The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife novel Chapter 122

The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire’s Ex–Wife

Chapter 122: Her Scent

Sean POW

I stepped into my Park Avenue penthouse, my mood darker than the vening sky outside. The ride from the equestrian club had done nothing to calm the storm inside me.

The sight that greeted me only made it my new assistant,

• Christina Jordan, perfed on my sofa like the belonged there, chatting with Thoma,

Christina rose gracefully, her red hair catching the light as she offer me that practiced smile I’d grown to resent. “Sean, you’re finally home, I’ve been waiting for nearly two hours.”

How did you get in here?” I asked coldly, my eyes shifting to Thomas, who immediately looked away, suddenly fascinated by whatever was on his tablet.

“Don’t blame poor Thonus,” Curistina said, ber voice silky. “I insisted he let me in.“

“Insisted?”

Thomas cleared his throat nervously. “Ms. Jordan said if I didn’t allow her upstairs, she would… create a scene in the lobby.” He adjusted his tie, visibly uncomfortable. “I made a judgment call, sir.”

I couldn’t help the cold smile that formed on my lips. “Threatening to make a scene? When did you become so irrational, Christina?”

Something flickered across her perfect features–hurt, perhaps–before she composed herself again. “I needed to see you,” she explained, smoothing her dress. “You haven’t returned my calls in days.”

Thomas gathered his belongings with hasty movements. “Ms. Jordan appears to have private matters to discuss with you, Mr. Shaw. I’ll take my leave.” He practically ran for the door.

“Coward,” I muttered as it closed behind him.

Christina sighed with visible relief. “At least only Thomas witnessed my moment of desperation.” She approached me, every step calculated. “Have you eaten? I could arrange for dinner to be delivered from Le Bernardin—“:

“Christina.” I cut her off sharply.

She stopped mid–step.

“I’ve told you before,” I continued, feeling nothing as I spoke, “stop wasting your time on me.”

Her eyes immediately filled with tears–perfectly timed, I noted cynically. I’d seen this performance before. I care about you,” she whispered. “Someday you’ll see that no one understands you like I do

“No,” I replied without hesitation. “I won’t.” I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly exhausted by this familiar routine. “I made ayself clear five years agn. I respect you as my life–saver, but that’s all. No matter how long you wait, nothing will change. Do you understand?

Her lower lip trembled as a tear traced down her cheek. “Five years ago, everything was different. Everything was perfect until she left. Why did Angela leaving change everything between us?”

I scowled at the mention of Angela’s name. “It’s getting late. You should go home.”

“No,” Christina responded, suddenly

won’t leave l

like

this.”

1/3

Chapter 122: Her Scent

Til have Thomas arrange a cay for you.”

my waist and

and pressing her

“I don’t want a car! Before I could react, she closed the distance between us, throwing her arms around my face against my chest,

I felt her stiffen against me. She pulled back slightly, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled. Her eyes widened with recognition, then narrowed with suspicion.

“What is that scent?” she asked, her voice dangerously soft.

1 showed her away harder than I intended, watching her stundle backward.

Christina steadied herself, her face pale with shock. “That perfume, the persisted. “Lily of the valley. It’s not mine, and it’s not the type of fragrance women wear to clubs or parties.” Her eyes searched my face. “Who were you with today?”

I felt my expression change before I could control it. I lifted my coll to my nose, inhaling deeply. The faint, elegant scent was unmistakable–Angela’s scent.

The same fragrance that had surrounded me in the riding club changing room, the same essence that had enveloped me as she sat before me on horseback. For a moment, I was back there, holding her again.

Whita is

is she?” Christina demanded, her carefully cultivated poise cracking. “Who left her scent on you?”

I dropped my hand, forcing my expression back to neutral. “My private life isn’t something I need to explain to you, is it?”

The color drained from Christina’s face. Her elegance fractured, revealing the raw emotion beneath.

Without another word, she snatched her purse and marched to the door, yanking it open. The heavy door slammed behind her, the sound echoing through my empty penthouse..

I didn’t flinch. I merely exhaled slowly, relieved she had finally gone.

Hours later, I stood under the powerful spray of my shower, letting hot water cascade over my shoulders. Steam billowed around me as I braced my palms against the wall, head bowed, trying to wash away the day–and failing.

After toweling off, I moved through my bedroom, struck anew by the emptiness of my king–sized bed. My mind wandered back to the riding club–to Angela’s body pressed against mine on horseback, to her skin beneath my fingers in the changing room.

She had changed in five years, grown somehow more beautiful, more assured. The remembered softness of her curves, more generous than 1 recalled, made my chest tighten with something like pain

I stretched out on the vast, empty bed, her tears haunting me. Even in my anger, I had never wanted to make her cry. I stared at the ceiling, the hollowness beside me more pronounced than ever.

Five years of searching, only to find her when I least expected it. And now she

host of what once was mine.

was gone again, leaving nothing but her scent–a