Page 98 of Sexting the Billionaire

"Sorry," she gasps, accepting the damp washcloth I offer. "Not exactly the sexy ending to the evening I had planned."

"Are you okay?" I ask, concern overriding any other consideration. "You've been sick a lot lately."

"Just a bug," she says, not meeting my eyes. "Or stress. With the launch, and Mia starting, and everything with Grant..."

I'm not convinced, but I don't press. Instead, I help her to her feet, supporting her weight as she rinses her mouth at the sink.

"You should see a doctor," I suggest, keeping my tone neutral with effort. "If it persists."

"I will." She turns in my arms, offering a weak smile. "Promise. Now can we please just go to sleep? I'm dead on my feet."

"Of course." I press a kiss to her forehead, noting with concern how pale she still looks. "Whatever you need."

I guide her to bed, tucking her in with a tenderness I've rarely shown anyone. She drifts off almost immediately, exhaustion claiming her, while I lie awake beside her, mind racing with possibilities I'm not sure either of us is ready to confront.

It's nearly an hour later when I'm jarred from near-sleep by the sudden absence of her warmth beside me. The bathroom light flicks on, a thin stripe of brightness visible beneath the closed door.

I wait, listening for sounds of illness again, but there's only silence. Long minutes pass, then more. Just as I'm about to check on her, the door opens.

Cassie stands in the doorway, backlit by the bathroom light, something clutched in her hand. Her expression is unreadable, a complex mixture of fear and wonder and uncertainty.

"Roman," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk."

She steps forward, extending her hand to show me what she's holding—a small white plastic stick with a clear pink plus sign visible in the tiny window.

"I'm pregnant."

Two words that change everything. That render all other concerns—Grant's patent claim, industry rumors, Camden's unwelcome appearance—utterly insignificant in comparison.

Two words that crack the foundations of the carefully constructed life I've built, opening possibilities I've never allowed myself to consider.

Two words that terrify and exhilarate me in equal measure.

"You're pregnant," I repeat, the words strange and monumental on my tongue. "We're having a baby."

And in that moment, I understand with perfect clarity that nothing will ever be the same again.

20

CASSIE

NEW REALITY

"I'm pregnant."

The words hang in the air between us, impossible to take back. The pink plus sign on the plastic stick in my hand couldn't be clearer, but saying it aloud makes it real in a way that's both terrifying and strangely exhilarating.

Roman stares at me from the bed, his expression cycling through shock, disbelief, and something else I can't quite identify. For a long, agonizing moment, he says nothing, and in that silence, my mind races through every worst-case scenario.

He doesn't want this. He thinks it's too soon. He's questioning if it's even his—which is ridiculous, since there's been no one else, but isn't that what men do in moments like this? Doubt, question, retreat?

"You're pregnant," he finally repeats, his voice thick with emotion. "We're having a baby."

He rises from the bed in one fluid movement, crossing the room to me in three long strides. When he reaches for the test, I reluctantly surrender it, watching his face as he stares at the undeniable evidence.

"A baby," he says again, the words sounding foreign on his tongue.

"I know it's not what we planned," I rush to fill the silence, words tumbling out in nervous succession. "It's terrible timing, with the new brand launch and your battle with Grant, and we've never even talked about children?—"

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