Humiliated and Pregnant by my Billionaire Husband (Her Marriage in Crisis #124)

1. Solenn

— ? —

Solenn

The bathroom tiles are cold under my bare feet.

Of all the things worth noticing right now, that’s the one my brain grabs while I sit on the edge of the tub with a plastic stick balanced on my knee.

Humongous, expensive, the kind of tile that belongs in a penthouse sixty stories above a city I still can’t believe I’m allowed to look at from this angle.

Two months is all this has been. Whatever this is with Liam Sharpe, I don’t have a word for it, because we never bothered with labels.

He gave me a key. I gave him what, exactly?

My time. My body. The parts of myself I decided were safe to hand over, because he’d get bored eventually and I’d walk away with a good story about a billionaire and no permanent damage.

My phone timer has thirty seconds left.

Before all of this I worked a front desk five hundred miles north of here, until I quit to “figure things out,” which is the polite way of saying I had no idea what I was doing with my life and needed a minute to panic in private.

Then came the city, and a temp shift staffing a Sharpe Foundation event.

Catering logistics, name tags, smile until your face hurts.

That’s where he first saw me, when I was refilling water pitchers and he was across the room, watching me, a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

Now I’m in his bathroom, waiting to find out if that puzzle just got a lot more complicated.

The timer goes off and I look down. Two lines.

My hand doesn’t shake, which is the real surprise. I expected to fall apart, to spiral into one of those movie moments where the woman sinks to the floor and sobs into her own knees. Instead there’s only knowing. It’s his, it’s real, and he’s going to leave.

Men like Liam Sharpe don’t stay for accidents.

They write checks and move on, and I’ve read about it in those glossy magazines that make the women look desperate and the men look inconvenienced.

That’s what I am now. An inconvenience, a complication in the life of a man worth more money than I can hold in my head.

Packing my things would be the smart move. Disappearing before this gets messy, before he has to find the words to let me down gently.

He deserves to know, though. Even if he doesn’t stay, even if this ends exactly the way I expect it to, he gets to hear it from me.

So I wait.

***

The city glitters below us, showing off. Glass walls run the length of Liam’s living room, and standing near them used to give me the sense of floating. Tonight the height just makes me dizzy.

He’s pouring himself a drink when I say it.

“I’m pregnant.”

The bottle stops mid-pour, whiskey hovering over crystal, and he doesn’t say a word.

“It’s yours.” My voice comes out steadier than the rest of me. “I’m not asking you for anything. I just thought you should know.”

He sets the bottle down slowly, taking his time, buying a few seconds to process what I’ve detonated in the middle of his living room.

My bag is already in my hand, my brain already mapping the fastest route to the elevator and the least humiliating way to use it. This was always coming. I prepared for it and I’ll survive it.

“Marry me.”

My whole body stalls. An ugly laugh scrapes out of me. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

He crosses the room in three strides and catches my wrist before I can reach the door handle, his grip firm without hurting, holding me where I am.

“Marry me, Solenn.”

“You don’t…” Shaking my head doesn’t help me find better words. “We’re not even… this isn’t…”

Both hands land on my shoulders, steadying me, turning me until there’s nowhere to look except at him. His jaw is tight and his eyes move over my face, hunting for whatever he needs to find there before he can breathe again.

“Still with me?”

The phrase drops into me and holds, and only now does it register how far under I’d gone. Breathing comes easier. I nod.

“I’m not leaving you alone with this,” he says. “We’ll figure it out. Together. Say yes.”

Searching his face gets me nothing. No catch, no sign that he’s saying this because he thinks he has to instead of because he wants to. There’s only certainty, the kind that belongs to a person used to making decisions and watching the world rearrange itself around them.

“Yes,” I whisper. I don’t know what else to say.

He takes me to bed like my answer rearranged him.

Nothing about it feels like the frantic thing we’ve been doing for two months.

This is slower, like he’s got all the time in the world and nowhere else he’d rather be.

He pulls my shirt over my head real careful, eyes locked on mine the whole time, then drops his mouth to my collarbone.

Kisses trail down. I arch into him without thinking, fingers sliding into his hair.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this. Can’t believe I get to keep you.”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Don’t stop.”

