Page 58 of Unholy Nights

Emerald's eyes go wide with panic as she scrambles out of bed. I watch her, already missing her warmth. This sneaking around is getting old, but soon we won't have to hide anymore.

"Go shower," I murmur, stealing one last kiss before I have to let her go. "I'll see you downstairs."

She kisses me once more, quick and desperate, before slipping from the bed. I watch her disappear into the bathroom, memorizing the way my shirt falls to her thighs, the glimpse of marks I left on her skin last night.

Mine. All mine.

And tomorrow, everyone will know it.

But first, I need to confirm what my gut is telling me. Need to know for certain that my careful planning, my meticulous timing, has worked exactly as intended.

That Emerald Delacroix is carrying my child.

The thought alone makes my cock thicken and throb, but I force myself to focus. To plan. To make sure everything is perfect when I finally tell her.

Twenty-four hours until the party.

Twenty-four hours until I get to show the world who Emerald really belongs to.

Twenty-four hours until Madeline learns exactly who she allowed into her home.

I just need to be patient for one more day.

The water shuts off in the bathroom, and I hear Emerald humming softly—"All I Want for Christmas Is You." Last year she would've been terrified to make even that small sound, afraid her mother would hear her daring to express joy. Now she hums in the shower, steals chocolate from the kitchen, andlaughs when I kiss that spot behind her ear that makes her shiver.

I force myself to dress quickly, knowing if I'm still here when she steps out of that bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel, there's no power on earth that could make me leave. And getting caught right now isn't an option. Not when we're so close to everything I've planned.

My mind races through the logistics of what I need to accomplish today as I button my shirt. I need to be certain before tomorrow. Need to know if my careful timing, my meticulous planning, worked exactly as intended.

I slip out of Emerald's room and head down the hall toward my own, passing Kendra on her way to torment my stepdaughter with another one of Madeline's endless schedules. Her eyes narrow slightly at my early morning appearance, but she can't prove anything. Not that it matters at this point.

From my doorway, I hear her sharp knock on Emerald's door, her clipped voice announcing another rushed morning of fittings and photographs. Everything about that woman screams loyalty to Madeline—from her rigid posture to her precise timing.

There’s no point in playing nice with Madeline's watchdog. Besides, I have more important things to focus on. Like getting my hands on a pregnancy test without arousing suspicion. Like making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow night when I finally get to show the world exactly who Emerald belongs to. I close my door on Kendra’s suspicious glare.

I need someone discrete. Someone with no connection to this house or Emerald Hills. Someone who won't ask questions or run straight to Madeline.

Grace, my assistant at the law firm, answers on the first ring. "Mr. Astor?"

"I need something picked up. Immediately. And with absolute discretion."

"Of course." No questions, no hesitation. It's why I hired her. That, and her complete lack of interest in anything beyond doing her job perfectly. "What do you need?"

Five minutes later, it's handled. The tests will be at my office within the hour.

I stand at my window, watching snow blanket the grounds while I change into a fresh suit. Through the frosted glass, I can see the chapel where Emerald gave herself to me completely, its dark spire a reminder of promises made in candlelight. Of what's to come.

Now comes the harder part—getting what I need without Emerald knowing. But Madeline's given me the perfect blueprint with her years of controlling behavior.

I head downstairs as the house comes alive around me. Staff pour in through the service entrance, arms laden with decorations and supplies for tomorrow's party. Madeline's voice carries from her office, sharp with irritation as she berates someone over the phone about candlestick heights or crystal placement or whatever other meaningless detail has caught her attention.

I find Anna, one of the newer maids, restocking towels in the hall bathroom. Young, eager to please, and—most importantly—no real loyalty to Madeline yet.

"Good morning, Anna." I lower my voice. "I need your help with something delicate."

She turns, with a hesitant smile on her face. "Yes, Mr. Astor?"

"Mrs. Delacroix has ordered another random drug screening because of Emerald's unusual behavior lately." I pull out an empty specimen cup from my pocket, watching understanding flood the maid's face. These "wellness checks" are a regular part of Madeline's control. "She wants it handled with the usualdiscretion. You know how she is about appearances, especially before events like tomorrow."

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