Page 273 of The Billionaires

I swallow an overabundance of saliva. Adrian’s chiseled torso renders me speechless and unable to operate heavy machinery, which a baby bathtub hopefully isn’t.

“I like to hold her skin to skin before the wash,” he explains upon seeing some of my discomposure. “If you want to wait until?—”

“No,” I somehow manage to say. “It’s totally fine.” And by “fine,” I mean my uterus is actively figuring out how to spit out the IUD.

Looking content, Adrian cradles Piper’s little pink body to his hard chest.

It’s official. I now truly understand the meaning of the terms “swoon” and “fit of the vapors.” In fact, it takes considerable willpower not to succumb to both such conditions at once.

By the time Adrian is ready for the bath to begin, my knees feel wobbly and I’m forced to take a sharp breath to get myself together. For Piper to be safe, I must be on full alert.

The bath begins.

As it turns out, Adrian has a special fancy baby tub, one that will only dispense purified water that’s a perfect ninety-nine degrees. This eases the process somewhat, as does the fact that Adrian is as good at this as he is at everything else.

Speaking of him being good, is this a bad time to ask him for my GD?

When Piper is dressed and lying in her crib, Adrian asks her if she wants to hear a story.

It could be my imagination, but I think she smiles in reply. Yep. She’s definitely doing it. There’s a flash of dimples and everything.

Adrian starts to read—and it becomes obvious that this is a story he wrote just for her. A great story, in fact, and something she will surely enjoy even more when she’s a little older. If she’s anything like Mary was at this stage, he could read an accounting textbook to her and she’d enjoy it the same way as she does this.

Soon, Piper is fast asleep, so Adrian takes out his phone and mimes switching it to silent mode.

I do as he says, and he texts me.

I’m going to stay here for the rest of the night.

He nods at the nearby adult-sized bed before adding:

Feel free to go do your own thing.

What if my thing is to watch him sleep? Or sleep with him?

Blushing, I text him that I’ll be exploring his library if he needs me, then leave.

Wow. If someone were to tell me Adrian spent a hundred million dollars to stock this library, I would not contradict that person. At first glance, I spot first editions of The Last of the Mohicans, Ragged Dick, Little Women, and Grapes Of Wrath.

Sadly, the selection of historical romance is negligently small. There are a few random classics by the biggest authors, including the Bridgerton series that he clearly bought after we met.

But hey. It’s a start.

I leaf through one romance book that I don’t recall reading. It sounds familiar, so I must have read it after all. It’s the one where the viscount discovers he’s a bastard and thus cannot marry the heroine—even though he’s impregnated her.

As I head over to start my evening routine, I keep dwelling on the idea of asking Adrian for my GD. This might be why, when I fall asleep, I dream of Adrian doing exactly that, which gets me pregnant despite my IUD. His sperm is that strong—one even waves its tail at me.

The resulting baby looks a lot like Piper, except she can speak from birth, and what she says is, “Just keep swimming,” in the voice of Ellen DeGeneres.

“Does that mean I should name you Dori?” I ask her.

Before she can reply, my alarm wakes me up.

CHAPTER 26

ADRIAN

Piper’s visit with me is over much, much too soon, and giving her back to Sydney in the afternoon is torture. I wish Jane were here, but she’s at work.

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