His hands map me. Palms glide over my ribs, thumb brushing the underside of my breast before his mouth follows.

He takes one nipple between his lips, sucks gentle at first, then harder when I gasp.

I shove at his shirt until he helps me yank it off, and then it’s skin on skin, his chest hot against mine.

He feels real, every muscle flexing as he moves over me.

“Softest skin, sweetest tits. Gonna be my wife soon. Can’t fucking wait. Nights like this every single day, you in my bed, me buried in you,” he says, almost reverent.

He works my jeans open, slides them down my legs along with my underwear. Cool air hits me for half a second before his hand replaces it, palm cupping between my thighs. Fingers stroke through the wetness already waiting for him, slow circles that make my hips buck.

“Fuck, Solenn,” he groans. “You’re soaked for me. So perfect. Knowing my seed’s already growing in you… damn, baby. Thankful as hell. You carrying my baby, my whole future right here.”

His fingers push inside, two of them curling just right while his thumb works my clit.

“Can’t wait to put a ring on you so we can do this forever. More nights, more mornings, me filling you up again and again.”

I can’t even joke back. Just tip my head and moan as he works me open like that, watching my face the whole time. Every time I get close he eases off, kissing me deep and messy until I’m grabbing at his shoulders and begging in little broken sounds.

“You’re everything,” he whispers against my mouth. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever had. Smart, strong, taking me so well. Going to spoil you rotten once you’re officially mine.”

He kicks his own pants off and settles between my legs. The blunt head of his cock drags through my folds and I whine.

“Look at me,” he says.

I do. His eyes are dark but the way he looks at me is pure heat mixed with something softer and brighter.

“My future wife,” he breathes while pushing in slow. Inch by inch, filling me until I feel stretched and full. “Feels so good inside you. Thankful my come took, that you’re growing our kid. Makes me want you even more.”

Then he starts moving. Long, deep strokes that drag against every sensitive spot. No rushing. Just this steady, rolling rhythm that builds and builds.

“Can’t wait for the wedding,” he pants, hips rolling. “Get you in a white dress, then strip it off and spend the whole night tasting this sweet pussy. Every night after that too. You and me, baby. No end to it.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his back to pull him closer.

He groans into my neck, hips snapping a little harder.

One hand slides under my ass, tilting me so he can sink even deeper.

The other braces by my head. Every thrust punches soft sounds out of me.

Skin slaps skin. I claw down his back when he hits that perfect spot over and over.

“God, you feel so good,” I pant. “Don’t stop. Please.”

“Not stopping,” he promises, voice wrecked. “Not going anywhere. You’re mine. My gorgeous lady with my baby in her belly. Fuck, I’m so grateful.”

He reaches between us, fingers finding my clit again, rubbing tight circles timed with his thrusts.

That’s all it takes. The orgasm rolls through me hard, fucking delicious, my whole body clamping down around him as I cry out.

He fucks me through it, chasing his own, hips stuttering until he buries himself deep and comes with a rough groan against my mouth.

“Mm, take it,” he rasps. “Take every drop. Already got my seed in you but damn if I don’t want to give you more. My wife. My everything.”

I feel every pulse inside me.

We stay locked together after, sweaty and shaking a little. His arm drapes heavy across my waist once he finally rolls us sideways. Breath warm on my shoulder. He presses soft kisses to my temple.

More than I expected. Way more than I thought I’d get.

What I don’t notice is that he never said I love you. Gratitude takes up all the room.

***

The wedding happens faster than I can process.

Small, Liam insists. Intimate, just family and a few close friends.

His preference isn’t what’s driving the guest list, though.

This is damage control, his mother pulling strings from just offstage to keep the embarrassment contained.

The family knows about the baby, because Liam told them himself.

The public doesn’t, and Melanie Sharpe intends to keep it that way for as long as it allows.

Standing at the altar in a dress that costs millions, all I can think is that I barely know this man.

Three months, that’s the entire history. Dinners and late nights and waking up in sheets that smell like him, plus all the hours spent trying to read his face across a crowded room while telling myself not to fall in love with a man who was never meant to be permanent.

Now I’m about to promise him forever.

The officiant talks about commitment and partnership and building a life together, and the least I owe myself is to be present at my own wedding. Melanie sits in the front row wearing ivory.