Semua Bab Bound To The Billionaire By A Baby: Bab 21 - Bab 30

"So you're trying to tell me that you had a reaction to this woman?"Dr. Liam pulled the cool steel of his medical flashlight away from the front of my trousers, clicking the small device off with a sharp snap before sliding it into his breast pocket.He didn't move away immediately. Instead, he stood directly in front of my desk, his arms crossed over his pristine lab coat, a look of profound, clinical skepticism written across his striking features.Liam had a rugged, effortless charm that made half the nurses at the clinic lose their focus, but right now, his sharp hazel eyes were locked entirely on my face with the weight of a lifelong friend who knew my darkest secrets.He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a register that was entirely serious."For the first time in about ten years, you had a physical reaction to a woman's body, and the erection seems not to be going down. Is that exactly what you're trying to say to me right now, Adrian?"I shifted uncomfortably behind

Well you were the one who told me that your ten-year drought broke because a basement servant put on a short dress?" Liam swiveled his tumbler of crystal-clear ice, the single amber splash of luxury bourbon washing against the sides with a rhythmic clink that was entirely lost beneath the heavy bass thumping through the floorboards of the Onyx Lounge. We were tucked deep inside the club's most exclusive VIP alcove, a hidden enclave of dark mahogany panels, plush leather, and heavy velvet drapes that kept the flashing neon strobe lights of the main dance floor at a safe, elite distance. Liam had discarded his immaculate white hospital lab coat hours ago, now wearing a crisp black silk shirt with the top three buttons casually undone, his rugged jawline caught in the dim amber glow of the table lamp. He looked less like the chief of neurology and more like the dangerous, wealthy playboy the city’s media loved to track, but his sharp hazel eyes were locked entirely on my face with a

"Is she currently sleeping in your room?" Liam asked, leaning forward over the low table, his hazel eyes narrowing as he pinned me with a sharp, clinical stare. The sudden question cut through the ambient noise of the lounge, causing my hand to freeze mid-air. I held my crystal tumbler of bourbon just inches from my lips, the amber liquid swirling against the ice with a low, rhythmic rattle. I forced myself to swallow the irritation rising in my throat before setting the glass down onto the dark mahogany wood with a sharp, deliberate click. "Of course she isn’t sleeping in my room," I muttered, my jaw clenching tightly as I sat back against the leather cushions of the private VIP booth. "My father had her moved the moment the screaming ended in the main living room. He gave Mrs. Gable explicit orders to strip her of any upper-floor access." Liam’s brow furrowed, his playful demeanor completely vanishing into a mask of pure professional concern. "Then where exactly did your fat

A sudden, violent surge of heat traveled straight down my spine, tightening the front of my trousers with an aggressive, throbbing intensity that made my heart hammer against my ribs. I cleared my throat, forcing a harsh, loud cough to break the suffocating spell before my composure completely shattered. Liora flinched violently at the sound, her shoulders snapping back as the cleaning cloth slipped from her fingers. She scrambled to her feet, her wide, frantic eyes locking onto my face as she backed into the heavy wooden wine rack, her small hands instinctively hovering over her lower stomach in that protective reflex that always managed to irritate me. Her face went completely pale, her chest heaving in short, jagged gasps beneath her collar. "M—Mr. Hawthorne," she whispered, her voice chattering slightly from the absolute cold of the cellar. "What... what are you doing down here?" "Sign this document, Liora, or I will ensure the fall of your family begins before the su

Liora's Pov The grandfather clock in the main hallway struck ten heavy, resonant chimes that vibrated through the floorboards of the grand mansion. I stood outside the massive, arched mahogany doors of the master wing, my fingers white-knuckled around the frayed handles of the single canvas bag containing every miserable possession I owned. My heart was thumping a frantic, exhausting rhythm against my ribs. I had spent the last two hours delaying this moment, lingering in the cold lower corridors until the housekeeper explicitly warned me that the master of the estate would not tolerate a minute of insubordination. Taking a deep, trembling breath, I reached out and turned the polished brass handle. The heavy door swung open silently, effortlessly, and I stepped into the room. My breath caught in my throat. I had spent two years scrubbing the floors of this estate, but I had never been permitted past the threshold of these private quarters. The sheer scale and beauty