Chapter 31

Stella Valentine froze.

Birthday?

Only then did she remember—yesterday had indeed been her twenty-sixth birthday.

These days had been so fragmented, so suffocating, that merely surviving took everything she had. How could she remember such things?

"You forgot?" The man's voice carried the faint warmth of alcohol. "It's fine. I remembered."

"Mr. Alistair, have you been drinking?"

"A little."

"But the smell is strong..."

He chuckled lowly. "What, trying to scold me?"

Stella shook her head hastily. "I wouldn't dare. It's just... my father died because of drunk driving..."

The words caught in her throat.

"I just want you to be safe."

"Safe?" The man leaned deeper into the shadows, his tall frame indistinct. "Do you think I'm a good man?"

"Yes."

"Too bad. I've done too many terrible things."

"Everyone has their reasons," Stella murmured. "I believe you have yours."

A beat of silence passed before he spoke again. "I'll arrange for international specialists to examine your mother."

Her eyes burned. "Really? Thank you—"

Before she could finish, he closed the distance between them.

The heat of his breath, laced with alcohol, seared her skin, leaving her rigid.

His fingers traced her cheek, drifting lower.

"Mr. Alistair!"

She jerked her face away.

He exhaled a humorless laugh, slumping back onto the sofa. "...Still not right."

What wasn't right?

Wasn't she the one he longed for?

"Did I scare you?"

"A little."

"Don't be afraid." His voice roughened. "I'll treat you well."

Abruptly, he changed the subject. "Do you want revenge?"

Her pulse stuttered.

"Your ex-husband. The woman he's with now. The family that harmed your mother."

Did she?

Of course she did.

But what could she possibly fight them with?

Right now, even breathing required all her strength.

"Mr. Alistair, I..."

"Do you still love him?"

Love?

A bitter smile twisted her lips. "I don't even have the strength to love anymore."

"No rush." His tone was detached. "Consider it a birthday gift."

Stella lifted her head suddenly. "Have we... met before?"

The air turned to ice.

"Stella Valentine." His voice sharpened. "Don't ask questions you shouldn't."

"I'm sorry."

"Sleep."

Just like the night before.

He pressed against her back, his cologne saturating every breath.

"Stella."

"Yes?"

"Stay with me. You can have anything you want."

"I want my daughter."

"You'll have her." A pause. "Adrian is still her biological father, after all."

"But Lily will hurt her!" Her voice trembled. "She's the reason my son was born—"

His body tensed. "Your son... is his?"

"Is that relevant to our deal?"

"So that's a no." A cold laugh. "Just curious."

Stella bit her lip.

Ethan was safe with Hugo.

She prayed he'd never learn about these ugly truths.

"No," she said firmly. "He has nothing to do with Adrian."

"..."

"Mr. Alistair, please keep this secret. I just want Ethan to grow up healthy."

"What if I demand you sleep with me?"

Her fingers clenched the sheets, her entire body shaking. "...I will."

"What a devoted mother."

"Ethan isn't his." Her voice broke. "Please."

"Sleep."

"Will you keep your word?"

"That depends." His tone was indifferent. "Stay with me, and I'll consider it."

"How long?"

"Until I grow tired of you."

"Should I imitate her? Her speech? Her habits?"

He laughed abruptly. "Stella Valentine, you really are..."

"I want to do this right," she said earnestly. "What did she like?"

"Stella." His palm covered her eyes. "Sleep."