Chapter 13 ACCEPTANCE

Chapter 13 ACCEPTANCE
The ballroom of the Plaza Hotel is a shimmering wave of silk, diamonds, and judgment. I stand rigid in a breathtaking emerald gown, Killian Astor’s date for the annual charity gala. My exposed shoulders feel vulnerable, and the swell of my baby bump, though subtle, is now on public display.
Killian’s hand rests heavily on the small of my back, a possessive anchor that both steadies and electrifies me. Every time he adjusts his grip, a shiver runs down my spine.
"Your nerves are palpable, Annabella," Killian murmurs into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "Breathe. You belong here."
"That’s easy for you to say," I retort, trying to keep my voice light. "I’m wearing six figures worth of jewelry and pretending I'm madly in love with my former boss who might, or might not, want me killed for knowing too much."
A corner of his mouth twitches. "Relax. I would never have you killed. I need you to sign the prenuptial agreement first."
"Ha. Very funny."
Luciano appears at my side, a genuine smile easing the tension in his eyes. He looks impossibly handsome in his tux.
"You look stunning, Annabella. You truly eclipse everyone here," Luciano says, his voice a warm caress. He takes my hand, bringing it to his lips, his gaze challenging Killian’s.
"Thank you, Luciano. I feel like Cinderella, only instead of glass slippers, I'm wearing six-inch stilettos and my feet are already killing me."
Killian’s grip on my back tightens, subtly pulling me closer to him, creating a fraction of distance between me and Luciano. It’s a purely dominant move, visible only to us. "She’ll manage," Killian states, his tone cool.
"Nonsense," Luciano counters, his smile unwavering. "We can slip you out later, Annabella. My driver can take you—"
"She came with me, Luciano," Killian cuts in, his voice dangerously level. "She leaves with me."
Before the tension can ignite into a full-blown feud, a new, slick voice cuts through the polite hum of the crowd.
"Well, well. Look who decided to grace us with his presence. And bringing the little gold-digger with him."
A man who looks strikingly similar to Killian, same tall build, same sharp eyes, but with a jealous, conniving sneer, steps forward. This must be Leo, Killian's wicked sibling.
"Leonard," Killian says, his tone colder than a New York winter. "You're late."
Leonard ignores him, his eyes raking over my gown and settling on my stomach with a sneer. "Honestly, Killian. You could have picked someone who didn't work for you. Or at least someone with a shred of discretion. This whole 'open relationship' façade is thin, even for you. And that bump? It's just tacky. Are you sure you're keeping it? You know what they'll say about the Astor name when the child is born."
My stomach drops. The blood rushes from my head, leaving me dizzy and exposed. I fumble for words, unable to match his venom.
Killian’s hand leaves my back and clamps around my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine, a silent promise of protection. He steps forward, his massive frame shielding me entirely from Leonard.
"You will address her as Annabella, and you will show her respect," Killian commands, his voice dropping to a dangerous baritone that silences the surrounding conversations. "She is my girlfriend and the mother of my child. I don't care what you or anyone else thinks about our relationship. This woman is mine, and if you breathe another word of disrespect in her direction, you will find yourself locked out of every family trust, every corporate asset, and every social circle you cling to. Am I clear?"
Leonard recoils, his sneer replaced by shock and raw hatred. "You're protecting her? Over me?"
"I protect what is mine," Killian states simply, before turning his full attention back to me, the anger melting into something softer, more consuming. "Let's go, Annabella. I want you to enjoy yourself." He tugs my hand, leading me deeper into the ballroom.
We dance, a formal, close-contact dance where his presence is a heavy, intoxicating blanket. I can't look away from his face. The fire he showed defending me burns beneath the surface, and I realize it wasn't just about the Astor name; it was about me.
"Why did you do that?" I whisper, my cheek brushing his collarbone. "You didn't have to defend me that fiercely."
"Yes, I did," he growls softly, his chin resting against the top of my head. "I will not have anyone look at you that way. Ever."
Luciano comes over shortly after, his face creased with apology. "I'm so sorry, Annabella. An emergency meeting just came up, a potential hostile takeover. I have to leave. I hate leaving you here with this vulture pit."
"Go," I tell him, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "We’ll be fine. Thank you for being here."
