Page 63 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire

Against my better judgment, I let him drag me out.

We meet up with a few of his friends at a high-end rooftop bar downtown, which we’ve visited several times. Loud music, pretty girls, the kind of place I would’ve enjoyed a year ago. Hell, even a couple of months ago.

Liam wastes no time.

He brings over a woman—gorgeous, legs for days, a smile too bright to be real. She’s clinging to my arm like I’m the prize at a carnival. Her perfume is thick. Her laugh is high and forced.

She leans into me, tracing her fingers down my chest, trying too damn hard. She presses herself against me, whispering something filthy into my ear, and I should feel something. I should want to take her home, strip her down, lose myself in someone—anyone—that isn’t Ivy.

But nothing happens. No spark. No hunger. Nothing. My body betrays me. I don’t even get hard.I step back, swearing under my breath, and the girl pouts like I’ve insulted her. Liam notices. Smirks. But I’m not laughing.

I run a hand through my hair. Ivy fucking broke me.

CHAPTER 17

Ivy

Five months since the article ran. Five months since he stopped speaking to me. And two pink lines just ruined my breakfast.

Pregnant.

I sit at the edge of the bathtub, still holding the test like it’s radioactive. My mind spins, trying to find a version of this reality that doesn’t feel like the floor caving in under my feet.

My legs feel numb, and my stomach turns over itself in slow, queasy waves. The morning light spilling through the cracked window feels too bright, too harsh, like it’s exposing every thought I don’t want to admit out loud. A small reminder of the stark light in Hawaii right before the storm settled in. Right before everything changed.

I close my eyes, and for a second, I’m there again—the heavy heat in the air, the scent of salt clinging to my skin, the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore in wild, rhythmic pulses.

And him.

Carter.

The way he looked at me that night still haunts me. Like I was the only thing he saw. Like he was starving and I was the meal he’d been denied for too long.

Those hungry, reckless eyes undressing me before his hands ever did.

I remember the way my heart thundered against my ribs, the way my fingers shook—not from fear, but from how badly I wanted him. Needed him.

I practically ached for it—for him.

I can still feel the brush of his mouth against my skin, the way he murmured my name like a secret no one else deserved to hear. The way he pulled me closer, kissed me like he was drowning and I was the only air he could find. The way we moved together, desperate and clumsy and perfect all at once, like the world outside didn’t exist.

I loved having him inside me. God, I loved it.

The way he filled me, anchored me, made everything else fall away until there was just us.

I just didn’t expect him to leave his seed behind. Didn’t think far enough ahead to what it might mean.

I thought it was just passion. Just two broken people clinging to each other because it felt good. Because it felt right, even if it wasn’t smart.

Stupid. So stupid.

I open my eyes and stare down at my stomach, flat under the oversized hoodie I threw on. You wouldn’t know by looking at me that there’s a whole new life growing inside.

That something permanent, something irreversible, happened that night while I wasn’t paying attention to anything except the feel of Carter’s mouth on my body and the sound of his voice whispering promises he never meant to keep.

I wrap my arms around myself and exhale shakily.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

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