“I’m pregnant.”

The words slap through the room like wet leather.

Adele stands in the middle of his penthouse, and her red dress clings to her body like a lie trying too hard to fit. Her nails are painted, polished, and perfect like even her fingertips rehearsed this scene. In one hand, she's holding a paper folder like it holds salvation or blackmail. Probably both.

Reo doesn’t blink.

He leans on the glass table with both palms, and his back stays stiff while his eyes stay locked on her like she’s a bomb he hasn’t figured out how to dismantle yet.

“Come again?” His voice is rough and dangerous.

Adele’s...