The woman's eyes dimmed at his words, her joy visibly deflating.

"Just a few more measurements," I said, deliberately slowing my movements. "It's important we check everything thoroughly."

As I continued the examination, my mind wandered to last night - to Ethan's hands on my body, his lips against my skin. The memory sent heat rising to my cheeks. Had we been careful? I honestly couldn't remember.

"Is something wrong, Dr. Thompson?" the young woman asked, noticing my distraction.

"Everything's perfect," I reassured her quickly. "Your baby is developing beautifully."

The boyfriend sighed dramatically. "Great. Can we go now?"

I deliberately ignored him, focusing on the mother. "Do you have any questions for me? Concerns?"

"We're fine," he cut in before she could speak.

When they left my office, the contrast between them stayed with me - her radiant despite her partner's coldness, him checking emails before they'd even reached the hallway. What if I got pregnant? Would Ethan behave the same way?

The thought followed me through the rest of my appointments, settling like a stone in my stomach. As a doctor who'd delivered hundreds of babies, I'd witnessed the miracle of birth countless times. I'd also seen the devastation when things went wrong - miscarriages, stillbirths, difficult choices in complicated pregnancies.

By the time I finished my shift, the anxiety had solidified into something concrete. I drove home, but as I passed a pharmacy, I abruptly pulled over. I sat in my car for nearly ten minutes, staring at the storefront, debating with myself.

'Just go in and buy the morning-after pill. It's the responsible thing to do. This marriage isn't real.'

But my feet felt leaden as I stepped onto the sidewalk. I stood frozen before the automatic doors, unable to make them open.

My phone buzzed with a text from Olivia: [I've been waiting at Lumière for 20 minutes. Where are you??]

Shit. I'd completely forgotten our dinner plans. I texted back quickly: [On my way. Sorry!]

As I hurried back to my car, I realized I'd made no decision at all.

---

"You look like hell," Olivia said bluntly as I slid into the seat across from her at the upscale French bistro. She was already halfway through a glass of white wine, her red hair perfectly styled despite what I knew had been a rough morning.

"Thanks," I muttered, grabbing her glass and taking a healthy swig. "You're the picture of compassion."

"I can't believe this," I started. "You accidentally hooked up with Noah, and I—"

"How did this even happen?" I asked. "The last I saw, you were barely conscious."

"I tried calling Julian," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Accidentally dialed Noah instead. And then..." She gestured to her neck with a sheepish grin.

The waiter arrived with my wine, and I took a grateful sip, letting the rich flavor roll over my tongue. "So, what happens now? With you and Noah?"

Olivia shrugged. "Nothing, probably. One wild night doesn't make a relationship." She reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a small, elegant box. "Which reminds me..." She slid it across the table toward me, her expression suddenly serious. "European import, minimal side effects."

I stared at the morning-after pill box, my throat tightening. "How did you know?"

"Because I know you," she said simply. "And because I saw your face when you first walked in. You're worried."

"Better safe than sorry," she finished for me. Her eyes softened. "Amelia, do you have feelings for him? Because if this is just about the contract marriage, take the pill. But if there's something real developing..."

I sat in silence, turning the small box over in my hands. Did I have feelings for Ethan? The man was infuriating, controlling, mysterious - and yet, when he'd rescued me last night, when he'd held me...

Before I could answer, Olivia's phone rang loudly. She glanced at the screen and grimaced. "It's Julian."

She quickly pressed a finger to her lips, signaling me to be quiet, then cleared her throat before answering.

"Hey, big brother," she said, her voice unnaturally bright. "What's up?"

I could hear Julian's concerned voice through the phone. "Where were you last night? I stopped by your apartment, but you weren't home."

Olivia shot me a panicked look. "I, uh... I stayed at Amelia's," she lied smoothly while I struggled to contain a laugh.

"You could have texted me," Julian said, his voice softening.

"Sorry," Olivia replied, genuinely contrite. "Next time I'll let you know if I'm staying out."

"Heading home soon?" he said.

"On my way after dinner," she promised before ending the call.

"Smooth," I teased as she put her phone away. "Very convincing."

"Oh, shut up," she groaned. "If Julian knew I spent the night with Noah, he'd give me that disappointed look. You know the one."

Our conversation was interrupted by raised voices from a nearby table. A group of men in expensive suits were animatedly discussing something, their excitement palpable even from several tables away.

Olivia's reporter instincts kicked in immediately. She tilted her head, straining to hear.

"...Felix Black caught with his pants literally down," one man was saying. "The photos are all over Page Six."

Olivia immediately pulled out her phone, fingers flying across the screen as she pulled up social media. "Holy shit," she whispered, turning the screen toward me.

The headline was unmistakable: "BLACK FAMILY SCANDAL: FELIX BLACK CAUGHT IN CENTRAL PARK ROMP WITH ACTRESS."

Below was a grainy but clear enough photo of Felix in a compromising position with a blonde woman I didn't recognize. The accompanying article detailed allegations of drug use and referenced "multiple sources" claiming Felix had bedded several Hollywood starlets in recent weeks.

"Jesus," I breathed, suddenly realizing what I was looking at. This was Ethan's doing. He'd orchestrated this to take attention away from me - to protect me from becoming the subject of gossip after Felix had tried to assault me at the party.

"Talk about karma," Olivia muttered, scrolling through the article. "After what that creep tried to do to you last night..."

I nodded absently, my mind racing. If Ethan hadn't arrived when he did, it could have been me in those photos. Me being drugged and taken advantage of by Felix. The thought made me shudder.

As Olivia continued reading the article, my eyes drifted back to the contraceptive pill box sitting innocuously between us on the table. My feelings about Ethan had just become even more complicated. He'd protected me in more ways than one.

The question was: what exactly did that mean to him? And more importantly, what did it mean to me?