He nods, his gaze locking onto Killian’s with a warning. "Astor. Take care of her."
"I always do," Killian replies, his eyes never leaving mine.
Luciano leaves, and the atmosphere shifts. Killian’s posture relaxes, and he no longer feels the need to perform. The possessiveness remains, but it's directed only at me.
We arrive back at the estate. The mansion is silent, the night air cool against my exposed shoulders. As soon as the main doors close, Killian reaches for the zipper of my gown.
"I can do it," I breathe, my heart hammering.
"I know," he says, his eyes dark with unmasked desire. "But I want to."
He slowly pulls the zipper down, the cool metal grazing my spine. The gown puddles around my feet. I stand before him in nothing but delicate lace panties and a growing belly. My nipples pebble instantly under his stare.
"You were magnificent tonight, Annabella," he whispers, running a finger along the curve of my bump. "You were strong. And you are mine."
He doesn't wait for a reply. He cups my hips, lifting me slightly, and guides me to the wall. He raises the thin lace of my panties just enough to expose me, then kneels on the marble floor.
"Killian, what are you—"
"Shhh," he murmurs, his eyes shining up at me, possessive and loving all at once. "Let me show you how much I want you. Let me worship the life you carry."
He pulls the panties down, exposing me fully, and his tongue immediately finds my most sensitive point. I gasp, my back arching against the cool wall. The pleasure is immediate, overwhelming.
"Oh! Killian, God..." I moan, my fingers gripping his immaculate black hair.
His mouth is hot, thorough, and consuming. He licks and sucks with a fierce intensity, punctuated by the soft, sweet words he whispers against my sensitive flesh. "My gorgeous girl... My strength... Say my name, Annabella."
"Killian! Killian!" I cry out, the sound echoing softly in the hall. My body trembles violently, riding the edge of release. I open my eyes, and for a fleeting, terrifying second, I feel like I see a shadow move at the end of the hall, near the study door. A doubt, a prickle of paranoia, surfaces, but the pleasure is too consuming, too necessary to stop. I close my eyes, burying my fear beneath the urgency of my release.
I ride his mouth until my knees weaken, crying out his name one last time as I shatter, clinging to his head for balance.
He stands, his eyes blazing, and the unmistakable, hard bulge of his manhood strains against his trousers. He strips off his jacket and shirt in one swift motion, tossing them to the floor.
"Now I need you, Annabella. Inside me. I need to feel your heat."
He reaches for the waistband of his pants. I help him, my hands trembling as I pull the fabric down, revealing the magnificent, rigid length of him.
"Please," I plead, reaching for him.
He wastes no time. He lifts me into his arms, carrying me the few feet to the nearest room, a lavish parlor. He places me on a thick rug, positions himself, and then, with a single, powerful thrust, he is inside me.
I scream, a sharp, choked cry as the fullness of him stretches me instantly, replacing the shock with a rush of intense, burning pleasure. "Oh! Killian!"
"Look at me, Annabella," he commands, his face etched with raw emotion. "I love this feeling. I love you."
He moves, slowly at first, his hips rocking with a power I remember from the blurry night, but this time, it is different. It's slower, more intentional, each movement a declaration.
"Tell me you feel this," he pants, his body slick with sweat.
"I feel it! I feel everything!" I moan, meeting his gaze, my hands digging into the hard muscles of his back.
He presses deeper, his voice thick with devotion. "This is where you belong. Wrapped around me. Bearing my child. I am never letting you go."
He drives into me with increasing speed, the thrusts becoming a frantic, rhythmic dance of love and possession. I cry out his name again and again, feeling the core of my body clench around him as we reach the peak together.
He collapses onto me, his breathing ragged, his weight a comforting pressure. He doesn't pull out. He just holds me, kissing my forehead, my nose, my lips, raining down sweet, gentle kisses.
"Are you warm enough?" he whispers, his voice exhausted but tender.
"Perfect," I sigh, utterly spent.
He rolls us both onto our sides, still connected, and pulls a heavy velvet curtain from a nearby window, draping it over us like a blanket. He runs a gentle hand over my bump, then kisses it.
"Sleep, my Annabella," he murmurs, pulling me tight against his chest. I hear the steady, strong rhythm of his heart, and in the arms of the man who owns my body and now, t
errifyingly, my heart, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.