Chapter Eight #2
"Harper is going to kill you," Aurelia mumbled, resting her spinning head against his shoulder, lacking the strength to actually fight him.
The scent of his expensive cologne was vastly preferable to the garlic in the breakroom, and the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his shirt was incredibly soothing.
"I will gladly let her end my life, provided you are safe first," Cameron replied, his thumb gently stroking her shoulder as the elevator doors sealed them inside.
The penthouse executive suite was a sanctuary of silence, wrapped in floor-to-ceiling glass that offered a dizzying view of the clouds.
Julian was sitting at the massive conference table, dissecting a hostile takeover bid, when the private elevator chimed. He looked up, his sharp legal mind instantly assessing the threat level as his older brother burst into the room carrying a pale, trembling Aurelia.
"Medical," Cameron barked, his voice carrying the authority of a military general. He bypassed the conference table carrying Aurelia toward the curved leather sofa in the center of the room. "Get Dr. Whitmore up here right now, Julian. She nearly collapsed on the floor."
Julian didn't ask questions. He didn't hesitate. He slammed a button on the intercom console. "Priority one. Bring the medical kit to the CEO’s suite immediately. Clear the corridors."
Cameron knelt on the carpet beside the sofa, gently easing Aurelia down against the plush leather cushions. He kept one of his large hands wrapped tightly around hers, his gray eyes frantically scanning her pale features.
"I really am fine," Aurelia tried to protest, though she didn't attempt to pull her hand away. The dizzy spell was passing, leaving her feeling profoundly exhausted and strangely hollow. "It was just the smell of someone's lunch. I probably just have a bug."
"We aren't taking chances," Cameron insisted, his voice terrifyingly gentle. He lifted her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles in a gesture of such raw, unshielded devotion that Julian, watching from the table, had to look away to give them privacy.
Less than three minutes later, the doors swung open. Dr. Whitmore, the Langsford family’s private physician, hurried into the room carrying a sleek, metallic diagnostic case. He was a discreet, silver-haired man who had spent decades patching up the fallout of the billionaires' lives.
"Mr. Langsford," the doctor nodded, moving efficiently to the sofa. "Give me some room, please. Let me examine the young woman."
Cameron reluctantly stepped back, though he refused to move more than two feet away. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Julian, both men watching with suffocating tension as the doctor checked Aurelia’s vitals, shined a penlight into her eyes, and gently palpated her abdomen.
"Any history of vertigo, Miss Sinclair?" the doctor asked smoothly, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around her arm.
"No," Aurelia answered, her voice quiet in the massive room. "Just... sudden nausea. And I've been incredibly tired the last few weeks. Since the hurricane, really."
The doctor hummed quietly, his eyes flicking to the digital readout on the cuff.
He opened his metallic case, pulling out a small, rapid-diagnostic blood scanner.
"I’m going to take a small sample, just a prick to the finger.
It will screen for basic anomalies, blood sugar drops, and hormonal fluctuations. "
Aurelia nodded, wincing slightly as the needle pricked her skin.
The machine hummed, processing the micro-sample.
The silence in the penthouse was deafening.
The city miles below moved in a muted, soundless rush.
Cameron felt his own heart hammering against his ribs.
The memory of the crash, the blood, the unimaginable loss he had suffered in the previous timeline haunted the edges of his vision.
He prayed to whatever god was listening that she wasn't seriously ill.
A small chime echoed from the device. Dr. Whitmore looked at the digital display. His professional, clinical expression melted into a warm, genuine smile.
He unhooked the blood pressure cuff, packing his instruments back into his case. He looked at Aurelia, then up at the towering, terrified CEO.
"Well, Mr. Langsford, you can cancel the panic," the doctor announced, his tone light and reassuring.
He turned back to Aurelia. "Your vitals are perfectly strong, Miss Sinclair.
The nausea and the fatigue are normal for your condition.
Though I do recommend you start taking a high-quality prenatal vitamin as soon as possible. "
The words hung in the air, suspended in the vast, opulent space.
Aurelia blinked. Her mind simply refused to process the syllables. "Prenatal? I... I don't understand."
"You are pregnant, Miss Sinclair," Dr. Whitmore clarified gently. "Based on the hormonal concentration, I’d estimate you are roughly six weeks along. Congratulations."
Aurelia stopped breathing. The blood drained from her face, only to rush back in a dizzying, suffocating wave. She stared at the ceiling, her hands instinctively moving to cover her flat stomach.
Six weeks.
The math crashed over her with devastating clarity.
It had been about six weeks since the night she had found Cameron burning with fever in the empty office.
The night her restraint had shattered. The night she had surrendered to an inexplicable, cosmic pull that had felt like a destiny she couldn't escape.
"That's... that's impossible," Aurelia whispered, tears of shock welling in her eyes.
Behind the doctor, Julian Langsford let out a long, shaky breath. The stoic, icy CFO closed his eyes, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his sharp features.
But it was Cameron who unraveled.
The CEO dropped to his knees on the carpet beside the sofa.
The immaculate, ruthless billionaire was gone.
His gray eyes were shining with unshed tears, blazing with an emotion so powerful, so absolutely euphoric, it seemed to illuminate the entire room.
He looked at Aurelia as if she had just handed him the sun and the stars.
The doctor discreetly packed his bag, caught Julian’s eye, and silently slipped out of the suite, the doors clicking shut behind him.
"Aura," Cameron breathed, his voice cracking violently.
He reached out, his large, trembling hands gently framing her face. He didn't care about the impossibility of it. He didn't care about the altered timeline. All that mattered was the woman lying in front of him, and the miraculous, impossible life they had created in the dark.
"Cameron, I..." Aurelia choked on a sob, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the revelation. "I don't know what to do. I didn't plan this. We don't even know each other."
"I know you," Cameron vowed, his thumbs gently wiping the tears from her cheeks.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as a shudder of pure ecstasy wracked his broad frame.
"I know your kindness. I know your strength.
I know that you are the only good thing that has ever touched my life. "
He pulled back just enough to look into her dark, terrified eyes. The devotion in his gaze pinned her to the leather cushions.
"I want you to be my wife, Aurelia," Cameron declared, the words ringing with an unshakeable, eternal certainty. "I want to marry you. I want to give you the world, and I want to spend every second of my existence cherishing you and our child."
Aurelia gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Cameron, you can't just say that. It’s too fast. You can't just marry me out of obligation."